“So, are you going to let them get the bolt-action rifle from you?”
Granny looked with interest at the young man across from her.
Erwin chuckled lightly. “Of course not.”
“Giving them a gift is one thing. But if they’re coveting our weapons, that’s an entirely different matter. Still, that prince should figure it out soon enough.”
At this, Erwin asked curiously, “Granny, I heard you’re a researcher. I don’t know much about this—will it really be okay that Lord Hughes gave them the bolt-action rifle?”
Granny looked up and adjusted her glasses. “I recall you joined the patrol team from the start, right? Didn’t really spend time in the factory?”
“That’s right. Lord Alexei selected me in the first group. I became a soldier before the factory was even built—back then, there wasn’t even a Holy Guard yet.”
Granny nodded slowly in understanding. “I see. Then do you know what it takes to manufacture that bolt-action rifle?”
“Uh, coal? Steel?”
Granny casually picked up the rifle Erwin had propped beside him. With practiced ease, she pulled back and pushed forward the bolt, rotated it down, glanced at the receiver and chamber, and then spoke slowly:“To build this bolt-action rifle, you need sixty parts, two hundred production steps, a dedicated rifling and broaching line, milling processes, heat treatment, a complete chemical process chain for producing gunpowder, cooperation from seventeen factories for manufacturing and assembly, and a literate industrial population of eleven thousand.”
“In short, producing this thing takes the entirety of Castel Island. It’s a miracle of industry.”
Granny placed the bolt-action rifle on the table and gently slid it toward Erwin.
“To replicate it? Even Nini with *Fossil to Mud* can’t manage that—let alone with the cognitive interference.”
Erwin swallowed. For the first time, this sturdy man felt a sense of reverence toward the weapon in his hands.
It was a product of industry, but its complexity had already surpassed the barren limits of human imagination.
One could only wonder how the craftsmen of the Principality of Tis would feel when they saw it—utter despair, perhaps.
Each of the precise parts piled together into a weapon they couldn’t begin to comprehend. The only thing they might manage to understand was how to pull the trigger.
And this bolt-action rifle wasn’t even Castel’s most powerful weapon. It didn’t even rank. Even Erwin, who had never been one to blindly worship power, never thought the rifle was anything special.
The Lord didn’t even bother giving it a name. He just called it "bolt-action rifle."
But here in Blood Harbor, Tis’s port, this rifle was enough to spark so much greed and conspiracy.
Now Erwin understood Hughes’ thinking—Castel only needed friends.
No one here was qualified to be its enemy.
Erwin suddenly found it all a bit dull. Tis… Blood Harbor… just so-so.
They were of no real use to Castel. There was nothing meaningful here. As soon as they picked up Connor, they could head back.
It all felt rather boring.
The door creaked open, then closed again.
Erwin paused for a moment before calling out,
“How was it, Zoe?”
Zoe didn’t respond right away—unusual for her. At the door, she took off her boots, soaked and muddied, held them in her hand, and walked in wearing only her socks.
The floor was covered with carpet. She didn’t want to dirty it, so she left the shoes by the door.
When she turned back around, facing the concerned eyes of the people in the room, Zoe pursed her lips.
“I just came back from the slums. Well, not exactly slums—just the lower district of Blood Harbor.”
“I... I actually haven’t been out much before. I’ve always worked as a maid in noble houses. First on Duke Cohen’s land, then at Castel. I mean, I’ve never really seen poor people before.”
Zoe raised her head, eyes shining with intensity, gripping the hem of her clothes. Her voice trembled slightly.
“I wanted to ask… Are people at the bottom always this miserable? Or is it just Blood Harbor?”
The room fell silent.
Most people from Castel had fled from nearby regions. Even on the island, they had to endure pirate raids. It wasn’t until Hughes came that they finally crawled out of the mud.
Granny, as a member of the *Moths Chasing Fire*, had drifted for a lifetime and seen more suffering than she could count.
Only Zoe, in the entire room, had never been close to the lowest rung of society.
“It’s always been this way.”
“The poor have always suffered. Whether it’s the Rhine or Gem Bay, they’ve always struggled in the mire of despair. That’s never changed.”
Granny’s voice was soft.
Zoe tightened her grip on her clothes, bowed, and ran off.
She locked herself in her room and wouldn’t respond to anyone calling her. Only the soft scratch of her pen on paper came from inside.
Everyone in the room exchanged looks, and a heavy silence fell.
Erwin looked at Zoe’s closed door, dazed for a moment, then suddenly looked around.
This was a standalone mansion, granted to them by the prince for the people from Castel.
It was beautifully decorated—borderline luxurious. The room was covered in subtly patterned wool carpets. These northern rugs cost dozens of Lio per square foot—enough to feed a fisherman’s family for two months.
And that was just the most insignificant decoration in the entire mansion. The paintings on the wall, the silver-inlaid candleholders—every item was crafted with exquisite luxury.
But two streets outside this mansion lay the lower district Zoe had just visited.
Before arriving, Erwin had heard how chaotic Blood Harbor was—cults running rampant, people unable to make a living. But he hadn’t encountered any of that. Not even noise from the streets. The ever-patrolling guards suppressed anything and anyone that didn’t belong here, pushing it all into the lower district.
Blood Harbor was Tis’s largest port, with twenty thousand people living nearby. The core port area alone housed thousands.
They lived, worked, struggled, and died—without ever disturbing those inside the mansion.
As if they didn’t even exist.
Erwin, representing Castel, stayed in the mansion with the prince. They exchanged moves with elegance—taunting in victory, frustrated in defeat—all of it completely unrelated to the thousands struggling to survive outside.
At some point, Erwin had stood up. He suddenly realized that he might not be so different from the nobles he once despised. He hadn’t even noticed the existence of those poor souls—despite the fact that, just a few years ago, he’d been fishing at sea, worrying about his next meal.
He wasn’t even as aware as Zoe—that naïve little maid. Her boots were still by the door, stained with the mud of the lower district.
Erwin stared blankly out at the setting sun. The glow of the sunset fell across his face—and across the millions of lives in Blood Harbor, shining equally over this massive, chaotic, flourishing, and decaying port.