Chapter 47: The Invaders’ Technology

On the very first night of the mercenary troop’s march, trouble reared its head. The supplies provided by the coalition army included alcohol, and the mercenaries were imbibing it as if it were water. Inevitably, drunken brawls erupted among them.

The commotion emanating from the back of the carriage indicated the intensity of the fights. I couldn’t help but worry about potential casualties, and even the escort soldiers were on high alert, anxious that the violence might escalate and spill over to the carriage.

“Shut up!”

At that moment, a shout echoed through the camp. The inflated fighting spirit, fueled by anger, caused a palpable ripple in the air, and the out-of-control spiritual power lowered the temperature to what felt like a midwinter chilly night. The rowdy mercenaries fell silent in an instant, and the tranquility of the night returned.

The only one among the mercenaries who possessed such power was undoubtedly that infamous, strong mercenary. I kept my presence hidden, observing the outcome of the situation.

“I’ve said it before, right? Don’t make a fuss at night when I’m trying to sleep… Can’t even understand something as simple as that, you brats? If you fools can’t even keep basic rules, then you might as well die right here, huh?!”

The icy aura of menace sent a shiver down my spine, but I was merely an indirect target, so my fear couldn’t compare to what those who were directly confronted must have felt. None of the mercenaries dared speak up—not even a single word.

As if contented by the sight of the frightened mercenaries, the aggressive aura and spiritual power that had been radiating from the strong mercenary began to subside. With a dismissive “Don’t make me say it again,” the killing intent of the mercenary dissipated completely.

Despite having been rowdy just moments ago, none of the mercenaries dared to make a fuss again. The night that had been so tumultuous was now restored to silence by a single admonition and display of anger. I could finally focus on my contol training thanks to the calm that had been restored.

By the way, Orvo and Mika have set up their tent right beside the carriage. It appears they have bolstered their defenses with some sort of spiritual art, as Orvo was fast asleep without showing any reaction to either the mercenary’s fighting spirit or spiritual power. I could sense Mika moving around inside the tent, but he didn’t venture outside, perhaps deeming it unnecessary.

Ever since the incident on the first day, there have been no more drinking parties during the march. Even though mercenaries were known for their recklessness, they weren’t foolish enough to deliberately step on a dragon’s tail.  However, this only seemed to compound their discontent.

Even during the march, I never neglected my information gathering. Most of the topics among the mercenaries revolved around the mercenary who flew into a rage on the first day. According to rumors among the mercenaries, his name was Jude. He was said to be a skilled spearwielder and adept at the use of ice spiritual art.

He belonged to a mercenary group called “Fang of Dawn,” but he wasn’t the leader. That seemed understandable. It would be difficult for someone with such a short temper, who nearly killed other mercenaries in frustration, to lead a group.

“Ugh! I’m so bored!” Orvo complained, sitting next to Mika. It had only been the second day of our journey, and he was already restless… I wondered if he would go crazy before we even reached the Empire.

Mika tried to appease him with a few words, but I didn’t think he could keep it up for two more months. It would be nice if there was something to distract Orvo’s attention.

As we continued on, we took a short break for lunch. We veered off the well-trodden road where people were passing by, and the mercenaries gathered to start cooking. Mika also started preparing our lunch.

Despite the limited ingredients, he managed to make a delicious meal. Orvo didn’t complain while he was eating, which was a relief. It was nice when he wasn’t being noisy.

Orvo and the escort soldiers were enjoying Mika’s cooking with relish. The contents of their bowls seemed to have captured their full attention. Meanwhile, I sensed someone approaching us, deliberately closing in while taking advantage of their distraction. I was aware of this presence.

“….You’re going too far with your pranks, Sir Hatakeyama,” Mika said in a reproaching tone.

“Hohoho, as expected of Mika,” 

With the covering of the carriage lifted, I could see the surroundings clearly. Mika, who had been stirring the pot nearby, didn’t even bother to turn around as he warned the approaching figure. Then, a lively old man’s voice could be heard from an empty space.

The owner of the voice was the old man who made my weapons. Hatakeyama, was it? It was a name with an unfamiliar ring to it. Perhaps he was from a distant place.

How did he manage to stay hidden like that? Was he using some kind of spiritual art like Woodsorrel, the fox whom I met about two years ago? Despite being able to replicate many techniques used by numerous opponents I’ve faced, I haven’t been able to reproduce the technique of turning invisible like Woodsorell. Was there a way I could steal that technique?

“Approaching while hiding your presence… Do you have some confidential business?” Mika asked.

“Hmm? I was called by Orvo; he didn’t tell you?” The old man replied.

“Is that so? I apologize, but I haven’t heard such a thing from my master.”

“Well, well. I suppose he must have forgotten then,” the old man said with a generous laugh, still keeping his presence hidden.

The old man seemed to be quite magnanimous. He was in stark contrast to the mercenary who threatened to kill his colleagues just for making a fuss.

“Well, if you feel sorry about it, could you spare me a bowl as well? I’m starving,” he said.

“Of course,” Mika replied.

As Mika extended the bowl towards the vacant space, a hand emerged from the shadows where I felt a distinct presence, and effortlessly took it. The hand retracted, disappearing once more, but I could still keenly feel Hatakeyama’s presence lingering. It was unmistakably making its way towards the rear of the carriage where I was.

“I’ll have my meal here. I also want to see the condition of the swords I’ve made,” he said.

“Understood. I will relay that to my master,” Mika replied.

The presence stepped onto the carriage and closed in on my cage. Once more, a hand materialized seemingly out of thin air and laid hold of the two swords that lay at my feet. Hatakeyama’s grip fastened around the handle of the straight sword, drawing it out in one smooth motion, revealing the gleaming blade.

Hatakeyama scrutinized the straight sword from different angles before resheathing it. Then he drew the sword I had wielded in battle, examining it with the same meticulousness before sliding it back into its sheath.

“Hmm. The swords have no nicks or warps… but it seems you haven’t been maintaining them, have you?” he remarked.

Hatakeyama seemed to be addressing me. Even if he mentioned maintenance, I had no idea how to do it, so there was nothing I could do. Besides, drawing the sword was prohibited except during battle. There was no way I could perform maintenance.

Understanding this, Hatakeyama wordlessly took out several tools and began to clean the weapons. He polished the blade made of my claws with a cloth soaked in some kind of liquid, and then evenly applied metal powder to the straight sword before brushing it off with a brush.

Ah, so that’s how maintenance is done. It seems to involve using spiritual power, as both swords’ spiritual circuits were activated. However, even though I had seen the process, I still didn’t know the true nature of the liquid and powder being used, so I wouldn’t be able to perform maintenance either way. I’m sorry, Hatakeyama.

“Ah, Grandpa? You came,” Orvo said as he boarded the carriage after Hatakeyama finished his maintenance and put away his tools. It seemed that they were about to resume marching. Mika was also loading the cooking utensils used for preparing meals onto the carriage’s cargo bed.

Once the preparations for the march were complete and the carriage began to move, Hatakeyama finally revealed himself. It was as if an invisible veil had been lifted, and suddenly the old man’s figure became visible. That’s when I noticed it—he had removed some sort of cloak or outerwear that made him transparent, rather than using spiritual arts like Woodsorrel.

“Oh… a camouflage cloak, right? It’s quite convenient, isn’t it? Can you make another one?” Orvo asked.

“Impossible. I don’t have the materials for it… More importantly, can you tell me why you summoned me?” Hatakeyama replied.

“Yeah, sure.” With a snap of his fingers, Orvo activated a spiritual circuit that caused the interior of the carriage to adhere tightly to the walls, blocking out all external sounds. It seemed to be a soundproofing technique.

Were we going to have a private conversation now? I wondered as I closed my eyelids and observed with my compound eyes. Orvo then pulled something out of the sleeves and hem of his robe, making clattering noises. It was the weapons and black armor commonly used by the invading soldiers.

“Yes, Grandpa. You wanted these, right? I managed to swipe a few, so feel free to use them,” Orvo said.

“Oh! Ohhhhh! Well done, Orvo!” Hatakeyama exclaimed with excitement.

To my compound eyes, they looked like broken, used armor, but to Hatakeyama, they seemed to be the greatest of treasures. He picked up the cylindrical weapon that had fallen to the floor with sparkling eyes, and in a flash, he dismantled it into pieces.

He carefully picked up the parts, examined them, and then put them back on the floor of the carriage. Hatakeyama’s expressions changed rapidly, alternating between a smile and a serious look as he continued this process.

“Well? Did you figure something out?” Orvo asked.

“Hmm, the weapons are simple. This one shoots stone fragments, accelerated by spiritual power. The other one condenses and launches high-temperature flames that explode… Simple, yet tremendously powerful against those who have no means of defense. As for the armor… just wait a moment,” Hatakeyama said.

Without providing a definitive response to Orvo’s inquiry, Hatakeyama swiftly shifted his attention to disassembling the armor. Just as he had done with the weapons, he expertly dismantled the various components and deftly manipulated the intricate mechanisms, including concealed blades integrated into the arms.

Although he displayed a certain level of intrigue towards these mechanisms, it was apparent that Hatakeyama was particularly fixated on the shoulder and chest armor. As an amateur observer, I had assumed that the concealed weapons were of greater significance, but Hatakeyama’s priorities seemed to diverge from my expectations.

“Hmm… Orvo, has anyone in the coalition army managed to replicate this?” Hatakeyama asked.

“Huh? I don’t think so. The whole blacksmithing and engineering aspect is a bit beyond us. Oh, but it seems like it can be used by combining the undamaged parts,” Orvo replied.

“I see. It looks like a mass-produced item, but… it’s a mass-produced item that utilizes highly advanced technology that is difficult to reproduce on this continent.” 

Although Hatakeyama’s subsequent explanation was intricate and challenging for me to fully comprehend, I managed to grasp the key concept. The armor donned by the invading army was the pinnacle of cutting-edge technology, utilizing sophisticated spiritual circuitry.

The term “spiritual circuitry” refers to the practice of drawing or engraving special patterns with specialized paint to amplify or assist in controlling the effects of spiritual power in arts or techniques. I was familiar with this concept based on my own inherent knowledge.

However, due to their inherent nature, spiritual circuits could only be drawn on flat surfaces for the most part. Although it was possible to cover an entire room with spiritual circuits, as was done when I was transformed into a synthetic beast, it ultimately still relies on the six room surfaces to be drawn on.

“But this is different. They have inscribed a three-dimensional spiritual circuit on the inside of the armor, not just on the surface,” Hatakeyama explained.

“I see. If they can draw three-dimensional circuits, the circuits can be smaller and more effective. But that also means there are more factors to consider,” Orvo replied in realization.

The fact that three-dimensional spiritual circuitry held such value was surprising. Such advanced technology was being utilized in the armor of mere foot soldiers, indicating that it had become a commonplace technique for the invading army—something that could be mass-produced.

“If I use this armor as a reference, I could create even more powerful weapons,” Hatakeyama said. “But mass producing them would be impossible. I wonder how they’re making it?”

“I know, right? Well, if you really can create three-dimensional spiritual circuits, there’s something I want you to make for me!” Orvo exclaimed.

“Hmm… Alright then. I’ll make it for you as practice. Just give me the blueprint when it’s ready,” Hatakeyama agreed.

“Okay! Got it!” Orvo replied eagerly.

With that, Hatakeyama seemed to have concluded the clandestine conversation. He collected some parts and weapons, put on his camouflaging cloak, and disappeared from sight. As the covering flapped in the wind, he jumped off the back of the carriage and disappeared into the distance.