Perhaps Human Desire Will Save Humanity
Perhaps human desire might save humanity.
I returned to Kara with my companions. It was a long journey across the continent, but using the portal tower made it a breeze.
As Shura and Armida chattered away while descending the tower, I reviewed my previous battle with the Sky Despair.
It had been a pretty successful hunt, but there was one thing that left me unsatisfied. In the end, power on the level of a Valkyrie was absolutely necessary.
That said, I now knew that magic cannons firing scatter shots, iron shield carts, and steel nets could hinder its movement. But without Armida's mana detection ability and a powerhouse to deliver the finishing blow, it was just a stalling tactic—I'd realized that all too clearly.
Still, there was no need to be disappointed yet. If I could find something to detect mana over a wide area and a reliable way to eliminate the Sky Despair, it meant humans could take it down with our own strength.
If I just improve the magic cannon projectiles a bit, we'll have a decent way to hunt Sky Despairs.
The reason I thought that was because I'd seen how deeply the arrows had embedded in the Sky Despair.
It was pure luck, but arrows had dealt it serious damage.
So, if I made the barrage denser, turning chance into certainty, that would do it. For example, by making the iron balls used for scatter shots smaller, increasing the number that spread out per shot.
Back then, we'd used balls the size of jawbreakers, but reviewing it now, they didn't need to be that big. Honestly, even small glass beads would probably do lethal damage.
The only issue was the number of magic cannons. More cannons meant a denser barrage, raising our odds against the Sky Despair.
But that problem would solve itself soon enough.
In the process of developing the magic steam locomotive and building the rail system, we'd secured the technology to mass-produce cast-iron magic cannons.
Once that was complete, we could dramatically increase cannon production. Bronze cannons were limited by scarce copper resources, but iron ones wouldn't be.
Iron ore was abundantly mined all over the world, unlike copper.
And we'd need to develop a new version of the magic bullet launcher. The current ones focused on high magical damage like fire shells and lightning shells, but adding an earth-type launcher that fired stone arrow shells—with physical damage—would be good. Not just for magic cannon units, but for regular soldiers to contribute to the barrage.
There were plenty of mana beasts with high magic resistance anyway, so no reason not to develop it.
"Out of the way! Move it!"
As we exited the portal tower, a man's shout echoed from somewhere. He was pretty young, racing down the roadside in a cart without any livestock pulling it.
I paused and watched the man in the cart. He looked young—early twenties, maybe.
Soon, his cart veered wildly past us and crashed into a shop building, coming to a halt.
"What the hell?"
"Beats me."
Leaving Armida and Shura—who were voicing their confusion—I walked over to the man. His forehead was badly gashed, his face covered in blood.
His limbs seemed fine, though; he was grunting as he dragged himself out of the half-wrecked cart.
I approached and inspected the broken cart thoroughly.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
The shop owner burst out and berated the young man. The shop wall was crumbling, so I got why he was pissed, but it was annoyingly loud to me.
I wanted to keep examining the cart without interruption.
I pulled a small gold coin from my pocket and handed it to the owner. It was worth 10 leaves of gold.
"Hey, boss. Use this to fix the building."
"Whoa, this much?"
"Includes compensation for the sudden trouble."
"Thank you, sir!"
The shop owner grumbled about the kid's bad luck and left.
The young man walked over, bowing deeply to me.
"Baekmyeon, thank you for your help."
"Skip the thanks. What's your name?"
"Liden, third son of the Nohwa family—10th-class retainers."
I repeated Liden's name a few times. I wasn't great at remembering men's names.
"Nohwa family?"
"You probably haven't heard of us. Our house became retainers after my father earned merits in the last war."
"Oh? What merits?"
"Mass-producing crossbow mechanisms. It earned recognition."
I nodded. Artisans who supplied key war gear back then got retainer titles too.
"You the family heir?"
"No, my older brother is."
"So you're a commoner, then?"
"Yes."
I kept eyeing the cart he'd been riding alone.
"Riding this solo, huh?"
"Yes. It's a mana-powered cart mechanism."
I rested my chin in my hand, thinking.
"How'd you make this? Couldn't have been easy."
"My father's working on the magic steam locomotive project at the industrial research institute. I referenced its basic structure and design concepts. The mana engine got help from the mage next door."
I pointed at the wrecked cart with my thumb.
"But it doesn't look much like the steam locomotive. Way smaller, for one."
"Ah, I made it small so it could go without rails. A full-sized steam locomotive wouldn't move without them. Plus, no easy way to get mid-grade essence or higher."
"I see. How many can it carry?"
"Two people."
"Speed?"
"30 km per hour on paved roads."
"Range?"
"Max six hours, so about 180 km."
Six hours for 180 km? That beat any horse for long distances.
"Hmm. Not bad at all."
"Pardon?"
"Looks pretty damn useful."
"But it uses mid-grade essence?"
"Exactly."
When the age of ruin comes, essence will be everywhere. But nothing moved 180 km in six hours.
I looked at Liden.
"So, why'd you make this?"
"To start a business. My brother's taking the family, so as the third son, I need to make money and build my own house."
"I see."
"Yes."
"Alright. You're a 9th-class retainer as of today."
Liden's eyes went wide, like he'd misheard.
"Pardon?"
"You earned merits for Kara Kingdom. Report to the industrial research institute tomorrow."
"R-Really?"
"Yeah. I'll assign manpower too, so make this properly usable. Like figuring out how to stop without smashing into buildings."
"Yes, sir!"
"Go on."
"Yes!"
Liden dragged the mana cart away with a dazed, ecstatic grin. It had crashed because it wouldn't stop, but now he was nobility out of nowhere. How could he not be thrilled?
Armida approached me.
"Little bro, why give that kid a retainer title?"
"He made a mana-powered cart."
"But you can't hand out titles just for making stuff, or we'd run out."
"Not to everyone, sure. But this? Had to. It's revolutionary. Honestly, 9th-class is lowballing it. If it was fully functional, it'd be 5th-class at least."
"That good?"
"Yeah. Looks great. Faster than the fastest horse. No horse covers 180 km in six hours."
"True enough."
I watched Liden drag his cart away with a meaningful gaze.
If we developed that mana cart properly, it'd revolutionize refugee transport, troop movements, supply lines, even magic cannon hauling. It was the perfect replacement for horses and camels.
The steam locomotive covered a lot, but it needed rails.
This didn't. Flat ground was enough, and with a sturdier frame and more power, it could handle rough terrain too.
The street in front of Kaoyan's intelligence office buzzed with people. This area used to be a declining shopping district in Lannis City after maritime trade boomed, but foot traffic had surged lately.
Their behavior was all weirdly uniform.
Everyone carried their inventions, and whenever I stepped outside, they'd freeze and fiddle with whatever they'd brought.
It was the Liden effect.
A young guy makes a mana cart, jumps to 9th-class retainer, and lands a development team lead spot at the hot new industrial research institute. No artisan or mage could ignore that. It was a chance to rise to nobility with their skills and ideas.
Armida stared out the window and said in a sly tone,
"Little bro, quite a crowd today, huh?"
I glanced out from the sofa.
"Yeah."
"Not chasing them off?"
"Why would I?"
"Annoying."
"Sure, but it's what I wanted."
"Huh? Why?"
"They're bringing me their ideas, driven by ambition to rise in status. Moralists would call them vulgar, but not me. I know that kind of desire and effort is what advances human civilization. Hell, it might even save us."
I recalled the day I met Liden, smiling faintly.
His mana cart would prove a huge boon to humanity's armies later. And as examples like his piled up, our forces would grow stronger—maybe even enough to repel monster hordes.
The scatter shot I'd devised hunting the Sky Despair was the same. Just a simple idea to swap big cannonballs for small iron ones, but it played a big role in downing the Sky Despair, which became a terror synonym for human armies later.
Plus, scatter shots were perfect for mass slaughter against hordes. With a solid production and supply system, blocking monster swarms wouldn't be a pipe dream.
Ironically, those ideas might be floating in the heads of these ambitious folks outside. Naturally, I preferred their eager self-promotion over moralists stroking their beards. Moralists did nothing for salvation; these guys would contribute massively, one by one.
"Excuse me."
An elderly man in shabby clothes entered the office, holding a small glass bottle.
"Who're you?"
He flinched under my gaze.
"Maner, a glassblower. I have a gift for Baekmyeon."
"What is it?"
"Mystic date palm fruit."
Maner politely set the bottle on the table. It was tightly corked, filled with dates submerged in clear liquid.
"Safe to eat?"
"Yes, of course."
I unwrapped the cloth, popped the cork, and fished out a date. It was moist, not fresh-picked, but intact.
I bit into it and my eyes widened slightly. Sweet and delicious. Cloying if overeaten, but perfect as a palate cleanser.
"Sweet. Sugar syrup?"
"Yes."
"But too sweet? Couldn't cut the sugar?"
Maner scratched his head sheepishly.
"It'd spoil the dates otherwise. This ratio's perfect."
"Fruit rots quick anyway. So what?"
"But these won't spoil."
I eyed Maner sidelong.
"Meaning?"
He gave a knowing look. Clearly, there was more to this sweet gift than met the eye.
"These dates are four years old."
"No kidding?"
"Yes."
"Tastes fresh, though."
"Really four years. All certified glassblowers at our workshop store fruit and veggies like this. Call them if you don't believe me."
If true, it was groundbreaking. Long-term produce preservation meant frontline troops could eat holy food.
No rot-induced diseases, higher morale, less spoilage in storage.
Human armies stronger.
"What's it called?"
"Bottle preserves."
"Bottle preserves. Love it."
"Pardon?"
I chuckled.
"You're 12th-class retainer now. Bring me a mass-production method, and I'll bump you higher. Need money? Say the word—I'll fund it."
"Yes!"
"Go on."
"Understood. Then I'll..."
Maner left with a flushed, excited face.
Armida, who'd watched closely, popped a date and quipped,
"This is really good."
"Yeah. Pretty tasty for four-year-old food."
I ate another and stepped outside.
The bottle preserves that would aid human armies later had come to me through human ambition. I couldn't just wait; I had to seek them out and claim their ideas.
Hell, no baker makes bread for humanity's peace.
No baker bakes for mankind. They do it for pure profit.
But humanity gets tasty, cheap bread from that desire.
That's it. This desire others call ugly might save us from the world's end.
Just like these bottle preserves strengthening our armies.
Perhaps human desire might save humanity. End