"I don't want to waste time on the tedious stuff," Bill said, gesturing to the complex machinery around them.
"You can learn all of that from the manuals and old texts. I'll just talk about the things that aren't written in the books."
Noah nodded and listened humbly.
Although Bill's line of work was undeniably brutal and inhumane, Noah still maintained basic respect toward someone who was teaching him highly classified knowledge.
He and Bill were from completely different worlds, and their moral values were worlds apart as well.
From the Empire's point of view, Bill might genuinely consider himself a loyal, patriotic servant working to ensure the continuation of a thousand-year foundation.
But because the Empire itself had become a rotting danger to its own citizens, Bill's actions amounted to aiding pure evil.
Noah was not some holy savior sent down by the heavens to rescue the suffering masses.
He was just an adventurer from Orario.
With the mindset of an interdimensional "traveler," he used this projection to witness the sights and magic of other worlds.
It was the same with his feelings toward Kurome and the other orphans.
Although he held a friendly, protective attitude toward them, there was only so much he could realistically do.
He didn't have the disposition of a selfless saint.
He was just an ordinary guy trying to survive. Acting recklessly out of hot blood and ignoring the long-term consequences of his actions wasn't his style.
Besides, as painful as it was, Kurome, Gin, and the others had all joined the Empire's assassination unit more or less of their own free will—choosing it over starving in the slums.
Since they had made that brutal choice, enduring some hardship was something they had already resolved themselves to face.
"First of all, humanity is a race with extremely high biological plasticity," Bill began, pacing down the hall.
"Even so, there's nothing particularly special about us by nature. We don't have natural armor or fangs."
Bill pulled a grainy photograph from a file and held it up for Noah to see.
It was a picture of a grotesque, massive monster.
"Without question, the strangest, most terrifying lifeforms in nature are the Danger Beasts," Bill said, tapping the photo.
"To be precise, I mean the Special Class—or Super Class—Danger Beasts. Human alchemy was originally just a tiny, insignificant spark of curiosity. But in order to resist the existential threat posed by these monsters, that spark flared into an inferno, fanned by the desperate need to survive."
Bill used gunpowder as a prime example.
Gunpowder was invented in almost every civilized world, but the core reason for its invention and subsequent evolution varied wildly.
In this world, the general civilization looked incredibly backward—like the Middle Ages—yet the military possessed single-soldier rocket launchers, advanced cannons, and even more outrageous ballistic weapons.
That was the stark difference in technological evolution caused by a hostile environment.
Rather than advancing science for the sake of societal comfort or industrial progress, the people of this world had zero spare energy to think about anything beyond using destructive power just to survive another day against the monsters.
In other words, their "tech tree" had grown in a heavily skewed, bizarre direction.
In this world, what Noah would call scientific technology was referred to as "Alchemy."
The term "science" itself had only appeared within the academic circles over the last hundred years or so.
Although they had figured out how to harness crude steam and electricity, this world had never gone through a widespread Industrial Revolution.
The limits that placed on civilian technological development were difficult for a modern person to imagine.
"In order to fight Danger Beasts, we humans developed all kinds of ballistic weapons and spent massive amounts of manpower, blood, and money to hold the borders," Bill continued. "But during that bloody era, there were also scholars who thought alchemy and gunpowder were unreliable. They chose a different, darker path."
"These people developed a radical biological discipline called Secret Arts. Their most notable trait is that they allow humans to wield supernatural abilities that normally only Danger Beasts possess. There are dozens of kinds of Secret Arts, and whether a subject survives the mutation process depends entirely on raw luck."
"They're basically walking accidents waiting to happen. The interesting part, however, is that once a subject succeeds and survives the mutation, that specific power is genetically inherited by their descendants, exactly like the bloodline of a Danger Beast."
'Inherited?' Noah thought, his eyes widening. 'Genetic mutation, then.'
That was genuinely surprising.
If that was true, then the so-called Secret Arts couldn't be underestimated. If the abilities could be inherited, then that meant their effects on the human body had permanently rewritten the subject's genetic code.
Otherwise, they couldn't possibly be passed down to descendants through normal reproduction.
After hearing Bill's explanation, Noah became even more certain that Danger Beasts really were the unique, foundational cornerstone of this world.
Without Danger Beasts forcing humanity to adapt, human history here wouldn't have differed much from any other ordinary, mundane world.
Whether it was explosive alchemy or genetic Secret Arts, these seemingly "supernatural" powers had all originated from harvesting Danger Beasts.
Even many of the core chemical components in the combat drugs Kurome and the others used were extracted directly from Danger Beast organs.
When Bill said that humans were highly malleable, it was probably because he himself had been heavily influenced by researching those exact genetic mutations.
"As for why my department focuses entirely on modifying the human body instead of manufacturing better cannons or rifles, the reason is simple. No matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we can never produce anything that surpasses an Imperial Arm." Bill's expression carried heavy frustration, but at the same time, he also looked like a scientist who had accepted an undeniable fact.
'Imperial Arms.'
Another unfamiliar term. Still, Bill would explain it next anyway, so Noah simply listened.
A thousand years ago, the Empire had been nothing more than a weak, struggling kingdom fighting for survival. But under the ruthless leadership of its First Emperor, the kingdom annihilated sixteen rival nations and brought an end to the era of endless, bloody conflict known as the Age of the Sixteen Kingdoms.
That was when the unprecedentedly vast Empire truly rose upon the continent.
After establishing the Empire, the First Emperor constantly obsessed over how to make his great nation prosper and rule forever.
When every method and magical scheme he tried failed to grant him the miracle of true immortality, he thought of a different, more practical solution.
A human lifespan was limited. But weapons? Weapons could be passed down forever, taking his place in protecting the Empire for all eternity.
And so, at any cost, he poured in limitless manpower, stripped the national treasury of wealth, mobilized the entire army, and invited the finest alchemists and wielders of Secret Arts from across the globe to cooperate on a single, massive project.
Using legendary Super Class Danger Beasts as raw biological materials, alongside tons of rare, indestructible metals like Orichalcum and large amounts of Secret Arts that have since been lost to history, they created forty-eight irreproducible weapons.
The biological materials harvested from the Super Danger Beasts granted the Imperial Arms terrifying special powers, giving the weapons abilities equal to—or even far beyond—those of the original monsters themselves.
The rare metals formed an indestructible framework, giving the Imperial Arms a physical composition far beyond ordinary steel, ensuring conventional weapons couldn't even scratch them.
The greatest craftsmen of the era, working with godlike skill, perfectly fused the biological materials and the mystical metal together, forging forty-eight weapons of absolute, overwhelming power.
"Now, those specific Danger Beasts themselves have become legendary, mythical creatures. Some species might even be entirely extinct," Bill sighed, tapping his clipboard. "And most of the forging techniques and Secret Arts used back then have long since been lost to time."
A permanent break in technological continuity, huh, Noah thought. No wonder they were called irreproducible weapons.
In that case, the Imperial Arms could truly be called the strongest weapons in this world.
And if the Empire possessed forty-eight of such overpowered weapons, then the reason it had remained completely corrupt and unchallenged for a thousand years became crystal clear.
Absolute violence.
According to the classified illustrated guide Bill handed him, although the forty-eight Imperial Arms had no superior or inferior ranks among themselves, their functions varied wildly.
If used properly, every single one of them was an absurdly deadly weapon capable of slaughtering armies.
Among them were even Imperial Arms powerful enough to rival the destructive yield of modern nuclear weapons.
However, there was a considerable, glaring issue with the total number shown in the guide.
"There only seem to be about twenty weapons listed here?" Noah asked, flipping through the pages.
"Oh, that's because those are the only Imperial Arms whose whereabouts can currently be confirmed by the military," Bill replied casually.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that during a massive civil upheaval in the Empire a few hundred years ago, half of the forty-eight Imperial Arms stored in the royal vaults were lost or stolen!"
Noah's eyelids lifted slightly.
'Upheaval? Honestly, that was hard to imagine.'
The Empire possessed these terrifying, army-destroying Imperial Arms, and yet it still suffered such a loss?
The forty-eight Imperial Arms were irreplaceable national treasures—the true pillars of the state—so losing more than half of them had unquestionably damaged the Empire's foundations forever.
'Wait.' Noah looked again at the dense explanations in the guide, and the answer to his confusion was right there in the fine print.
Imperial Arms were not like ordinary swords or guns that just anyone could pick up and use.
If the user's biological or spiritual wavelength did not perfectly match that of the Imperial Arm, then not only would the weapon fail to function, it would fiercely reject them, harming or even killing the user with a violent backlash.
And even if the wavelength did match, the Imperial Arms imposed severe, lethal demands on their wielders.
First, because the raw power output of the Imperial Arms was too great, controlling them consumed tremendous mental and physical stamina.
For that reason, no matter how strong a person was, it was biologically impossible for a human to use two Imperial Arms at the same time.
The strain would rip them apart.
Then there were certain, specialized Imperial Arms—like armor types—that placed massive demands on the user's physical stats.
If the host body was not sturdy enough to handle the strain, then instead of serving as armor that protected the user, the Imperial Arm would become an instrument of torture that crushed and tore the user apart from the inside.
The Empire might legally possess forty-eight Imperial Arms, but it did not have enough uniquely suited warriors to wield all of them at once.
In that case, an unmatched Imperial Arm sitting in a vault was ultimately just a slightly unusual, heavy object.
If a rebel army stormed the vault, stealing a dormant weapon was nothing surprising.
'Using Danger Beasts as forging materials, huh...'
'Interesting. Very interesting!'
The blacksmith's blood in Noah's veins began to boil with excitement.
...
Work and study continued side by side over the next few weeks.
Then one day, Bill abruptly informed him that he would be taking Class A—the seven elite orphans—through a critical field test.
When Noah learned what the "test" actually was, he was surprised at first, but quickly accepted the grim reality of his job.
The execution ground.
That was the site of today's exam.
The assassination unit, into which so much money and rare drugs had been poured, was about to stain its hands with real blood for the very first time today.
Noah led the seven members of Class A into the dusty, blood-stained execution ground and handed over the real, sharpened weapons that Kurome and the others had chosen in advance.
Kurome had chosen a slender, lightweight katana.
Womyn had chosen a well-balanced, double-edged straight sword.
Gin had chosen a massive, heavy saber that only looked natural when she rested the thick blade on her shoulder.
But as the kids gripped those lethal weapons and walked toward the line of condemned prisoners tied to wooden posts before them, their steps grew slower and slower, their faces turning pale.
Seeing them hesitate, Bill shouted coldly from the sidelines, "Move! Get into position immediately!"
The group flinched, steeled themselves, gritted their teeth, and lined up in a neat row.
In front of each of them knelt a bound prisoner.
These were all condemned criminals.
From the moment they had been captured by the city guard, it had already been decided that this courtyard would be the end of their lives.
Ordinarily, criminals like these would have been swiftly executed by a professional headsman.
But for the sake of psychologically training assassination unit personnel, living, breathing targets like them were indispensable.
Among the prisoners, some wore expressions of pure despair and terror, sobbing openly.
Others remained resolute and upright, glaring at the guards.
Some, despite being seconds away from death, even looked at Kurome—and even at Noah—with deep pity in their eyes.
In their view, these heavily armed children were all pitiful victims, brainwashed tools broken by the Empire.
"Recall the vital points of the human body that you memorized in your anatomy lessons!" Bill shouted, issuing his harsh warning.
"Even if this is your first time taking a life, my requirement for all of you is a clean, instant kill. If any one of you fails to kill your target in a single blow, you will be thrown in the isolation cells and punished!"
When Noah saw Bill signal to him, he understood that this was his cue to officially start the test.
Keeping his voice steady, Noah gave Class A the order to begin.
Kurome's small hand trembled violently around the hilt of her katana.
She lowered her head, trying desperately not to look at the kneeling prisoner's terrified face, searching for the anatomical vital points on his neck instead.
But every time she raised the blade to strike, her muscles locked up, and she hesitated.
Because targeting those specific points all carried the high possibility of missing if her hand shook. It was very possible that she would fail to kill him in one clean blow.
She didn't want to be thrown in the punishment cell.
But neither could she bear to murder someone staring at her with that desperate, pleading gaze.
'Ugh—What should I do?'
'Big Sister!'
"Do it! Just do it!" Gin screamed from down the line, trying to hype herself up. "Treat the person in front of you as your greatest enemy! Tell yourself it's because of him that you were separated from your sister! Because of him, your father died! Because of her—!"
'Because of... her?' Kurome thought, her eyes widening.
'Yes, that's right. It's all this guy's fault!'
'I have to do it! I have to swing! I have to kill this person!'
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
Kurome roared, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, and slashed out with her blade as hard as she could.
In the next instant, a geyser of hot blood sprayed high into the air.
A severed head flew upward, spinning wildly as it scattered blood across the dusty courtyard.
The head hit the dirt, rolling a few feet away, its face still frozen in a stunned expression.
Kurome fell to her knees, panting heavily, her katana dripping red.
Bill nodded, extremely satisfied with the clean decapitation.
Only Noah let out a quiet sigh.
He had seen it clearly with his enhanced vision—Kurome had swung that blade with her eyes completely closed.
The fact that the wild swing resulted in a clean, instant kill was pure, blind luck.
And yet, after seeing Kurome "decisively" execute her prisoner with their own eyes, the other terrified orphans immediately tightened their grips and began copying her, raising their weapons high.
They personally swung the weapons in their hands and sent the prisoners down to hell.
After doing it, all of them had the same reaction.
They covered their mouths and threw up.
"Urgh!"
It was their first time killing someone.
Whether visually or in terms of the sensation in their hands, it made them feel unbearably nauseous.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!"
Because his mouth had been gagged, the only prisoner still alive could only struggle and whimper as Remus kept apologizing while repeatedly stabbing him with her dagger.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I missed again!"
The death-row prisoner watched as every one of his companions was beheaded with a single slash.
At first, he had been terrified, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected that the adorable girl before him would turn out to be the most vicious one among them.
She kept insisting that she had missed.
Missed?
How was that possible?
At this distance, there was no way she could miss!
This girl was deliberately torturing him, enjoying the way he writhed in pain.
Even Bill was no longer sure what to think.
'This child…' He had not noticed it before, but did she actually have such severe violent tendencies?
Every stab avoided a vital point.
That kind of skill was something even a first-rate assassin would find difficult to accomplish.
Unfortunately, this was Remus.
All of her test results had been thoroughly average.
"That's enough, Remus. Finish him," Bill said, growing somewhat impatient.
Mainly because it was getting annoying.
"I-I—ahhh!"
Remus was still apologizing frantically to the death-row prisoner when, for some reason, the dagger in her hand pierced straight into the man's chest.
Tears streamed from the man's eyes.
That's right.
They were tears of gratitude, not pain.
After being stabbed more than forty times, he could finally die.
After seeing the target die, Remus was the only one who did not vomit on the spot.
She even turned to Noah happily and said, "That's great! I did it!"
Noah gave a wry smile and shook his head, then pointed toward Bill, whose face was filled with anger.
They had agreed that anyone who failed to kill with one strike would be punished.
And what had she done?
She had stabbed him more than forty times!
-----
Fair warning tho, Noah will not be siding with anyone, he will side with whoever bring him benefits and he will focus on researching rn.