Chapter 258 - 114: The "Arrogant and Domineering" Lynch Blackwood

Chapter 258: Chapter 114: The "Arrogant and Domineering" Lynch Blackwood

"That’s right!" Balen said, his face full of pride. "This here’s my masterpiece. Made from the best refined iron, packed with a full powder charge, and loaded with heavy iron shot!"

"I ain’t just braggin’, but one shot from this thing, heheh~ back home, we could turn one of them thick-skinned winter bears into a sieve with it."

"Uh..."

Lynch blinked. He glanced at Balen, who only came up to his chest but was two or three times as wide. He then looked at the dwarf’s muscles, which were as solid as lumps of iron, and tried to imagine the flimsy build of an ordinary human militiaman...

’Alright then~’

’No wonder dwarven firearms aren’t more common.’

Not only were these dwarves short with a low center of gravity, but every one of them was born with monstrous strength. Their bodies were less like people and more like stone pillars that had grown sideways.

Since this firearm was invented by dwarves and was one of their common weapons, it was naturally designed according to their own physique and needs.

The recoil was probably just right for them, but for an ordinary human who wasn’t even a professional combatant, a single shot would likely dislocate their shoulder.

However.

Lynch was still quite interested in the dwarven firearm. "Brother, could I test its power?"

’I wonder if my body can even handle it.’

"Be my guest!"

Balen waved his hand magnanimously, then pointed to several thick wooden targets in the distance. "Go on, brother, aim for those."

As he spoke, he rummaged through the box and handed Lynch a powder horn and a small bag of iron shot.

Lynch took them and began to try loading the ammunition.

It was his first time handling a firearm, but with Balen’s guidance, he managed to stumble his way through the loading process.

First, pour a measured amount of black powder down the muzzle. Second, insert an oiled wool felt patch. Third, pour in a handful of iron shot. Finally, use the ramrod to pack it all down.

The whole process was quite tedious.

Once it was loaded, Lynch raised the heavy firearm, solemnly aimed at the wooden target ten paces away, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

"BOOM~!!!"

A deafening roar suddenly exploded across the shooting range.

Lynch felt the firearm jolt violently as an immense force slammed into his shoulder.

He couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

Even though his physique was far superior to that of an ordinary person, the blast left both his arms tingling and a dull ache spreading through his shoulder.

’The power really is incredible.’

That single shot had spewed a huge cloud of thick smoke and a dazzling flash of light from the firearm’s flared muzzle. The audio-visual effects were just as stunning.

Looking at the thick wooden target in the distance, its center had been blown into a hole the size of a washbasin, and the ground around it was littered with splintered wood.

If a shot like that hit a person or a Gnoll, it would be an absolutely fatal wound.

Moreover, because the gun fired a spread of iron shot, it required almost no precise aiming at close range, naturally lowering the skill required of the user.

Even a complete novice with guns like him could hit the target, as long as he didn’t mess up in a hurry.

But the firearm’s problems were just as obvious.

It was too heavy, the recoil was too strong, and the reload speed was too slow.

Lynch put down the still-smoking firearm, rubbed his shoulder, and said to Balen, "Brother, the power of this gun is undeniable. A fine dwarven piece, just as expected."

He chose his words carefully. "But, most of our militiamen have average builds. They probably can’t handle this recoil, nor can they even hold up something this heavy. Do you think... you could forge a, hmm, more lightweight version of the firearm?"

"The firearm’s power could be a little weaker, but it needs to be something an ordinary Soldier can use steadily. A faster, more convenient reload would be best, too. They’ll be using these firearms mainly against Gnolls; they don’t need that much power."

The moment he heard this, Balen Copperbeard, who had been all smiles and easygoing just a second ago, stiffened. His expression changed in a flash.

"What? Lightweight? Weaker power?" As if he’d just heard the most outrageous heresy, his short, thick eyebrows shot up, and his voice suddenly rose. "Brother Lynch, you don’t know a damn thing about dwarven firearms!"

He got so worked up he jumped three feet in the air, landing on a nearby workbench to glower down at Lynch. "A firearm has to have power to have any punch! One shot should be enough to take down a mountain bear! That’s a tool for real men! And you want me to make some flimsy thing, some glorified fire poker a little missus would use to scratch an itch?"

"You’re insultin’ the craft of us dwarves! You’re lookin’ down on the three-hundred-year-old forging techniques passed down by the Copperbeard Clan~!!"

"The Copperbeard Clan has a Dwarf King in its ancestry!"

"You’re insulting a descendant of the Dwarf King!"

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. His thick arms flailed about, his red beard quivered with rage, and flecks of spittle sprayed onto Lynch’s face.

Aus and Jinke were so frightened they backed away repeatedly, terrified of being hit by the dwarven blacksmith’s spray.

It was only then that they realized what Lynch was trying to do.

If the militiamen could each be equipped with a lightweight firearm, the problem of Gnoll harassment could indeed be mostly solved.

But thinking of the dwarves’ stubbornness and explosive tempers, the man and the goblin couldn’t help but quietly break into a cold sweat for Lynch.

Lynch had anticipated the dwarf’s temper. He calmly wiped the spittle from his face.

Then, he flicked his wrist.

A barrel of "Water of Life," bearing a special golden label and noticeably more exquisite packaging, appeared in his hand.

He tossed it casually, and the gold-labeled barrel of "Water of Life" landed with a THUD on the workbench by Balen’s feet.