Demon Hunter

In the crucible, a spoonful of black granules flared with fire, rapidly releasing heat as white smoke rose. Within a second, it had burned away completely, 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 formulated had not actually reached its maximum power. Limited by the purity of the materials, he had no refining tools on hand and no way to precisely determine their chemical composition. This was the limit of what he could achieve.

Even so, it was enough for making bullets.

After sealing the prepared gunpowder in a jar, Rayne immediately began working on the gun.

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

Pistols were ruled out first. Their calibers were small, and with Black Powder cartridges, their stopping power would be limited. Their components were also more delicate, making them harder to manufacture and demanding higher-quality metal.

Rifles were impossible as well. The unlocked assault rifles and Assault Rifles 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 material and machining precision requirements 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 the saying: in front of a shotgun, all men were equal.

Shotguns had large calibers, powerful firepower, and wide killing ranges, making them suitable for close combat. Rayne had only fired a gun once at a shooting range before, and his shooting ability was about the same as an ordinary person who had never touched a gun. If he were given a pistol or rifle, the learning curve would be too steep. He had no confidence that he could hit an enemy at close range.

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

Moreover, Black Powder cartridges were suitable for shotguns. Their drawback was the enormous amount of smoke after firing, but that was unavoidable. He could only deal with it.

Among the unlocked 3D schematics were three or four shotguns. After excluding the gas-operated semi-automatic models that were likewise unsuitable for Black Powder cartridges, Rayne finally chose the shotgun he knew best and the most classic one—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 himself had studied mechanical engineering. Even without the 3D schematics, he could have figured out the M870's structure on his own, though it would have taken much more time.

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

Rayne carefully examined every component first. He repeatedly disassembled and reassembled the gun more than a dozen times, then watched demonstrations of its firing mechanism, shell ejection, and reloading process. Before long, he had committed the shotgun's structure to memory. He sorted the parts into categories and decided on the order in which to make them.

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

Luckily, this world has guns and even gunsmiths. Otherwise, just making qualified springs would have stumped me.

Rayne silently counted his blessings and decided to start by machining the barrel.

Before that, however, he had to start the machine tool and learn how to operate it.

After tinkering with the Crafting Table of the steam-powered machine tool for a while, he roughly figured out its functions and operation. 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 turned, steam billowed, and the machine tool gave off a steady grinding sound. Most people would find that noise unbearable, but to Rayne's ears, it sounded like a beautiful song.

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

When he was immersed in work, time always passed especially quickly. He even forgot to eat.

"Rayne, why are you still here?"

It was not until Zoltan rushed into the workshop and shouted for Rayne to shut down the steam-powered machine tool, lest the noise travel up from the basement and disturb the guests' rest, that he realized it was nearly midnight. He had spent the entire day in the workshop!

His stomach rumbled repeatedly. A powerful hunger surged up, and his limbs felt weak and sore.

He pulled the coal from the furnace, and the steam-powered machine tool gradually fell silent.

Zoltan grumbled at Rayne a few times, then casually picked up the barrel that had just been machined. At first, he was only curious and took a quick look. But once he saw it clearly, his expression changed.

"You made this?"

Zoltan gently ran his hand over the barrel. With his years of experience, he could naturally see that there was something extraordinary about this tube.

Its dark body gleamed faintly, clearly having undergone special treatment. Threads had been milled into one end, the cut smooth and even without the slightest flaw. The other end had been split down the middle, leaving only half of it. Though he did not know what it was for, the Craft alone was enough to show that it was far from simple.

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

"You flatter me, boss."

Rayne chuckled inwardly. In truth, he was somewhat amazed by his own ability as well. He had not operated a machine tool in years since graduating, yet not only had his skills not deteriorated—they had improved.

Still, most of the credit had to go to the 3D schematics on his phone.

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

"Call me Zoltan."

The Dwarf corrected Rayne's form of address, 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, Zoltan would figure it out.

"Haha, forget it if you don't want to say. I won't steal your secret Craft." Zoltan set down the barrel and said with a smile, "But once you finish it, you have to let me see it."

"Alright." Rayne nodded.

After tidying up the workshop, Rayne went to the inn's lobby. Despite the late hour, several tables were still playing cards, and they looked ready to battle until dawn.

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

Since he had barely eaten all day, the potato stew, which was not actually very good, tasted especially delicious. Rayne enjoyed his dinner while watching the guests playing cards.

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

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

Is playing cards really that fun?

Rayne did not really understand it, though he thought that he could try it himself someday when he had the time.

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

"Zoltan."

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

Compared to Zoltan's enthusiasm, Roger was expressionless, seeming rather cold and gloomy.

He looked like a young man, yet he had a head of 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, as though it had been made by the claw of some beast. The wound ran from his forehead down across his left eye to his cheek. Fortunately, the eye itself was unharmed.

But his eyes were abnormal as well. His amber pupils stood vertically like a cat's eyes, making him quite frightening at first glance.

He also wore a set of pale-blue protective gear, half leather armor and half chainmail, crafted with exceptional skill. A wolf-head pendant hung around his neck, and two Cross Swords were strapped side by side on his back, their hilts protruding diagonally over his right shoulder.

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

"Demon Hunter!"

Someone let out a low cry of surprise.

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

The characteristics of this Transcendent profession were highly distinctive, especially the twin swords on their backs, which were almost an exclusive symbol of Demon Hunters.

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

This made everyone tense. They knew he was an extremely powerful Transcendent.

Rayne was swept by Roger's gaze as well. Luckily, he 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 hug Roger, but found that he could not reach him. He could only give Roger's arm a hard pat and say happily, "Old friend, it's been almost ten years since we last met. Where have you been all these years? Why didn't you ever contact me?"

Roger silently shook his head, seemingly unwilling to mention his experiences.

He walked to the counter, removed the twin swords from his back and set them at hand, then sat down rather wearily. Taking the cup Zoltan offered him, he drank it down in one gulp.

Rayne sat too far away, and the noise in the lobby drowned out the two men's conversation.

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

The next second, Rayne saw Roger's soul.

Then his whole body went rigid as though struck by lightning. It was as if he had seen something he should not have seen, or been blinded by harsh sunlight. His eyes stung sharply, and tears immediately streamed down his face.

Holy shit! What is that thing?!

Rayne cried out inwardly. He quickly shut off the Soul Eye, lowered his head, and kept eating the potato stew, swallowing his tears along with it.

In that brief instant, he had vaguely seen a golden soul with more than a dozen layers of structure. Deep within that soul were Element Runes numbering in the double digits!

Could this guy be a Legendary Demon Hunter?