Chapter 175: Someone Copied My Rifle and It Exploded [2]

The demonstration took place behind a tavern.

Nearly thirty people had already gathered around an improvised firing lane.

Raven considered leaving.

Valeria caught his sleeve.

"No."

"This is a waste of time."

"It’s research."

"No."

"They’re copying your technology."

Raven looked toward the makeshift platform.

"No."

The supposed inventor appeared wearing a black robe.

That was already a bad sign.

He carried a modified crossbow with a metal tube fitted around the bolt channel.

"Citizens of Arven Crossing! Today, you will witness the future of weaponry!"

Raven closed his eyes.

Roland looked delighted.

"This is wonderful."

"No."

The man raised the weapon dramatically.

"Based upon the design wielded by the legendary Beast-Smith of Kharad!"

Valeria looked at Raven.

"Legendary."

"No."

"Beast-Smith."

"Worse."

The inventor continued.

"A weapon capable of concentrating the life force of beasts into a projectile!"

Raven opened his eyes.

That was wrong.

But not completely.

Valeria stopped smiling.

She had noticed too.

The man had no idea how the Mk.I actually functioned.

But he had understood a principle.

Monster functions.

Weapon.

Projectile.

That was enough for someone to start experimenting.

The supposed Thunder Gun fired.

Its internal string launched the bolt first.

A fraction of a second later, an alchemical charge detonated inside the surrounding tube and added a second impulse.

The projectile struck a wooden board twenty meters away and embedded itself several centimeters deep.

The crowd applauded.

Roland tilted his head.

"That was less impressive than advertised."

Raven didn’t answer.

He was studying the mechanism.

It was crude.

The timing between the crossbow release and the secondary blast was terrible. The tube wasn’t reinforced evenly, the bolt wasn’t designed for two-stage acceleration, and whoever had built the system had treated pressure as something that only needed to move forward.

Raven knew better.

He noticed the hairline split near the rear collar before the inventor did.

"Don’t fire it again."

The man looked toward the crowd.

Raven immediately regretted speaking.

"What?"

"The rear tube is cracked."

The inventor glanced down and saw nothing obvious.

Then he smiled, apparently deciding that a stranger questioning his invention in front of potential customers was a challenge to his authority.

"The Thunder Weapon is perfectly safe."

Raven looked at Valeria.

"This is why I didn’t want to come."

The inventor loaded another bolt.

Raven stepped forward.

"Don’t."

That drew more attention.

The man braced the weapon.

"I assure you, sir, this device has been tested."

"Not enough."

He fired.

The crossbow string released.

The alchemical charge ignited.

This time, the damaged rear collar failed.

BANG.

Not the deep concussion of the Mk.I.

A sharp metallic rupture.

The tube split near the back and vented sideways.

The inventor screamed and dropped the weapon as fragments of hot metal tore across his forearm. One shard struck a spectator in the shoulder, while the bolt itself left the barrel at an angle and buried itself in the dirt several meters away.

The applause disappeared instantly.

People recoiled.

Someone shouted for a healer.

Raven was already moving.

Valeria reached the wounded spectator first and compressed the bleeding with a thin Blood Thread while Raven kicked the broken weapon away from the crowd.

The inventor stared at his arm.

"What happened?"

Raven crouched beside the remains of the weapon.

"You contained pressure without giving it a controlled release."

The man was pale.

"But the first shot worked."

"The first shot damaged it."

That silenced him.

Roland looked down at the split metal tube.

"So it copied that part too."

Raven looked at him.

"No."

"Right. Bad time."

A local healer pushed through the crowd.

Valeria transferred the injured spectator to her while Raven stood.

The demonstration had lasted less than five minutes.

That was enough.

People were already talking.

Not about whether the weapon worked.

About why it failed.

About reinforcement.

About stronger metal.

About whether the next version needed runes around the rear tube.

One merchant who had been taking orders before the accident was hurriedly removing his sign.

Another was examining the broken weapon instead of leaving.

That was worse.

Failure hadn’t killed the idea.

It had given the idea data.

Valeria watched the same thing happen.

"I understand now."

Raven looked at her.

There was no amusement left in her expression.

"That was fast."

"Yes."

"And someone was hurt."

"Yes."

The inventor’s assistant was already arguing that the accident had been caused by defective metal rather than the design.

Raven turned away.

"We’re leaving."

This time, Valeria didn’t protest.

As they walked back toward the street, Roland glanced behind them.

"You think they’ll stop selling them?"

"No."

"Because one exploded?"

"Especially because one exploded."

Roland frowned.

"That doesn’t make sense."

"It does if everyone thinks they know which part to fix."

Valeria looked toward Raven.

"And now they have your warning about the pressure system."

Raven’s expression hardened.

He had spoken because someone was about to get hurt.

He would make the same decision again.

That didn’t mean he had to like the consequence.

"They already knew enough to hurt themselves."

Now they knew slightly more.

That was exactly the problem.

---

Elise reached Arven Crossing the following day.

Raven had already left.

By four hours.

She learned that at the Mercenary House.

The same clerk who had spoken with Raven the previous morning recognized Elise immediately, though not necessarily by name.

The white clothing helped.

So did Mercy.

And when Elise used enough mana, the incomplete geometry of golden light that faintly appeared behind her head removed most remaining doubt.

The clerk stood abruptly.

"Saint."

"You don’t need to stand."

The woman remained standing.

Elise accepted defeat.

"I’m looking for a mercenary."

"Raven Ashford."

It wasn’t a question.

That concerned her.

"Yes."

The clerk glanced toward the door.

"He left this morning."

"Alone?"

"No. Lady Valeria von Nacht and a tracker named Roland were with him."

Elise opened the file.

"Direction?"

The clerk hesitated.

Mercenary House policy did not allow member routes to be given out simply because someone asked.

Elise respected that.

She produced the ecclesiastical authorization.

The woman read it carefully.

No arrest order.

No capture warrant.

Only an authorized investigation linked to Raven’s existing House record.

That was enough to access his most recent registered interaction.

Not enough to seize him.

The distinction mattered to Elise.

"They took the eastern road."

"Contract?"

"Not from this office."

Elise put the authorization away.

"Thank you."

The clerk watched her.

"Is he in trouble?"

Elise considered the question.

"I don’t know yet."

The woman glanced toward Mercy.

"People say he’s a heretic."

"People say many things."

"They also say he eats monsters."

Elise almost smiled.

"I’ve read that."

"Is it true?"

"I don’t know."

The honesty seemed to surprise her.

Before Elise could leave, the clerk added, "There was also an accident yesterday."

Elise stopped.

"What kind?"

"Someone built a weapon based on his."

Halven looked at her.

The clerk explained the demonstration, the ruptured tube, and the injured spectator.

"Was Raven involved?"

"He warned them not to fire it again."

Elise’s attention sharpened.

"And after it failed?"

"He helped clear the weapon while Lady Nacht stopped the bleeding."

That went into a very different category than most of the rumors in the file.

Elise remembered the line describing Raven as potentially dangerous.

That might still be true.

Dangerous and cruel were not the same thing.

She thanked the clerk again and left.

Outside, Halven fell into step beside her.

"Four hours."

"Yes."

"We can probably catch them tomorrow."

"Probably."

"Then you know what you’ll do."

Elise continued walking.

Arven Crossing was full of stories about Raven Ashford. She had heard them before even reaching the Mercenary House.

Demon.

Inventor.

Mercenary.

Beast cannibal.

Noblewoman’s fiancé.

Hero of Kharad.

Heretic.

Wyvern killer.

Now someone had copied his weapon badly enough to injure people, and Raven had apparently tried to stop them from using it.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to tell where the actual man ended and the story everyone else had built around him began.

That was precisely why Elise wanted to reach him before someone less patient did.

"Saint Veyra," Halven said again.

Elise looked at him.

"Yes?"

"What will you do when you find Raven Ashford?"

This time, she answered without hesitation.

"First, I’ll try to save him."

Halven walked several steps before speaking again.

"And if he refuses?"

Elise looked toward the eastern road.

Her smile was small.

Sad.

Not threatening.

That would have been easier.

"Then I’ll have to determine how much of him can still be saved."