Magic Bullets (2)
As the collector vanished, the overheated chat window cooled rapidly, leaving only Kiki's plaintive voice echoing.
"Even without an entry fee, if you enjoyed the show, please like and subscribe..."
Viewership plummeted, dashing Kiki's hopes. The moment she bowed her head in dejection and shut off the hologram.
A single short message popped up. Kiki, staring at the floor, naturally missed it. With the stream off, she wouldn't see it unless she checked the replay.
Allen debated mentioning it but held back, figuring one viewer wouldn't make a difference.
Kiki pouted.
"They sure got a good show."
"Pretty spectacular for fireworks."
"Looks nice from afar. Up close, you'd melt... Look at that. Already."
Kiki clicked her tongue. How long had it been since the collector disappeared? Explorers were already pouring into the labyrinth depths.
Money was scarier than death, at least for a day or two. Allen shrugged and headed for the labyrinth station.
The gains from this expedition boiled down to three.
Confirmation that his abilities worked even in the cave.
The fact that the labyrinth teemed with dangerous foes, demanding thorough preparation.
And Francois's promise to look into a mana training method.
Whatever mana training method she found, it had to be leagues better than what Nobak had suggested.
'Funds are plenty.'
With mana stones and soul stones stocked up, he wouldn't worry about living expenses or book purchases for a while.
Except, of course, for Star Letters interpretations. Having memorized the primer and beginner guides, next up was intermediate.
'How does a single book have seven whole zeros on its price tag?'
Star Letters were a difficult, expensive discipline. No wonder so few stuck with it, and experts were rare.
Memorizing even just the beginner interpretations guaranteed meals, but Allen's ultimate goals weren't stability—they were knowledge, exploration, and a cure.
'Resting, yet still thinking about work...'
Allen shook his head. His brain seemed addicted to danger already. The thrill was so intense, everything else paled in comparison.
Forcing himself out of workaholic mode, he opened his eyes. The vine chair, optimized for human form, writhed gently.
Beyond the fluff-like electrodes clinging to him, Yohwa came into view. She was looking his way too.
"You look amused."
"..."
"Or not? With that perpetual scowl, who can tell..."
Yohwa was knitting—not ordinary work, but filters for Allen's gas mask.
While other explorers suffered the stench of barbecued warlock, Allen breathed fresh air thanks to those filters.
Tiny fairies twisted plant fibers into thread, which Yohwa wove into dense natural filters.
It reminded him of the tapestries near the entrance. Woven from living vines, they purified mana itself.
No wonder folks without potion budgets loitered for hours only to get chased off.
"Why the stare?"
"I didn't know you did handcrafts too, Lady Yohwa. I heard top pharmacies like yours mass-produce everything."
"Of course there's pharma equipment downstairs. But can machines capture the ever-shifting data inside a human body?"
"What about MRI?"
"Machines suck at it. Not that I'm technophobic or anything—don't get me wrong. It's true."
Yohwa's knitting paused right then. The fairies handing over thread puffed their cheeks and planted hands on hips.
"Evil boss!"
"Guarantee our free time!"
"No snacks, no life!"
The fairies swarmed, shouting, then paled and fled to another area.
'What the hell did they see?'
Allen only saw Yohwa's back, so her expression was a mystery.
Turning around, she exuded her usual refined lady-like poise.
"Sigh. Protesters passed by blasting megaphones the other day, and now they're mimicking the chants."
"Do you give them breaks?"
"Naturally. Thirty minutes work, thirty rest. Ten to five hours. One-hour lunch."
Fairies had childish sides, but their innate magic made them stellar workers if handled right. Though their pranks sometimes begged for a scolding.
"They're cute."
"Cute? They're older than you. Hold on, that look's a bit cheeky."
Allen just shrugged. He kept to himself the memory of a 70-year-old granny calling Yohwa "sis" last time.
Conveniently, the body scan finished; the fluffy tendrils floated away. Allen rose, slipping on his jacket from the tree.
"Your feedback improved the Deathbell Flower balm massively. Here's a gift."
Yohwa handed over a medkit packed with labyrinth essentials.
All-natural, no chemical processing, yet superior in efficacy, onset, and duration.
"Stay safe. Part of me wants to lock you up and feed you only organics."
"Your true feelings slipped out."
Yohwa flashed a cryptic smile and slipped into the trees—befitting the flower fairy pharmacist.
Dodging a fairy spraying tree sap with a squirt gun, Allen headed out. Western Sky's air was so crisp, visits always cleared his head.
Thanks to that, his next magitech design was roughed out; execution was all that remained.
'Engraving rune letters on metal plates to throw like cards is more hassle than expected.'
He needed a way to strike farther, more precisely.
The market had magbullets, of course—bullets infused with magic.
But how big were they? The spells inside were weaker than EBI casts, and precision crafting made them brutally expensive.
Firepower could be brute-forced with numbers, but vanishing balances on every trigger pull were the real killer. Catching one automaton might cost as much ammo as two.
Magbullets' high price stemmed from origin-markup, distribution, and embedded tech.
But Allen didn't need to worry about supply chains or tech.
'I can just make them myself.'
Magic Bullets (2)
Circuit magic used only mana circuits engraved on magitech—no rune letters needed. Just draw lines, which some even tattooed on their bodies.
Rune letters weren't all there was to magic. The mystical was vast and unknowable, with uncharted horizons dwarfing the known.
Even the top-used rune letters followed suit. Beyond what mage-scholars decoded, it was up to the user's imagination, sense, or intuition.
Thus, the same rune letters varied in power and effect based on who engraved them and with what mindset.
'Tricky, but fun.'
Allen closed the book. The last sunlight of the day filtered into his warehouse workshop-home.
'Got the circuit magic book, but since it's unfamiliar, start with rune letters.'
Reasons to craft and use magbullets were plentiful.
Mira or cave fog meant close-range fights in narrow passages, where tossing rune cards worked fine.
But deeper? Utility dropped. Below were wild lands—the labyrinth's creator had recreated primordial plains, forests, valleys.
No one knew how. Even suns rose and set, cycling day and night.
Vast sightlines meant massive engagement ranges. Hunting labyrinth beasts was one thing; humans were another.
'Too small. Surface area and volume limit mana capacity.'
Rifle rounds were tiny. A master mage enchanting live might manage, but otherwise? No dice.
Allen rolled a rifle bullet between fingers, then tossed it in a drawer. Next: a small cylindrical shell, a grenade round.
Under the stand light, its casing gleamed. This size suited experiments—engrave runes, or mod a reactive mana stone inside.
Decision made, Allen ordered shells via a factory contact from Saramanjang. They arrived at his workshop promptly.
'No need to make casings too. Mass-produced are plenty good.'
Next: launch mechanism.
'Gunpowder's too heavy.'
Five powder-packed grenades exceeded 1kg. Multiple labyrinth fights? Dozens of kilos easy.
Deep expeditions had supply trains or Oparts with space magic—distant dreams for Allen.
'Replace flight and explosion powder with rune letters to halve weight.'
Allen scribbled on paper.
[Compression], [Explosion], [Repulsion]…
'Drop [Compression], add [Spiral] and [Acceleration].'
[Explosion] and [Repulsion] at ignition, [Spiral] and [Acceleration] in rifling.
As his pen flew, the paper blackened with dense annotations on magbullet launcher parts.
'Design's odd, but refine post-prototype. Now, magbullets.'
Plenty of rune letters for shells.
[Flame], [Impact], [Freeze], [Explosion], [Penetration]…
Too many choices. Stocking varied types covered any scenario—obviously.
'Not just types—engraving method matters too.'
Allen's task: transform grenades into magbullets via rune letters.
How to combine them.
How many, how large.
Rune letters resembled hieroglyphs; circuit magic, rootlets. Runes relied on form-behavior unity; circuits generated mystery via line shapes.
Runes were user-friendly but degraded with distortion.
Circuits were hard to engrave but worked on curves like cylinders if lines were precise.
Allen prototyped both ways. Couldn't test-fire indoors; needed a range. Outdoors ideally.
Maze City outskirts had a shooting range. Static targets for scores, or hunt scampering critters.
True wild hunts were illegal, so forest "animals" were holoskin-clad golems.
Holoskin could disguise like Sion's or entertain like here.
The unmanned taxi halted in the vast lot. Before exiting, Allen asked the AI.
"Can you wait here?"
Of course, customer. An additional fee will apply—please check the seat screen.
Allen accepted despite the hourly charges. The city was huge; half a day just to get here. He'd need transport back.
"How soon if I call?"