“I believe I owe you two drinks since you managed to survive not one, but two tours! Cheers!” Mike the tavern owner toasted after putting two cups of rum on the counter in front of me.

“Honestly, I only expected only 1 drink for both tours, but I ain’t gonna complain.” I cheerfully replied. “To absent friends.” I toasted with a tinge of regret in my voice.

“To absent friends.” The two of them toasted back in unison before downing the drinks.

Roshan was buried with his comrades after the Elven raid. The Legion paid Roshan’s father, Rudov, 700 crowns (7 silver coins) as one-time compensation. I didn’t know much about Rudov beyond that since I lost contact with him soon after. We’ve chatted before the attack, but ever since the funeral, I got the feeling that he wanted to avoid me for some reason.

It was understandable. Either Rudov blamed me for Roshan’s death or just didn’t want to be reminded of his death. Or maybe he never liked me in the first place and only put up with me for Roshan’s sake. Either way, I respected his wishes and kept my distance. I’ve offered to help him out if he ever wanted it, but it’d appeared that offer was unwanted or unneeded.

It’s funny really. I wasn’t even looking for a friend when I got here. I wanted to keep my head down and find a way to survive. Yet I ended up befriending one of the good people in this medieval dump. And the bastard had the nerve to die heroically while trying to get me back to safety after my crazy stunt.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t regret what I’d done- we would’ve been overrun had I done nothing. Just my fucking luck that the Elves could command hordes of mana-beasts to attack en masse (not to mention having an OP ability to snipe from 200 meters out). Sigh… the sheer OP-ness of that command spell made my spells look like a fun magic trick at a children's party.

I couldn’t protect you, Roshan, but I will avenge you. I’d seen that angry fucker’s face, and I’d remember it until the day I put a bullet in it. That’s the least I could do for a friend…

Two and a half years passed me by like a blur. Before I knew it, I’ve lived in this new world for 6 years and completed 2 tours of duty. Thanks to my luck and <>, I survived all that the Wild threw at me. After finishing my second tour, I applied for an honorable discharge.

Keith and Vinnick tried to convince me otherwise, but they knew a lost cause when they saw it. I lost a friend in a dangerous battle that could’ve easily claimed my life too had things shaken out differently. Why the hell would I stick around for 9 more years just so I could retire on some settlement out in the Wilds? (A lot of settlers died as the wave receded back, left out to dry by the top brass who were too scared to deploy the Rangers beyond the castle after the aid.)

I had gained all that I could in the Legion, and I had repaid their generosity by killing thousands of mana-beasts (wolves, bears, boars, and even a few owls!), Champion mana-beasts, goblins, ogres, and illegal settlers for them over the years. Hell, I even fought and bled in a cheesy knockoff version of the Siege of Helms Deep.

After all these years of senseless killing, I felt quite justified in saying that the 626th Imperial Ranger Legion and I owed each other nothing. In fact, the way the Legion left the legal settlers out to dry after the mana-beast wave told me all I needed to know about how they really felt about the veterans who gave 15 years of their lives to the Legion.

Arminius finished his drink and asked. “Oh yeah, you gonna keep making ‘Supply Runs’ even after your discharge? I’m retiring, so I won’t be needing them anymore.” He then motioned Mike for another.

“Oh that. Yeah, I need plenty of funds for my side project, so I’ll have to keep hunting.”

Mike joined in. “Besides, I’ve still got plenty of buyers lined up under the table. Our boy’s gonna be fine.” In a way, I was glad that brat airmailed me into his rum cart that fateful day. He literally introduced me to a well-connected guy who was more than willing to do shady deals under the table to keep his tavern and family afloat. We’ve been able to bond over that fact. After Roshan, I had been pretty isolated due to my general feeling of detachment from this world and its generally shitty denizens; but Mike was one of the good ones. He was a good man who lived by his code, and I respected him for that.

“I’m honestly a little scared to see what unholy monstrosity you’re making with the amount of money you’ve poured in.” Arminius sighed as he finished yet another drink.

***

Based on my previous experience with WWII weapons in reenactments, the Colt M1911A1 semi-automatic pistol and the M1 Garand semi-automatic rifle were prime candidates for my firearm project. After all, I’ve extensively handled and field-stripped those guns before. On top of that, thanks to my propensity to research any machinery I was fascinated with and my <>, I’ve got plenty of info from my past memories on their design and mechanism of action.

The ammo for the 1911 and Garand were the .45 ACP and .30-06 Springfield, respectively. I was fairly certain they’d penetrate armor and stop a charging Knight dead in his tracks without <>. While I’d love to start off with automatic rifles, I doubted I had the production capability to make enough ammo for it. For my immediate purposes, a 1911 and a Garand would do just fine.

But before I could get there, I needed to gather even more raw materials and to make all of the tools from scratch.

With the massive funds I’ve obtained from (slowly and covertly) selling most of my loot from the Witches mission, I was able to set up a hidden workshop in the natural cavern I stumbled onto while I was hiding from them. As it turned out, there was a small creek nearby, which makes that place a decent location for a secret outdoor workshop. It took a while to divert the creek into the workshop as a water source, set up proper ventilation, and move in equipment discreetly. Since I installed a secret entrance into the workshop in a hollowed out sequoia tree, I named the workshop, “Sequoia Locker”. By the time I got discharged from the Legion, I generated a hefty stockpile of charcoal, coke (the kind you burn, not the kind you drink or snort) and wrought iron.

The first tool I’d made in this endeavor was a ruler. A gun is a precise machine with many moving parts. It was already difficult making a functioning one with the available tech I have, and a ruler should help maintain the precision of my handiwork. I also needed to come up with a scale to measure mass.

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I planned to employ the Crucible Steel production method to make the high carbon steel required. So I would need a crucible to melt my wrought iron and charcoal in (and that crucible needed to be able to withstand the coke burning at 870 Celsius), molds for the various parts of the gun (gah, making the springs was a real bitch and a half), and metal files to trim off the excess. Oh, and a press to put the cartridges together. And those were just the things I could think of off the top of my head.

Meanwhile, for the next chapter of my career, I’d decided to take my talents to the forge-smithy of Stanfur, a former student of Arminius and a renowned Expert-level forge-smith. The goals here were threefold:

1) To learn more about forge-smithing as a specialty. In the Auxiliary Cohort, I got to learn about forge-smithing along with tanning and woodworking as a general study. It was time to further specialize my knowledge in this field.

2) Despite Arminius’s best efforts, I really didn’t get much opportunity to see how mana crystals were integrated into the top-tier weapons and armor. I knew that something called “Artorian Silver'' was used to “connect” the mana crystal to the piece, but I had no idea how to make it or how any of that works. I could learn that here.

3) See if forge-smithing was a viable career that could support my harem dream without me having to go Wild. Maybe I could advance myself from Adept-level to Expert-level and open my own forge-smithy? But if not, I could always bide my time here before eventually checking out of this dump.

An Expert-level forge-smith was as impressive as it got in this backwater town. Heck, I was pretty sure there were only 6 here. And no Master-level forge-smith would waste his time in the boonies when he could be making it rain in a real city. The skill and knowledge gaps between an Expert and an Adept were pretty massive, so if I wanted to advance my craft in this field, I’d have to study under an Expert. Arminius did me a real solid by getting me hired.

If Stanfur were the type of supportive boss that encourages personal growth and development, then I wouldn’t mind sticking around and contributing my fair shair. But if he were the type of boss that I’ve been accustomed to? Well, this time, I refused to be a loyal soldier for abusers like that…

***

There were a couple of things during the Witches mission that stuck with me- First and foremost was <>. Apparently, it’s an Adept-level or Expert-level spell that allows you to locate nearby mana crystals by casting the spell on the crystal of the same type. I assumed that was how they found and targeted the village in the first place. The implications of such an ability were truly scary. If I ever found a stash of higher elemental mana crystals, I could be targeted no matter how well I hide it. Also, once they figured out what elemental mana crystal you were carrying in battle, they could magically track you with that spell.

Speaking of these stupidly OP Witches, let’s not ignore the fact that their fighters and archers could catch/dodge arrows and do short distance teleports. These must be some sort of Adept-level or Expert-level spells that I haven’t learned yet. However, I’ve learned that the Witches were not invincible. When I overcharged my shot, they couldn’t stop it despite being able to perceive it. That must’ve been the limits of their abilities- once the projectiles were fast enough, they couldn't react to it even if they saw it coming. On top of that, if they were sufficiently distracted (ie: getting poisoned by grabbing the tip of a Nightshade arrow), those amazing abilities would fail to activate.

The teleport trick (that I shall call, <>) was harder to counter even with a firearm. It was encouraging to see that they couldn’t/wouldn’t <> backwards, so the general rule that you could only cast spells on targets/locations you could see still probably still applies to <>. At the end of the day, the best countermeasure I could think of was to snipe them from behind or pour in a lot more shots downrange (the good ol’ “spray and pray” tactic).

Good thing they were not the immediate problem anymore. As a civilian, the biggest predators I had to watch out for were the nobles and their bratty kids. In a way, they were worse than your typical Champion mana-beasts; they were just as hard to kill in combat, except there was nothing but grief to deal with if you did kill them. In the past 6 years, I was lucky most of them were deathly allergic to real frontline combat in the Wilds (maybe they’ve all got bone spurs or something). That luck just ran out. Time to keep my head down and avoid them like the plague...

***

Last but definitely not the least, how the fuck could I understand Elvish? I searched my memories of both lives, and the answer still eluded me. This kid I took over lived in the city his entire life, and I doubt Elves visited this city often, if ever. Of course, since the kid didn’t have tangible memories before he’s 3-4 years old, who the heck knew what happened back then. Plus, the identity of his parents remained a crucial mystery as well.

Outside of some transmigration magic fuckery, my working theory was that I understand and speak limited Elvish because the kid had heard it before as a baby, probably in the Wilds, and my <> was only able to dredge up a few words from his subconscious. I really hoped I was wrong, because that would mean that this kid’s background wasn't so simple after all. In the webnovels I’d read in my past life, this was what we connoisseurs called “a flag”. Sigh… I just knew I’d eventually get dragged into some Elvish bullshit down the road.

Well, no use worrying about that now. When trouble does come, I just hope I'd have a M1 Garand or a Colt M1911 by my side.

***

After a merry night of drinking, I bid my friends a good night, and headed upstairs into my room (I’ve set up an arrangement with Mike on the rent). Let’s hope my civilian life this time around involved less death/near-death experiences…

Field Inventory

Primary Weapon

Recurve bow made from Champion mana-beast sinew/Quiver with arrows

Secondary Weapon

2x Short throwing spear

Armor

Champion mana-beast leather body armor, bracers, and greaves; Leather boots lined with bear fur

Mana Crystals

1x Adept-level air elemental mana crystal

1x Adept-level fire elemental mana crystal

1x Adept-level earth elemental mana crystal

1x Beginner-level ice elemental mana crystal

Stash of various mana crystals

Misc.

Utility belt, grappling hook, rope, dark green cloak, field satchel, waterskin, rations, boarskin map and steel knife