9. Operation Name: Sewer Cleaning
“Brother, by any chance, do you have a Dwarven Thunder Thrower?”
“Does this place look like a museum to you?”
As soon as Fernandez applied for the armory usage permit, an Enmagika named Martirio rushed over. He lectured endlessly about the sanctity of the weapons in this fortress as they headed to the armory.
“…So, Brother. When the Brothers of Diemonica borrow weapons, they rarely return them. The armory is the most expensive part of our financial reports…”
Fernandez half-listened to the balding middle-aged man.
‘In my memory, there should be one…’
In his previous life, he had seen an unnamed Inquisition Officer using a Dwarven Thunder Thrower.
The pinnacle of ancient Dwarven technology, a masterpiece of highly advanced magical engineering. The Dwarven Thunder Thrower.
A standard weapon of the Dwarves, created during the era when the Elven Five Kingdoms and the Dwarven Sasan Alliance ruled the continent, back when humans were still in the Bronze Age.
It was the epitome of ancient technology [Magical Engineering], something that human technology could never replicate.
As a magician, Fernandez desperately wanted to dismantle that thing.
‘With just one operation, it turned a Hell-level demon into dust.’
-It seemed like a consumable, but the effect was undeniable.
True to its name, it was a magical staff that projected an enormous destructive force forward with the sound of thunder!
“…So, how about this blessed longsword? A sleek body with a full Saint Metal hilt.”
“What weapon does Brother Zephis use?”
“Ah, Brother Zephis uses his personal armaments.”
“Huh? Is it possible to own personal armaments?”
“There are weapons made exclusively for certain brothers. If you serve for about 30 years, you might accumulate quite a few relics.”
Martirio chuckled. It was a joke, but also a wish. A wish to survive for 30 more years.
“A good dagger is essential. You can’t use a longsword to cut ropes. A rope would be good too, and ah, take this bag as well.”
Martirio picked out various items and handed them over while rambling.
“Didn’t you say the armory costs a fortune?”
“How can worldly gold compare to a brother’s life?”
Fernandez was moved by these warm words. Inquisition Officers, no matter how they appeared to the outside world, shared a bond akin to brotherhood among themselves.
After all, if an Inquisition Officer standing shoulder to shoulder with you falls, it means humanity takes another step back in this fierce battlefield.
Fernandez decided to milk this kind-hearted Enmagika a bit more.
“Recommend me a two-handed sword.”
“Hmm. How about this one?”
Martirio grunted as he pulled out a massive longsword.
-You’re not planning to carry that around, are you?
‘Of course, I am. What’s the point of having strength if not to use it?’
-That seems too crude.
It looked more like a club carried by ogres. Martirio placed a sword on the table that was as long as an adult man’s height and as thick as Fabiano’s forearm.
“Full Saint Metal. 14 pounds. If a Brother of Diemonica wields this, they could almost break down a castle gate.”
“…”
Considering that a typical longsword weighs around 3 pounds, and the standard two-handed sword used by skilled swordsmen is about 6.5 pounds, this thing was almost like a shipbuilding steel beam.
“Wasn’t that for decoration?”
“There’s no weapon in this armory that hasn’t tasted the blood of demons. Haha.”
Fernandez carefully lifted the massive greatsword. Its weight gave him a strong sense of reliability.
-Are you really going to use that?
‘Faijashi. Am I good at swordsmanship?’
-Not really.
‘Swordsmanship is about overcoming strength with skill. A swordsman who can wield a heavy weapon can deliver overwhelming force just by swinging it.’
-You’re going to take down demons with that?
‘A longsword would just be a toothpick.’
Fernandez laughed and put the greatsword down.
“I’ll take this.”
“Excellent.”
Fernandez ended up spending about an hour in the armory. He then headed straight to Zephis’s private quarters.
-Knock knock.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Fernandez, Brother.”
“It’s open.”
-Creak.
Zephis’s private quarters were somewhat lavish. Most Inquisition Officers were forced to live a simple, militaristic life, but Zephis was one of the few allowed to possess personal armaments.
His room was filled with weapons, maps, scribbled notes, and prayer altars.
He was mixing reagents on the table. A glance revealed they were some kind of anesthetic. He glanced at Fernandez and then looked away, saying,
“Quite a load you’ve got there?”
“Is it too much?”
“Brother Martirio tends to overprotect new recruits. But, the more prepared, the better.”
Zephis stood up, tidying the table. He approached Fernandez and inspected his gear one by one.
“Rope, huh. Useful. Flint? You can use flint, right? I think I heard something like that?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Then leave this out. Daggers. You’ve got throwing ones, right? Excellent. Always keep a few ready to draw.”
-Swish!
With a flick of his wrist, a throwing dagger appeared in Zephis’s hand. His sleeve was clearly empty?? As Fernandez looked puzzled, Zephis smiled.
“Sometimes demons get annoying from a distance. Always practice throwing something.”
“Ah!”
“By the way, what’s that club? Is that supposed to be a two-handed sword?”
Zephis looked at the steel beam strapped to Fernandez’s back. It had an edge, but it was more like a…
