Chapter Thirty-Four: The Winster Typewriter

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“Bang—”

“Bang—”

“Bang—”

“Bang—”

…

The shots kept striking the target in rapid succession. It was not until eighteen rounds had hit that the firing finally stopped.

It was an onslaught like a sudden storm.

Veyron had been astonished at first, but by the end he was utterly intoxicated by what he was seeing. What kind of gun was this?

It could actually fire like this.

It was nothing short of a genius design.

He could have shouted those words aloud with complete conviction.

Yet at that moment, he merely stood where he was, gazing in a daze at the bullet holes and breathing in the lingering scent of gunpowder.

Even the fading clatter of the spent casings striking the floor sounded beautiful.

What a fine gun.

Earlier, Veyron had not understood why the magazine had been made so large, holding a full thirty rounds. It had seemed unnecessarily cumbersome.

Now he understood. This gun could unleash a continuous barrage like a violent storm.

He could already imagine how helpless his enemies would be beneath its suppressive fire.

Ethan, however, was still dissatisfied. The gun had jammed, preventing him from emptying all thirty rounds in a single burst.

It might have been a problem with the workmanship, or perhaps a flaw in the design. For the moment, he could not tell.

But he had just thought of one possible improvement: the magazine could still be redesigned. He had overlooked something in the original blueprint. In his previous life, submachine guns of this type often used a belt-fed drum magazine, which could increase the ammunition capacity even further—to fifty, or even a hundred rounds. The rate of jamming would probably decrease as well.

After lowering the gun, Ethan felt heat in his palm. More importantly, he sensed a warmth throughout his entire body—and even within the True God’s Name.

The heat had begun the instant he fired the weapon. At the time, he had assumed it was merely an illusion. Now, it seemed that was not the case.

“My lord, this gun is truly extraordinary…”

Veyron could finally speak again. He stepped forward and said, “It’s astonishing.”

“There are still many shortcomings. I’ll draw up an improved blueprint later and continue making test models.” Ethan handed the gun back to Veyron.

Veyron thought it was already perfect, but since his lord had said that, there had to be a reason.

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“My lord, I think that after the improvements, this gun could absolutely be mass-produced. If we possessed weapons like this, we would have nothing to fear from anyone.”

“Of course it needs to be mass-produced. If you have the opportunity, bring the craftsmen you know to meet me. I need enough workers.”

Ethan was already considering where the factory should be built once production began. The art factory seemed like a good choice; there was still quite a bit of space there.

“By the way, my lord, you should give this gun a name. It is a magnificent creation. It will certainly go down in history.”

Veyron was deeply excited.

He was a man who loved firearms, and there were only a handful of things in this world capable of stirring him so profoundly.

“Let’s call it… the Winchester Typewriter.” Ethan thought for a moment, then suddenly revealed a faintly mischievous smile.

“The Winchester Typewriter. An excellent name—very fitting.” Veyron recalled the rattling sound Ethan’s rapid fire had made, like the clacking of a typewriter.

It was also the moment Ethan spoke the name that he suddenly felt the True God’s Name tremble even more violently. He even experienced the same slight intoxication he had felt when he killed Joan.

Unable to bear it, he pressed a hand to his forehead.

Anya noticed Ethan’s strange condition at once. She hurried over to support him and asked, “My lord, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. Take me home.”

Veyron quickly came over as well to help support Ethan, and together they escorted him into the carriage.

On the journey, the intoxicated sensation grew stronger. Reclining against the carriage seat, Ethan drifted in and out of consciousness, as though he had once again sunk into the Deep Sea.

He saw the True God’s Name.

Like a branch putting forth new shoots, something new began to grow from its deep-black body. It extended downward like a creeping vine, writhing until it finally outlined a new line of script.

It was just as obscure and intricate as the others, impossible to decipher. Yet Ethan naturally understood its meaning.

The Master of Firearms and Ammunition.

Once the characters had taken shape, they ceased their writhing and turned a deep iron-gray, the color of firearms and bullets.

Ethan woke fully in an instant.

The night was still sweeping past outside the window. They had not yet reached the estate.

He drew a deep breath and summoned the True God’s Name.

Sure enough, beneath the deep purple inscription reading “Progenitor and Protector of Violence” was a vine-like connection, followed by a new line of iron-gray text:

“The Master of Firearms and Ammunition.”

What… was happening?

Was it because he had designed that submachine gun, successfully built a working model, and then given it a name that he had obtained a new True Name?

Or was this not a new True Name at all, but merely a subordinate authority beneath his “Progenitor and Protector of Violence”?

After all, from the angle he could perceive, “Progenitor and Protector of Violence” still occupied the greatest space. “The Master of Firearms and Ammunition” existed only as a small subsidiary branch, connected like a tendril.

Nevertheless, the change had already occurred.

Ethan could sense the presence of firearms on his own person. He could also sense the firearm Anya carried, and even knew that it was fully loaded.

“Anya, do you feel anything?”

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As a subordinate True Name bearer of his True God’s Name, Anya should have been able to sense the change now that the main body had transformed.

“Feel what?” Anya asked, puzzled. But a moment later, she said, “It seems… my marksmanship has improved. I don’t know why…”

That was it.

This was the change that had been transmitted to her.

“We’ll talk after we get home.”

The other changes would require further experiments before he could understand them.

The Klaus warhorse carriage raced along at full speed and soon arrived at the Boretta Estate.

Ethan and Anya went down into the estate’s underground level.

Like Veyron’s tavern, the Boretta Estate also had an underground shooting range. It simply contained fewer guns than Veyron’s.

Ethan stood before the target, contemplating the new authority he had acquired. He did not draw a weapon himself. Instead, he had Anya take out hers.

“Fire. Focus completely.”

“Yes.”

Anya held her breath, concentrated, and pulled the trigger.

With a bang, she failed to hit the target. She had actually missed entirely.

The result startled Anya herself.

She could not help glancing at the gun in her hand.

“Don’t worry. It isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” At the instant Anya had fired, Ethan had issued an order: this shot of Anya’s would miss the target.

And the shot had indeed missed.

Anya was still a True Name bearer, and the strength of this newly acquired authority was far greater than Ethan had imagined.

“Fire again. One more time.”

Ethan had thought of another experiment and asked Anya to try again.

Although her miss had affected her confidence somewhat, Anya still fired the second shot without hesitation.

After all, it was her lord’s command.

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