Wellis’s mind flipped upside down upon seeing the vastness in the detailed picture on the sheet of paper. His face flushed and his body trembled with a chaotic expression filled with euphoria.
"Tell me this is a joke?"
"Tell me?"
The gentlemanly calm weaponsmith was nowhere to be seen. What replaced it was a man filled with the sheer madness of a monster.
Noticing the sudden change in demeanor started scaring Grim.
’Why does his expression look similar to a bitch who finally got his hands on some high-level weed?’
Wellis’s body twitched as he stared at the diagram before slowly calming down. Taking a piece of paper he wiped the sweat off his face and coughed.
"Sorry for showing you something unsightly. I usually don’t react like that but I felt that if I manage to comprehend this thing I might be able to break through the walls of the seals."
His eyes gleamed with the sheer greed of someone who had encountered a treasure. He raised his chin with the gaze of a curious student asking the teacher to explain.
Grim tapped his finger firmly against the center of the parchment forcing the wide-eyed blacksmith to focus.
"Calm down and listen," Grim said coldly.
"First throw out the idea of a cylinder. Ammunition isn’t held in a rotating wheel. Rather it’s stacked inside a spring-loaded box called a magazine which is inserted straight up into the grip."
Wellis leaned in closer. His dark eyes traced the bottom of the handle on the diagram. "Inside the handle? But how does the round move up into the barrel?"
"Through the slide," Grim pointed to the top half of the gun. "This upper frame isn’t stationary like your rifles or revolvers. When a shot is fired the recoil force pushes this entire upper metal slide backward. As it moves back an internal hook catches the spent casing and ejects it out the side."
Wellis gasped softly. His fingers trembled over the drawing. "Using the force of the blast itself to clear the chamber..."
"Precisely," Grim continued smoothly. "And as the internal spring forces the slide forward again it strips the next live cartridge off the top of the magazine. It feeds it straight into the chamber and cocks the firing pin back automatically."
"Mother of the Forge..." Wellis whispered under his breath. His mind raced through the mechanical lockwork. "No manual cocking. No rotating cylinder. It prepares itself for the next shot."
"It requires specific ammunition to work," Grim added, tapping the secondary drawing in the corner. "Self-contained rimless brass cartridges. The bullet smokeless powder and primer cap are all sealed in a single unit."
Grim leaned back resting his hands in the pockets of his coat.
"You slide the box into the grip rack the upper slide once and pull the trigger. Ten rounds. Ten shots. Every pull fires a bullet,ejects the shell and loads the next with zero lost momentum."
The discussion went on as Grim patiently explained the ins and outs of modern pistol design and furnished Wellis with knowledge.
"I never imagined such a thing existed," Wellis muttered and looked at Grim.
"How did you come up with this?"
"I didn’t. I kidnapped the one who came with it and tortured him."
"....."
Wellis then chuckled. "You surely jest Young Master. Such exquisite knowledge that you possess can’t be stolen."
"I don’t care if you don’t believe me but this is the truth."
Wellis’s eyes twitched as he looked at Grim’s serious expression. It was hard to tell what he was thinking but after a moment he shook his head.
’He might be hiding his genius behind this. He might be troubled if I accept it outright so he is hiding it.’
"Very well Young Master. Leave this to me. I swear to dedicate my heart and soul to crafting this thing. And as for the other gun you don’t need to pay for it. Come back within seven days. I will show you the first model."
"Good!" Grim nodded and put down the suitcase.
"Pack them in here."
Grim smiled, having achieved his goals. As for how he came up with this it was because he was a gunsmith working for the military.
This was the very reason he was able to get such a powerful ability. When the apocalypse descended a level 10 zombie trespassed into the house. He just drilled holes into the zombie with a machine gun but it wasn’t enough to finish it. So he used a grenade launcher and burned it to dust.
He wasn’t alone and many encountered such lucky occasions but his was one of the best.
’If not for being schemed against by those sons of bitches and being turned into a helpless dog I might not have fallen so low.’
Grim shook his head, throwing away the unpleasant memory.
Now he has a new life so he must live well.
"Call me when you finish. I will look around meanwhile."
After finishing the explanation Grim left Wellis to his obsessed muttering and began to look around the deeper sections of the workshop.
The back room was a cluttered treasury of raw ores, discarded prototypes and ancient trinkets collected over decades. Shelves groaned under the weight of rusted iron artifacts, strange glowing crystals and dusty sea chests.
Near the corner of a heavy stone workbench something caught Grim’s eye.
It was a small hardened mound. A stack of ancient gold coins firmly cemented together by centuries of hardened ocean mud and dried sea salt.
Grim leaned closer. His eyes narrowed as he examined the top coin. Pressed into the tarnished gold was the sharp profile of a stern man with a prominent handlebar mustache. On the reverse side faintly visible through the dirt was the embossed crest of a double-headed eagle with outstretched wings.
Grim stared at it for a moment and a rare genuine smile slowly crept onto his lips.
"Finally found it."
His gaze shifted slightly to the side of the clump where a different coin was embedded. This one bore the elegant mysterious portrait of a veiled woman with flowing hair.
Grim gripped the edge of the veiled coin with his thumb and forefinger attempting to pry it loose. It was stuck solidly and held tightly by the petrified grime.
"Damnnn! Get out," he muttered under his breath.
Grim braced his foot against the workbench and yanked with sudden forceful leverage.
CRACK!
The dried marine cement snapped violently under the pressure. The cluster broke apart with a sharp pop sending gold coins showering across the stone floor. They rolled and rang against the hard ground like dropped bells.
Before the last coin could finish spinning a horrified screech echoed from the doorway behind him.
"Ohhh nnnnnno!"
Grim turned around to see Wellis jumping in place. His face was drained of all color. He looked as if he had just witnessed a holy temple collapse.
"Young Master! That... that was an ancient relic pulled straight from the abyssal depths of the Galanta Ocean!" Wellis gasped clutching his head in sheer agony. "How could you break it apart like that?!"
Grim raised an eyebrow and was about to apologize for the sudden destruction. But as his mind registered the blacksmith’s frantic reaction, he caught himself and immediately shifted his tone. His face instantly settled into a cold unbothered stare.
’I am Grim Wargrave.Do I need to apologise?’
"Any problem?" Grim asked quietly.
Wellis froze instantly.
Sensing the subtle displeasure and weight behind those dark eyes the man swallowed hard. His panic vanished and turned into nervous sweat.
"N-No problem Young Master..." Wellis squeaked out forcing a stiff awkward smile as he quickly bowed his head. "It’s... it’s just a minor inconvenience."
"Hmm!" Grim nodded, stepping ahead and grabbed the suitcase from Wellis.
"I will come with a few more trinkets for you to play with."
With those words Grim walked out of the shop.
"Finally he walked out... Ahh it’s so suffocating!" he chided, wiping away his sweat.
....
The car raced its way back to the Mansion until it was forced to stop before the chaos of a crowd that was still protesting. But it wasn’t the same protest.
The loud blaring noise and screams of the people were irritating.
Grim stared at the rows of people on his left and tapped on the seat putting on a serious expression.
The protest was against the imposition of the Sieford Law which was recently introduced by a noble house.
According to it, if a person was found unemployed for a year he would be forcibly assigned to labor work. This was the main crux which didn’t sound bad but it was utterly predatory.
Aside from the influential commoners the mass rioting force and backing of the House of Commoners came from the group of unemployed and uncivilized people who seemed useless when alone but when gathered in numbers reaching hundreds of thousands they were enough to threaten the nobles.
The Nobles wanted to break this support and in the process wanted to exploit them for cheap labor. This was some brilliant idea.
Before the implementation they didn’t expect the commoners to peer inside but they did.
Grim clicked his tongue.
Acting too smart without taking variables into account was just pure idiocy.
It holds true for the lofty ones and for him too. The way he had acted until now who knows what kind of variable would appear to come and fuck him over.
He shook his head and sighed only to pause when he caught a glimpse of Frank’s sharp gaze which shifted in a moment.
"What!" Grim asked coldly.
Frank put on that usual carefree smile and asked "What happened Young Master?"
"Do you want to say something?" Grim raised his brows.
"Nothing but I’m a bit curious about what you brought."
Grim’s face darkened.
"A mere servant daring to question his master’s actions—"
BANG!
The glass on the windshield exploded sending pieces of sharp shards around.