Define neet.
"Not in Education, Employment, or Training", that's what it essentially stands for.
However.
In my understanding, neet is an introverted internet addict that tends to be a shut-in. They are a rare human breed that lacks ambition, desires a slow life, and most often someone who rarely contributes to society. So basically, they are trash.
Neets has a lot of hobbies ranging from reading web fiction, watching all sorts of entertainment, playing various genres of games, and consuming all kinds of mass media. They may be a nerd, geek, or just normal salaryman who was recently fired from their job.
Though they are unspeakably trash, neets have a hidden potential that may change the world. According to some not-so-credible accounts, there are plenty of neets who die in truck accidents, wake up in another world, and suddenly find themselves success after success in the said otherworld.
I have a theory as to how that might be possible. What is the one thing that a fantasy medievalist otherworld has that Planet Earth doesn't lack?
The answer is the internet.
So the hypothesis is… If you remove the internet which is the very source of existence of a neet, what would a neet become then if "not a neet"?
In conclusion, I am no longer a neet… and to my surprise, it seems to be true. I come to this funny conclusion as I fiddle with the slime gel and wine. I never realized I might have the potential to be a chemist here in this other world.
But a 'chemist' is too much. I am trying to learn how to make a Molotov using the fragments of knowledge in my head. So far, I had some nice results. The spread of fire in my earlier prototypes is a bit disappointing, but I am getting there.
It has been a few weeks since my elven companions left the base. They are doing their best, so I must do my part well. As this is a fantasy world, this world doesn't lack the presence of fantasy monsters. In my 92 years of living as an elf, books are the only substitute I have for my dearly missed internet, so I have quite an accumulation of interesting knowledge in my head.
The knowledge from my past life and this life are on a tangent and as long as I have the resources, I believe I can do something… And for my current something, I make creating weapons my top priority. We elves lack the numbers but maybe we can cross that gap with weapons.
According to the records in 'Slime Infestations,' a journal last hundreds of years ago, the northern peninsula almost was erased from the map as a calamity that threatens a whole kingdom suddenly appears out of nowhere.
In that journal, the lords of the northern peninsula gather to fight the infestation. In their most desperate moment, while skirmishing the slimes, a soldier hopelessly tosses a barrel of wine to the slimes. The slime consumes the barrel full of wine.
While fighting for their lives, a torch suddenly finds itself in the slimes, and from then on… the war turns its tide. Slimes and wine together are incredibly flammable. Since then, the use of slime gel revolutionized raids.
I believe the night raiders back then in my elf village similarly uses slime gels as a catalyst to burn the forest and from there, guide the flames to the village. We cannot employ a similar strategy on villages as they lack trees. It is different for their distant crops though.
After destroying the granaries, my elf kin will turn then their attention to the fields. We elves are small in number so we don't need much food to sustain us. Despite that, I had Wisley buy and hoard the grains from the other villages. I decide to spend most of the bandits' wealth on buying the life source of the baronies.
By doing this, I can also hold them by their throats and starve them to death.
I fiddle with the wine bottle, stuff a spoonful of slime, and shake the murky glass bottle. I stuff another half a spoon of slime gel, and dissolved slime crystal. I seal it with a heavy cloth, wrap it over the mouth of the bottle, and tie it around its neck with a string. A bit of cloth hangs out from its mouth where I can light it with fire.
"Kara, light it up," I tell my dear assistant.
It is afternoon and we are some parts away from the base. In front of me is a scarecrow. I recall the first use of a Molotov cocktail in my old world. It was in the Spanish Civil war when the gun is long already the trendy weapon by then. In this world, this Molotov is too advanced already for its time. I cannot be so sure though because it is a 'fantasy' world in the end.
Kara lights up the ends of my Molotov with seriousness in her eyes.
I throw my hardest, and the 'petrol bomb' arcs in the air into a parabola. It drops dead set on the scarecrow. The fragile glass bottle breaks in impact, and fire quickly spreads. The flames devour the scarecrow mercilessly, and the range of the flames is much better than the prior prototypes.
The results satisfy me. My optimization of the Molotov is now complete. I still have more ideas to try. This Molotov is our greatest trump card currently. Infantry melee units are the trend in this world. They also have archers, but my elf kin is better archers than them.
With the Molotov, we can control as much space as we want in a skirmish and possibly even negate the enemies' number advantage. We can stop them from advancing and retreating. This is the perfect weapon that would create the best synergy to the guerilla warfare most suitable to elves.
We don't need to place ourselves in a difficult situation and force a siege battle. After dealing with the granaries and farms, we will then put our focus on infiltrating either of the baronies. Once we secure our infiltration and escape routes, I will then advance our plans and corner the two baronies in one go.
While I was contemplating, only now did I notice that Kara is making her own Molotov. I observe her. She seems to be enjoying the process. She copies me exactly as to how I did mine. She is really smart for her age. That's the elf race for you.
Finishing her Molotov, Kara excitedly lights it up with her torch and throws it… but her throw is too short.
"Fuck," I carry Kara and rush from the Molotov's range, but I cannot escape being singed. "Kara… Don't do that again…" I sternly warn her.
We return to our base of operations. For the other weapons I have in mind, I will just make the others do them. So, I start with a parchment and a quill in my hand.
Crossbows don't exist yet in this world. The empire might have some weapons that I don't know, but in the whole Kingdom of Beyronald, their weapons are limited to the level of the early Kings in the middle ages.
After I finish a quick draft, I explain to Kara what this weapon is. "Kara, this is a crossbow, a weapon that has farther reach than an elven bow. I want you to bring it to the Lorekleim Forest and have the human blacksmith their work on a prototype. Here is another parchment. Instructions on what it can do, and the theoretical parts it will need are all in that parchment. Do you have questions?"
"Can it penetrate armor?"
Her question stumps me. Kara does have incredible insights. I admit it once more.
"Maybe," I cryptically answer her. "If we load it with steel bolts, the humans' iron armor will be like paper. Just get a horse, and be done with it."
Kara hurries as she excitedly grabs the parchments in my hand. My elf kin manages to get some wild horses and tame them in a short period. So, our stable had some horses for use. This must be one of the elves' racial traits.
That aside, while Kara is not here, I should get myself working on another much more dangerous project. I return to the shed and grab pots of familiar plants. Its flowers have five yellowish petals, it has heart-shaped stamen, and the pistil consists of three carpels united to form a three-chambered ovary.
This is a coca plant's flowers. When the flowers mature, they will then produce red berries… My eyes land on its unassuming leaves.
Now, it is time to play with crack cocaine and get my hands dirtier.
I definitely am not a chemist, but who knows? I can try my luck all I want, and maybe still get nothing. But what if I manage to get something? It was some time in my youth that I had an encounter with this particular plant.
It was only in a flash of inspiration did I even remember this existing just by my village's backyard.
I grab some of the leaves. Maybe, I cannot turn this thing into its 'worst' version, but there is still potential in these addictive leaves.
"It was something like… smoke weed, and your set for life…" That's a good slogan. Forget experimenting, I should just do marketing, sell these weeds, and improve my budget.
I smile to myself.