Free Web NovelMatt picked up the incomplete light gun and this time he didn't let go.
The cave shook again.
CRRRRRR!
The tools jumped on the table.
A pair of pliers fell to the floor.
Several crystals rolled toward the fountain.
The mineral dust scattered as if someone had sneezed all over everything.
Matt gritted his teeth.
"Yeah, yeah. I got the message."
The voice spoke with tension.
"Matt, the room is reacting."
"How observant."
"It doesn't want you to continue."
"I noticed."
"Then maybe you should—"
"No."
The cave shook again.
Harder.
The table moved under his hands.
Matt lost his balance for a second, but spread his black wings all at once.
FWOOSH!
The wings opened inside the room, enormous, dark, nearly hitting the walls.
Matt rose just a few centimeters off the ground.
Just enough.
The tremor continued.
But his body no longer depended on the floor.
"Ah."
The voice went quiet.
Matt smiled without humor.
"Problem solved."
"That's cheating."
"We're building a third ego weapon inside a cave that clearly doesn't want us to. I think that line died a while ago."
The voice didn't respond.
Matt floated in front of the table, using his wings to stay stable while one hand held the light gun and the other tried to fit a thin metal channel around the core.
It wasn't easy.
Nothing in that room was cooperating.
The tools were shifting.
The crystals were rolling.
The bone fragments were falling to the floor.
The forge roared with increasingly irregular heat.
FWOOSH!
CRRRRRR!
CLANG!
A tool shot off the table and nearly hit him in the face.
Matt dodged it narrowly.
"Perfect. Now the table is trying to kill me."
"The cave is trying to expel you."
"It can get in line."
Matt caught the tool out of the air with one hand and got back to work.
The problem was the mana channel.
The heavy gun worked because it compressed energy all at once.
Slow.
Brutal.
Not at all elegant.
Very useful.
But this one…
This one had to work differently.
Less charge.
Less pressure.
More flow.
Fast shots.
Small ones.
Controllable.
Or at least ones that wouldn't rip his wrist off on the first attempt.
Matt adjusted a piece.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The metal vibrated.
The red core flickered.
The cave shook again.
CRRRRRR!
"Shut up!"
The voice spoke carefully.
"I don't think it can hear you."
"Then it can shake in silence."
Matt kept going.
Hours passed.
Or something like hours.
It was hard to measure time when the floor wanted to split, the walls were groaning, and the forge seemed to breathe like an angry animal.
Matt was no longer touching the floor — he was flying inside the rest room with tools in hand.
Every time he needed something, he descended just barely, grabbed it from the air or the floor, went back up, and kept working.
The room was a disaster.
Materials everywhere.
Mineral dust coating the table.
Broken pieces floating in the fountain.
A crystal had embedded itself in a wall.
Another was inside a boot Matt didn't even remember leaving there.
Everything was destroyed.
Everything…
Except one area.
The bed.
Matt noticed it from the corner of his eye.
The bed was still intact. The blanket had barely moved.
And on it, the bow-spear rested in complete silence.
The red core glowed faintly.
Stable.
As if the cave had decided that part wasn't to be touched.
Matt frowned.
"Strange."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That didn't sound like nothing."
Matt looked at the bow-spear for a moment longer.
The bed was surrounded by chaos.
Tools on the floor.
Stones displaced.
The fountain splashing.
The table shaking.
But the weapon was still there.
Calm.
Protected.
Or respected.
Matt didn't know which option was worse.
"I'll worry about that later."
"Later?"
"Right now I'm busy doing something illegal."
The voice sighed.
"At least you acknowledge it."
Matt went back to the light gun.
His hands were burned.
Cut.
Covered in dried blood and black metal.
The regeneration closed the wounds.
The forge kept opening them.
It was a horrible cycle.
Very efficient.
Matt adjusted the last channel.
The red core lit up.
Not with a strong light like the heavy gun.
But with a quick flicker.
Intermittent.
Like a small heart beating too fast.
Matt swallowed.
"Good."
The voice spoke quietly.
"Is it ready?"
"Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because if you say it's ready, it's going to explode."
"That has no logic."
Matt held the light gun with both hands.
It was more comfortable than the other one.
Less heavy.
Thinner.
The balance was much better.
Or at least he wanted to believe that.
Matt aimed at an empty wall. Then thought better of it.
He aimed at a spot that already had a previous shot mark.
"If I shoot myself again, don't say anything."
"I can't promise that."
Matt pulled the trigger. freewebnσvel.cøm
Click!
The mana gathered.
Fast.
Much faster.
Not one count.
Not two.
Almost instantaneous.
Bang!
A small red bullet shot out and hit the wall.
CRACK!
The rock cracked.
It didn't explode.
It didn't shake the entire room.
But it left a clean, deep mark.
Matt went still.
The voice didn't speak either.
Matt pulled the trigger again.
Bang!
Another bullet.
Then another.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Three shots in a row.
The wall ended up full of small, smoking holes.
Matt slowly lowered the weapon.
Silence fell.
The cave stopped shaking.
Not gradually.
All at once.
As if someone had let out an enormous sigh and decided to stop fighting.
The tools stopped vibrating.
The fountain recovered its soft rhythm.
The forge lowered the intensity of its flames.
Matt kept floating for a few seconds.
Then he descended slowly until his feet touched the ground. His wings folded behind him.
"It worked."
The voice spoke almost in a whisper.
"Yes."
Matt looked at the light gun.
Then at the heavy one.
Then at the bow-spear on the bed.
An absurd satisfaction rose through his chest.
Not joy.
Not happiness.
Satisfaction.
The kind that comes when something impossible stops being impossible because someone was too stubborn to quit.
Matt let out a low laugh.
"It worked."
"The other one fires faster."
"Yes."
"But it doesn't have as much power."
"Obviously."
Matt held up the light one.
"This one is for constant pressure."
Then he looked at the heavy one.
"That one is for destroying something I don't like."
"What a technical description."
"I'm a professional."
"You shot yourself in the leg."
"Professionals make mistakes too."
The voice laughed.
Matt clicked his tongue, but didn't tell her to be quiet.
Not this time.
He walked to the bed.
The bow-spear was still there.
Intact.
Matt picked it up carefully. The moment his fingers wrapped around the shaft, the red core glowed brighter.
For a moment, Matt felt something.
Not a voice.
Not words.
Just a low vibration.
Like recognition.
Like patience.
Like annoyance.
Matt looked at it.
"Yeah, yeah. You matter too."
The bow-spear vibrated once.
Matt narrowed his eyes.
"Don't start."
The voice spoke with curiosity.
"Is it reacting?"
"It's being dramatic."
"It's a weapon."
"And yet."
Matt adjusted the bow-spear on his back, crossing it so he could grab it quickly.
Then he looked at the two guns on the table.
He needed somewhere to put them. He wasn't walking out of there holding them in his hands like an idiot.
Though he probably already looked like one.
Matt took strips of hardened leather, pieces of durable fabric, and some thin metal plates and improvised two simple holsters.
One on each side of his waist.
They weren't pretty.
They weren't elegant.
They weren't comfortable.
But they held the weapons.
That was enough.
Matt put the heavy gun on the right side and the light one on the left, moved his legs, rotated his torso, and jumped once.
The weapons didn't fall.
"Good."
The voice spoke in a calmer tone.
"Have you thought about names?"
Matt went still.
Then looked up at the air.
"Don't be stupid."
The voice paused.
"What?"
"You give the name to the ego weapon when it wakes up."
"Ah."
"Not before."
"I didn't know that."
"Of course you didn't."
Matt adjusted the right holster.
"Naming them before would be disrespectful."
The voice went quiet.
Matt raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're thinking it."
"I'm just surprised you take that so seriously."
Matt glanced at the bow-spear sideways.
"Ego weapons aren't ordinary tools."
The voice didn't respond.
"They're annoying, demanding, dramatic, and sometimes sound like resentful exes."
"That last one was very specific."
"But they have pride."
Matt touched the grip of the heavy gun.
"Naming them before they wake up is like deciding who they are before they can say anything about it."
The voice was quiet for a moment.
Then said:
"That was… considerate."
Matt frowned.
"Don't make it weird."
"I mean it."
"Worse."
The voice let out a small laugh.
Then asked:
"So, are you ready to test them?"
Matt looked at the rest room door.
The same door that led back into the cave's hell.
Golems.
Demons.
Serpents.
Worse things.
Everything the maximum difficulty wanted to throw at him.
Before, he'd only had a bow that turned into a spear out of necessity.
Now he had a bow-spear on his back and two blood-and-mana guns at his waist.
It was still a horrible situation.
But for the first time since entering that damned cave…
Matt smiled.
"Yes."
The voice said nothing.
Matt took a step toward the door.
Then stopped and looked at the fountain.
The glowing water was still moving calmly.
Matt looked at his reflection.
White hair.
Red eyes.
Tired face.
Black wings folded.
Bow-spear on his back.
Two guns at his waist.
"I look like an unlockable secret boss."
"Is that good?"
"I don't know."
Matt walked toward the fountain.
"But first…"
He took off the freshly made holsters, set the guns on the bed beside the bow-spear for a moment, and got into the water fully clothed.
Splash!
The voice sighed.
"Was that necessary?"
Matt closed his eyes as the warm water covered his body.
"Yes."
