Chapter 112 Indiscriminate Bombardment
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”…That was brutal.” I let the words spill out with a sigh, the workshop’s lamplight pooling on half-finished tools. Somehow, sparring with the Head of Judiciary drained me more than the city’s whole reconstruction shift.
He’d gone wild over the one-sixth-scale psychokinetic armor. Narikin-san had to hook his arms and haul him away, and even then the man thrashed with ridiculous energy. I told him—firmly—that he could come tomorrow for adjustments. Did he even hear me? If he shows up worked into a frenzy asking for a brand-new set, I’m locking the door.
I shake the thought away and draw a packet of papers from my Inventory. The City Mayor entrusted me with a teleportation spell formula. My job: decode it and rebuild it into something fit for a simple gate.
The first and loudest problem? Waste. So much wasted ink it hurts. Worse, it feels like the writer kept slipping their own name into the lines at the razor-edge of activation—like a signature booby-trapped to misfire. I begin the surgery: trim dead characters, then comb the structure smooth. There are stabilizers upon stabilizers—probably meant to tame the space-ripple when the gate opens—but there’s nearly twice the number needed. The destination coordinate block is also over-decorated, all curls and curlicues. Even if you wanted two-way interference control, even if you were hedging for a one-way cheap gate, this is… baroque. Back home they’d call it garbled emoji-script: cute, unreadable, and begging for mistakes.
At this rate I’d rather read a monster-cult cipher or an engineered scholar’s tongue; even austere Hyunonos would look clean by comparison.
By the time I finish my markup, the teleportation formula is down to two-thirds its original length. The amount of fat I carved off makes me a little nervous. I reach for a bird golem to send the draft to the Mayor… and find none. The usual courier isn’t home. Fine. I’ll make a new one.
I’m fond of that bird, but lately it dodges me whenever I try to tie on a letter. I should let it go soon. With that thought, I set to work on a replacement—raptor-class this time. I picture a great eagle, the largest from my last life: wingspan two hundred fifty centimeters, body length one hundred five. The frame I forge from mithril; the wings I layer with twin-sublimated mithril, borrowing the Tatia ‘aura’ technique City Mayor’s people pioneered. I etch ‘Flight’ into the wings, ‘Antigravity’ into the body, then lace the frame with a wind-magic barrier to strip away drag for high-speed maneuvers. For the core I don’t use a standard golem heart—an ‘egg’ will do. And there it is: my raptor-type golem. From today on, the mail’s his job.
”Alright. First run—take this report to the City Mayor (female), please,” I say, tying the bundle to his talons.
He dips his head in a crisp bow and leaps. One heartbeat to gain altitude—then he knifes forward, a blur I can’t track. Fast. Too fast for my eyes to hold.
”Now, where was I.”
\nI return to the bench and push the optimization further. I strip out the coordinate-switching algebra meant for multiple destinations; the gate will connect to one place only. I delete the stacked space-stabilizers and, in their place, weave in the ‘Leap’ structure used in Teleportation Crystals. I shave overlaps between ‘teleportation’ and ‘Leap’, splice the joints, and fill the bare spots. I run the whole thing in my head and watch for snags. When a misfire sparks in the model, I pull it apart and set it right. The trick is this: trigger the ‘Leap’ effect that ignores obstacles first, then briefly coax a ripple into space itself. For an instant—and only once—it opens a mana path. You ride that path and you’re through. A disposable, one-shot gate to a single, fixed destination.
An hour later, the one-way formula clicks into place. Final mana cost: about a quarter of a proper gate. I’d predicted a third if I were lucky. I’ll take being wrong on this one.
Next: the arcane marker. It isn’t all that complicated, truth be told. The important part is forcing a controlled ripple to bloom at a chosen point. I rework the obstacle-breaking segment from ‘Leap’ so the marker both emits a mana beacon and carves a short, safe corridor right where it stands. The gate’s exit will form about a meter off the marker, and a built-in safety scan checks the spot so we don’t have anyone screaming, “I’m inside a rock!” after arrival. Even so, I jot a warning: best used where the surroundings are clear.
Thirty minutes of tuning and it’s done—low mana draw, simple use. I’ll bundle the simple gate and the marker formulas and send them together. The Mayor did tell me to delay the report—five days, maybe a month. But if I sit on this, she won’t sleep easy. The city festival is the deadline, sure, yet the Foreign Affairs Chief’s situation feels urgent.
While I’m weighing that, the raptor sweeps back through the window.
”Well done,” I murmur, stroking the curve where neck meets shoulder.
He leans into my hand, metal plumage humming with a soft, pleased vibration. For a moment the workshop’s oil-and-ozone air grows warm.
”This is a golem… right?” The question lingers with the fading thrum, and the room holds its answer.”
The raptor returned, wings rustling as it landed by the bench. A small roll of parchment was tied to its leg. Curious, I untied it and broke the seal.
The letter was from the City Mayor (female). She thanked me for optimizing the teleportation spell—and scolded me for increasing her workload. I can’t say I understand her logic. With a sigh, I tied the next report—this time containing the newly refined formulas—to the raptor’s leg and sent him off again. He gave a low, proud cry before darting out into the sky. Did he… just make a sound?
Well, no time to dwell on that. With the spellwork finished, it was time to forge Calmys-san’s sword.
From my Inventory, I laid out the entrusted mithril and orichalcum, along with a fragment of the Goddess of Creation’s divine core. The air grew heavy with mana as I began. First, I sublimated the mithril and adamantite through the god-core shard, then shaped the materials together, modeling the blade after ‘Keralv,’ the weapon I’d once seen at the Head Temple—same shape, same balance. The mithril, now saint-silver thread, gleamed faintly as I aligned its flow to form the edge. Last time, I’d relied on grinding to sharpen it; this time, the blade itself was woven from silver strands no thicker than 0.0001 millimeters. That’s fifty times finer than the shape-memory alloy I used before—and it’s one and a half times stronger. Ridiculous. Once Calmys-san channels mana through this, she could probably cut through anything.
The ductility had improved too. It could stretch one and a half times longer than the previous alloy—meaning her reach just got deadlier. For the hilt, I used sublimated orichalcum, easier to handle than the original Fiero. The control formula, based on Fiero’s design, had been streamlined—more responsive, more efficient. The guard I forged from pure mithril, and into its heart I set the Angel race’s Soul Core, entrusted to me by the Mayor.
Light bloomed at once—soft gold running through the blade. Now and then a pulse of blue mana arced along the channels, like veins of lightning beneath glass. A living thing, almost.
For now, the sword was complete. The only problem was the same as always—Appraisal told me nothing.
”…Alright then. You’ll be Rue—’Luee,’ the blade that brings peace to people.”
Sorry, Calmys-san. I’m naming it myself this time. You’ll probably throw it again anyway, so let me at least choose the name I want to give you.
As I spoke, the familiar sensation flickered behind my eyes—connection. Information flowed into my mind.
Linked Sword — Rue
Physical Attack +95
Magic Attack +120
Speed +20
Max Range: 6
Special Abilities: Variable / Mana Regeneration II / Twin Blades as One
A weapon rivaling Keralv. Its stats leaned more toward magic attack, and though its reach was shorter, it compensated with regeneration instead of absorption. And that last part—’Twin Blades as One.’ Was this some cosmic hint that Calmys-san should dual-wield Rue and Fiero?
I muttered to myself, “You know, I might get scolded by the war god for this…”
A faint tapping brushed my back, like small hands drumming gently—exactly the way Ethelena used to when she got annoyed. The touch faded before I could turn. When I finally looked behind me, no one was there, but the feeling—warm, amused—had vanished.
Anyway, that wrapped up the Mayor’s requests, but I still had plenty of work left. One of them was repairing Dahlia’s ‘Fireworks.’
The frame was a mangled wreck when I pulled it out. Well, being slammed into the ground at that speed would do that. Honestly, the only reason it wasn’t dust was probably because that bird-thing cushioned the impact. I disassembled the pieces one by one, examining the structure. The shock dispersion design felt sloppy this time. It hadn’t been this rough before. I frowned—unacceptable.
At least the shoulder armor’s rear engine and artillery systems survived. Those would only need light maintenance later. The front armor and base frame, though—those had to be rebuilt from scratch. I melted the remnants and reforged them in demonsteel. I’d burned through a good number of mana stones today; I’d have to restock soon. Still, the forging went smoothly. I restructured the internal frame into a honeycomb lattice, spreading impacts evenly to improve durability. I’d never managed to shape demonsteel this way before, yet somehow it worked flawlessly. Maybe I’d grown again without noticing. This—this was why crafting never got old.
I separated the engine and artillery units into independent blocks, minimizing damage if either failed. This time the hit was light, but both units were absurdly expensive—the bulk of Fireworks’ total cost. They needed to be protected and, ideally, reusable.
The shoulder armor upgrade went perfectly. The legs, though—those were a nightmare. The engine and armor were built as one, and this time the engine had taken catastrophic damage. I started redesigning it from the ground up. Three layers of armor wrapped around the core frame that held the jet engine, with the outermost layer hardened and the inner two honeycombed for absorption. Between them I added dampeners. The result was thicker—like the black lilies worn by the avenger mech from that old movie—but durability mattered more than aesthetics.
The jet engine was beyond salvage, so I rebuilt it from scratch. Unlike the version I’d made for Toriteleia, this one was entirely demonsteel. Maybe that’s why the damage had been so severe. While rebuilding, I discovered demonsteel’s heat resistance ranked somewhere between mithril and adamantite—tough enough for insane temperatures. Using it for the combustion chamber actually made the engine more flexible, though its strength still lagged behind mithril. For now, I’d accept that trade-off.
The rebuilt Fireworks—no, let’s call it Fireworks ver.1.2—stood gleaming under the forge light. I’d have Dahlia inspect it when she returned. She was probably still out gathering dive mana stones, as usual. Maybe I’d hand it to her as a bit of a thank-you.
That thought led me back to what had sparked this in the first place—the black lily mecha from that old battleship series. A heavy armor frame, tuned for brutal acceleration. The idea stuck. Why not make it a real weapon package? I started the design at once.
Adamantite would’ve been ideal, but my stores were pitiful. I’d have to settle for demonsteel. Even iron was running low; maybe I’d visit the merchant guild soon. Hopefully, the recent chaos scared off the kind of fools who used to waste my time.
I began drafting the add-ons—modules for shoulders, chest, back, and legs. Each shoulder, back, and leg would hold an auxiliary engine. I used the multi-layer structure from Fireworks ver.1.2 as a base—solid defense outside, hidden engines within. It was tricky, balancing armor density with thrust output. The leg units were bulked up again, with a new layer serving as both structure and fuel tank. One wrong spark and the whole thing could blow sky-high, pilot included—but speed demanded risk. The shoulders got a hinged design housing another pair of engines. They’d be massive, but that let me thicken the plating, mount a shield layer, and even fit extra fuel pods on the underside. The chest plate was pure defense, thick as a vault door, while the back carried two small stabilizer engines for posture control. Finally, from the waist I attached a tail-type stabilizer to fine-tune balance mid-flight.
The original model had twin cannons fixed to both arms, but I wanted more freedom here—interchangeable weapons instead. Still, the upper armor was so rigid it barely moved. A fair trade for survivability.
”Right… we’ll call this project Azamina. ‘Black Lily’ would’ve been too on the nose.”
A smirk tugged at me. Azamina—the flower of vengeance. Fitting, really.
Work done, I realized I hadn’t maintained Genbu since the fight with the bird-thing. During that battle I’d forced mana through its artificial muscles far beyond spec, and I had no idea what damage that caused. Time for a full Concept Appraisal.
The results were a disaster. Faults everywhere, some sections half-melted from overload. Even the self-regeneration enchantment couldn’t fully repair it. The worst damage came from where that creature’s magic had pierced the armor—the fibers were shredded, mana-scorched into stiffness. A total replacement job.
I stripped every artificial muscle from the frame and melted them down. The sublimated mithril reverted to its base form. Then, with fragments from both the Creation and Destruction goddesses’ cores, I sublimated it again—stronger, finer. I doubled the original volume, twisted even strands together, and wove new muscle fiber. But doubling strength meant double caution; one mistake in length or formula and the thing would snap like a whip. I took my time threading each bundle. If I were going this far, maybe I should make my own inner-muscle armor—but tailoring for yourself was a nightmare. Fit it wrong once, and you couldn’t even climb out.
While musing, I finished re-lining the left arm. I poured mana through it, adjusted the flow, tuned the movement. The thing bucked like a wild horse, but I refined the mother-in-law’s optimized spellwork into something sharper—an enhancement formula built purely for Genbu. Control grew harder with each tweak, yet it started to flow naturally. Twenty minutes later, the left arm was done—perfect. What used to be a limiter-off output was now its baseline. The right arm took fifteen minutes, both legs another fifteen. Even for me, that was fast.
I reattached the outer armor and locked the frame in the hangar. The startup test began. From the embedded “egg,” mana surged, circulating through the artificial muscle. Blue sparks leapt across the fibers, mana pulsing like a heartbeat. I adjusted the draw—too much output—and tuned the cycle until no power bled off.
At last, Genbu Revised was finished. I opened the Appraisal.
Arcane Armor — Genbu Mk.II
HP +100
Mana +0
Skill Power +0
Physical Attack +75
Physical Defense +40
Magic Attack +40
Magic Defense +70
Speed +60
Movement +3
Special Abilities: Artillery / Magic Bombardment (Revised) / Self-Regeneration
Magic Bombardment (Revised): Mana Cost 2–100 | Power = (Mana Used ÷ 2) + Magic Attack
It had skipped a whole enhancement tier, evolving outright. The armor’s defense hadn’t changed, but physical and magic attack—and speed—had all spiked. Makes sense; the limiter-off state was now its normal mode. If I used this in a student skirmish, I’d probably kill someone by accident… or maybe mercy would just get me killed instead. Fine. I’ll go all out.
Maintenance complete, I turned to my old warhammer. After a quick tune-up, I rested it against the forge wall. Somehow, it felt ready for retirement. Time to craft a new one soon—maybe a demonsteel hammer with a built-in magic device for extra impact, a booster that fires from the opposite end with each swing.
As those thoughts faded, I glanced toward the fridge. The tuna inside was on its last day. Dinner, then.
I set a pot on the fire—sake, soy sauce, and mirin simmering down into glaze. I cubed the tuna into bite-sized chunks, portioned for five, then let it soak in the cooled sauce for twenty minutes at room temperature. Osmosis would handle the rest. While the flavor sank in, I washed the rice and started the cooker. I was out of shiso leaves and long onion, so I’d have to improvise: lettuce and onion instead. The lettuce I tore by hand and soaked in water; the onion I sliced against the grain and set to mellow beside it.
Next came the miso soup—simple, just onions and white miso. I soaked bonito flakes and dried sardines in water and brought them gently to a near-boil. Before the bubbles could rise, I turned off the heat, strained them out, and let them drip dry in a sieve. Once drained, they went onto a small plate—perfect later with cream cheese, a lazy little snack. Into the broth went thinly sliced onions, simmered slow until sweet, then I whisked in the miso. The key was to stop the fire before it boiled again, when the flavor was fullest.
Maybe Ichika would handle the tamagoyaki later, if she got back in time. For now, the house was quiet.
While waiting for the rice to finish, I drifted upstairs and noticed laundry flapping on the balcony. I started taking it down just as a flash of silver streaked through the sunlight—the raptor golem, returning. He landed neatly on the railing and cocked his head toward me. I reached out, brushed his feathers—cold metal with the warmth of life beneath—and he leaned into my touch, like a real creature.
Then he tilted his beak toward his leg. A letter was tied there. I untied it and scanned the message: a note from the City Mayor. “If you’re going to make a new golem, at least tell me first.” Fair enough. Having a massive bird automaton show up unannounced would scare anyone. The real miracle was that Calmys-san hadn’t tried to shoot it down.
The rest of the letter mentioned the teleportation gate formula. The empire’s capital was in talks to adopt it for national use, and I’d be granted a list of ‘special privileges.’ If approved, it would become a military secret—and I’d be granted a list of “special privileges.” Somehow, my name kept inflating behind my back. I was just a crafter. Nothing more.
Still, at least now the Mayor recognized the raptor as mine. Her old courier bird was free from duty at last. That one had been actively plotting ways to avoid delivering my letters lately—freedom would probably suit it fine. Mine seemed to have developed a will of its own too. Maybe it was better this way.
I told the raptor to rest or retreat into the Inventory, but it looked longingly toward the corner near the window. A perch, huh? I’d build one after finishing the laundry.
I carried the clothes downstairs, sorting through the pile. Ethelena’s bra—massive as always—followed by Ichika’s, only slightly smaller but still impressive. A man can only fight so much instinct. Then Yohira’s—smaller, but thinking of her wearing it made my pulse skip. She was petite, yet perfectly built, hips curved like ripe fruit. I caught myself grinning like an idiot as I folded her shorts. Hinagiku’s things… best left unremarked. She’s someone’s crush, after all. Still, could she at least turn her shirts right-side out before washing?
Once sorted, I stacked the baskets in the living room. Everyone could take their own later. Ichika usually hauled Hinagiku’s too, so I placed theirs together.
Then came the perch. The raptor tilted his head, judging the best spot—by the window, shaded from the harshest sun. I shaped it from orc wood, reinforced with mithril through the core. It looked simple but would outlast stone. The raptor hopped up, fluffed its feathers, gave a single cry, and began preening contentedly. “Yeah, you’re definitely not a normal golem,” I murmured.
With nothing left pressing, I sank into the sofa and pulled over the ancient document the merchant guild master had sent me, along with a letter saying it had been recently unearthed. I placed a notebook on the side table and began translating line by line. Two-thirds through, cheerful music chimed from the kitchen—my rice was done. The melody was “Beyond the Deep Darkness,” bright and heroic. Here in Whirlwind, it was considered an old folk tune, passed down for generations. I liked that—it made the city feel alive.
I moved the steaming rice into my handmade sushi tub and poured over the vinegar blend—rice vinegar, sugar, salt. I sliced through the grains, folding the mixture until every kernel shone. A miniature golem fanned the surface while I kept flipping the rice, letting the aroma rise and the warmth fade. Once it reached body temperature, I covered it with a clean cloth to keep it tender until everyone came home.
Tuna marinade over vinegar rice and vegetables—zuke-don. Hopefully they’d like it. Maybe I’d even record it on a memory crystal and send it to Mother-in-law with the magical word processor.
”—We’re home!”
”I have returned!”
”Your humble servant has arrived-degozaru!”
”Excuse our intrusion.”
Their voices rang from the hall—Ethelena, Yohira, Ichika, and Hinagiku-san. I set my pen down, finishing a correction, and called back, “Welcome home.”
I met them at the entrance. The three up front were drenched in sweat, shirts clinging and nearly transparent. I sighed.
”Go shower. You’re a mess.”
They yelped in unison, covering themselves faster than I thought humanly possible. Honestly… a little disappointing.
”Uu, Torakuma, let’s bathe together,” Ethelena mumbled.
”Mmm, perhaps Tatara should come too. We could surround him,” Yohira added coolly.
”A rare chance to wash our lord’s back-degozaru! Come, master, this way-degozaru!”
”No way. That’s not a bath—that’s a death trap.”
I could already imagine the hinoki bath turning into a battlefield—or worse, a deflowering ceremony. No chance I’d survive that. So much for asking Ichika to make the tamagoyaki.
”Master!” Ichika suddenly lunged forward, eyes bright. Even through the sweat, she smelled distractingly good.
”What is it, Ichika? And don’t get so close—you smell… nice.”
”If my sweat smells good to you, it means our bodies are compatible-degozaru. But! That’s not the point—you want my tamagoyaki, don’t you?”
”How the hell did you know that?”
”Because of my undying loyalty-degozaru!”
”Chu-sei… what, your heart?”
”No, no-degozaru! I *do* want a chu, but not *that* kind-degozaru!”
Oh for—she *does* want a kiss, then. And the two behind her? They were quietly touching their own lips, eyes glinting, clearly waiting their turn.
”It’s pointless to bathe and then sweat all over again-degozaru. I’ll make the tamagoyaki first.”
”You sure about that?”
”Master, remember what I said before?”
I blinked. “Before… you mean that thing?”
”That my happiness is feeding you, Tatara-dono.”
She said it softly, cheeks pink, the words rolling off her tongue like something fragile. My chest tightened. “…Then I’ll count on you.”
”With pleasure-degozaru,” she replied with a shy little smile—and my heart pounded so hard it hurt. Surrounded by beauties like this, even a small smile could knock the air out of me.
”Oh, Tatara, what’s for dinner?” Ethelena called.
”Prep’s done. You can eat right after your bath.”
”Mhm. And the laundry?”
”It’s all folded in the living room. Take your sets to your rooms after.”
”You didn’t… do anything weird with the underwear, did you?” Yohira asked, one eyebrow arched.
I snorted. “Why would I use substitutes when the real thing’s right in front of me?”
Their eyes widened in sync. I ushered both of them toward the hinoki bath before they could retort, fielding their teasing questions along the way.
”It’s always lively here,” Hinagiku-san said with a small smile as she watched them go.
There was something different about her tonight—calmer, maybe. More grounded. “It’s just friendly banter,” I said, then added casually, “By the way, you didn’t come home last night. Did something happen with that guy? My childhood friend?”
She straightened her posture, met my eyes, and nodded. “Yes. I’ve decided to start seeing him, Tatara-dono.”
”…Wait. What?”
A bomb dropped. My brain stalled mid-thought, unprepared for that particular impact.
Notes:
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• 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.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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