Chapter 169: My Bullet Became Official Evidence GT Bonus 3/3

Their last dinner in Kharad lasted longer than the others.

Not because anyone planned it that way.

It simply happened.

Maelor appeared after dark. Hadrik closed his workshop early for the first time in several days and arrived carrying a bottle he insisted was far too good to leave in the hands of miners. Roland ordered enough food to justify two plates, and Valeria bought wine considerably better than what they had been served at South Relay.

Raven eventually found himself sitting with all of them around the same inn table where, only days earlier, he had laid out the incomplete components of the rifle.

Now the case rested against the wall.

Six systems inside.

A functional weapon.

There was something strange about the symmetry.

Maelor took a drink.

"I heard you made some noise."

Roland answered before Raven could.

"By tomorrow, all of Kharad will have heard it whether they were there or not."

Hadrik looked at Raven.

"How much noise?"

"A lot."

"Excellent technical description."

"The Pressure Chamber releases a discharge that—"

Valeria raised one hand.

"No."

Raven looked at her.

"What?"

"We learned today that explanations only make things worse."

Hadrik laughed.

"Then just tell me whether it survived."

"Yes."

"You?"

"Also."

"The target?"

Roland answered that one.

"Dead."

Maelor paused with his cup halfway to his mouth.

"What was it?"

"Skygrave Wyvern. Elite. Around Level Thirty-Nine."

The guide slowly lowered his drink.

"With that stick."

Raven looked at him.

"Rifle."

"With the stick."

"Yes."

Maelor took another drink.

"I should have charged you more for the Pressure Chamber."

"You realized that too late."

"I’ve been told the same thing about several investments."

Valeria laughed.

For a while, the conversation moved away from monsters.

They talked about Kharad and the Keller Ridge workers who were still being held for questioning. Supervisor Hedd had yet to reappear.

Raven remembered that detail.

He simply wasn’t going to chase the man tonight.

Copies of Keller Ridge’s records had already been sent to regional authorities and the Mercenary House. If the company attempted to erase everything, it would have to do so in several different places.

More importantly, its connection to the Burrower incident had become too public to disappear cleanly.

That didn’t mean the matter was permanently closed.

It only meant Kharad could breathe again.

Literally.

The warning bells were still there.

So was the colony.

But the Matriarch was dead, the surviving Burrowers had retreated toward deeper chambers, and the human detonations disturbing them had stopped.

The region would eventually return to its own strange version of equilibrium.

At least for a while.

Maelor glanced at the folded maps beside Raven’s plate.

"So you’re still heading south?"

"Yes."

"Toward Marden?"

"Maybe."

Valeria took a sip of wine.

"We’re taking the commercial road first."

Roland pointed at her with his fork.

"Because it has better inns."

"It does."

"That wasn’t the deciding factor," Raven said.

Valeria smiled.

"But it helped."

Raven ignored that.

The commercial road was slightly longer, but it gave them regular access to smithies, Mercenary House offices, supplies, and places where Raven could replace the things the rifle consumed.

That mattered more now.

The Mk.I had increased his options in combat.

It had also given him ammunition, maintenance, and material costs to think about.

Power always came with logistics.

Maelor raised his cup.

"So the man who killed a Matriarch and a Wyvern is choosing his road because it has shops."

"Exactly."

"I like you more than I expected."

"That sounds like your problem."

"Definitely."

Dinner continued until late.

Not too late.

Raven intended to leave at dawn.

Maelor departed first. Hadrik followed later, though not before making Raven promise that if the Mk.I ever suffered a catastrophic failure, someone would send him a detailed description.

Raven stared at him.

"Why?"

"I want to know whether one of my parts caused it."

"That doesn’t sound like pride."

"It’s quality control."

Raven agreed.

Roland eventually went upstairs to sleep.

Valeria stayed.

---

The inn was nearly empty by the time only the two of them remained.

Raven folded the map away while Valeria slowly turned her wineglass between her fingers.

"You laughed yesterday."

Raven looked at her.

"You’re still on that?"

"Yes."

"It was funny watching you almost fall."

"How romantic."

"I never said it was."

Valeria smiled but didn’t answer immediately.

That made Raven suspicious.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don’t use that word."

"I was only thinking."

"That’s concerning too."

She set the glass down.

"No. That’s part of the problem."

Raven frowned slightly.

"What is?"

"You never say anything is romantic."

"Because it usually isn’t."

"Exactly."

Raven waited.

Valeria seemed far too entertained by whatever argument she was constructing in her head.

"Is there a conclusion?"

"Not yet."

"Then I’m going to sleep."

Raven stood.

Valeria did the same.

As she passed him, her voice dropped slightly.

"But you laughed."

Raven closed his eyes.

"Good night, Valeria."

"Good night, Raven."

She went upstairs.

Raven watched her leave before looking toward the rifle case.

He had survived monsters far above his own level, an entire colony, an Elite Matriarch, and a weapon that had nearly cooked his arm from the inside.

For some reason, that conversation felt harder to categorize than any of them.

He decided not to try.

Not yet.

---

They left Kharad at dawn.

There was no ceremony.

Raven preferred it that way.

Maelor appeared at the southern gate anyway.

Hadrik did not.

According to Maelor, blacksmiths maintained an openly hostile relationship with mornings.

Roland finished securing their supplies. Valeria carried her unnecessarily expensive new cosmetics case, while Raven once again kept the Mk.I concealed.

It mattered less now.

The rumors would travel.

He didn’t need to help them.

Maelor shook Roland’s hand first, then gave Valeria an exaggerated bow that she tolerated with surprising patience.

Finally, he looked at Raven.

"If you come back, try not to wake another colony."

"I didn’t."

Maelor stared at him.

Raven added, "The first time."

"That is exactly what I was afraid of."

Raven extended his hand.

Maelor shook it.

"Take care of that stick."

"Rifle."

"Whatever."

Raven mounted his horse.

Behind them, the bells of Kharad rang.

Not an alarm.

Only the wind.

For the first time since arriving, Raven heard one and didn’t immediately look toward the ground.

They headed south.

Kharad slowly disappeared behind them.

Not fixed.

Not clean.

But alive.

Raven had entered the region searching for the final component of a weapon.

He was leaving with the weapon complete.

And, for the first time, with people outside his small group who knew it existed.

He still didn’t know which of those two things would become the larger problem.

---

The projectile was discovered during the examination of the corpse.

There was no thief.

No hidden agent watching from the rocks.

Only procedure.

Several hours after Raven left South Relay, two Mercenary House inspectors arrived from Kharad to formally validate the Skygrave Wyvern bounty.

The corpse remained where it had fallen, although the workers had already cleared away part of the ruined watchtower.

One inspector measured the creature while the other examined its wounds.

The first was superficial.

Left wing.

Missing scales and torn flesh.

The kind of damage a penetrating projectile might cause after losing much of its energy breaking through a wind-based defense.

The second wound was different.

It entered through the mouth.

The examiner inserted a thin metal probe and followed the path.

Through the palate.

Into the base of the skull.

Then toward the cervical junction.

He stopped.

"Here."

Taren approached.

"What?"

"Something’s still inside."

It took them nearly twenty minutes to extract it.

What finally emerged didn’t look particularly impressive.

A deformed piece of metal, darkened by dried blood. The tip had lost most of its original shape after passing through bone, part of the body had flattened, and one side bore long parallel grooves.

The inspector held it with a pair of tongs.

"This came from that weapon?"

Taren nodded.

"Yes."

"Runes?"

"None that I saw."

"Crystal?"

"No."

The man rotated the projectile slowly.

"Then I need to register it."

Taren didn’t ask why.

Any unknown weapon or artifact used publicly during a registered contract could be attached to an official report if its operation affected the assessment of a threat.

Usually that meant an undocumented sword.

An alchemical device.

Foreign runes.

A relic.

Nobody had written the procedure with a rifle in mind.

The projectile went into a small evidence box.

The inspector filled out the label.

[Unknown Projectile Recovered from Skygrave Wyvern Corpse.]

[Associated Mercenary: Raven Ashford.]

Then, beneath it:

[Weapon Classification: UNRESOLVED.]