Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Ghosts of the Past and Bloodless Tactics

The morning after the incident at the library, Dola’s mood changed drastically. If she was usually efficient and cold, today she looked… restless.

They were in their new lodging—a room on the second floor of a rental house in the Middle District (an upgrade from “The Sleeping Rat” thanks to yesterday’s bonus money). The room was clean, had glass windows, and the mattress was soft.

But Dola didn’t enjoy the comfort. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her own hands. Hands wrapped in fine leather gloves.

“Dol?” Dayat called from the dining table, eating decent toast for breakfast. “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since last night. Still thinking about that book?”

Dola lifted her head. Her blue eyes looked dim.

“Master Dayat. I am submitting a request for a change in Combat Strategy.”

“Huh? What strategy?”

“From this moment on, I suggest we prioritize Non-Lethal Takedown methods in every confrontation, except in desperate situations where Master’s life is directly threatened.”

Dayat put down his bread. “Why so sudden? Yesterday you told me to shoot a Goblin in the head.”

“Yesterday… I operated based on threat elimination efficiency,” Dola replied softly. “However, historical data I found indicates that an entity similar to me—The Maiden of Steel—was responsible for the deaths of millions of living beings. If I am her… or her clone… then my hands are already too dirty.”

Dola clenched her fists.

“I do not want to be a killing machine anymore, Master. I want to be a… Shield. A Protector. Not a Sword.”

Dayat looked at Dola for a long time. He saw genuine fear in those eyes. Fear of herself.

Dayat got up, walked over to Dola, and knelt in front of her to be at eye level.

“Listen to me, Dol,” Dayat said gently. “I don’t care who you were in the past. Whether you were an Apocalypse General, or a toaster, I don’t care. All I know is, you are Dola Nur Mustafidl. My wife. My partner. And as long as I’m breathing, your hands won’t be dirty alone.”

Dayat held Dola’s gloved hands.

“But if you want to play it safe, I agree. Besides, killing is mentally exhausting. I’m not fond of seeing blood either.”

“Thank you, Master,” Dola nodded slowly. The light in her eyes grew a bit brighter. “To support this strategy, we require new weaponry. Master’s current Crossbow is too lethal. We need disabling ammunition.”

“Disabling ammo… You mean like rubber bullets?”

“More advanced. I propose: Neuro-Shock Bolt and Net-Caster.”

“Sounds good. But we need money again for research. And coincidentally…” Dayat took a rolled paper from his pants pocket. “Dalgor sent a love letter this morning.”

Dayat opened the scroll. It was a message from Master Dalgor.

“Dayat! Come to the workshop! I have a problem with the Pulley Wheels! Production is stuck! Bring your wife’s brain!”

Dayat grinned. “Time to work, Dol. We solve Dalgor’s problem, we get money, then we make new toys for you.”

Dalgor’s workshop was noisier than usual today. Not productive noise, but frustrated noise.

Dalgor was slamming a small metal wheel onto the floor.

“Garbage! Not precise!” he shouted.

His assistants were running around in fear.

Dayat and Dola entered. “Morning, Master. Throwing a tantrum again?”

Dalgor turned, his face beet red. “Ah! You came! Look at this!”

Dalgor held out the pulley wheel (cam) he had just slammed. The wheel was oval-shaped, not perfectly round.

“I tried to copy your wheel design. But my craftsmen can’t make them consistent! If filed manually, one wheel takes 3 hours! And the results vary! At this rate, we’ll need a hundred years to make a thousand Crossbows!”

The classic manufacturing problem: Mass Production. Making one prototype is easy. Making a thousand identical units is a nightmare without factory machines.

Dola stepped forward. She picked up the defective wheel.

“Problem Analysis: Human Error in manual manufacturing process,” Dola said. “Solution: Eliminate the human factor from the base shaping process.”

“Eliminate humans? You mean use magic?” Dalgor asked skeptically.

“No. Use Molding,” Dola replied.

She turned to Dayat. “Master, we need to create a simple High-Pressure Die Casting machine. We will not carve wheels one by one. We will melt metal, pour it into a precision mold, then solidify it.”

“Casting…” Dalgor’s eyes blinked. “We usually do that for rough swords. But for a wheel this small and complex? The mold has to be perfect.”

“That is Master Dayat’s task,” Dola said. “Master Dayat will manifest a Master Mold made of heat-resistant steel with micron precision. After that, Master Dalgor just needs to pour molten metal into it.”

Dalgor looked at Dayat. “You can make a mold that good?”

Dayat smiled. “As long as there’s data, why not?”

Dola immediately performed Data Transmission to Dayat’s brain. This time not a weapon, but a negative steel block containing the cavity of a pulley wheel inside.

Dayat closed his eyes. He focused. He imagined the cavity. Smooth. Slick. Precise.

ZING!

A heavy steel block appeared on the workbench.

Dalgor immediately snatched it. He examined the mold cavity with a magnifying glass.

“Smooth…” Dalgor whispered. “No pores. No scratches. This… this is perfect.”

“Try pouring molten metal, Master,” Dayat challenged.

Dalgor immediately ordered his assistant to bring a pot of molten bronze. He poured it into the mold. Waited a few minutes for it to cool. Then opened the mold.

CLANG.

A bronze pulley wheel fell onto the table. Perfectly shaped. Identical to the original design.

Dalgor picked it up, measured it.

“Exact match…” his voice trembled. “And this only took 5 minutes?”

“With this method, Master can produce 100 wheels per day with one mold. If I make 10 molds…” Dayat let his sentence hang.

Dalgor looked at Dayat as if looking at the God of Wealth.

“You…” Dalgor gripped Dayat’s shoulder. “We’re going to be rich! Mass production! The Guild army will be fully armed in a month!”

“Whoa, hold on,” Dayat brushed Dalgor’s hand off gently. “Remember our contract. 15% Royalty.”

“Yes, yes! Take it! Take it all!” Dalgor didn’t care about money anymore. He cared about the industrial revolution right before his eyes.

While Dalgor was busy shouting to rearrange his workshop for the Casting system, Dayat pulled Dola to a quiet corner in the material warehouse.

“Okay, money problem solved. Now your weapon problem,” Dayat said. “You want weapons that don’t kill, right?”

Dola nodded. She pointed to a pile of blue (electric) and green (wind) mana crystals on Dalgor’s shelf.

“I have designed two new ammunition types,” Dola said.

1. Shock Bolt:

“Uses Taser principles. The arrow tip is replaced with an electric crystal capacitor. Upon hitting the target, the crystal shatters and releases a 50,000 Volt charge. Target will be paralyzed for 10-15 minutes without permanent damage.”

2. Net Caster:

“Uses compressed spring principles. Inside the blunt arrow tip, there is a compacted spider silk net. Upon impact, the spring releases, the net expands and ensnares the target.”

Dayat nodded along. “Cool. Very Batman. But Dol, we need material for the net. Spider silk?”

“In Sector Delta forest, there is an Iron-Silk Spider species. Their web is stronger than steel wire. We must hunt them. Or buy them from the black market.”

“Let’s just buy. We have lots of money,” Dayat said lazily. “I’m not in the mood to enter the forest again.”

“Very well. We will search for materials in the Black Market tonight. But Master…”

Dola looked into Dayat’s eyes.

“There is one more thing. This Non-Lethal strategy has a fatal weakness.”

“What?”

“If the enemy is immune to electricity or nets (like Golems or Ghosts), we are helpless. We still need a Lethal option as a final backup (Plan B).”

Dayat patted his Crossbow. “We still have normal steel bolts. That’s Plan B.”

“Not enough,” Dola said. Her face darkened. “I detect potential threats far greater than Golems. Something requiring extreme destructive power.”

“You mean… Bazooka again?”

“No. Railgun.”

Dayat coughed. “Cough! Railgun? That electromagnetic weapon that shoots at hypersonic speed?”

“The basic concept is simple: Two conductor rails, one metal projectile, and massive electric current. No need for gunpowder (which is dangerous due to Mana). We only need electricity.”

“Electricity from where?”

Dola looked at Dayat.

“From Master. Master’s purple energy can be converted into pure electricity with 100% efficiency if channeled through Mithril.”

“So… I’m the Railgun battery?”

“Precisely. Master is the battery. I am the aiming system. And Mithril is the barrel.”

Dola picked up a piece of shimmering silver metal from Dalgor’s shelf—a leftover Mithril scrap.

“We will start accumulating Railgun components. Little by little. As an Ultimate Weapon. A weapon we will only use if this world forces us to become monsters again.”

Dayat stared at the Mithril scrap. He felt a strange vibration. Fate seemed to be forging a weapon that would change history.

“Okay. Non-Lethal for daily use. Railgun for doomsday. Deal.”

They left Dalgor’s workshop with a new plan. Outside, Valmir was watching from the upstairs window, his face souring as he saw Dayat walk out with a wide grin.

“Laugh while you can, Kid,” Valmir mumbled. “Tomorrow, you will receive a mission you cannot solve with your new toys.”

Valmir held a special mission scroll in his hand. An F-Rank mission (on paper), but the location was in an elite monster’s lair.

The cold war in the Guild had just begun.

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