Bayam, a certain bar stronghold.
"Brando's batch of goods is quite popular—"
Danitz leaned against the bar counter, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp of the pungent Lulangzi from the Wine Bottle.
This arms deal went exceptionally smoothly. The group from the Resistance was full of praise for this batch of brand-new weapons and ammunition, even pre-ordering the next batch on the spot.
To show their sincerity, they actually paid the full amount upfront this time!
Having spent so many years at sea, Danitz had never seen these dirt-poor natives pay the full amount for anything!
"Good stuff just doesn't struggle to sell." Danitz let out a burp and couldn't help but sigh with emotion.
You couldn't blame those locals. Most Resistance members or local militias were lucky to get their hands on old firearms discarded by the Loen army or reloaded ammunition of varying quality. New ammunition and parts with reliable performance and standard specifications from Brando's factory were absolute top-tier goods in their eyes.
"Shit, it seems I sold them too cheaply." He took another gulp of wine, suddenly feeling like he'd lost out on the price this time.
"No way, the price next time must go up by at least twenty percent!"
"Hehe, at this rate, two more times and I'll be able to pay off all my debts!" A silly grin appeared on Danitz's face.
"When I get back to my hometown, I'll buy the whole town! I'll show the old man and those guys who used to look down on me!"
"Haha!"
He picked up a "ripper" sitting on the table nearby and twirled it in his hand to look cool.
"That fellow Brando really has some skill. Could he actually be a believer of the God of Steam and Machinery—" Looking at the exquisitely crafted weapon full of mechanical beauty in his hand, Danitz couldn't help but wonder.
He had already successfully sold off this batch of shotguns. He kept one for himself, and a few discerning crew members on the Golden Dream with some spare cash also bought a few. The rest he sold through a middleman to Bayam's specialty weapon shops and high-end black markets.
"That guy 'Iron Skin' mocked me before, so I won't sell to you! If you want one, go buy it from the black market at a higher price yourself!"
In Tracy's room on the Black Death, the heavy curtains were drawn tight, letting not a single ray of sunlight through. Only a faint candle flame remained in the room, flickering in the Darkness and casting an ambiguous light.
Through the dim candlelight, a beautiful figure wearing only a silk nightgown could be seen tossing and turning on the soft large bed.
After a few more minutes, she reluctantly pulled the men's coat with its familiar scent away from her cheek, hugged it tightly to her chest, and then sat up lazily.
"Brando's scent—hehe, it's always so charming."
Even though she had long passed the period of Sequence 6, she was now more desperate for some kind of solace than ever before.
Unfortunately, she no longer had anyone she could truly—with.
That person—had already left her side.
"Brando—"
At the thought of that name, Tracy's eyes instantly fell into deep reminiscence. There was beauty, pain, regret, and hatred for her own incompetence—
And then, there was groundless displacement of anger.
"Hmph, that bitch Edwina, if I run into you again, I'll definitely kill you!" Tracy gritted her silver teeth, a savage look appearing on her beautiful face.
A few months ago, she had engaged in an encounter battle with the "Golden Dream" near the Fog Sea.
But unfortunately, she let that woman get away. That bitch's spells were even harder to deal with than she had expected. Plus, the opponent's core crew were mostly on board, while on her side, although they had more people, the First Mate and the others weren't with her at the time, so she couldn't keep the other party there.
"She clearly has a whole ship of men, yet she's still not satisfied—she even has to come and steal mine!"
"It's all her! If it wasn't for her, Brando would have definitely followed me willingly! I wouldn't have—I wouldn't have knocked him unconscious in a moment of desperation—" Her voice lowered, carrying a trace of imperceptible regret.
"Brando—then wouldn't have left me!"
"And even more so—wouldn't have ended up like that later—" Her nails dug deep into her palms, bringing a sharp pain that also pulled her back slightly from the brink of losing control.
After a few more minutes, having barely suppressed the agitation in her heart and calmed down, she took off her nightgown and began to change clothes.
Her upper body still wore that iconic white linen shirt, her slender legs were encased in well-fitting beige trousers, and she wore a pair of women's boots. The only difference was that the dark red coat she usually wore had been replaced by a black men's coat that was clearly ill-fitting.
This outfit looked very strange, but on Tracy, it had an uncoordinated, sickly beauty, as if declaring some kind of paranoid possessiveness.
"Today, it's time for oiling again."
Having finished changing, as if remembering something, she carefully took a uniquely shaped shotgun from beside her pillow.
She gently caressed the cold barrel with her fingertips, her gaze exceptionally tender.
Aside from the coat she was wearing, this gun was the only thing Brando had left her.
These days, she would personally maintain it every so often and had never used it, cherishing it to the extreme. Of course, there were a few times she couldn't help herself and used it as a sort of "side dish" to relieve her loneliness.
When everything was ready, it was time for the routine inspection.
As the captain, although she didn't have to do everything personally, necessary inspections were still required. She put the gun back beside her pillow, then opened the room Door, letting the sunlight and sea breeze from outside shine in.
The inspection process was no different from before. The Sailors below deck still stole glances at their beautiful and dangerous captain with eyes filled with a mixture of longing, desire, and fear.
However, when she came onto the deck, she noticed a group of Sailors gathered together, watching some excitement.
"How is it, cool right?" A common Sailor was proudly holding a brand-new "ripper," showing off his "special skill" of one-handed reloading to his companions.
Putting aside the cost-effectiveness, this flashy move itself could serve as the best promotional gimmick for this gun.
"Where did you get this gun? It's so cool!"
Hearing his companions' flattery, the Sailor became smug: "Cool, right? This is high-end stuff I got in Bayam for a high price! It cost me more than twenty pounds!"
"Let me see that gun."
A cold, unquestionable command suddenly came from behind them.
"Cap... Captain!" The surrounding Sailors looked at Tracy's sudden appearance in surprise, immediately falling silent in fear.
"Captain—we weren't slacking off, it's break time now, so—"
Ignoring the explanations of the Sailors around her, Tracy's gaze was fixed intently on that uniquely shaped "
ripper."
"Give me that gun." Her tone grew heavier, revealing a hint of urgency.
"O... okay, Captain, here—" The Sailor was intimidated by the sudden low pressure emanating from the captain and hurriedly offered the gun with both hands.
Tracy took the "ripper," and carefully ran her fingers over every detail of the gun's body.
"It's too similar, practically identical—"
The same design, the same structure, both were shotguns—
This gun was practically identical to the one Brando had left behind!
Because she frequently maintained and had "intimate contact" with that gun, Tracy had long ago memorized every part and every structure of it.
The only difference was that the one in her hand was more refined. The one Brando left behind had very obvious marks of manual polishing, many details were rough, and the ergonomics weren't great.
However, the one in her hand was much more exquisite, with every part fitting perfectly and a smooth surface finish. At a glance, it was a mass-produced item that had undergone repeated modifications and adjustments in a factory. "How is this possible—"
Tracy had investigated the gun Brando left behind long ago, trying to find clues about him from its source. But unfortunately, all investigations had yielded nothing. No identical weapon had appeared in the markets of Bayam, or even the entire Northern Continent.
Coupled with the obvious manual marks on that gun, Tracy had always suspected that it was mostly designed and handmade by Brando himself.
She had always believed it was a unique treasure in the world and regarded it as a special bond belonging only to the two of them.
But now, a mass-produced version with the same design had actually appeared!
Brando!?
She immediately thought of the name that haunted her dreams.
Tracy's pupils suddenly constricted.
"Where did this gun come from?" She looked up, staring intently at the Sailor, and questioned sharply, "Speak, now!"
"It... it was bought at a weapon shop in Bayam," the Sailor answered tremblingly.
"Which one? Tell me everything you know!"
"It... it's the largest one in the West District, the property of the famous Ceasar." The Sailor didn't dare hide anything. "It's said—it's said this gun was recently produced over in Backlund, so the price is quite expensive. I spent 22 pounds to get it, and that doesn't even include the bullets—"
Backlund—Tracy first caught this key location.
Brando seemed to be a Loen person, and Backlund was the capital of the Rune Kingdom.
Now, a mass-produced model of the weapon Brando personally manufactured had suddenly appeared in Backlund—
Could it be—
A possibility that made her heart nearly stop beating suddenly appeared in her min