Beast Devourer: I Grow Stronger by Eating Monsters

Raven decided to start eating before the conversation got any worse.

It worked for almost three minutes.

Then Maelor asked, ”How many times can it fire?”

Raven finished chewing before answering.

”Once before reloading.”

”That doesn’t sound like much.”

”It’s a prototype.”

”How long does reloading take?”

”I haven’t measured it under combat conditions yet.”

Roland raised an eyebrow.

”So, slow.”

”Slower than I want.”

”Range?”

”Uncalibrated.”

”Accuracy?”

”Uncalibrated.”

”How much does it weigh?”

”Too much.”

Maelor looked at Valeria.

”Then why does he look so happy?”

Raven looked up.

”I don’t look happy.”

The other three remained silent.

Raven stared at them.

”Eat.”

Roland smiled.

”That’s what I thought.”

The real problem appeared after lunch.

Money.

Raven had worked with enough weapons to know that a firing platform without ammunition was just an expensive piece of metal with psychological value.

The Mk.I needed projectiles.

Not random pieces of iron.

FORGE had tolerated the first test rounds because it needed data, but the difference between the first and second projectile had already demonstrated how much weight, shape, and material mattered.

And every projectile had to be manufactured.

Raven returned to Hadrik’s workshop that afternoon.

This time Roland came with them.

Not because he had anything technical to contribute.

He wanted to see the rifle.

Raven finally opened the case after closing the workshop door.

Roland stared at it.

His reaction was almost identical to Hadrik’s.

”That’s uglier than I expected.”

Valeria sat on the bench.

”Thank you.”

Roland looked at her.

”Thank you?”

”I’ve been telling him that since yesterday.”

Raven placed the weapon on the table.

”Appearance doesn’t affect function.”

Hadrik emerged from the secondary forge carrying a metal box.

”That from the man who spent twenty minutes correcting the grip because ’the angle was wrong.’”

”That affects function.”

”Of course it does.”

Hadrik opened the box.

Inside were samples of the materials Raven had asked him to prepare: hardened steel, several grades of iron, a short bar of an alloy commonly used in mining tools, and three pieces of more expensive metal Hadrik claimed resisted deformation better.

Raven picked up one of the samples.

FORGE evaluated it.

[Potential Projectile Material Detected.]

[Density: ACCEPTABLE.]

[Structural Consistency: GOOD.]

[Barrel Compatibility: HIGH.]

[Cost Efficiency: MODERATE.]

”This one.”

Hadrik nodded.

”It’s also the second most expensive.”

Roland grimaced.

”How much more expensive?”

Hadrik gave him the number.

Roland looked back at the rifle.

”For one bar?”

”We’ll get several projectiles from it.”

”’Several’ is usually a word people use when I don’t want to hear the division.”

Raven picked up another sample.

”The cheaper steel deformed too much on the first impact.”

”That sounds useful if you want a large hole,” Roland said.

”Not if I want consistency.”

Raven placed the two pieces beside each other.

”I need every projectile to have nearly the same weight, length, and diameter. If those vary too much, acceleration changes. So does point of impact. Internal pressure can change too.”

Roland nodded slowly.

”So you can’t just pick up rocks and shoot them.”

”No.”

”That would’ve been cheaper.”

”It would also be much worse for the barrel.”

Hadrik leaned both forearms against the table.

”The expensive part won’t just be the metal.”

Raven already knew what he meant.

”Labor.”

”Yes. I don’t have machines that can produce twenty identical pieces in minutes. I can make molds to approximate the shape, but every projectile still needs finishing by hand.”

Raven had already considered that problem.

Earth had industrial processes.

Lathes.

Presses.

Mass production.

Veyr had magic, alchemy, and craftsmen capable of producing things that would have been impossible by terrestrial standards, but there was no industrial line waiting for Raven to arrive with ammunition specifications.

Not yet.

”I can tolerate wider variation while I’m still calibrating the rifle,” Raven said. ”But I need the difference between each projectile to be measurable.”

Hadrik gestured toward several tools.

”Then every piece needs work.”

Roland exhaled.

”Money.”

”Yes,” Raven said.

”How much per shot?”

”I don’t know yet.”

”How can you not know?”

”Because I’m still changing the design.”

Raven opened one of the Mk.I’s exterior sections.

”The projectiles I use now might not be the ones I use two weeks from now. I also don’t know how quickly the barrel will wear, how often the insulation needs replacing, or how long the conductive tissue will remain stable.”

Hadrik added, ”And this material.”

He picked up a length of Coppervein tendon.

”It isn’t expensive like Black Mithril, but it doesn’t grow on trees either.”

Valeria looked up.

”Technically, it came from an animal.”

Hadrik stared at her.

”Thank you, my lady.”

”You’re welcome.”

Raven continued.

”We need replacement insulation, conductive filaments, Reservoir maintenance, Pressure Chamber treatment, and machining.”

Roland looked at the weapon as if each sentence made it less attractive.

”So every time you pull the trigger, money disappears.”

”Yes.”

”I think I just lost respect for the rifle.”

Raven picked up the armor plate from the test and placed it on the table.

They had brought it back as a reference.

A hole passed clean through four centimeters of laminated iron.

Roland looked at it.

Raven said, ”Until you see where the money ends up.”

Roland studied the hole again.

”I withdraw my comment again.”

Valeria laughed.

Hadrik shifted the plate.

”This also means you need to decide what you want each projectile to do.”

Raven nodded.

Exactly.

They didn’t all need to be identical forever.

A heavier round might be better against armor.

A lighter one would gain more velocity.

Tip geometry would change penetration characteristics.

Different metals might interact with mana in useful ways.

Eventually, he might even create specialized ammunition.

But that came later.

First, he needed something basic.

Repeatable.

Reliable.

”One standard version,” Raven said. ”Good steel. Consistent weight. No additional magic.”

Valeria raised an eyebrow.

”Surprisingly restrained.”

”I need to learn how to use the rifle before I start making the ammunition do strange things.”

Roland pointed at the weapon.

”I thought everything it already does was strange.”

”Stranger.”

”That does not reassure me.”

Hadrik spent nearly an hour estimating material costs.

Raven calculated from a different angle.

They still couldn’t establish a definitive cost per shot.

There were too many unknowns.

But the conclusion was simple.

The Mk.I wasn’t a weapon Raven could fire every time he saw something he disliked.

The projectile cost money.

Manufacturing cost money.

The Deepwell Reservoir didn’t contain infinite mana.

It could absorb mana from Raven and compatible external sources, but replenishing it after powerful discharges required time and resources.

The biological filaments suffered wear.

The insulation degraded.

The Pressure Chamber accumulated stress.

Even the Black Mithril, despite being the most durable structural component, needed inspection.

Raven summarized the problem mentally.

Every shot carried five separate costs: ammunition, mana, time, wear, and risk.

That made the rifle a tool.

Not a universal answer.

Raven was fine with that.

He had never trusted a single tool.

Hadrik finished writing several lines of calculations.

”I can make you a small first batch by tomorrow.”

”How many?”

Hadrik gave him a number.

Raven shook his head.

”Fewer.”

Roland looked at him.

”Fewer?”

”We’re still calibrating. I’m not paying for twenty projectiles built to specifications that might change after five shots.”

Hadrik smiled.

”You’re starting to think like someone who has to pay the blacksmith.”

”I always thought that way.”

”Two days ago, you were using Black Mithril to build something that might explode.”

”I was also thinking about how expensive it was.”

”It didn’t stop you.”

”The project required it.”

”That is exactly the kind of customer I like.”

Raven eventually ordered a small batch.

Enough for further calibration and several additional rounds in case of emergency.

Nothing more.

When Hadrik gave them the final estimate, Roland whistled.

”We need money.”

Raven closed the material box.

”Yes.”

Valeria leaned back against the bench.

”You could sell something.”

”I’m not selling parts of the rifle.”

”I didn’t say that.”

”I’m also not selling information about the rifle.”

”I didn’t say that either.”

Raven looked at her.

Valeria smiled.

”You could accept a normal contract like a normal person.”

Raven remained silent.

Roland pointed toward her.

”That was my idea too.”

”I don’t trust an idea you two had at the same time.”

”That sounds prejudiced.”

”Experience.”

Valeria stood.

”Kharad has a Mercenary House Annex.”

Raven knew.

He had seen the insignia the previous day while they were evacuating streets.

It wasn’t a major branch like the one in Greyhaven.

More of a regional office.

”Let’s go.”

Roland blinked.

”That easily?”

Raven picked up the rifle case.

”We need money.”

”I expected more arguing.”

”You can argue by yourself while we walk.”

The Kharad Mercenary House Annex occupied a single-story stone building beside a municipal warehouse.

The Mercenary House insignia was painted over the entrance, though one corner had been damaged during the recent tremors and someone was still repairing the frame.

Inside were a counter, two employees, a board covered in contracts, four tables, a small private meeting room in the back, and far too many people.

Kharad had just survived a subterranean disaster.

That generated work.

Caravan escorts.

Protection for repair crews.

Route inspections.

Medical deliveries.

Secondary tunnel clearing.

Missing-person searches.

Creatures displaced by the colony.

Raven saw three Burrower contracts and kept walking.

Valeria noticed.

”Nothing?”

”I’ve had enough of those for now.”

”I’m surprised.”

”So is the rifle.”

They approached the counter.

The woman behind it recognized his Greyhaven credential.

”Raven Ashford.”

”Yes.”

She checked the registry.

”Your license is still active. You haven’t taken any local contracts.”

”No.”

The clerk looked at Valeria.

Recognition.

Nobility.

Then at Roland.

Finally, her gaze moved to the long case.

She didn’t ask.

A good clerk.

”What are you looking for?”

Raven glanced at the board.

”Something short.”

Roland added, ”That pays.”

Valeria said, ”And preferably with a decent inn at the end.”

Raven looked at her.

”That isn’t a requirement.”

”For you.”

The clerk waited.

Raven continued.

”I don’t want a Burrower hunt. I also don’t want an underground operation.”

”That eliminates roughly a third of what we have.”

”Perfect.”

She removed several notices.

”There are repair crews that need protection in the northern district.”

Raven shook his head.

”Kharad already has enough people for that.”

”Mine escort east of town.”

”Duration?”

”Four days round trip.”

”Too long.”

She picked up another sheet.

”Recover two carts abandoned during the incidents.”

Roland asked, ”What happened to the drivers?”

”They survived. The animals ran.”

”Then why hasn’t anyone recovered the carts?”

”Something large left tracks nearby.”

Roland looked at Raven. ⅇ

Raven shook his head.

”Next.”

The clerk was beginning to understand what he wanted.

”You’re not looking for danger.”

”I’m looking for money,” Raven said.

She smiled.

”That’s more normal than you think.”

Valeria leaned against the counter.

”Finally, someone tells him.”

Raven ignored her.

The clerk handed them three possible contracts.

Raven didn’t accept any immediately.

”We’ll come back.”

”Problem?”

”We need to decide where we’re going after Kharad.”

The woman nodded as though that was normal too.

It was.

Raven liked that.

Not everything had to become a conspiracy.

Sometimes a contract was just work.