Modern Weapons Gallery (2)

"Yeah, I knew this would happen."

I read through the post with the heavy resignation that what was bound to arrive had finally come. The moment I handed modern weapons to one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faction to help them out, I anticipated that others would crawl out of the woodwork. What I hadn't expected, however, was that the first to reach out would be the beastkin—a tribe notorious for lurking in complete silence without ever leaving a single post.

"How many years has it been since they vanished from the Gallery?"

Ever since transmigrating, I had combed through the forum thoroughly. I checked real-time submissions as a matter of routine, but I also devoured the legendary Hall of Fame posts archived from years long past. From those digital footprints, I pieced together that the overwhelming majority of beastkin had disappeared from the Gallery right around the time the Great War broke out.

Indeed, the beastkin's fatal flaw was an inability to control their biological instincts. Rather than blabber nonsense under the sway of their primal drives and inadvertently give away their sanctuary, the entire tribe had collectively chosen to go permanently dark, existing solely as silent observers.

"And then they saw modern weaponry and jumped at the chance?"

Overwhelming firepower. With the raw, undeniable might of modern arms in hand, it wouldn't matter if someone pinpointed their coordinates. Whatever showed up could simply be suppressed through brute force. To the rabbit beastkin, who had spent generations cowering beneath the soil, the promise of such absolute power must have made them completely lose their heads—enough for their official tribal chieftain to step into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠public eye and draw this much attention.

"Still, making this trade is a terrible idea."

I couldn't just recklessly scatter Earth's lethal arsenal across an alien world. Providing ten high-explosive grenades to El-Ladh was an emergency measure to keep my newly appointed Assistant Moderator from getting slaughtered, but going any further than that would trigger an actual apocalypse. If firearms spread unchecked across every faction, there was no guarantee a stray bullet wouldn't find its way straight to my skull. Purely out of self-preservation, I had no intention of distributing firepower beyond my control.

So, I opened a private channel to call upon Myoran, the author of that plea. It wasn't with any intent to strike a deal. In fact, I summoned her specifically to turn her down.

Yet before I could say a word—

The hyperactive netizen had completely misunderstood my intentions.

Having read through their history, I understood their deep-seated hatred for humanity all too well. Beginning with harmless farming showcases ten years ago, their agricultural prodigy had caught the greedy eyes of human warlords, trapping them in brutal chattel slavery. When the Great War erupted and civilization shattered, they seized the bedlam to flee into the subterranean dark.

"Given that history, it's only natural they'd obsess over self-defense."

Yet before pity could cloud my judgment, a fundamental question nagged at me. From what I had gathered, the proportion of beastkin who awakened and controlled mana was significantly higher than in other races. If they had so much mana at their disposal, couldn't they use that innate magic to slaughter whatever beasts ventured down into their tunnels?

The answer to that question arrived in the form of a newly pinned featured post.

Zero mana. That was the core of it.

In this world, nearly every devastating attack was rooted in magic, and beasts had evolved immense biological and energetic resistance to counter it. Yet modern weaponry operated on chemical propellant and raw kinetic force—principles completely devoid of magical logic. Against the instant concussive fury of a high-explosive grenade, the legendary Bone Dragon was stripped of all metaphysical advantages, reduced to nothing more than a brittle heap of dry bones.

However, I had no leisure to indulge in idle philosophical analysis. In an apocalyptic world where thousands perished every single day, there was no guarantee the subterranean dark remained safe forever.

Monsters had breached the underground.

Historically, the beasts of the apocalypse were strictly surface dwellers. No matter how monstrous, grotesque, and terrifying they were, everyone assumed their ravages would be confined to the realm beneath the open sky.

"Kieeeek!"

"I never imagined... they would breach the underground too!"

Yet as the dimensional fissures yawned wider, monstrosities from the Outside poured through without end, their biological forms growing increasingly distorted and diverse. The safety of the depths had evaporated into thin air.

"Chief! Our fields! Everything is being trampled!"

"Forget the fields! That isn't what matters right now!"

The vast crops that formed the lifeline of the subterranean rabbit beastkin were being pulverized into dust, but the true horror lay just beyond them. Between the ravaged fields and their civilian dwellings stood only a flimsy wooden palisade. Their peerless agricultural genius kept them fed beneath the sunless earth, but it offered zero protection against ravenous horrors. Once the fields fell, the slaughter of their families would follow.

"Wh-What do we do..."

Myoran's snow-white rabbit ears fluttered frantically in sheer terror. Were they destined for extinction after all? Was this where their bloodline ended?

Just as absolute despair gripped her heart, a system prompt flared before her eyes.

A barter proposal out of nowhere? But there was no time to fetch any proper tribute.

"Kieeeek!"

The colossal Sandworm was barreling across the furrowed earth straight toward the fragile palisade, its gaping maw dripping acidic bile. Rational thought disintegrated under the sheer terror of imminent death.

CRASH!

"Ch-Chieftain!"

The timber walls groaned and splintered violently. As her kin tumbled backward in panic, Myoran gritted her teeth and shoved the nearest item from her inventory into the trade slot, slamming the confirmation button.

A bizarre, foreign artifact materialized out of thin air, landing squarely in Myoran's trembling paws.

"Th-This is...?"

It was as black as coal, yet crafted with breathtaking, inhuman precision. A long, hollow metal cylinder protruded from its frame, and peering toward that dark aperture sent an icy shiver straight down her spine.

There was no time to type a reply.

"I-Is this how I hold it?!"

Taking an awkward, trembling stance, she seated the polymer stock against her collarbone and pointed the muzzle directly at the charging beast. The moment her claw squeezed down on the curved metal trigger—

"Kieee—?!"

A thunderous roar of propellant detonated from the black steel, unleashing an apocalyptic tongue of fire.

"Turned out pretty well."

A forum populated entirely by silent lurkers was a dead forum. In exchange for a single shotgun and three shells, I had secured the safety of the rabbit beastkin while converting them into active, contributing members of the community.

"Though I guess she only has two rounds left now..."

Realistically speaking, announcing their return to the public stage with only two shells in reserve was reckless. Two rounds of buckshot weren't going to pull off a geopolitical miracle. But nobody from the other factions knew that. They didn't even understand the basic concept of ammunition, let alone that firearms required a expendable supply of brass and lead to function.

Thanks to that fearsome deterrent, not a single soul dared test their luck with a raid.

"Now that the rabbits are back, they should be a massive help, right?"

Truth be told, there was another reason I had stepped in to help them. Food supplies remained desperately scarce, no matter how many pantry essentials or packets of MSG I listed on the marketplace. By sheer coincidence, the rabbit beastkin possessed an extraordinary, near-miraculous talent for agriculture. My hope was that bringing them into the fold would permanently solve our community's chronic food shortages.

Sure enough, the rabbit beastkin immediately began making their presence felt across the boards.

"Wait... this wasn't what I had in mind."

They were certainly revitalizing the forum, just in a completely different—and thoroughly chaotic—sense than I had ever anticipated.