Chapter 91
In the air thick with the acrid smell of sulfur mixed with the scent of metal, Choi Manseok’s shout exploded.
“Hey! Are you not setting the temperature right over there? Are you bastards screwing around right now?!”
The junior technician he pointed at hurriedly twisted the voltage dial in terror. But because the power supply was unstable, the flames inside the blast furnace danced wildly on their own.
“Factory manager! The power is unstable—if we raise it any more, the transformer will explode!”
“If it explodes, then fix it! Pull in the emergency power! Those Atlas bastards pump out hundreds a day—why the hell can’t you?!”
Choi Manseok grabbed the unlucky technician by the collar and shook him violently.
Colonel Park Jinseop’s phone calls urging him on were coming dozens of times a day.
When news spread that the equipment Lieutenant Colonel Kang Cheolmin received from Atlas was getting rave reviews, Choi Manseok’s patience had finally snapped.
At this rate, we’ll lose the military contract.
He clenched his teeth.
Normally, these parts would have to go through meticulous cutting and forging processes.
But the skilled military engineers responsible for that work had all left with Yoon Imsu.
With the manpower remaining here, it was impossible.
There’s only one way. I have to change the entire process to suit my own method.
He approached the massive blast furnace.
B-Grade trait: Metal Liquefaction.
“Clear out the forging presses. From today onward, we run things my way.”
When Choi Manseok stretched out both hands, a reddish haze of mana wrapped around the special alloy plates covering the factory floor.
Kuuuuung—!
The steel plates screamed as they twisted, then began restructuring themselves into a massive furnace according to Choi Manseok’s will.
Ordinary casting molds are made by mixing sand or graphite, which inevitably leaves rough surfaces.
But Choi Manseok crushed the molecular structure of metal with his ability, forging mirror-smooth metal molds directly from raw metal.
“Factory manager! Even if the mold is perfect, casting rifle barrels is dangerous! To withstand the pressure during automatic fire, the internal structure must be dense forged metal—”
“Shut up.”
Choi Manseok’s eyes flashed.
He poured his mana into the molten metal, pushing its fluidity and purity to the extreme.
“I pour molten metal refined by my mana into molds infused with my mana. This isn’t simple casting. I’m controlling the grain of the metal directly.”
Ziiiiing—Clank!
From the dedicated molds he personally created, glowing red K-2 rifle barrels and frames poured out all at once.
It was an astonishing sight.
The freshly produced components gleamed with a smooth sheen, as though they had been shaved thousands of times on a CNC lathe.
Such results were possible only because Choi Manseok had forcibly enhanced the precision of the casting mold with mana.
When he grabbed a glowing red barrel straight out of the mold, the people nearby stepped back in shock.
He’s holding that with his bare hands…
Everyone was stunned by the power of a B-Grade Awakened.
“Not bad.”
On the surface, it looked even more perfect than forged parts.
Because the raw material quality had been pushed to its limits, even strength tests would likely show no issues.
But the fundamental nature of casting could not be changed.
The inherent residual stresses and microscopic structural imbalances inside were merely being temporarily suppressed by mana.
“Still… won’t this cause problems eventually?”
“Who cares? I’m not the one using them.”
Whether the soldiers using them died or not had nothing to do with him.
“You know the situation on the Northern Front. If the weapons fail, we’ll just say they were overused and suffered fatigue fractures.”
After checking how much strength he had left, Choi Manseok spoke again.
“I’ll keep stamping out molds, so go bring me more workers who can produce.”
Entrance of Guro Foundry’s second production line.
Roughly five hundred ragged survivors hesitantly entered the factory, thick with smoke and fumes.
They were people expelled from shelters across the region or soldiers who had fallen behind their units and wandered the streets.
Fear and desperate hope filled their eyes.
“We saw the job posting. Is it true? If we work here, we get food and a place to sleep?”
The work supervisor lifted a loudspeaker.
“That’s right! Even losers like you can find a way to live if you work yourselves to death here! Three meals a day, and those with good performance will even receive residency rights in Guro Foundry!”
Residency rights.
At those sweet words, the light in people’s eyes changed.
In a world crawling with mutants and raiders, a safe shelter was heaven itself.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“Just give us work! We’ll do anything!”
But the smiles vanished like screams the moment the factory’s heavy iron doors closed.
CLANG!
The interior of the sealed factory was nothing less than living hell.
“Ugh! Wh-what is that smell?”
“Cough! Cough!”
People gagged as soon as they stepped inside.
Each breath felt like their lungs were burning.
The acrid smell of sulfur mixed with the stench of blood stabbed into their nostrils.
It was a sealed space with almost no ventilation.
Steam from dozens of blast furnaces blackened the ceiling, while the floor was covered in sticky black sludge of unknown origin.
“Move, move! What are you standing around for? Hurry up!”
At the foreman’s shout, brutal supervisors wielding clubs began driving the survivors forward.
“E-excuse me! What about safety gear? Masks or gloves?”
A young man at the front asked timidly.
The response was a heavy military boot.
THUD!
“Ugh!”
“Gear? Your bodies are the gear! We’re feeding you and giving you a place to sleep—what more do you want?!”
The supervisor kicked the fallen youth in the ribs.
“If anyone doesn’t want to work here, say it now! We’ll throw you outside and feed you to the mutants!”
The threat silenced the murmuring crowd.
Because this metal-reeking hell was still safer than the outside world where mutants could appear at any moment.
“Teams one to five, to the blast furnaces! Teams six to ten, transport the cast molds! The rest haul the sludge away! Move!”
The survivors were driven to their workstations.
What awaited them was murderous labor.
Sssssss—!
“Hot! Hot!”
With rags wrapped around their hands, survivors lifted ladles full of boiling molten metal and poured them into molds.
If even a drop splashed, the cloth burned and the smell of searing flesh filled the air.
But they could not stop.
The moment they did, the supervisor’s whip cracked from behind.
“Ggh…”
Then it happened.
A middle-aged man carrying a heavy mold stumbled as his legs gave out.
The high-temperature steam trapped inside the mold spilled over his forearm.
“AAAAAGH!”
A horrifying scream echoed through the factory.
His skin instantly blistered and burst open. He collapsed on the ground, writhing in agony.
“My arm! My arm—!”
People nearby recoiled in shock.
But the supervisor who rushed over reacted coldly.
Instead of worrying about the injured man, he inspected the mold that had fallen.
“Fuck! I told you to be careful! What if this precious mold gets damaged?!”
He looked at the writhing man as if he were a bug.
“Hey. Drag this bastard out.”
“Send him to the infirmary?”
“Infirmary my ass. Do you think that can be treated? Lock him in the warehouse so he shuts up.”
“P-please! Please treat me!”
Ignoring the man’s pleas, the foreman shouted.
“Bring in the next one! Don’t stop the line!”
As the injured man was dragged away like luggage, terror filled the eyes of those who remained.
This was not a shelter for survivors.
It was a giant incinerator where people were burned as fuel to produce weapons.
Watching the scene from the second-floor railing, Choi Manseok smirked.
“Tsk. What could you expect from garbage like that?”
He had never intended to give those losers residency rights.
They were simply disposable tools.
“Those somewhat useful can work until they die. The rest…”
His gaze turned to a stack of boxes in one corner of the factory.
Inside them, exhausted workers lay piled like cargo.
“They’ll fetch a decent price if sold as slaves or test subjects.”
The weapons would inevitably fail sooner or later.
When that time came, those useless workers would have to be disposed of as well.
By then, the military payments and profits from human trafficking would be enough to live comfortably anywhere.
“Hm… Instead of the Gangnam VIP shelter, maybe I should just move to the United States.”
Once the Northern Front collapsed completely, there would be no hope left in this country.
“Boss, take a look at this. It’s a complete mess.”
On the screen Picker displayed, Guro Foundry looked like an active volcano.
Black smoke and red steam poured not only from the chimneys but from every crack in the windows.
“Huh? What’s going on inside there?”
“Hold on. Infiltrating now.”
The screen switched.
The perspective of a spider robot that had entered through a ventilation duct.
Inside, hundreds of people were hauling molten metal like swarms of ants.
“Crazy… are those people or machines?”
I clicked my tongue.
Workers forced into high-temperature labor without any safety gear.
Their skin was blistered from burns, and whenever they coughed, black phlegm splattered out.
Picker zoomed in on one corner of the screen.
A mountain of K-2 rifles and K-3 machine gun parts.
But something looked strange.
“Why do they look so clean on the outside?”
Instead of the rough handmade look typical of post-collapse production, they were polished like pre-collapse factory products.
I deliberately roughen my products to make them look crude like the others.
“Boss! They’re pouring molten metal into molds to mass-produce guns! This isn’t fish-shaped pastry—are they insane?!”
Picker was right.
Firearm parts must withstand intense pressure and heat, requiring precise forging and machining.
And they were simply pouring metal into molds?
“Run a detailed analysis.”
“Yes, sir. One moment.”
Soon, the analysis results appeared on screen.
[Risk Level: Internal bubble formation probability 42%]
[Evaluation: Severe structural defects. High likelihood of barrel or chamber explosion under sustained fire.]
“Wow… 42% bubble probability? That won’t last long.”
“They’re basically ticking time bombs. And they’re handing those to soldiers?”
“Hm.”
Thinking about it briefly, Choi Manseok’s intention became obvious.
“He’s planning to grab the money and run.”
Whether the military contract ended or not didn’t matter to him.
As long as he delivered the quantity and took the money.
“You’ve really sunk that low, Choi Manseok.”
I stared coldly at the arrogant man on the screen.
A technician like that disgusted me.
“Picker. Save every bit of this footage.”
Several days later.
Shipping yard of Guro Foundry.
Dozens of massive military trucks rolled in one after another.
500 K-3 light machine guns.
100 KM187 81 mm mortars.
50 K-4 high-speed grenade machine guns.
10,000 anti-personnel grenades and anti-tank mines.
An enormous shipment.
Soon afterward, a black sedan glided into the yard.
The door opened, and a man in military uniform stepped out.
It was Colonel Park Jinseop, operations staff of the Capital Defense Command.
His face was stiff.
After losing ground to Lieutenant Colonel Kang Cheolmin, he had staked everything on this delivery.
Looking at the mountain of equipment, Park Jinseop thought to himself.
When you pressure them, they finally produce results. They should’ve done it properly from the beginning.
“Choi Manseok. No problems this time, right?”
When they were on good terms, Park Jinseop had praised him as a genius.
Now his tone was cold.
Even though curses rose in his throat, Choi Manseok was the one who needed the deal.
“Colonel! You won’t be disappointed this time. I, Choi Manseok, stake my name on it. Please take a look.”
He excitedly opened a crate.
A gleaming K-3 machine gun appeared.
Park Jinseop picked it up suspiciously.
“Hm…”
The weight was right.
The finishing was excellent.
But he still didn’t trust Choi Manseok.
“Test it.”
At his command, an adjutant with a production-type trait stepped forward.
He disassembled the weapon and inspected the interior.
Because the casting molds had been made precisely through Metal Liquefaction, and the materials refined personally, there were none of the dimensional errors seen before.
“No issues, Colonel. The finish is excellent.”
Still, Park Jinseop didn’t trust Choi Manseok.
“Really? Then let’s fire it.”
They moved to the firing range.
Tat! Tat! Tat-tat-tat!
Smooth firing sounds.
Shell casings flew cleanly out.
Single shot. Burst fire. Full automatic.
During roughly one hundred rounds of testing, not a single malfunction occurred.
“Oh.”
Only then did a smile appear on Park Jinseop’s lips.
Durability problems only appear after hundreds or thousands of rounds.
A short test could not reveal the limits of cast components.
As expected, once you say a word, he produces something decent.
Not one word—more like a hundred.
Park Jinseop patted Choi Manseok’s shoulder.
“Good. Very good.”
“Hahaha! Thank you, Colonel.”
With a satisfied expression, Park Jinseop signed the receipt.
Completely unaware that the document he signed would become the contract that sealed his own destruction.
“Take the entire shipment! Send it to the front immediately!”
The trucks roared to life.
The weapons of death departed for the front lines.
Watching the trucks disappear, Choi Manseok exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke.
“Tsk. Seeing him so happy makes me feel a little guilty. If we meet again in hell, I’ll be sure to apologize, Park Jinseop.”