The Scavenger Market in the Southern District of Bakasa was an organized sea of trash. Here, objects deemed useless by laymen were piled high according to category: rusted metal, rotten wood, rag cloth, and "mystery" (strange objects from the old era with unknown functions).
Dayat was squatting in front of a pile of ancient vehicle tires that had petrified and cracked. His hands felt the tire surface, pressing on parts that were still slightly elastic.
"Feel the texture, Master," instructed Dola, standing behind him, shielding Dayat with her body so he wouldn't be too conspicuous. "Focus on the coefficient of elasticity. Store the memory of that sensation in your fingertips."
"Hard, but bounces back when pressed," Dayat mumbled, eyes closed. He was recording the sensation of "Vulcanized Rubber" into his right brain.
"Good. That is the reference for the Polymer Composite we will use on the bow limbs," Dola said. "Now, move to that plastic pile."
Dayat complied. He moved to the next stall selling shards of ancient plastic containers (shattered Tupperware, CRT monitor casings). He held the hard plastic shard. Cold, slick, dense.
"What's this for, Dol?"
"For the Stock and Rail of the weapon. We need a material that is lightweight but impact-resistant. ABS Plastic is the closest reference available in this environment."
An hour passed. Dayat looked like a madman groping trash. He touched iron springs, broken glass, copper wires. Passersby looked at him with disgust, thinking he was a junkie scavenger high on fumes.
But for Dayat, this was a "Calibration" process. He couldn't manifest a perfect modern weapon if his brain forgot what plastic or carbon fiber felt like.
"Material Database Updated," Dola reported finally. "Physical reference data sufficient for mid-level matter synthesis. Let us find a quiet place. Master needs a firing range."
They left the market and skirted the inner city wall. Thanks to info from Kancil (who was busy spying on the Adventurer's Guild for them), they found an ideal location.
An abandoned magic waste processing warehouse, left empty due to a pipe leak last year. The warehouse was spacious, had high ceilings, and most importantly: tightly sealed and smelled so bad people refused to get close.
Dayat slid the heavy rusty iron door open.
CREAAAK.
Afternoon sunlight poured in, illuminating dust dancing in the empty air. Several large iron barrels were scattered around, along with a carcass of a grinder machine in the corner.
"Perfect," Dayat said. His voice echoed. "Smells like a sewer, but it's quiet."
Dola entered, immediately performing a perimeter scan.
"No signs of biological life within a 50-meter radius. Room acoustics sufficiently dampen sound. This place is safe for ballistic testing."
Dola stood in the center of the room. She looked at Dayat.
"Ready, Master?"
Dayat nodded. He took a deep breath, stretching his fingers. He had eaten a full lunch, his energy was topped up.
"Send the data, Dol. The full package."
Dola raised her hand, pressing her index finger to Dayat's temple.
ZING!
This time, the data package was far more complex than a folding knife or wrench.
[DOWNLOADING BLUEPRINT: TACTICAL COMPOUND CROSSBOW – MK. I]
[Specs: Draw Weight 185 lbs. Muzzle Velocity: 400 FPS.]
[Material: Carbon Fiber Limbs, Aluminum Flight Track, Polymer Stock.]
[Mechanism: Cam System (Double Pulley).]
Dayat's brain was flooded with technical images. He saw how the pulleys (cams) worked to lighten the draw but multiply the explosive power. He saw the interlocking carbon fiber structure.
"Focus," Dola whispered. "Do not imagine 'Arrow'. Imagine 'Kinetic Launch Machine'."
Dayat closed his eyes. His hands stretched forward. Golden purple aura began to seep out of his pores, thicker and more stable than before.
The air around Dayat's hands vibrated. A low humming sound was heard.
Vwooom... Click. Clack. Snap.
The purple particles solidified. First, the main frame formed—sturdy matte black metal. Then, the bow limbs appeared, curving aggressively forward. The bowstring made of high-tension synthetic fiber attached with a tight TWANG. Finally, the aiming lens (scope) attached to the top.
The light faded.
In Dayat's hand, he now grasped a monster.
The object didn't look like the traditional crossbows used by city guards. It looked mean. Jet black, full of sharp angles, pulley wheels at the ends, and an ergonomic pistol grip.
"Heavy..." Dayat hissed, supporting the weapon's weight. "But solid. Feels sturdy."
"Tactical Crossbow successfully manifested," Dola said, her tone sounding satisfied. "Structural integrity: 98%. Slight deviation in the stock section, but does not affect function."
Dola walked to the corner of the room, picking up a thick rusty iron barrel lid. She leaned it against the opposite wall, about 30 meters from Dayat.
"Target locked. Distance: 30 meters. Wind speed: Zero. Master, projectile."
Dayat raised his left hand. He imagined a short, sharp, aerodynamic cylinder rod.
Fwosh.
A carbon Bolt (arrow) with a sharp steel tip appeared in his hand.
Dayat loaded the bolt into the flight track. He stepped on the foot stirrup at the end of the bow, then pulled the string back until he heard a CLICK as the trigger mechanism locked.
The draw weight was immense, but the pulley system made it possible for an ordinary human like Dayat.
Dayat raised the weapon, pressing the stock against his shoulder. He peeked through the scope.
Inside the lens, he saw the iron barrel lid magnified 4 times. There was a crosshair (reticle) in the center.
"Breathe slowly," Dola instructed beside him. "Hold breath when aiming. Squeeze the trigger gently, do not jerk."
Dayat followed the instructions. His heart raced. He felt like a sniper.
Crosshair right on the center of the rust.
HOLD BREATH.
CLICK. (Trigger sound).
THWACK!
The sound of the string release was short and sharp, unlike a pistol bang, but more like a mini lightning crack.
Almost instantly—CLANG!
The sound of tearing metal rang from the end of the room.
Dayat lowered his weapon, eyes wide.
Across the room, the iron barrel lid had a hole in it. The bolt didn't stick. The bolt went straight through, pinning the lid to the brick wall behind it.
"Crazy..." Dayat ran closer.
He looked at the hole in the thick iron. Neat. Clean.
"The penetration power is scary, Dol! This could pierce city guard plate armor!"
Dola followed calmly. She inspected the depth of the bolt embedded in the brick wall.
"Measured kinetic energy: 140 Joules. Sufficient to penetrate standard Plate Armor at 50 meters. At 100 meters, still lethal for soft targets."
Dayat pulled the bolt out with difficulty. The steel tip was slightly blunted, but the shaft was intact.
"This is the weapon I need," Dayat said, a wide grin adorning his face. "Silent. Deadly. And I can make my own ammo. No need to buy."
"And most importantly," Dola added. "It is not magic. It is pure physics. Magic detection crystals will not detect a 'spell' when Master shoots, only a flying projectile. This gives us the element of surprise."
Dayat stroked the cold body of the Crossbow. He felt much safer now. The folding knife was a toy. This... this was a killing tool.
"But Dol..." Dayat looked at the weapon again. His human greed began to surface. "This is cool. But... it's single shot. One shot, cock again. Slow."
Dayat looked at the pile of iron barrels in the warehouse.
"What if there are many enemies? Or a huge enemy like that Golem yesterday? Just this arrow won't be enough."
Dayat turned to Dola, eyes sparkling ambitiously.
"Do you remember your promise about the Bazooka?"
Dola went silent. The light in her eyes blinked once.
"Master, I have warned you. The RPG-7 rocket structure involves complex chemical propellants and piezoelectric triggers. Structural failure can be fatal to the user."
"But I'm better now, right?" Dayat urged. He raised his hand, showing off the stable glowing purple aura. "Look at this, my Mana is stable. I understand the feeling of plastic and metal. I can do it."
"Risk Analysis: 60% Failure," Dola said.
"40% Success is a good number for me," Dayat argued. "Come on, Dol. Just a simulation. I'm curious. If we have a Bazooka, we don't need to fear anyone in this city. We can be instant S-Rank Hunters!"
Dola stared at her master. Ambition was a double-edged sword. It could drive progress, but also destruction. However, Dola also calculated that if Dayat didn't try and fail now (in a safe environment), he might try recklessly in the field when desperate, which was far more dangerous.
Let him fail now.
"Very well," Dola said finally. "We will conduct a Heavy Weapon Manifestation trial: Rocket Launcher Type."
"YES!" Dayat cheered.
"BUT," Dola cut in firmly. "We will NOT use active explosives inside the warhead. We will only try to manifest the Launcher and Propulsion Mechanism. The warhead will be empty (Dummy). I do not want us to die foolishly from an explosion in a closed room."
"Okay, okay. As long as the rocket flies first. Explosion is a later problem."
Dayat backed up to the center of the room again. He dismissed his Crossbow (turning it back into energy absorbed into his body—a new feature he learned to conserve Mana).
He stood tall.
"Send the data, Dol. The Big Gun."
Dola sighed (simulated). She raised her hand.
[DOWNLOADING BLUEPRINT: RPG-7 LAUNCHER & PROPELLANT SYSTEM]
[Warning: Structural Complexity: HIGH.]
[Warning: Energy Requirement: EXTREME.]
Dayat received the data. This time, his head felt heavy. Very heavy. It felt like a brick was forcibly shoved into his skull. Gunpowder chemical formulas, rocket fin aerodynamics, heat-resistant launch tubes... everything swirled around.
"Argh..." Dayat groaned, cold sweat starting to pour.
"Master, heart rate increasing drastically. Cancel if too strong," Dola warned.
"No! I can do it!"
Dayat forced his will. He shouted, channeling all his purple energy forward.
Purple light exploded wildly, filling the warehouse.
In Dayat's hands, a large tube silhouette began to form. A Bazooka.
But this time, the sound wasn't a steady hum. It was a crackling sound like a short-circuiting wire. The air smelled of burnt ozone.
Dayat grinned amidst his headache. Just a little more... almost there...
He didn't know that at the end of the line, failure was waiting for him with open arms.