Psssshh—
With a hiss of escaping gas, the metal box slowly opened, and a faint odor of ionized air immediately drifted out.
Three heads crowded over the small box, six eyes staring eagerly and curiously at the container as it slowly opened.
A strange revolver lay quietly inside.
The firearm was slightly larger than an ordinary handgun, roughly the size of a medieval matchlock. Its silver metallic body radiated a sleek luster. Through its transparent grip, a dense array of small interlocking gears was visible, with slender tubing intricately woven between them. Tiny gears and connecting rods were likewise embedded within the trigger and hammer mechanism. Every single component was exquisitely crafted, seamlessly blending fierce danger with delicate artistry, turning the revolver into a work of fine art.
Lynch pulled out the handgun he had spent a staggering nine pounds to buy from Madam Bessie's shop and set it aside. Sure enough, comparison was the thief of joy—the gap between the two was as vast as that between a child's toy and a precision instrument.
Guns really were a man's favorite playthings. Lynch fell in love with such an exquisite revolver at first sight. Taking a deep breath, he cautiously gripped the handle. A strange electric current seemed to shoot through his body upon contact.
The sensation felt somewhere between real and surreal, vanishing in a flash. Rather than a physical feeling, it was more like his mystery intuition detecting a powerful surge of electricity within the revolver and sending out a warning.
It felt smooth and heavy in his hand. Looking closely, he noticed two small ports—one behind the butt and one underneath—which seemed intended for filling with liquid or gas. In front of the front sight was a tiny, blue, diamond-shaped protrusion with a sharp tip. Touching it lightly with a finger, he could faintly sense a gentle hum of electricity.
“Whew... she's beautiful.”
Lynch stroked the revolver with an infatuated look on his face, as if...
“Ahem.”
The infatuated man instantly snapped back to reality, putting on a serious expression once more, though he still couldn't bear to put the revolver down. “What is this? I can feel the power of electricity inside it.”
“Electricity?”
The two ladies' confusion reminded Lynch that although the word 'electricity' existed in this era, it remained a highly specialized concept that most people had never encountered.
“It's a part of thunder,” Lynch explained. “Both Simon, the Lord of the Sky and the Lord of Storms possess similar authorities.”
“Since you know what electricity is, that makes things much easier to explain,” the Yithian said with relief, introducing the weapon. “This is a stun gun, technology from our era. It's a multifunctional weapon that can fire kinetic rounds or arc discharges. There is an adjustment mechanism next to your thumb. The topmost setting is standard firing, operating just like normal firearms, where the power depends mainly on the bullets, though it can also use energy ammunition. The middle setting is steam firing, which activates an internal miniature steam engine. It functions somewhat like your modern pneumatic rifles, except it doesn't require high-pressure gas cylinders. Its shot power is about double that of a standard handgun, but steam firing requires a two-minute preheating period.”
Two minutes for double the power wasn't a bad deal.
“The bottommost setting is arc firing, a purely energetic attack. It can only fire one shot at a time, but its maximum power is roughly equivalent to the attack effect of your rank four abilities.”
“What about consumption?” Officer Natalie had snatched the gun away to play with it, leaving Lynch to watch sorrowfully from the side. “Energy doesn't come out of nowhere.”
“Standard firing only requires bullets. Activating the miniature steam engine requires adding water through the rear port—you don't need much, just top it off whenever you refuel. The fuel requires concentrated whale oil, ten milliliters per fill. Given your current market prices, it might be a bit expensive. Refueling is done through the bottom port; a full charge supports six steam shots. As for arc firing, one full charge of fuel allows for a single shot. That means firing an arc shot consumes all available fuel at full power, with the damage scaling down proportionally based on the remaining fuel percentage. It's best not to use it when the fuel is nearly depleted, or it will do little more than startle someone.”
Whale oil... Lynch winced as he listened.
As the name implied, it was derived from whales and served as a high-grade liquid fuel used only in relatively precision steam devices. Concentrated whale oil was a luxury among luxuries, costing around three pounds for ten milliliters. That meant his entire net worth was only enough to power this thing a few dozen times?
Holy crap, can I return it?
Returning it was naturally just a joke. He was currently lacking offensive means, and since his marksmanship was gradually improving to the point where he could use firearms properly, acquiring this weapon now was the perfect timing.
With that in mind, Lynch snatched the weapon back. After confirming it was already filled with water and oil, he activated the steam device.
The moment he switched it to the steam setting, a faint vibration resonated in his palm, and the cool grip grew warm. Through the transparent handle, he watched the gears inside begin to spin rapidly. The revolver seemed to suddenly come alive, its intricate network of tubing turning dark red and casting a dim red glow through the grip.
So cool.
Lynch couldn't bear to part with it, yet he remained calm enough to spot its flaw immediately. “The more precise a piece of equipment is, the easier it breaks, especially for something meant to be carried around. And I don't think anyone normal in this world knows how to repair it. What if it breaks?”
The Yithian pointed at the box. “That is an automatic repair box, technology of our race. If it breaks, place it inside, and it will be fully restored within twenty-four hours.”
“What if the repair box breaks?”
“That usually does not break.”
“What if an unusual situation happens?”
“...” The Yithian let out a remarkably human sigh. “When you depart, I will teach you the Yithian Contact Technique as well. As long as there is a Yithian within a fifty-kilometer radius, they will take the initiative to find you.”
That sets my mind at ease.
Lynch finally smiled and placed the stun gun back into the box.
With the transaction complete, he could set off to retrieve the Miracle of Light at any moment. However, Lynch had not yet made up his mind. Since the specialized medicine offered hope, he intended to observe its effects first. Perhaps he wouldn't even need to take the risk after all.
The Yithian, however, didn't seem worried in the slightest. Having calmly finalized the deal, it walked out of the reception room with the three of them. Upon stepping outside, they saw Archbishop Hector and President Gulman conversing in the main hall, evidently having waited there for them all this time.
Seeing the golden-robed archbishop again, Lynch felt a bit embarrassed.
From the fact that Hector was willing to leverage his personal friendship with Gulman just to help the Yithian contact him, Lynch had already realized that the man wasn't completely cold and unfeeling. It was simply that his warmth was reserved for the Yithians and Gulman. Since Lynch had no personal connection with him, Hector had no obligation to show him any special courtesy.
The man was truly as he appeared—strictly separating public duties from personal matters, never allowing the slightest overlap. Viewed this way, Hector had done nothing wrong. Rather, Lynch had chosen the wrong approach by trying to tap into his private channels through official business, resulting in taking a massive detour and causing unnecessary trouble.
The two ladies had no idea what was going through Lynch's head. They only noticed him pause briefly before heading toward Archbishop Hector. Though somewhat puzzled, they followed him over. Next, they watched as he walked straight up to the archbishop, solemnly removing his hat and bowing.
“My apologies. I naively believed what others said about you and offended you with my prejudices from the start. I sincerely apologize for my rudeness.”
When you're wrong, you own up to it; when you take a hit, you stand tall. Lynch had no intention of ducking his mistakes.
Archbishop Hector was somewhat surprised. He froze for a moment, then let out a cold snort, turning to leave with the Yithian, his voice trailing back behind him.
“I don't recall having any personal grudge against you. If you want to apologize, find another way.”
With that, he sauntered off, leaving Lynch standing there scratching his head.
It seemed the archbishop hadn't minded too much, merely feeling a bit annoyed. In that case, Lynch really did need to find another approach—he would make time to pay an official visit to the Church of Wealth.
As he pondered, someone tapped his shoulder from behind. It was President Gulman. The old president smiled and said, “It seems your business went smoothly. Everyone has gathered now, so follow me. They are all waiting for you.”
Saying so, he pushed open a nearby door and led the three inside.
The instant they stepped through, bright sunlight, blue skies, and white clouds greeted them, with a vast, boundless forest unfurling before their eyes.
Separated by merely a door, the three had already arrived at the top of the tower.
Rate on N.U.
