I had been spending a lot of time in the workshop with Lilith since we never knew when the Pope would show up. I skipped out on mana and runa theory since most of their knowledge didn’t apply to me anyway. I converted those periods into practice on the roof, and since the Hunting teacher still hadn’t been replaced, all the hunts were canceled until further notice.
I had brought Jibby to the workshop, thinking it might get her out of the doom and gloom she was stuck in. In the end, it worked. Marcus was still in a deep coma, and no one knew if he would ever wake up. Apparently, Jibby and he were going to marry after their graduation. I hadn’t even known they were dating.
After a few days of being forced to come to the workshop, she started coming willingly. That was until I showed her black powder. Lilith and I had prepped her a rifled double-barrel .50 caliber black powder percussion rifle with a rail on top for mounting accessories in the future, featuring the new breech-loading mechanism.
When I proposed she work with me on more advanced technologies—like better explosives and chemical weapons—she eagerly agreed. I believed she needed something to grip back onto life, and what had done that for me throughout my life was my love of firearms, so it was the best thing I could think of to bring her morale up. In fact, she fell in love with black powder.
The first mission I gave her was to make nitrocellulose out of nitric and sulfuric acid and wood. "The magic recipe for smokeless powder is yours to figure out past that info. And you better be careful—only use glass and brass. NO FIRE in the room where you work, no static electricity. Ground everything, including yourself, and please don't explode anyone, especially yourself."
The few members of the Order working with Lilith were very useful, but they were still too small of a team to move at the speed I wanted. The first 12-gauge brass cartridges were a failure since the precision of every shell was abysmal, but paper black powder cartridges did an okay job at speeding reload speed.
The beast cores were incredibly efficient as a power source for the steam engine, and they self-recharged after a while, making them better than I could have expected. We now had a prototype two-piston engine the size of a picnic table bolted to a solid frame and a machine we had built to gauge horsepower and torque. The first full-power test was about to proceed when a dozen Inquisitors in arms and armor moved into the room and started verifying everyone's identity and checking every corner.
I showed my letter, but they still checked me. I mean, they ARE the Inquisition, so fair enough. Next, the Pope entered the room, and everyone but the Inquisitors and me bent the knee. I didn’t care about getting the attention.
"Stand up," she ordered, and everyone did. Then the Inquisitors left the room.
"I don’t have much time, but I promised you I would come to see if what you are building is worthy of the resources you ask. And let me tell you, they better be good, otherwise, even the little you have now I will have to take away."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t have much reference to the technology they might already secretly have access to, and if mine didn’t satisfy, it would slow my progress for months, if not years.
We had built a maquette of a train to help people understand the idea. I was no train expert, so the simplistic miniature would have to do.
I did the best sales pitch I could, trying to explain the idea like I did to Lilith. No doubt the Pope could see how such technology could indeed help ease the hardship of transport around the country and eventually other ones.
"Now, let's show you our first official commercial prototype. This one is one-eighth the size of the official engine. Also, remember that a train might have the possibility of running with multiple engines to ease the stress over terrain or pull more wagons. One horsepower is what it takes to move 550 pounds one foot in one second. This one should be putting out about 225 horsepower if everything goes well."
"Initiating boiler preheating. Core sequence is responding—all OK," Lilith narrated every step, her voice steady. "Temperature gauge rising. Boiling achieved. Pressure climbing. Piston cycling initiating. RPM 100 and rising… RPM 500, 1000, 3000." She turned to me with a grin. "Congratulations, we did it. Pressure rising. Let's push up to max pressure. 4000, 5000, 6000. Release the excess pressure and stabilize heat. Excellent. Let's turn it off and let it cool, then check if everything inside is still in the right place or if there's any unusual wear and tear on the piston."
I could see the stress on every tech's face melt away when they heard that everything went well. Excitement quickly followed as they realized how important what they had just done might one day be.
"Horsepower: 242. Torque is above expectations too. If we thicken it a bit, we could probably get another 15% power for the same volume. But the concept is sound. What do you think about our first exhibit, if I may ask, Pontifex Maximus?" Lilith asked.
"This is indeed an interesting machine you have built. I must admit that what you are saying is compelling and might actually be more than just a delirious dream by a young man." Her mood seemed to be a bit less sour than when she came in, but it wasn’t won yet.
"Please, let's move to the other lab downstairs for the demonstration of the new rifle prototype for commercialization," I said, knowing she could never expect what I would show her.
"Lead the way."
We entered the armory of the lab, where I indicated to a tech to pick three different rifles and three pistols.
"Let's proceed to the indoor range," I said. I had an assistant load five of the guns while I stepped in front of the Pope and set the last one on the table. I picked up some black powder and made a small pile on the table. Then I loaded the percussion cap pistol, explaining every step as I did it.
I pulled out a cigarette and lit it with my index finger without thinking. "You see, black powder isn’t all that dangerous. To be frank, it's a bit on the weak side of what can be done within such tight margins of time. But it will be great for people to get used to them." I lit the powder with my cigarette. Woof—a light and a plume of smoke. The Inquisitors on the side twitched at the demo. "Tell your men not to kill me, please; the next part will be a bit loud."
I cocked the hammer and pointed the pistol at a thick clay bottle sitting in front of a pile of sandbags.
BANG!
The bottle exploded, sending water all over the range.
Everyone in the room but me flinched at the loud sound that I considered pretty tame.
"This is what we will be producing for now until we can finance more advanced rifles," I said. That was a lie—I just wanted to maximize my profit share over every tech I could, and I would introduce new tech a couple of years apart. I proceeded to show them the double-barrel version and then the smoothbore loaded with grapeshot, with thunderous BANGs between my explanations of the different uses. I mentioned pistols being ideal for law enforcement in towns and inside buildings. I made sure to slap the word modular a few times since I knew burreaucrats loved that too.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Then I pulled out the single-barrel 4-gauge shotgun.
BANG!
One of the sandbags exploded, and smoke filled the room.
"This is a quarter pound of lead that can be thrown in either buckshot or a slug. No need to mention this is ideal for a stage 2 and higher shooter."
I put it back in the rack. "This one is more adapted to a normal civilian with two barrels that shoot an ounce of lead."
BANG! BANG!
"And this one," I pulled a double-barrel 4-gauge from the rack, "is not for the faint of heart."
"Stop," the Pope ordered me. "I want to shoot it."
"Sure thing, ma'am. Just put your hand here and here, and put your shoulder on that part. Now look at the top of the gun—there's a little hole and a small metal dot at the front. Just look through the hole and point the dot at what you want gone. Pull the small lever with your index finger, and voilà! Good, now you understand how to shoot." I pulled the first hammer for her with a soft click.
BANG!
She giggled.
"You still have another shot. Pull the other hammer and shoot the target."
Click. BANG!
"I've heard enough. What is your full offer, Sam?"
"Co-ownership of the company between Miss Makina, the Order, and I. 49% to the Order, 25% to Miss Makina, and I'll take the last 26%."
"Hmm. That's a bit greedy, Samael, even for you."
"Well, I've seen too many companies sunk by bureaucrats, and it's my future on the line. I’d rather make sure we keep moving toward my bigger goals."
"One condition," she said, her voice firm. "The profit margin on commands from the Order cannot exceed 10%, and you have a deal."
She offered her hand.
We shook.
“Good. Start with a train line from the capital to our biggest towns, aiming to get the most coverage with the least amount of track possible. Begin with two engines for the first line and two hundred wagons—one-third passenger, two-thirds cargo.”
“As for rifles, I want ten thousand 4-gauge double-barrel rifles as soon as you can provide them, with the ammunition you deem necessary to fit their role for a frontline squad for a month. Once it’s done, go see Miss Saphere to start service trials. As for pistols, I want five thousand double-barrel ones, along with everything necessary for their proper functioning including ammo and powder as well.”
“It is my honor ma'am however we offer a long list of accerrories including bayonets and soon advanced telescopic sight that will allow accuracy neverseen before to the most mundane of shooters so if you would please, ma’am, refer someone for the logistics, Miss Makina is the best person to arrange all the finer details of the selling contract. I’m just a guy who likes explosions,” I said, scratching my head awkwardly.
She nodded to an Inquisitor, who promptly took his leave, presumably to see Miss Makina.
“Well, Samael, this was inspiring. I can only hope the rest of what you show me in the future will be just as interesting. Have a pleasant day.”
“Thank you, Aurelia. Have a good day too.”
She left the room, her heels clicking with purpose, and as the Inquisitors followed, I couldn’t help but notice the stark difference between their judgment of my inventions and my personality. Meh, so life goes. I shrugged. Ain’t no way I’m facing hell with a bunch of folks shooting arrows like we’re some medieval army.
I went back upstairs to see how Lilith was handling the news. When I arrived, the whole lab was doing its best to look calm while practically squirming with excitement. All the staff were gathered around a chalkboard, talking over each other, trying to figure out the best way to produce so many rifles in such a short time.
"Well, you already have the answers, my friends," I said over the chaos of a dozen panicking lab coats.
That definitely got their attention.
"Steam power—every tool that needs it. The first ten thousand are just a control batch. We'll make millions in the years to come. This is enough to try new machinery and train a whole team. I’m sure most problems can be solved if you brute-force your way through."
I then spent the rest of the day discussing what the shop should be capable of, outlining the basics of chain production and optimization. By the end of the workday, everyone seemed incredibly enthusiastic about the opportunity they were provided.
We ended up going to a restaurant to celebrate the success we had achieved today, and I made sure to pay everyone's tab. These guys were going to change the world, and I promised myself I’d remember every one of their names. Except…not tonight. I got way too drunk to even remember how I made my way back home, so the names would have to wait.
When I woke up the next day, I had a few new scratches, a massive headache, the taste of bad decisions still in my mouth, and—wait—all of my guns had been fired. Calisse…
THUMP.
"Shit, sorry." But strangely, my headache felt a bit lighter. "Weird."
Clyde's POV
The night was cold as I stood hidden in the shadows, assigned to assassinate a dangerous target who’d been stirring up trouble for the Cult all over Talaria. His name was new, but the waves he was making were impossible to ignore, and he’d been tagged as a priority kill. Normally, a Stage 3 like me would never waste time on a Stage 1, but this guy was different. He was considered equivalent to a Stage 2, a fact proven by his enrollment in the Elite class.
I watched from a distance as the building he used as his lair buzzed with activity. My fingers drummed against the spine of my journal as I waited, catching sight of a dozen Inquisitors spilling out of the entrance, followed by the damn Pope herself. I cursed under my breath. Just my luck—the bastard was hiding under the Church's wing. Even worse, tracking this slippery ghost was a nightmare; he left no magical trace, no aura to sense. It was like he didn’t even exist. I pulled my hood lower and pretended to be buried in my notes as they left.
Eventually, he came out, surrounded by over a dozen people, all of them chattering and laughing like they had just struck gold. They headed for a restaurant, and I shadowed them, slipping inside and planting myself at the bar. They partied hard, raising toasts to 'changing the world' and 'bringing the future.' If only they knew what the future had in store for them, they'd be shaking in their boots. When the Cult marked you, it wasn’t just for today—it was forever. And if fate had landed him with me, that forever was about to be cut real short.
The crowd thinned as the night wore on, leaving just him and a curvy little redhead. They stumbled out of the bar, still laughing, the idiot lighting up a herbal cigarette before wandering off to piss in a dark alley. Perfect.
I drew my dagger, slipping into the shadows, and dashed forward. He was still mid-stream, oblivious. But then, at the last second, he turned around—still pissing, mind you—and my blade missed its mark, skidding off his coat as I slipped on the wet grass. I scrambled back to my feet just in time to hear thunder crack. He was holding some kind of bizarre wand, smoke curling from its end.
Before I could blink. I had to twist and roll to avoid the shot, heart pounding as I charged him again. He fired again—then again—and on the last shot, instead of a single projectile, there were eight. Eight! One grazed my elbow; another buried itself in my thigh. My breath hissed through clenched teeth. What the hell was this weapon?
But then the idiot threw the wand at me. I ducked, expecting it to explode, but he already had another one out, aimed dead at my chest. I tried to dodge, but the shot slammed into my chest, smashing into my left lung. If I were any weaker, that would have been it for me, but I could feel it—one lung collapsed, but I wasn’t dead yet.
And now the fool was staggering towards me with a sword in hand, swaying like he’d drunk half the bar himself wich wouldn't be too far from the truth. "You know, you're not the luckiest baddie, boy!" He hiccuped. "Buuuuurp! Sorry 'bout that. That’s gonna leave a mark on your clothes."
I snarled and lunged again, slashing with my dagger. He wasn’t fast, but damn if he didn’t move in unpredictable ways, stumbling around like a drunken idiot but keeping his saber between us. I got close enough to scratch him, just a nick, but he forced me back with a wide, lazy swing.
He took a deep breath, blinked at me, and then barfed. Full-on barfed, right in my face. Some of it splattered over my chest wound, and I swear I felt it drip into my lungs. I staggered back, coughing and retching, wiping the filth from my eyes. "I’m gonna shit on your soul, you disgusting dog of the Order!" I screamed, or tried to—I didn’t have much breath left to do it justice.
He wiped his mouth, a bit of water conjuring at his fingertips to rinse away the mess, all while grinning like a maniac."You know," he chuckled, stretching his back with a loud crack. "I think I’m starting to feel something. Keep going, Sketchy Guy. I need a good stretch."
The cocky bastard. I couldn’t let this drag out any longer. He’d made too much noise already. I poured every ounce of strength I had left into my legs and dashed at the speed of sound. His head was mine.
But as I closed the distance, his grin only widened. He twisted his saber up, weaving his head just slightly out of the way as I lunged—my momentum too strong to stop. I felt the blade slip through my throat, a clean puncture that sent a shock of icy pain down my spine.
He yanked the saber free, out the side of my neck and the world began to darken, sounds fading to whispers. My knees buckled, and I collapsed, choking on my own blood.
Just before everything went black, I heard him call back to the redhead, his voice light and carefree.
"Sorry to keep you waiting! I just saw a huge rat! Give me a minute!"
