Hank heard the man's warning, but he did not take it seriously. [How loud could a hand-held weapon be?] He stood close and did not cover his ears, to react in case the man pointed his unconventional weapon toward him or his teammates. It usually pays to be cautious.

It did not pay this time, however. The man's flame-spewing weapon was not deafening, per se, but it startled the hell out of Hank. Even if he was mentally prepared for it, he still fell flat on his butt. Certainly not good for people who kept their sword on their waist, as the thing's handguard poked painfully into his side.

The destructive power of the weapon thoroughly astonished Hank.

Hank had heard of the priests' holy magic that could channel the Source's power to produce fireballs. He had never seen it though. The priests and their soldiers did not have a good relationship with the mercenaries, if anything, they considered the mercenaries "barbaric", "faithless", but a "necessary evil".

The two sides of the coin had the same purpose, but most of the time, never worked together. The church had all the power to look down on the soldiers of fortune.

[Was this magic?] Hank gulped. The church absolutely forbad magic outside of its personnel. If anyone were in possession of a magical device, he would face a fate worse than death.

Hank instantly felt afraid of the weapon. Even though it would definitely kill a vile beast in one shot or two, the trade-off wasn't worth the price.

He hurriedly stood up and retreated as the man turned to him and spoke word he didn't hear. He drew his sword and stood in a battle-ready stance. His teammates, and the man, both noticed something wasn't right and the atmosphere turned cold.

The man inserted something into the weapon and stared toward the mercenaries, as they themselves readied their crossbows and the two sides aimed at each other.

"Is your weapon magical?" Hank asked loudly. He stood with his buckler in front of him and the sword raised behind him.

The man had a confused look flashed on his face in-between his cautious stare. He replied loudly. "Not at all. If it was magic, you should feel it in the air, no?"

Hank did not know that. He had never witnessed magic before, how could he know?

The man lowered his weapon and crouched down. "I'm going to show how it works." He took out another one of his flame arrows, laid it on the ground. "This is a shell. It's the crucial component of this weapon."

He took off the top of the 'shell'. "This is a pack of pellets. Basically, lead balls wrapped in paper."

He put his fingers inside what looked like a brass tube, pulled out another small pack of paper. "This is burning powder," he said, breaking open the packet and poured to content to the ground. "I call it 'gunpowder'."

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He took out a flint and smeared some of the powder onto it. After he struck it a few times, the flint burned, as well as the black powder he had laid before. The bright flame and the black smoke was exactly like when he shot the weapon.

"You see, there is nothing magical about this weapon. The powder burns, its flame flows out of the iron tube, pushing the pellets with it. There is no mana gas or magic stone."

The man opened his hand. "You have seen what this weapon can do. Do you not want to wield its power?"

Hank took a moment of silence. He sheathed his sword and gestured to his teammate to lower their crossbows. "Sorry for the misunderstanding." He said, scratching his head. "Could you let me try it?"

***

After an hour of testing, the mercenary team had been thoroughly persuaded by the new weapon.

Seven shells were spent for the demonstration, three of them were paid. Jack had sold one rifle to Hank for the price of 50 silver coins, and twenty shells, one silver coin each.

"After you used them, remember to keep the brass part. I'll refill the shell for 20 copper coin." Jack told Hank, after he had handed the shells to him.

Hank was pleased with the transaction. When he looked at the amazing craftsmanship on the gun, he had thought it would cost several gold coins, which nearly made him give up on the spot.

50 silver coins were not exactly cheap, but it was only as much as a well-made crossbow. It was certainly a good investment.

"This is exactly what we need to combat the vile beasts. They are too fast, and some of them can even evade arrows." He exclaimed. "With this, vanguards don't have to keep them still anymore. Most of the casualties are from the vanguards. I can keep my teammate safe now."

Jack grinned. "I hope you can give me good words to other teams in the guild. I would love nothing more than my weapon taking part in the fight against vile beasts and protect the citizens."

Hank nodded. "I will. If this thing can lower the alarming death rate in the guild, I will not hesitate to have the entire guild carrying it."

After a while, Jack spoke again.

"There is another matter I want to ask of you. Do you mind sparing a bit of your time?"

"Say it."

"Can you tell me about the lich that appeared 6 months ago?"

Hank's expression turned dark.

***

While talking with Hank, Jack had learned some new information.

The appearance of the lich six months ago was sudden and Harold's team, the team that Anver was a part of, was the first at the scene since they were patrolling the area.

There was also an unfortunate logger who saw the fight between the team and the creature. The logger fled the village in the night. He was the only witness to what happened, discounting Anver and Lena, the two surviving members.

"So where is that logger now?" Jack asked.

Hank contemplated a bit before saying. "I don't know for sure. When he returned, he did not talk to anyone."

"But," Hank raised a finger, "the only connection from this village to other parts of the North Osland kingdom is that road over there." Hank pointed toward the gate of the village. A dirt road was leading from it to the horizon.

"He was in such a hurry that he had not packed most of the foods in his house. He couldn't have fled far. He is very likely to be staying in the City of Brighton, the closest town to this place."

Jack nodded. "I see. Thank you. Here's something for your trouble."

Jack reached into his pocket and gave a shell to the mercenary team leader. The man took it without any formality.

Hank raised an eyebrow. "What's the reason for your interest in that creature?"

"Nothing special." Jack waved his hand. "I'm a weapon merchant, and researching vile beasts to come up with the best weapon to deal with them is my job." He stood up, patting his pants. "I'll leave you to your job now. Be seeing you again."

Jack took the pack of guns and left the mercenary team, walking toward the village entrance.