Ginz’s fingers gleamed with mana. The iron ingot in his hands heated until it became soft like putty. He tore off a small portion of metal and molded it into a short cylinder. Then, he squashed it and started again. Three times, Ginz kneaded the iron until he was satisfied with the result. He summoned a mana caliper out of thin air and measured the base diameter before working the tip. Ginz’s eyes were lost in space as if he were looking at an invisible System prompt, and he grinned. Finally, he doodled a rough sketch on one of the few pieces of paper.
Ilya and I leaned over the table, but it was hard to make sense of the drawing.
Ammunition. [Identify] A projectile made of iron. Enchantment threshold: 200.
The enchantment threshold of the bullet was too small to accommodate a Vampiric rune, even with the iron affinity.
“Ginz?” I asked.
“Cooking,” he replied.
Ginz grabbed a Ghoul bone the orc craftsmen had prepared. He measured with his mana caliper and cut a piece with a tiny mana scalpel. “It has a high toughness rating, but I doubt it will survive a shot. I could build a crumpling metal case to prevent the bone from shattering, but it will take time.
If the bone shattered, the Vampiric enchantment could misfire and render it useless.
I shook my head. “We don’t have time to spare. Penetration power isn’t our goal. We can reduce the bullet speed as much as necessary to preserve the enchantment,” I replied. “I can even add a Reinforcement spell if necessary.”
Too many variables were at play: enchantment threshold, material resistance, bullet speed, material availability, and production speed.
“Dude, I understood the assignment. Now let me cook,” Ginz said. “The Ghoul bone is our limiting agent. We can only produce bullets of a certain size. The iron tip should improve ballistics, and we can add a cap at the bottom so the force is applied evenly. That should help prevent unwanted explosions.”
For the next hour, we worked on a testing bench.
I devised a Force-User-Direction string for the ‘trigger’. I guessed that if I optimized the direction of the force, the enchantment would need to be less powerful. I enchanted a circular metal cap and used Bind to stick it to the test barrel. It wasn’t clear what would happen if Ginz welded an enchanted trigger to an unenchanted barrel. Malfunctioning enchantments were prone to explosion, so I chose the safest way.
While I worked on the enchantment, Ginz prepared the prototype bullets.
“Before you two shoot anything, let’s ensure nobody will be harmed,” Ilya said.
I exchanged glances with Ginz and knew neither of us had considered safety.
“I’ll enchant the tent’s wall,” I said.
“We should aim up, so in the worst case, the bullet would end outside the city,” Ginz added, promptly changing the configuration of the table.
Ilya massaged her temples.
After a while, we had everything ready. The barrel’s trigger-cap had a Force-User-Direction string fueled by a Recharge-Instantaneous power source. I toned down the Force rune to a 300 Mana Threshold out of 1500 just to be sure nothing would explode. Theoretically, the ‘explosion’ wouldn’t exert perpendicular force on the barrel, but the theory usually failed to describe real-life events with a hundred percent accuracy. I doubted there was much theory behind runeweaving, for starters.
Ginz’s bullet was a cylindric section of bone around three centimeters long with a diameter of about half a centimeter. A metal cap seamlessly merged into the bottom of the bullet. He hadn’t yet added the ballistic cap. It was heavier than I expected.
Ghoul Bone Ammunition. [Identify] A projectile made of the bones of a Ghoul. Enchantment threshold: 300.
The Enchantment threshold was surprisingly high for such a small piece, but the bullet would be useless if the trigger enchantment didn’t work.
We strapped the barrel onto the testing table. In front of the muzzle, we settled a layered safety net: my mana barrier, my shirt, Ginz’s shirt, an old rug, and the tent’s wall—every layer enchanted with the Reinforce rune. Ginz loaded the bullet from the front and pushed it down with a stick, and we hid behind a second mana barrier on the off chance the bone bullet ricocheted.
Everything was ready.
“Does your Reinforcement spell work?” Ginz asked.
“Activate the trigger enchantment,” I replied.
“I don’t trust your enchantments. You do it.”
Ilya hid behind Ginz.
I approached the barrel and channeled my mana into the circuit. I fed [Foresight] as much mana as I could. Time slowed down around me. Then, with a mere thought, I activated the trigger enchantment. A burst of blue sparks emerged from the muzzle, and an instant later, the bullet broke my mana shield, hit Ginz’s enchanted shirt, and fell to the tent’s floor.
Nothing exploded. In fact, the shot was surprisingly silent, which made sense considering the lack of gunpowder.
“The bone is sturdier than I thought. It didn’t completely shatter,” Ginz said as he picked the bullet up from the floor.
A few fault lines crossed the bone, and I wondered if that would be enough for the Vampiric enchantment to misfire and explode. In the worst case, I could decrease the Force rune strength. With the lack of rifling, I expected our combat range to be at most a hundred meters. However, the lack of accuracy wasn’t the only factor. More distance would mean we would lose the ability to communicate. The weapon had to be reliable within a hundred meters. Everything else would be overkill.
“The bullet might require a Reinforcement rune, but that would deduct enchantment threshold I’d otherwise use for the Vampiric rune,” I said.
Ginz and Ilya nodded in agreement.
“Does the Vampiric rune even work if the bullet doesn’t stick? The Aias Sword and the Leechflame Sword have to stab a monster to drain their mana,” Ilya pointed out.
“We should test that,” I said, working towards the testing area.
“We will not shoot you,” Ilya interrupted me.
“We won’t?” Ginz interjected.
I laughed. I wasn’t eager to get shot with an experimental weapon, but I was willing to take one for the team. Still shirtless, I went outside and dug in the ground until I found a suitable pebble. Then, I enchanted a Vampiric-Recharge-User-Instantaneous string. I kept the Vampiric rune at a low mana threshold, as I didn’t want to lose all my mana in a single test.
Back inside the tent, I gave Ilya the enchanted pebble.
“Activate the enchantment and hit me,” I said. Similarly to the bullet, the pebble would be in contact with me for an instant before falling to the ground.
Ilya smirked. I had forgotten that ten levels had doubled her strength. The pebble hit me in the chest, making me recoil. Before even feeling pain, a shiver ran down my spine as the enchantment drained mana from my body. The sensation was unpleasant, but [Foresight] caught the enchantment in slow motion. The pebble had continued draining from my mana pool even after the pebble bounced.
I rubbed my chest.
“Was it necessary to use so much force?” I asked.
“That was for almost dying against the Chrysalimorph,” Ilya replied with a fiendish grin. “Also, the faster the throw, the shorter the contact. Probably. It was for science.”
Ginz nodded approvingly.
“We might as well do a set of ten—no, a hundred throws! Otherwise, the sample would be too small,” he said.
Ilya recovered the pebble and charged it with mana. The tent's curtain door opened before she could throw it, and Dassyra appeared in the doorway. She was covered in blood, and there was a deep gash in her armor, but she was unharmed. It wasn’t her blood. Considering the lack of alarm, the monster incursion must’ve been mild. Her eyes glazed our testing bench in confusion. Ginz and I were still shirtless. That didn’t hinder Ginz’s charismatic merchant persona.
“You must be Chieftain Dassyra. Pleased to meet you. I’m Ginz the Craftsman, at your service,” he said with a well-practiced bow. “No wonder why our Wolfie has a really strong arm.”
Dassyra smiled and bowed back.
Was Ginz flirting with her? She checked all the boxes for the craftsman—tall, strong, mature. I expected him to go on an angry rant about the legality of kidnapping people. Instead, he guided Dassyra to the testing table and explained our work in his best door-to-door salesman voice.
Ilya made a gagging gesture.
Ginz was totally the kind of teacher who flirted with students’ moms.
“How much would it cost to acquire one of those?” Dassyra asked, her eyes shining with greed as he examined the barrel. I wondered how long she had been spying on us.
“We are not planning on mass-producing them,” I replied before Ginz could answer. “They are a survival tool we will use until we return to Farcrest. Then, we will destroy them. If nobles find out about guns, a dozen Januses would be knocking on our door, and I don’t plan on drawing more attention to the orphanage than necessary.”
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Dassyra sighed. “If you don’t want them to get your stuff, you could shoot them.”
That was a very orcish solution to a problem that required way more finesse. Still, having a dozen guns hidden in the attic sounded like a great contingency plan if things took the wrong turn. I had promised myself not to be helpless anymore and would use every tool in my repertoire to keep up my word.
“Shame. We could’ve taken a few hundred golden pieces for each shooty gun and repeat business for the ammo.” Ginz said.
Dassyra raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to let Rob tell you what to do?”
I couldn’t believe she was trying such underhanded techniques.
“Ma’am, when Robert first arrived at the orphanage, he was concerned about raising his voice in front of the kids. He then ran an illegal potion operation under the Marquis's nose. Now, he is a kidnapper, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s planning murder as we speak. I’m not taking any chances.”
Ilya chucked the unactivated vampiric pebble at Ginz, making him flinch and swallow his words.
“They are too dangerous, Dassyra,” I said. “Imagine what this can do if it falls into the wrong hands.”
To my surprise, Dassyra nodded. “I’m kidding. I understand that not only the System can create Corruption. Power also corrupts. That is basic orc knowledge. Don’t worry. I’ll tell my warriors to keep their hands to themselves.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
Dassyra gave me an approving nod and said something along the lines of ‘That’s the orc way’. I hadn’t realized how much illegal stuff I had been doing lately. Luckily, Farcrest didn’t seem to have laws against nepotism because otherwise, my dealings with Prince Adrien also fell on the list of not-so-legal stuff. Undermining the ducal authority couldn’t be legal.
I wondered if I was being a good enough role model for the kids.
“Don’t look so dejected, Caretaker. Elincia likes bad boys,” Ginz said.
“Shut it,” I replied, grabbing my shirt from the testing area and putting it back on.
Dassyra removed her armor and left it on the back of a chair.
“I have news from outside the wall,” she said. “The orcs from the outer camp are organizing. They have chosen a circle of leaders and want to meet you.”
I grinned. Our display of power had bore fruit sooner than expected. Orcs rejected the System but were pragmatic at heart, so I expected them to bend the rules in the name of survival. It was a rough estimate, but the five of us had the same combat performance as twice the number of orc warriors, and we could defeat those monsters impervious to regular weapons.
“I’ll meet them by the end of the week,” I said. I’d continue helping them in the meantime, but the more we waited, the more they would be prone to meet my demands.
Ginz didn’t seem happy with the news.
“You got in trouble for meddling in noble affairs, and now you are trying to do the same with orcs? Unbelievable,” he said.
“Orcs don’t have nobility,” I replied, grabbing Ginz by the shoulders and pushing him back to the working bench. “And we need the safety net of a community. We will be kicked out of Umolo in ten days, so we need them as much as they need us. And don’t look at me like that. I’m planning to ship you back at Farcrest by then.”
Ginz seemed to relax.
We continued working on the enchanted rifle prototype. Thanks to Ginz's high-level Craftsmanship, our initial testing had been promising, but we needed a weapon capable of working indefinitely with little maintenance. Our final product had to be reliable and durable. Iron wasn’t the best material to keep out in the open, but it was the best we had without a Blacksmith, and orcs had very limited access to alloys due to their nomad customs. Plus, iron had an affinity to the Force rune.
Ginz tested several different bullet configurations.
After a while, Firana, Zaon, and Wolf appeared at Dassyra’s tent. They were happy to see Ginz there, but Ilya pushed them outside before they could slow our work. Dassyra blew Wolf a kiss before they were thrown out. [Foresight] caught part of their conversation outside the tent. They left to see if the orc leatherworkers had finished the Ghoul armor.
“They have grown,” Ginz pointed out.
“I wonder,” I replied.
In a week, they had acquired a year’s worth of experience.
Ginz crafted a good number of different bullets—some made of bone alone, others a mix of bone and iron. There were bullets with metal tips and others with cases around the bone, but I warned Ginz against making an overly complex design. I wanted each kid to have enough ammunition if our stay in the Farlands exceeded my expectations.
As far as I pushed [Foresight] to scout my memories, I couldn’t find anything to help us with mixed-materials bullets. My gut told me to sacrifice speed to prevent the bone part of the bullet from shattering, but I wanted to avoid excessive drop. Were faster bullets more precise even? Testing would tell us.
While Ginz worked on the bullet prototype, I enchanted more ‘triggers’ following the Force-User-Direction formula but adjusting the Force rune threshold. The weaker, with a threshold of ten, the strongest, with as much as the iron pieces allowed me.
By noon, we had everything ready for a proper field test. Thanks to his skills, Ginz completed days worth of work in a few hours. The extent of the System’s power surprised me even after months of living in Farcrest. Without the System, not only would warriors be unable to fight monsters and keep the frontiers safe, but the whole economic system of Ebros would crumble in a week.
After Little One had prepared a simple lunch, Dassyra called her warriors, and we packed the working bench for a field test. The kids must’ve been busy with the orc leatherworkers because we exited Umolo without alerting them. Ginz wasn’t happy with leaving the wall, but the presence of Dassyra’s warriors calmed him enough to be dragged outside. No monsters were in sight, and only a small detachment of Greyfangs guarded the entrance.
“Don’t be a wuss, Craftsman. I’ve seen Rob put a sword through a Ghoul’s eye. You’ll be fine as long as we tag along,” Dassyra said.
“You don’t know the things he has put me through,” Ginz replied.
I didn't remember anything particularly dangerous and didn’t bother to have [Foresight] summarize it.
We walked north on a small road along the mountainside until Umolo was out of sight. Dassyra’s warriors helped us set the table facing the mountain about a hundred meters from a naked stone ridge and then scattered around to watch the surroundings. None of them seemed particularly curious about our endeavor.
“Let’s use the strongest trigger first.” Ginz grinned. “For science.”
“For science.” I grinned back, pulling a metal cap with a Force enchantment well above the material’s enchantment threshold. We had a few spare barrels, and I wondered what a full-strength Force rune could do.
Force Iron Shooter. [Identify] An enchanted iron shooter. Enchantment Threshold: 949/210. Status: Degrading.
I was surprised the System allowed me to enchant so far above the object’s enchantment threshold. That was a full-power Force rune, even if the mana threshold had been cut by half due to the rune's affinity with iron. I activated the Bind rune and stuck the cap to the barrel. In my mind, I heard Ilya’s voice warning me against the dangers of a misfiring enchantment.
“We should get behind something solid,” I said.
Dassyra nodded, and with a long whistle, she called the warriors. A moment later, they dragged a massive boulder near the test bench. A meter of solid rock seemed like good protection. I summoned my mana shield on top, just to be sure.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
Ginz and Dassyra nodded. I peeked over the boulder and channeled my mana into the enchanted trigger. Then, I activated the enchantment.
The explosion of blue sparks blinded me, and the detonation echoed against the mountain, a lot weaker than the shotgun but still louder than our first attempt back in the tent. We emerged from behind the boulder like a tribe of Neanderthals seeing lighting for the first time. My heart raced like the first time I launched fireworks with my father. We laughed.
The bullet was nowhere to be found, probably reduced to shreds, but the barrel and trigger had survived without apparent damage. I identified the enchanted trigger.
Force Iron Shooter. [Identify] An iron shooter whose enchantment had been permanently destroyed. Enchantment Threshold: 0/0. Status: Exhausted.
The circuit was dead.
“That was exciting, but let’s test a trigger with a quarter of that strength,” Ginz said.
“Agreed,” Dassyra replied.
I put the exhausted trigger in my pocket and grabbed the next. After an hour of testing, the most promising result was a low-power trigger with a tenth of the strength of the original—about 150 Mana Threshold out of 1500. On testing, the bullet still flew faster than the eye could follow, but it was weak enough not to shatter the Ghoul bone. We continued testing the rest of the triggers until we reached the 25 Mana Threshold trigger, just to be thorough. The drop of the 25 Mana Threshold trigger was too steep, even at a hundred meters, and the bullet was slow enough for a high-level combatant to dodge. The only advantage of the slower trigger was that it was harmless. Against all my recommendations, Dassyra tested it against one of her warriors. The bullet left a small red mark on the warrior’s abdomen, but he didn’t even recoil.
Dassyra could channel mana, but just enough to feed the enchantment a couple of shots.
Before sunset, we had selected both the trigger and the bullet design—the 150 Mana Threshold Force Iron Shooter and an elegant bullet of iron and bone that seemed to fly more accurately than the rest.
“Now, we need about four hundred rounds by Sunday. Is that good for you?” I said, examining the bullet. The body was made of bone with a metal cap to improve ballistics and a metal butt to make the force exerted over the bullet uniform. The bond between metal and bone was almost seamless, and when I used [Identify] on it, the skill recognized the bullet as a single object.
I channeled my mana and engraved the enchantment on the bullet.
MDBC Bullet. [Identify] An enchanted bullet made of iron and the bones of a Ghoul, designed to combat monsters with impervious defenses, reanimated undead, and corporeal spirits. Enchantment threshold: 700/700. Status: Stable.
“MDBC?” I asked myself. I had played enough vehicle shooters during my teenage years to have an educated guess. “Mana Draining Ballistic Capped?”
New recipe achieved!
Updating Rune Encyclopedia.
MDBC Bullet added to the recipes tab.
We were breaking down the testing site and preparing to return to Umolo when [Foresight] tingled my brain—a strange shift in the forest behind us. Something had bypassed the orc’s vigilance. I turned around and examined the forest line.
“I know you are out there, Firana! Come out!” I called, grabbing the test barrel and loading the enchanted bullet. “If you don’t come out, I’m going to shoot you! It’s going to hurt!”
Ginz put a hand on the barrel. “What are you doing? You can’t shoot Firana!”
I pushed his hand out of the way.
“It’s not Firana. She would’ve come out. Getting caught is part of the joke for her,” I whispered, aiming into the bush and channeling mana into the bullet. I felt the enchantment coming alive. “You better cover your eyes!” I shouted at the mysterious figure.
Someone moved through the forest, away from us. [Foresight] instantly showed me the trajectory. I fed the trigger, and with a small burst of blue sparks, I took the shot. The bullet found its mark, and the runner fell into a clump of dead ferns.
“Rob! What in the everloving System!” Ginz pulled the barrel out of my hands.
“Relax, it’s the weakest trigger. At worst, our friend there has mana exhaustion now,” I replied as the orcs surrounded the whining intruder.
A moment later, the warriors dragged Pyrrah out of the bushes. She was shivering, but other than that, she wasn’t harmed.
“Did you kidnap Elincia too? And then shoot her?!” Ginz said in a panicked, high-pitched voice.
“That’s not Elincia.”
I used [Identify].
Pyrrah Snowdrop, Elf. [Identify] An elven warrior from the Kingdom of Tagabiria, previously the squire of Gilded Warrior Evindal. Her favorite weapon is the hammer. She likes to hunt frogs in the marshes. Doesn’t read a lot. It’s been a while since she was on a date, with good reason. Elincia’s lookalike. Status: Mana Exhaustion.
The bullet worked better than I had expected. Pyrrah was virtually out of commission.
“So, what an elven spy was doing in the thicket,” Dassyra asked, shedding her relaxed demeanor and turning into the stoic chieftain.
“I was asked to deliver a message,” Pyrra said, failing to control her chattering teeth.
“I don’t see how delivering a message involves spying on us,” Dassyra replied.
I had a feeling that this wasn’t the first time Pyrrah was caught spying today. She tried to respond, but the shivers were too strong. Instead, she extended her hand, a silver coin with the emblem of the Greyfangs carved on it. Dassyra’s eyes shot open.
“The Greyfangs were looking for you. They want Wolf to join their ranks,” Pyrra said.