Demon Hunter

In the crucible, a small spoonful of black granules burst into flame, rapidly releasing heat. White smoke rose, then the powder burned away completely within a second, leaving behind a thin layer of residue.

A smile appeared on Rayne's face. He was very satisfied with the result.

The Black Powder he had mixed had not actually reached its maximum power. Limited by the purity of the raw materials, he had no refining tools on hand and no way to accurately determine their chemical composition. This was the limit of what he could do.

Even so, it was more than enough for making bullets.

After sealing the prepared gunpowder in a jar, Rayne immediately moved on to making the gun.

He opened the 3D schematics on his phone and browsed through the firearms he had unlocked.

Pistols were ruled out first. Their small caliber, combined with Black Powder cartridges, meant limited stopping power. Their parts were also more delicate, harder to manufacture, and placed higher demands on metal materials.

Rifles were impossible as well. The several assault rifles and Assault Rifles he had unlocked were all gas-operated automatic weapons. They simply could not use Black Powder cartridges; they would jam after a single shot.

There were two sniper rifles, but they were unsuitable too. Their requirements for materials and machining precision were far too high.

In the end, his only option was a shotgun—the so-called "boomstick."

Rayne played games often, so naturally he had heard that saying: before a boomstick, all beings were equal.

Shotguns had large calibers, powerful firepower, and broad killing ranges, making them suitable for close combat. Rayne had only fired a gun once at a shooting range before. His shooting ability was about the same as an ordinary person who had never touched a gun. If given a pistol or rifle, the learning curve would be too steep, and he was not confident he could hit an enemy at close range.

But if he had a boomstick in his hands, his confidence would be much greater.

Besides, Black Powder cartridges were suitable for shotguns as well. The downside was the enormous cloud of smoke after firing, but that could not be avoided. He could only deal with it.

Among the unlocked 3D schematics were three or four shotguns. After ruling out the gas-operated semi-automatic models that were likewise unsuitable for Black Powder cartridges, Rayne chose the shotgun he knew best and the most classic one of all—the Remington M870!

This shotgun was pump-action and required manual loading. It held seven rounds, had a compact structure, reliable performance, and was the simplest to manufacture.

Rayne had used this gun in many games.

He had majored in mechanical engineering. Even without the 3D schematics, he could have figured out the M870's structure himself, though it would have taken much more time.

In his field of vision, the M870 was completely broken down into parts: barrel, trigger, tubular magazine, screws, springs, fore-end, wooden stock... There were seventy-one pieces in total, large and small.

Rayne first carefully examined every component. He repeatedly disassembled and reassembled the gun more than a dozen times, then watched demonstrations of its firing mechanism, shell ejection, and loading process. Before long, he had memorized the shotgun's structure and categorized the parts, deciding the order in which to manufacture them.

Zoltan's workshop had stockpiled many metal materials, including sheet metal, steel pipes, and springs of various strengths. All of them could be used to make a gun.

"Good thing this world has guns and gunsmiths. Otherwise, just making qualified springs would have stumped me."

Rayne silently counted his blessings and decided to begin with machining the barrel.

Before that, however, he had to start the machine tools and learn how to operate them.

He fiddled with the Crafting Table of the steam-powered machine tool for a while and roughly figured out its functions and operating methods. Then he shoveled some coal beneath the boiler, lit it, and heated it. Steam rose from the boiler, and soon the machine tool began to run.

Chuff, chuff...

The flywheel spun, steam billowed, and the machine tool produced a steady grinding sound. Most people found that noise unpleasant, but to Rayne's ears, it sounded like beautiful music.

He fitted the cutting tool, secured the barrel, and pushed the lever to begin cutting.

Time always passed especially quickly when he was immersed in work. He had even forgotten to eat.

"Rayne, why are you still here?"

Only when Zoltan rushed into the workshop, shouting at Rayne to shut down the steam machine tool so its noise would not travel up from the basement and disturb the guests, did he realize it was nearly midnight. He had spent the entire day in the workshop!

His stomach rumbled repeatedly. A fierce hunger welled up in him, and his limbs felt somewhat weak and sore.

He removed the coal from the furnace, and the steam machine tool gradually fell silent.

Zoltan grumbled at Rayne for a few moments, then casually picked up the barrel that had just been machined. He had merely been curious enough to take a look, but once he saw it clearly, his expression changed.

"You made this?"

Zoltan gently stroked the barrel. With his many years of experience, he could naturally see its extraordinary qualities.

The dark barrel gleamed with a black luster, clearly having undergone special treatment. Threads had been milled into one end, the cut clean and smooth without the slightest flaw. The other end had been cut in half, leaving only one side. Though he did not know what it was for, the craftsmanship alone was enough to tell him it was no simple thing.

"I never knew you had this kind of skill. You're not much worse than the best Mechanical Craftsmen in Longsand City," Zoltan praised sincerely. Even if he had done it himself, he could not have done any better.

"You flatter me, boss."

Rayne secretly chuckled. In truth, he was rather amazed by his own skill as well. He had not operated machine tools since graduating years ago, yet not only had he not gotten rusty—he had become even better.

Still, more than half the credit belonged to the 3D schematics on his phone.

He only needed to drag out the individual component from the 3D model and overlap it with the barrel he was machining. It was like having an actual object there for comparison. Following the diagram made the task far easier.

"Call me Zoltan."

The dwarf corrected how Rayne addressed him, then asked curiously, "Rayne, is this a gun barrel? Isn't it a little too long? And the caliber is so large..."

Rayne hesitated. He knew he could not hide it from Zoltan. Sooner or later, the dwarf would figure it out.

"Haha, it's fine if you don't want to say. I won't steal your secret craft," Zoltan said with a smile as he set down the barrel. "But once you finish making it, you have to let me see it."

"Sure." Rayne nodded.

After tidying up the workshop, Rayne went to the inn's lobby. To his surprise, several tables of people were still playing cards at this late hour, and it looked as though they intended to battle until dawn.

He ordered an extra-large serving of potato stew with beer and sat alone at a table in the corner to eat.

Because he had barely eaten all day, the potato stew, which was honestly not that tasty, seemed especially delicious. While enjoying his dinner, Rayne watched the guests playing cards.

Several of them were Transcendents. One was even a familiar face—the Iron Guard he had seen on the street earlier. The shield and longsword he had carried on his back were tossed at his feet. He held cards in one hand and a mug in the other, constantly spewing trash talk. His opponent's face had gone red with anger, but he dared not speak up.

Don't tell me he's been playing cards since he came in this morning!

Is playing cards really that fun?

Rayne could not quite understand it. He thought that when he had time in the future, he could give it a try himself.

Halfway through his meal, a figure entered from outside the inn. Zoltan, who had been playing cards with someone, turned and saw the man. He immediately threw down his cards and went to greet him, calling out happily, "Roger!"

"Zoltan."

Roger's voice was rich and magnetic, exceptionally pleasant to hear.

Compared to Zoltan's warmth, Roger was expressionless, appearing somewhat cold and gloomy.

He looked like a young man, yet he had gray-white hair like an old man's, simply combed back and tied up. He was extremely handsome, except for a scar over his left eye, seemingly caused by the claw of some beast. The wound ran from his forehead, across his left eye, and down to his cheek. Fortunately, the eye itself was unharmed.

But his eyes were unusual as well. His amber pupils stood vertically like those of a cat, making him rather frightening at first glance.

He also wore pale blue protective gear, half leather armor and half chainmail, exquisitely crafted. A wolf-head pendant hung around his neck, while two Cross Swords were strapped side by side on his back, their hilts jutting diagonally over his right shoulder.

Such an unusual outfit made even some of the card-playing guests turn to look curiously.

"A Demon Hunter!"

Someone let out a quiet gasp.

The moment Rayne heard it, he understood. Demon Hunters were a powerful Transcendent profession, but for certain reasons, they had a poor reputation. They were not welcomed by people and were often met with hostility.

The traits of this Transcendent profession were extremely obvious, especially the twin swords on their backs, which were almost an exclusive mark of Demon Hunters.

At that moment, Roger's eyes swept across the inn. Everyone who met his gaze went blank for a moment, feeling inexplicably afraid, and instinctively looked away. Even the few Transcendents could not withstand it any better than ordinary people and did not dare make a sound.

The sight made everyone tense. They knew this was an extremely powerful Transcendent.

Roger's gaze swept over Rayne too. Fortunately, Rayne reacted quickly and lowered his head in time, pretending to focus on his meal.

The entire inn lobby remained quiet for several seconds before returning to normal.

Zoltan had wanted to give Roger a hug, but realized he could not reach him. He could only clap the other man's arm hard and say happily, "Old friend, it's been almost ten years since we last met. Where have you been all these years? Why have you never contacted me?"

Roger silently shook his head, seemingly unwilling to speak of his experiences.

He walked to the counter, removed the twin swords from his back and set them by his side, then sat down wearily. Taking the cup of wine Zoltan offered him, he drained it in one gulp.

Rayne was sitting too far away, and the noisy hall drowned out the sound of the two men reminiscing.

He opened his phone interface and activated the camera function—Soul Eye. He first glanced at several other people, then casually swept his gaze over Roger.

The next second, Rayne saw Roger's soul.

Then he froze as though struck by lightning, as if he had seen something he should not have seen. It was also as though intense sunlight had blinded him; his eyes stung sharply, and tears immediately streamed down his face.

Holy shit! What is that thing?!

Rayne cried out inwardly, hurriedly shut off Soul Eye, and lowered his head to eat his potato stew, swallowing back his tears.

In that brief instant, he had vaguely seen a golden soul with more than a dozen layers of structure. Deep within that soul were even double-digit Element Runes!

Could this guy be a Legendary Demon Hunter?