Days turned into weeks, and Alaric's isolation deepened as he immersed himself in his research. The details of the Iron Dominion's operations piled up inside his room, meticulously organized in documents and maps that only he had access to. He had made a decision deep within his heart—to leave everyone to suffer at the mercy of the Iron Dominion until they came to him, begging for help. It was a quiet but fierce determination, a plan for revenge born out of humiliation and abandonment.
One day, while compiling a particularly intricate document, Alaric's eyes fell on the pistol. It lay there, a symbol of mockery and rejection from his father.
Curiosity stirred within him, and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The pistol was crafted from brass and wood, surprisingly well-maintained despite its age and history.
Intrigued by its origins, Alaric decided to delve into its history, heading to the family library,he started searching for history books.
He found one,in the history records that,
Pistols, or Flintlocks as they were called in some circles, were created by an unknown blacksmith. The weapon used a flint-striking mechanism to ignite a powder charge that fired a metal projectile—an antiquated concept in a world dominated by magic.
The blacksmith had touted them as superior armaments, attempting to sell them to young warriors, only to meet his demise when his creations failed to live up to the expectations in a world where magic reigned supreme.
Despite the initial amusement at the pistol's history, Alaric felt a strange connection to it. It symbolized defiance against the status quo, much like his own struggle as an outsider in a world that valued magical talent above all else.
Reflecting on his own meager magical abilities—able only to conjure a small ball of mana the size of a coin—he wondered if there was a way to combine magic with this relic of the past.
An idea sparked in his mind: "what if he could use his limited mana to power the pistol?".
It was an intriguing concept, and with plenty of time on his hands, Alaric began to tinker with the pistol. He took it apart, studying its components meticulously. However, he soon realized that modifying the existing pistol was impractical; he would have to create prototypes from scratch.
Using the money he had accumulated from his previous endeavors, Alaric began amassing tools and materials.
At first, his attempts to create a mana-powered pistol failed miserably. The prototypes couldn't channel mana effectively, let alone fire it as a projectile,as the materials were simply uneffective.
Determined to overcome this setback, Alaric decided to coat every part of the pistol that would come into contact with magic with powdered sinon tree branches,a material commonly used in magic staffs.
Not, only was it able to conduct Mana,but low quality Sinon was really cheap.
The first few prototypes with sinon coating showed promise, but they still failed to fire mana projectiles effectively. The pistols glowed faintly when mana was channeled into them, but the energy dissipated without achieving any significant effect. Frustrated but undeterred, Alaric continued to experiment.
To solve this problem, Alaric replaced the flint,in the mechanism with shards of mana crystals. This adjustment allowed the blast of mana to concentrate more effectively, increasing the pistol's potential to harness and release magical energy.
After several iterations and countless hours of refining his design, Alaric finally achieved success. The mana-powered pistol now functioned reliably, capable of firing mana-infused bullets.
Though,the barrel required periodic recoating with sinon powder to maintain optimal performance, but for now, Alaric was satisfied with the results.
He christened his creation "Arcane Reaver," a fitting name for a weapon that defied conventional expectations.
The pistol was not just a tool of vengeance against those who had mocked him; it was a symbol of his ingenuity and determination in a world that had underestimated him time and again.
As Alaric held the finished Arcane Reaver in his hands, a rare smile crossed his face. The pistol gleamed with a polished brass finish, intricate runes etched along its barrel, pulsing faintly with mana.
It was a testament to his perseverance and resourcefulness—a tangible reminder that he was capable of achieving greatness, even without the conventional means of magical prowess.
Geralt, who had once been distant, cautiously approached Alaric's door. He had heard rumors of Alaric's endeavors, whispers among the servants about strange experiments and late-night tinkering. With hesitant determination second only to his desire for making amends, Geralt knocked on the door.
"Master Alaric," Geralt said softly, "may I come in?"
Alaric looked up, surprise flickering across his features. "Geralt? Yes, come in."
The steward entered, his gaze curious and apologetic yet guarded. "I... I wanted to see for myself," Geralt admitted, nodding towards the pistol on the workbench. "Is that...?"
Alaric nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes, it is. Arcane Reaver—a pistol that harnesses mana."
Geralt stepped closer, examining the pistol with a mix of awe and concern. "This is remarkable, Master Alaric. But... is it safe? Are you sure about this?"
Alaric chuckled softly, a touch of bitterness in his tone. "Safe? Geralt, nothing in this world is safe. But this pistol... it's more than just a weapon. It's a statement."
Geralt studied him for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "I see. And what statement is that, if I may ask?"
Alaric's gaze hardened, a fire burning in his eyes. "That I will not be underestimated. That I will forge my own path, regardless of what others think or say."
Geralt smiled faintly. "I always knew you were capable of great things, Master Alaric. Even when others doubted."
Alaric's smile softened, touched by Geralt's unexpected support. "Thank you, Geralt. Your belief means more than you know."
The steward hesitated , then cleared his throat. "If there's anything you need—resources, assistance—please don't hesitate to ask. I may not understand everything you're doing, but I want to help."
Alaric nodded gratefully. "I appreciate that, Geralt. Truly."
In the days that followed, Alaric continued to refine Arcane Reaver, making minor adjustments to improve its efficiency and reliability. Geralt discreetly provided him with supplies and materials, offering his support in subtle yet meaningful ways. The steward's newfound encouragement brought a sense of camaraderie that Alaric had sorely missed.
However, his relationship with his family remained strained. Damian and Eliza continued to view him with disdain, their resentment simmering beneath polite facades during family gatherings. Count Vargas, though outwardly cordial, kept a careful distance, perhaps still wary of Alaric's independent pursuits.
Alaric knew that unveiling Arcane Reaver to his family would only invite ridicule and scorn. Instead, he kept his creation hidden, confiding only in Geralt and a select few trusted servants. His isolation persisted, but now it was a choice—an opportunity to focus on his goals without the distractions of familial expectations.