Chapitre 9: Mini-Minigun
"Aww, how can you do that to my little Longy?"
Carbonite sighs, "You still haven't told me whose child you had kidnapped."
Chronos moves to your behind, crouching as both of her index fingers push your cheeks. "Come on, this small and curious critter is Long Leggy."
The blacksmith's retinas shrinks, he stops his hammering and throws the hot bar of iron into the cooler roughly as tiny explosions erupt from the unfinished craft, changing the water's color on the cooler into black. He immediately stands up, gaze locked into you.
You gaze at him, nervous. Chronos' fingers are still on your cheeks.
He gaze at Chronos.
Then he gazes at you.
Then at Chronos.
And then you.
After a silence, the blacksmith's mind sends a signal into his sinking bone marrow, coming back again to his brain to exude a pale frown of utter confusion. "What kind of sorcery is this?"
"Timoreia's."
After hearing the word, he calms down, "I've promised someone to not make a deal with you."
Your partner's playful expression suddenly shifts into a cold, serious glare. "She is not the same as her." As she pinch your cheeks.
Tightly gripping his fist, Carbonite takes one more breath to refrain from action rash.
"Explain."
You can see the man is hiding many spite. His eyes are full of malice towards you, especially towards your name.
Back to the usual smug, your partner stands up, looking around at Carbonite's workshop. "I'm busy. So let's cut into the case, give me your junk."
"What is even making you busy."
"Pissing you off."
"I regret asking that." He retracts his glare, possibly satisfied from your 'almost pissing herself' look. The blacksmith then takes out a large box seemingly made out of metal, furiously. His right arm's muscle begins to expand in green hue as he strikes the box, making cracks and then enlarging the cracks with both hands.
Chronos folds her arms as her left index finger touches her chin, "Ah, Aekha's capabilities of utilizing mana without a catalyst never fails to impress me."
"How many times do I need to say this, we use our antlers for the casting medium. An assimilation without a catalyst is nigh impossible." He then throws the cracked lid into the collection of junks inside his workshop unfeigned. Probably reusing it for later.
Your partner glances at you, tightly smiling. "Your nerdy kin, your nerdy chime. Just a lil' information for my lil' friend over here."
You feel rather uncomfortable with the fact that your partner is exhibiting some questionable action like she is scheming something. It's like playing along an encouraging charade orchestrated by one muse, either you decide to go off track or have your fates to be fully determined within the arms of a potentially dangerous being.
Looking back again, unlike every other humanoid in this world. You don't find any animalistic trait visible from Chronos. Despite the statement that there are only 56 pure humans left on this planet, is she one of them? Could she be lying?
Who is she?
The closest possible race she might be in is some kind of serpent people, because of her toxic tongue.
Stupefied, the feeling of suspicion doesn't last long until you see the content of the box.
"I was supposed to recycle all of this." He sighs, "I'll let you choose one of them if you're agreeing to my request."
Chronos pouts, "Aww come on, how stingy can you be?"
The man then sits on a small foldable chair, "The golden fact that I'm letting my creation in the hand of the most despised Scout's personnel is questionable."
Carbonite is either referring to you, or your partner.
"Nah, we're not within the Scout-dept anymore."
He sneers, "I see, you both finally got kicked?"
"You can say that." Chronos replies, taking a glimpse of the box full of weapons.
A wand, bladed close-range weapons, geometric cane, gyrojet lance, V-shaped chainsaw, shield with blades, blade with shield, and a small three rotary-barrelled machine gun. "A small Minigun!?"
"You mean the Microgun?"
"Microgun!? The child of a Minigun!?"
"Minigun? Another variant of a Microgun? Regardless, that one is actually just me fiddling around with my low resources instead of trying to make a sale."
"Minigun was supposed to be a bigger version of this." You say, as you hold the compatible Microgun and examine the exterior. It feels smooth and rather lightweight than what you might think of a gun.
The blacksmith raises his eyebrows, piqued. He reaches for an almost torned blueprint from one of the shelves.
"I got this from a trade, one of the analyses told me that this was a fossil from the Origin Era."
The modern era where you came from. It is amazing that this fickle ancient scripture can even survive the harsh test of time. On some parts you can read 'XM214 Microgun' although it's surprisingly different from the one you're currently holding, such as the obvious difference in caliber and the amount of barrel. The one you're holding has a bigger caliber but only 3 barrels contradicting the blueprint which shows 6, it might have a lower rounds-per-minutes but the diameter is akin to that of rifle width, maybe more bigger.
He then shows one of the ammunition, "I've made 80 prototype cartridges of .75, conducting mana essence with converter formation to create a cheap propellant that also acts as the stabilization system. One shot is capable of crushing a B-rank Calamity's Armor."
His big palm is cradling a 0,75 inches diameter sharp lead with 72 mm length, there are also three spiralling holes on its back. In which you noticed that it wasn't a bullet, it was a whole small rocket as there is no propeller casing of gunpowder to launch the bullets. The whole thing is the goddamn bullet!
Although bearing with miniscule knowledge of guns, you can at least differentiate which one is a bullet and which one is a rocket.
Chronos interjects, "It seems like you're rekindling some old artifact, why do you want to incinerate it?"
"Cause nobody would definitely buy them if I put it on the market. It will just be an exotic item and you know how much I hate exotic goods." He sighs once again, "There is clearly a big potential as it can also be used by non caster, but self-loathing takes over and you two get the idea."
Your eyes sparkle with anticipation, considering all choices of 'junk' Carbonite have, most of them need you to close the distance and you're not having a good time the last time you're closing distance just to do damage, and casting instruments is a no go. So this isn't much of a choice to begin with.
"I'll take this mini-minigun!"
Carbonite shows a faint smile, he takes 20 of the Microgun ammunition and puts it in a small box. He then gives the box together with a yellow-striped white card on top of it, "Go to the testing chamber, this is my card."
"As for me, I'll be here for a while, as I have something to talk about with Mister Nerdy-Grumpy~." Says Chronos.
Stacking both the box and the Microgun, you depart to the direction that Carbonite points with his finger. The excitement overwhelms the weight you carry, 'a couple of broken bones for shooting these baddies is worth it' you think. Without too much focus on the path of your destination, you collide with an unknown person.
The recoil knocks you down to the floor, looking up to see a flat-chested lady wearing a bendable dense-material robe and an oversized floating red collar with unknown symbols engraved. Fair white skins, she have a straight knee-length silver hair, smooth as silks—it reflects a prism colors to the eyes.
"Awawawa!?"
Expressionless, she then helps you get up as both of you pick up the scattered fallen ammunition. Without saying a word, she gives you a piece of candy.
"T-thanks!" You awkwardly say.
She only nods, gazing at you from head to toe.
"Ketanium! Your order is here!"
The candy lady then approaches the source of the voice, departing from you.
The same as her, you get back to the main objective, which is testing the gun! embark your little feet as you go!
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Yokoyokai
Yokoyokai Aaaaaaah, there has been many unexpected event happened that doesn't allows me to write, and now I can go back to writing again.
I hope you have a nice read!
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone