Chương 107: The Shop Exploded Before He Even Started

Once the wagon finally rolled through the southern gate and stopped near the main transport yard, Sieghart collected his travel bag, climbed down from the wooden platform, and separated from the other passengers without anyone paying particular attention to where he went. That suited him perfectly thanks to his altered facial features he had used throughout the journey. As far as anyone nearby knew, he was simply another boy passing through an unusually busy border town.

Ordinarily, a child traveling alone might have attracted questions, especially somewhere this far north, but the atmosphere inside the town was tense enough that nobody seemed interested in investigating strangers unless they were obviously carrying weapons or military documents. Soldiers passed through the streets in small groups, merchants argued beside heavily loaded wagons, and workers continuously moved crates between warehouses.

Even civilians seemed to walk slightly faster than normal, as though everyone understood that the battlefield farther north could eventually become their problem. Sieghart followed the directions Mira had given him and headed toward the commercial district, where the person temporarily responsible for him apparently owned a shop that handled nearly every profitable activity involving magical equipment.

The establishment manufactured magical gear, sold completed items, rented equipment to travelers and mercenaries, repaired damaged tools, and restored depleted enchantments by charging them with mana. Apparently, specializing in only one service had been considered unnecessarily limiting. Sieghart approved of the business model.

If people needed magical equipment badly enough, selling it once seemed considerably less profitable than repairing it when they broke it, recharging it when the mana ran out, and renting replacement equipment while the original remained under maintenance. For someone who had supposedly been terrible at becoming successful during his previous life, Sieghart had developed a surprisingly good appreciation for businesses that created several sources of income from the same group of customers.

He moved deeper into the commercial district while casually examining the shops around him. Weapon stores occupied several corners, alchemical merchants advertised battlefield medicine, and craftsmen displayed everything from reinforced boots to enchanted cooking equipment behind thick glass windows. Sieghart had more than enough money to purchase something interesting if he found it.

Several years of guild work, mission rewards, monster materials, and the simple fact that he rarely spent money had left him with considerably more savings than most children. The amount had become large enough that Sieghart occasionally wondered whether Infinite Mana had accidentally given him another exploit besides endless spellcasting. If magical equipment needed mana to function, then charging it forever could theoretically become an infinite-money machine.

He could sit somewhere safe, charge magical tools continuously, collect payment, and repeat the process until either the local economy collapsed or someone became suspicious about why a child had personally supplied half the region with magical energy. It was probably one of the least impressive ways to abuse Infinite Mana. Still, money was money. The strange part was that Sieghart did not care about accumulating wealth nearly as much as he thought someone like him should.

During his previous life, success had seemed important enough that he constantly measured himself against people who appeared to be progressing faster. He had wanted qualifications, stable income, knowledge, and some proof that all the time spent studying would eventually turn into something worthwhile. Failing to enter college had bothered him considerably more than he liked remembering. Then he died. After reincarnating, money somehow became much less impressive.

Perhaps that was because he already had access to enough resources through Lunar Arc, or perhaps because noble blood meant financial security mattered less than it had during his previous life. Neither explanation felt complete. Sieghart slowed slightly while passing a bookseller displaying several expensive technical manuals beneath a covered stall.

The sight immediately reminded him of the collection he had once kept at his grandparents' farm before everything disappeared beneath fire, stone, and magical destruction. Four years had passed since the attack. The books were gone. The farm was gone. His grandparents were gone. Sieghart had accumulated money again afterward, yet none of it could purchase the things he actually wanted back.

He could buy another medical manual, another magic text, or another shelf filled with expensive knowledge, but replacement was not restoration. All the money he had invested into learning and preparing had not given him enough skill to save the two people who mattered when the attack happened. That realization had probably changed what wealth meant to him more than reincarnation itself. Money was useful. Power was useful. Knowledge was useful.

None of them mattered if they arrived after the moment when they were needed. Sieghart stopped walking for half a second before realizing he had become unnecessarily introspective in the middle of a crowded street. Apparently, the greatest danger of traveling without training was giving his mind enough free time to become philosophical. He sighed.

"I need more hobbies." An elderly merchant passing beside him glanced toward Sieghart, apparently wondering why a ten-year-old had just sounded like an exhausted middle-aged man. Sieghart ignored the reaction and continued walking before additional self-reflection could become socially suspicious. Instead, he focused on the stores. Several enchanted weapons immediately caught his interest because their construction looked noticeably different from what Lunar Arc commonly used.

Some possessed visible rune channels running along the blade, while others hid their mechanisms beneath layered metal plates. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Sieghart considered stopping multiple times, but every interesting item created the same problem. Buying something immediately would satisfy curiosity, while learning how people actually manufactured the equipment could eventually allow him to create something considerably better himself. Patience won.

Barely. Mira had promised that this assignment would give him access to basic runic construction methods and specialized tools. Those things might finally allow Mana Rune to become something more useful than an unnecessarily complicated method of lighting his room at night. Sieghart had experimented with runes before, but most attempts remained crude because he lacked the technical foundation behind proper magical engineering.

His spell allowed him to create structures, yet understanding which structures professionals considered reliable was an entirely different matter. That was the reason he had accepted this assignment despite the northern conflict, the disguise, and the risk that someone might recognize similarities between his current work and what he had done during the Firian campaign. He wanted knowledge. That motivation had already caused several problems. It would probably cause more.

Sieghart followed another street until the commercial district became slightly less impressive. Large storefronts gradually gave way to narrower workshops, while signs became older, buildings became more crowded, and the smell of heated metal grew noticeably stronger. According to Mira's directions, his destination should have been somewhere near the end of the street beside a weapon repair shop and across from an alchemist specializing in preservation compounds. Sieghart found the building quickly. He stopped.

The shop looked considerably less impressive than expected. A faded wooden sign hung above the entrance with several letters partially burned away, while one front window contained enough scratches that seeing the merchandise inside required considerable imagination. The walls were discolored by smoke, several roof tiles appeared mismatched, and a metal pipe protruding from the second floor had been repaired so many times that Sieghart could no longer determine which section belonged to the original construction.

He checked Mira's written directions again. The address matched.

"That explains why they need help." Sieghart folded the paper and put it away before studying the storefront more carefully. Despite the questionable appearance, several enchanted items were visible through the damaged window, and faint magical signatures suggested at least some equipment inside was functional. The sign identified the place as a workshop for magical weapons, runic tools, repairs, rentals, enchantment maintenance, and mana restoration.

Apparently, the owner had managed to fit nearly every possible service onto the board except competence. Sieghart approached the entrance. He raised one hand to knock. A muffled explosion came from inside. Sieghart reacted before consciously understanding what had happened, pushing himself backward with reinforced legs while simultaneously raising both arms in front of his face and preparing Mana Shield. The wooden door jumped outward inside its frame but somehow remained attached.

A second later, gray smoke leaked through the gaps around the edges before pouring from a ventilation opening near the roof. Sieghart landed several meters away. He stared at the building. Nobody else on the street screamed. That was concerning. A merchant across the road glanced toward the smoke, shook his head, and continued arranging bottles beneath his awning as though explosions from the workshop had become an ordinary part of local commerce. Sieghart lowered his hands slowly.

"That's worse." The front door suddenly opened. A cloud of smoke rolled through the entrance, followed by a short figure wearing a heavy leather apron, protective goggles, and gloves covered in black residue. The person stumbled outside while coughing hard enough to nearly drop the metal tool clutched in one hand. Another figure emerged behind the first, considerably taller and somehow even more covered in soot.

This one carried a half-melted metal plate that still contained several glowing runes flashing irregularly across its surface.

"Put it down!"

"I am putting it down!"

"You're still holding it!"

"I need somewhere safe!"

"Outside is safe!"

"You're outside!" The taller figure froze. Sieghart watched. The glowing runes flashed again. Both workshop workers immediately threw themselves in opposite directions while the metal plate hit the street with a metallic clang. Sieghart took another step backward. Nothing exploded. Several seconds passed. One of the nearby merchants finally looked toward the plate and shouted from across the road.

"If you blow up my windows again, you're paying this time!" The shorter worker raised one hand without standing.

"It didn't explode!"

"Yet!"

"That still counts!" Sieghart remained completely silent. The taller worker slowly sat up, coughed several times, then noticed Sieghart standing nearby with his travel bag and a remarkably understandable expression of concern.

"You lost?" Sieghart looked toward the smoking workshop. Then toward the unstable magical plate lying in the street. Then toward the two people covered in soot.

"No." That somehow made the situation worse. The shorter figure pushed their goggles upward, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with tangled dark hair and several small burn marks across her cheeks. She looked at Sieghart's bag, then at his clothes, before narrowing her eyes.

"You're the guild kid?" Sieghart considered denying everything. The temptation lasted longer than it should have.

"Yes." The woman stared at him. Sieghart stared back. Behind her, another small burst of sparks escaped through the open doorway. She glanced toward the shop. Then back toward him.

"Good. You're early." Sieghart looked toward the sky. He had arrived exactly when Mira told him to arrive. Apparently, time worked differently inside explosive workshops. The taller man picked himself up and retrieved the damaged metal plate with considerably more caution this time. Sieghart noticed several runes along its surface had collapsed into irregular patterns, which probably explained the explosion better than anything else currently available. That part was interesting.

Unfortunately, interest did not remove the increasingly powerful suspicion that Mira had deliberately omitted several details when describing this assignment. Sieghart tightened his grip around his travel bag. The woman gestured toward the open doorway.

"Come inside." Smoke was still leaving the building. Sieghart did not move.

"Is anything else going to explode?" The woman considered the question. That hesitation answered it.

"Probably not." Sieghart sighed. He had spent the entire journey hoping this job would remain simple. He should have known better. Bellhaven had started with bats. This one had exploded before he even knocked on the door. Sieghart stepped carefully around the unstable runic plate and followed his new employer toward the smoking entrance, already wondering how many hours would pass before he regretted accepting Mira's offer completely. Judging by the beginning, the answer was probably less than one.