Chapter 105 The Approaching Hour
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I watched Scientia leave with a bright, satisfied face after finishing her commissions, and my mind wandered—inevitably—to her grandfather, the first game’s protagonist.
On paper he sounds impossibly cool: a lead from an eroge turned full-fledged game with a serious system, a weighty scenario, and painstakingly crafted worldbuilding. He slew countless Demon Lords, gorged on their blood and souls, and became something beyond human.
It reads like myth, but the truth is he’s delightfully scatterbrained—an absent-minded comic foil. He’s drawn so beautifully you could mistake him for a woman; across the studio’s entire catalogue he’s rendered the most gorgeous, and in popularity polls he always cracks the top five, even outranking the heroines.
Then there’s the staggering gap between image and deed: praised as a god-slaying powerhouse, famed for swordwork that looks like a painting in motion. His sparring with the Demon Lord who became his companion sword is light and witty; side-by-side with the head apostle and the head maid, the trio looks like a bouquet of yuri blooms—so much fanfare that it’s been endlessly lampooned.
Still, make no mistake: he’s one of the strongest fighters in the company’s stories.
He wielded techniques on par with Master’s “Sky Rend” and his body withstood them. He drew on the gods’ gifts, handled Mana enough to bend Demon Lords to his will, and—when driven mad—his power could reduce tens of thousands of war-god–blessed soldiers to dust.
He once alone felled the being known in text and battle as the “Sword Demon Lord.” In that fight the enemy crowned him the human realm’s strongest swordsman—official recognition of his supremacy. Of course, “strongest among protagonists” isn’t absolute; there are higher beings—an Archangel, for example.
The DLC later confirmed he had a child, but I never expected a grandchild to show up in this “Whirlwind.” The name Kalmia had been mentioned as the descendant’s, but I couldn’t recall any detail that would fix her age.
What really scrambled my brain was this: that terrifying bloodline—right now—was occasionally sniffing the gear I made, right in front of me. No. My head couldn’t keep up.
Anyway, as an escape from reality I needed to set a due date for the commission.
”When should I deliver this sword?” I asked.
”Fweh?” she answered, still inhaling deeply from the sleeve pressed to her nose.
When I said it out loud, Scientia blinked as if only then realizing the question. Why does she keep smelling it? Is it really that strong?
”Um, ah… tomorrow,” she stammered.
”Tomorrow…bring it to class?” I suggested, since tomorrow was a school day.
At the mention of school she finally seemed to snap back to herself.
”U—um, p-please,” she squeaked, clogging her words to the point of chewing them.
I couldn’t keep my sales-polite mask on; she looked worryingly fragile. She spun her eyes in tiny circles and went flustered—adorably small-animal-like. Still, seriously: if she’d tried that at another shop she’d have been yelled at for the schedule alone. And what was the point of asking her name earlier if not to call her that in class? Well—when she shows up tomorrow I can call her by name, so that’s fine.
”Then I’ll bring it to your classroom before the bell. Don’t lose the claim ticket.”
”Hyah! Y-yes!!”
Why so nervous? Judging by her bloodline, she could probably outstrip the household’s total combat strength—but she’s shaking like a leaf.
On her way out she forgot to close the door and ran into it, nose bleeding. I handed her a handkerchief and watched her go. The rest of her party—escort duty, presumably—left entirely without buying a single healing salve. Let them never come back. Seriously.
A while later, as the shop neared closing, the door burst open.
”Welcome…first time here, squad leader?” I said.
”Heh…hah…hah—Tatara-san, I’m sorry. I have to buy something, please.” He gasped, shoulders heaving, sweat pouring like a waterfall.
The squad leader of the vigilante corps stumbled in—out of uniform, not because it was his day off, but like he’d sprinted here at full tilt as soon as duty ended.
”Are you all right? Want some water?” I offered.
”T-thank you…hah…yes, please.” He swallowed and steadied himself. Fatigue sat on his face, but there was a hard light of resolve in his eyes.
”Sorry, Tatara-san. I want to buy a small rapid-fire Sticky Launcher.”
The small rapid-fire Sticky Launcher was a prototype model he’d been hyping. If he wanted to buy it personally, it probably hadn’t been adopted as standard issue in the corps.
”That’s fine, but if you carry it privately you can’t use it on duty, right?”
”No. The captain decided members can carry a personal Sticky Launcher, so I—I want one for myself.”
I understood. Wanting the weapon you’re used to makes sense; keeping familiar tools at hand helps them survive.
”We have none in stock at the moment. I’ll make one for you—shall I deliver it to the vigilante corps’ guard post?”
”R-really? That’s okay?”
”It’s fine. I do shop irregularly, and it’s no trouble to drop it by on the way back from the academy.”
This one’s on me. Tonight’s queue had become a fun jumble: three concept arms, a sword made from a unicorn-whale’s horn, two sets of Demonsteel armor, an armor hanger, and a Sticky Launcher. Not a bad night’s work.
If it’s for the squad leader, I can secretly mod it and only I’ll maintain it—no one will notice.
”Um, then please…how about payment?”
”Either upon pickup or in advance.”
”Then I’ll pay when I pick it up. How much?”
”Because it’s a new, complex mechanism—300,000.”
”Wha—way more than I thought!?”
By comparison, the old single-shot, preloaded type ran 150,000; the break-action type was 200,000; and the cartridge model topped out at 350,000.
”All right—please have it ready by tomorrow. I need to withdraw cash.”
The squad leader left to fetch money. Even if I used Mithril and Demonsteel inside its mechanism, no one would notice, and the thing would be solid as a rock. If I tried to charge officially for my illicit tweaks, I’d estimate the price would balloon to fifty million—so hush hush, no one finding out is best.
Outside, night pressed in; the bell would ring tomorrow, and whatever approached in that hour felt like it was already breathing down my neck.
After seeing off the squad leader, I pulled down the shop shutters and tallied the day’s sales. Between the Head of Judiciary and Scientia, the total had passed five and a half million—a personal record since I’d opened this place. Sure, I’d earned more through side work before, but never this much from direct sales. It was enough to make me grin. Not that this kind of madness happens often—next time I’d be lucky to make a twentieth of it. I cleaned up thoroughly, checked every lock, and headed for the living room.
Dinner prep had already been handled by Ichika. A pot of miso soup waited, needing only to be reheated, and neatly prepped ginger pork sat beside it. Knowing her, she’d probably planned to make a fresh rolled omelet once I sat down. Something to look forward to.
Out in the garden, under the fading light, the idiot was facing off against Hinagiku-san. Their overseer—the bastard—stood nearby, unarmed for once. It seemed he was actually keeping things under control tonight, preventing Hinagiku-san from overdoing it.
”Alright, it’s getting dark, so let’s wrap it up,” the bastard called. “Hinagiku, see that weakling home safely. You, weakling, stretch your muscles and eat some honeyed lemon before changing clothes.”
His choice of nickname—”weakling”—made my jaw tighten, but he was at least looking after them properly. He was already heading out, apparently returning not to my house but to the Central Administration where he was staying. Fine by me.
”…You okay?” I asked.
”My whole body’s sore, but nothing serious. That bastard’s got a foul mouth and a worse attitude, but he’s strong—and one hell of an instructor.”
So he’d tested him. Probably sparred to gauge his real strength. For all his insults, the bastard clearly recognized him as a proper combatant—and maybe even had expectations for him.
”Hinagiku-san, as always—”
”Of course. I’ll see him home safely.”
She accepted without hesitation, as she always did. No sign of progress between them, though. When I glanced at the idiot, he shot me a narrow-eyed glare. You’d think, with both their parents rooting for them, something would’ve happened by now… but maybe it’s best to let them move at their own pace.
”By the way,” I asked, “did that Carla girl show up today?”
”…Carla?” I blinked. A name I didn’t recognize.
”You mean… Kalmia Scientia?”
”Yeah, that’s the one. Been watching you for ages, that girl, but never had the courage to talk to you till now. Bet she was thrilled to finally get a word in.”
So he knew. Though he hadn’t realized she was the granddaughter of the god-slayer from legend. When he said “for ages,” he probably meant since elementary school.
”You’ve known her since then?”
”She talked to me back in primary, but we were never in the same class. Knowing you, you probably charmed her as a kid. At least acknowledge the poor girl.”
”I swear I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
If I had noticed, my stomach would be eating itself by now. And “charmed”? Really?
”So you’re close enough to use nicknames?”
”Other way around. She lets her followers call her that, but it doesn’t mean she’s close to them. She keeps her distance from the opposite sex—pretty wide, too.”
”Women are a damn mystery.”
I wondered how she viewed me, given I called her by her family name. Probably as some distant, untouchable figure—and honestly, that’s fine by me.
After that, I handed him a bath towel so he could shower off the sweat. He cleaned up, then left with Hinagiku-san to escort him to the Color household. Those two were slower to progress than I’d ever expected.
A while later, the door burst open. “I’m home!”
Ethelena and the others returned, and she seemed livelier than usual.
”Tatara! I completed three skills today!”
”…What? Seriously?”
Three completions in a single day was huge. What on earth had happened?
”‘Unlocking,’ ‘Steal,’ and ‘Gun Aptitude!’” she declared.
”Ah. That makes sense.”
I reached over to ruffle her hair in praise, and she lit up, hugging me tight. Off to the side, Ichika looked mildly offended, like someone had stolen her job. Guess she’s the pet of the house now.
”So,” I asked, “this is about what skill to learn next?”
”Yeah! Please help!”
Alright, time to think strategy.
”I think you should double down as a scout, make yourself even sharper on the front line. What do you think?”
”You mean pushing more into exploration roles?”
”Pretty much.”
Right now, Ethelena could already advance without relying on skills. On upper floors that was fine, but the deeper we went, the wider enemies’ detection ranges became. Her natural instincts impressed even Ichika, but to survive deeper levels, she’d need an extra edge.
”I’d suggest three: ‘Stealth Step,’ ‘Concealment,’ and ‘Detection.’”
”Tatara,” Ichika interjected, “Ethelena flies. Does ‘Stealth Step’ even make sense?”
A fair question.
”I wondered that too,” I admitted. “But that skill actually cancels your own sound entirely—so it’s more like ‘Silence,’ really.”
”‘Stealth Step’ sounds cooler, though,” Ichika mused.
The three I picked worked together: one reduced enemies’ awareness while moving, one reduced it constantly, and one expanded her own detection range. Perfect for a front-line scout—and safe even if she ever dove solo.
Still, Ethelena’s face twisted with mild dissatisfaction.
”Mmm… I want something with more attack power.”
”Then swap out ‘Detection’ for ‘Shadow Strike.’”
”What’s that one do?”
”It boosts your weak-spot damage when attacking from behind.”
I phrased it more naturally than the old game manual ever had. With that, her assassin-style build would be complete.
”Then I’ll take ‘Stealth Step,’ ‘Concealment,’ and ‘Shadow Strike!’”
She declared it proudly and opened her status screen, selecting her new skills one by one. Now that she had ‘Stealth Step,’ ‘Concealment,’ ‘Sneak Attack,’ and ‘Shadow Strike,’ it was time to teach her the combo.
”Ethelena,” I said, “with that setup, I can show you a move that hits like a cannon.”
”Really? There’s such a thing?”
Combining her movement with those skills made a devastating pattern: slip behind with ‘Stealth Step’ and ‘Concealment,’ then unleash ‘Sneak Attack’ and ‘Shadow Strike.’ The damage tripled—no exaggeration. Even at base level it did that; once the skills ranked up, the numbers would get downright obscene.
”…From the sound of it,” Yohira murmured, “isn’t Ethelena becoming something like one of our nation’s ninja?”
”Yohira,” said another, “I too was forced into that skill combination, degozaru.”
”And why,” Yohira continued, “did Tatara-dono think of this pairing in the first place…?”
Well, that was simple enough—it came from my memories of a past life’s game. When I played solo, I used to add ‘Submerge’ to the mix, letting me slip behind enemies with total certainty.
”Hehe. Maybe now I’ll be a little stronger,” Ethelena said with a proud smile.
”You were brokenly strong to begin with,” I shot back immediately.
She laughed, but I meant it. Even with just her “Sex Sorcery,” she was already cheat-tier powerful. If her opponent didn’t even recognize her presence, “Sneak Attack” could easily trigger after charming them into helplessness. It was absurd.
”Also,” she said, “I want another weapon—to increase my attack power.”
”How about another Arcane Gun, a pistol type this time? Dual-wielding.”
”Can you make that?”
”…Yeah, I’ll try.”
Some enemies now couldn’t be handled by Lonisera alone. To raise her striking power and diversify her style, I’d forge a real-bullet Arcane Gun.
With the discussion wrapped up, it was dinner time. I grilled the ginger pork while Ichika made the rolled omelet. Ethelena, freshly washed from the dungeon, helped with the salad. I felt a little guilty making her work after an exploration day, but she didn’t seem to mind.
We carried the dishes to the table and sat down together.
Ginger pork, to me, must always be fried with onions. I bit into a slice of pork and onion together—the soy sauce, mirin, and cooking sake blended with ginger into a sweet-salty glaze. The pork’s fat and the onion’s sweetness layered perfectly. The meat’s crisp edge gave a soft snap between my teeth, followed by the tender, mellow texture of the onion.
To keep the flavor rolling, I took a mouthful of white rice. The sauce’s salt and heat mellowed against the rice’s gentle sweetness, the grains soaking up everything. The more I chewed, the more sweetness bloomed, twining with the sauce into something richer, deeper.
Even that wasn’t enough; I sipped the miso soup. The broth, from bonito and dried sardines that Mother-in-law had asked the Acting Head of Family to procure, was soft and fragrant. Potatoes and onions added a subtle sweetness, turning the soup full and comforting. When I bit into a potato chunk, the trapped broth burst free, flooding my tongue with heat. My mouth could never handle hot food, yet I couldn’t stop. Blowing out quick puffs of air, I savored and swallowed.
After the soup came the side dish: Ichika’s rolled omelet. Firmly cooked through, yet fluffy. The moment it touched my tongue, it melted, releasing the umami of the carefully drawn broth.
I alternated bites with rice, then reached for Ethelena’s salad—lettuce and sliced onion, simple and perfect. Crisp, juicy lettuce, its moisture carrying a hint of sweetness; the onion, soaked just enough to temper its bite, added a fine accent. It could’ve stood on its own, but Ethelena had portioned out Baral House’s Caesar dressing that morning. A drizzle of that, plus a sprinkle of cheese powder, enriched it further—the creamy egg and milk deepened the flavor, contrasting beautifully with the fresh vegetables. Croutons or toasted bacon would have been nice, but tonight’s star was the pork.
Even when the dressing mixed with the meat’s sauce, their flavors clashed and harmonized at once, creating something entirely new. I couldn’t resist another bowl of rice, finishing every last bite with satisfaction.
After that pleasant meal, it was time for Tatia to head home.
”So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” I asked. “Exploration again?”
”Hmm… maybe we’ll rest,” said Ethelena.
Her answer caught me off guard.
”In that case,” Yohira said, “why don’t we train a little in Tatara-dono’s garden after class tomorrow?”
”Hm. That might be nice for a change,” someone agreed.
All three sounded unusually eager. I couldn’t help wondering why.
”Tatara,” Ethelena said suddenly, “you’re planning to lock yourself in the workshop tonight, aren’t you?”
”How’d you know?”
”Just a hunch.”
Her hunches were terrifyingly accurate—when it came to me, they hit one hundred percent of the time.
”You’ve got commissions to make, right?”
”Yeah. Quite a few.”
Enough that a normal crafter would need half a year. For me, it was one night’s work—though that was just my own ridiculous standard.
”I’ll handle the dishes,” she said. “So go all out, okay? I love watching you make things for other people.”
”…Then I’ve got no choice but to give it my all.”
Her encouragement fired me up; maybe I’d even beat my record for build time tonight.
”Master,” Yohira added, “if you need a midnight snack, just say so-degozaru. I can make rice balls-degozaru.”
”I’ll take you up on that.”
I didn’t ask why they were taking a break from exploration. Still, as I stepped into the workshop, I thought I saw something hard in their expressions—a tension they didn’t voice.
I decided to start with the hardest tasks while I had the energy. First up: the three conceptual weapons the bastard had requested. I pictured the two katanas I’d snapped during our first meeting, then began forging anew.
The material was Mithril. Like the old blade Yakukiri, I’d forge one long sword first, then split it into three. Since it would be triple the length, I used the oldest forge I’d ever built—massive enough to handle it. I’d made it long ago to craft a sword inspired by my favorite manga: a weapon so big and heavy it barely qualified as a sword at all, something that could slay dragons. The forge had to be vast, and it welcomed the massive blade with ease.
Technically, I could make it specialized, like Shinguro or Makuroso, able to cut only one kind of target. But deciding what to cut is dangerous. If I defined it wrong, it could harm those I meant to spare—like marking long-lived races as “undead,” or wounding souls instead of bodies. And for some reason, I could already picture that bastard grinning smugly and saying, “My sword doesn’t cut flesh—it cuts souls.” It’d suit his pretty face and voice perfectly, which only made it worse. No way I’d give him that satisfaction.
Should I restrict what it can’t cut, or narrow what it can? If it were just for training, I could make it incapable of cutting the living. But he’d probably use it anywhere, anytime—and this world had rational ghosts. If he swung at one of them, that’d be a nightmare.
I was overthinking it when a thought hit me: Why was I worrying about what it could or couldn’t cut?
What I needed wasn’t a blade that couldn’t cut—but one that couldn’t kill. Even that kitchen knife had its counterpart: one specialized in aquatic life, the other, “Hymn of Life,” crafted to spare rather than slay. In that case… all I had to do was combine the two.
A concept specialized for combat against humans, combined with the principle of the “Hymn of Life.” The blade could cut flesh but must never kill.
Once my mind settled on that truth, my hammer swung with purpose. I forged a blade nearly three meters long, then split it into three parts—two to become twin katanas, one to stand alone as a pure strike blade. When I cast “Appraisal” over them, the results came back unreadable.
”…Taro-maru, Jiro-maru, and… Jihi-maru,” I muttered.
The names were haphazard, yet they clicked into place, a thread of certainty binding each weapon’s existence. Another appraisal confirmed it—the forging had succeeded.
*Twin Katanas: Taro-maru & Jiro-maru*
Physical Attack: 80
Magic Attack: 75
Range: 1
Special Abilities: “Bane of Humankind,” “Hymn of Life,” “Twin Blades, One Edge.”
…Alright, maybe those names sounded a bit too ominous. “Bane of Humankind”? What am I, forging black-winged monsters?
Checking deeper, it turned out the ability was essentially the humanoid version of Sea Cutter, the one my “Shinguro” possessed. The issue was with the classification—anything remotely humanoid counted as “human race.” Which meant even the gods of this world were valid targets. Yeah… that sounded like an exile-worthy offense.
I glanced over my shoulder. Thankfully, the Archangel wasn’t there. If she had been, I’d have been skewered before finishing the thought. The lesser-seen ability “Twin Blades, One Edge” prevented the usual power loss when dual-wielding weapons with matching properties. Fitting enough for the bastard’s fighting style, honestly.
Next, I appraised the single great katana—Jihi-maru.
*Great Katana: Jihi-maru*
Physical Attack: 90
Magic Attack: 60
Range: 1
Special Abilities: “Bane of Humankind,” “Hymn of Life,” “Mercy.”
”Mercy,” huh. That one was familiar—a general ability that healed whoever you struck. Hit someone, wound them, then heal them. The ultimate self-contained contradiction. Still, in its way, it fit perfectly.
I fitted each blade with proper fittings and scabbards, completing the set of three.
Next came the two suits of armor—one for the rich man, one for the Head of Judiciary. Both required care, though I’d be cutting a few corners on the latter. Using forty kilograms of Demonsteel on his armor would’ve been cruel. Age had taken a toll on his stamina; even Sister Kareha, still strong as ever, gasped for air after a single minute of all-out movement. It stood to reason he’d fare the same.
So, I crafted with ingenuity instead. I refined twenty kilograms of Demonsteel and began forging. It was as tough and mana-resistant as ever—hell to work with, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I processed the metal further, layering it into a honeycomb structure, then shaped it into curved plates for a full suit of armor. I considered inscribing anti-gravity formulas to lighten it, but those consumed mana constantly—not ideal for drawn-out battles. Tatia and Dahlia could manage thanks to their absurd mana reserves and cyclical flow, but the Head of Judiciary couldn’t. I couldn’t make that assumption.
*Full Armor: Demonsteel (Light)*
Physical Defense: 30
Magic Defense: 18
The result was harder than Black Iron—the forerunner of Genbu’s shell. Durable enough to prevent mortal wounds, at least. I etched subtle vine patterns into the plating to keep it from looking too plain.
Then came the armor for the rich man. I used the same base materials and forging techniques, retaining the honeycomb core but thickening the plating around vital areas. The result was stark and solid—an image of pure, unornamented strength.
*Full Armor: Demonsteel*
Physical Defense: 40
Magic Defense: 20
Speed: –5
Heavy enough to slow him down a little, but the protection was worth it. His party members would sleep easier knowing he wore it.
From the leftover ten kilograms of iron removed from the Judiciary armor, I smelted new Demonsteel and forged three additional items: a longsword, a greatsword, and a shield. Even then, five kilograms of material and a mana stone remained—those I’d return to the Head of Judiciary.
The longsword and kite shield were for the Head of Judiciary. The greatsword was a special commission for the rich man—three blades wide, twice the thickness, and twenty percent longer than average. I dubbed it a “Shield Sword,” a weapon built for defense first, befitting him.
Next came the squad leader’s Sticky Launcher. The design stayed the same; only the materials changed. The inner core components were crafted entirely from Mithril, the frame from Demonsteel. The consumable gears remained iron to keep replacement costs low. The grip and stock were carved from orc material, grooved for better hold and balance. The result gleamed dark as metal-black night, the silver of Mithril glinting through its interior—a stunning contrast. I hoped he would like it.
And then—the final task. Scientia’s commission.
The granddaughter of a god-slayer… honestly, I’d rather not deal with that bloodline at all. But I’d accepted the commission. Time to see it through with pride.
I began by polishing the unicorn-whale’s horn. It was already clean, but I removed every speck of dust. The milky white surface gleamed as I brushed on a special reagent mixed with powdered mana stones, then dried it swiftly with my Crafting skill. Next, I worked an iron ingot into a faceted core rod and inserted it into the horn, leaving just a bit protruding. Over that, I fitted the guard and hilt—done.
*One-Handed Sword: Iron Sword +8*
Physical Attack: 6 + 8
Range: 1
A powerful weapon by mundane standards, but utterly devoid of mana conductivity—useless as a catalyst.
Feeling unsatisfied, I drew out some Mithril and forged again—this time, a sword-staff to pair with the iron sword.
*Special Item: Mithril Sword-Staff +3*
Physical Attack: 16 + 3
Magic Attack: 20 + 6
Range: 1
It turned out better than I expected—honestly, almost too good. Not on par with a weapon crafted specifically for a master wielder, but easily solid enough for a mid-level Explorer. Making proper magic catalysts really was a pain.
I decided to shelve Ethelena’s Arcane Gun for now. I had the concept sketched out in my head, but it still didn’t click. Part of me toyed with the idea of giving her something sleek and menacing—like the black pistol a villainous holy knight might wield in a British manga—but her hands were too small. A grip-mounted magazine would make it unwieldy. Maybe a revolver, then—simpler, balanced, old-fashioned charm. If I followed that impulse, I could make something like the Mateba Automatic Revolver, with its forward-mounted cylinder. Perfect for an off-hand weapon.
Without hesitation, I started forging.
The mechanism frame was crafted from Adamantite—the same metal I’d gotten as payment from that bastard. No complex systems this time. A pistol-type Magic Acceleration Launcher, powered by a spell array that propelled bullets with focused mana bursts. To channel mana from the grip and barrel into the mechanism, I embedded threads of Evil Mithril, sublimated from fragments of the Goddess of Termination’s core. I spiral-grooved the barrel to stabilize spin and offset air resistance.
There was no Soul Core to power it, so I compressed a “seed” and embedded it in the grip. It wouldn’t drain much mana—the bullets were physical—but I wanted to extend its operational ability. The gun fired by using compressed air, reinforced by the acceleration formula, allowing even special-effect projectiles to be fired when needed. With the magazine moved out of the grip, the structure stayed compact and steady.
Caliber: 13mm—heavy by modern standards, but anything smaller might not even scratch a goblin here.
I engraved spell formulas across its frame for cooling, ensuring it could handle repeated shots without overheating.
When it was done, I held it up: 27 centimeters long, two kilograms in weight, six-round capacity. A strange hybrid that would’ve raised eyebrows in my old world. “…Right,” I said softly. “Your name will be Gloriosa.”
The name resonated instantly, the weapon pulsing as its presence solidified—a proper Magic Device.
*Arcane Gun: Gloriosa*
Physical Attack: 40
Mana Cost: 10
Range: 5
Special Abilities: “Can fire enchanted bullets,” “Required Strength: 30.”
Hmm. The attack power didn’t quite justify the mana cost. Or maybe that strength requirement meant recoil so brutal that anyone below spec would lose all accuracy.
”…I wonder if Ethelena will even like this thing. It’s… kind of chunky.”
The gun’s surface gleamed like starlight trapped in black metal, with faint blue inscriptions glowing along its barrel. Personally, I loved the look—but it was the kind of design boys drooled over. Would she?
”Not confident, huh?” came a voice.
I froze. That hadn’t been in my head. Turning around, I found Ethelena leaning in, eyes fixed on my hands.
”I mean,” I stammered, “Lonisera’s silver-white design fits you. But black like this—it’s a bit—wait, what are you doing here?”
”I was thinking,” she said casually, “we could take a bath together.”
…Of course. She’d come to fetch me for the bath. Terrible timing.
”And that,” she asked, nodding at the weapon, “is my new mana gun?”
”Y-yeah. A ballistic Arcane Gun—Gloriosa.”
”Pretty name. What’s the flower’s meaning?”
”Glory, elegance, courage, resilience, talent.”
”That’s a lot,” she said with a small smile. “And that’s all?”
”…Also, burning passion.”
”Oh?” Her grin turned sly. “And what kind of passion would that be?”
Her teasing tone was paired with a touch—light, deliberate, resting against the part of me that had been denied her for far too long.
”It’s—it’s because the enchanted bullets ignite things,” I managed weakly.
”Mmh. So that’s really what you meant,” she said softly.
Gods, she was a lie detector now? One wrong word and I’d be hanging myself.
”Then let me ask something,” she whispered.
”W-wait—”
”I want to make love.”
”Desperately.”
That question wasn’t fair. I barely got the word out before she laughed—a quiet, melodic sound.
”Then,” she said, eyes half-lidded, “let’s continue this… in the bath.”
I didn’t know if it was restraint or instinct that kept me from pushing her down right there and then.
Notes:
• Kalmia – a female student and granddaughter of the legendary god-slaying protagonist from the first game, who visits Tatara’s shop with a timid yet fascinated demeanor, occasionally sniffing his crafted gear with intense curiosity.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Kareha – A human paladin and nun appearing in ch.71. She requests new weapons from Tatara after past battles damaged hers. The order sends her under church duty. Works with Tatara and Dahlia as ally. Close to Ranka. Strong, polite, and fearless.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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