In the early afternoon, arrows rained down upon the castle walls like a maddened storm. Countless sounds tore through the air. The heavy twang of thick bowstrings bending. Hundreds, thousands of them overlapping, sounding almost like a piercing scream. "[scared]Dammit, here they come again!" The voice of Kyle, a young soldier holding a shield beside him, trembled. "Raise your shields! Don't give them an opening!" The top of the wall was already hell. Arrows jutted from the stone floor, making it look like some bizarre garden. Shattered stone fragments lay scattered, and the smell of blood mixed with the wind. The besieging army's arrows were particularly relentless today. It was less about aiming and more about sheer volume, trying to riddle every single person on the wall with holes. "You've gotta be kidding me," Leon ducked behind a nearby piece of lumber, breathing heavily. An arrow slammed into the stone right next to him. A hard *thwack* sounded, and pulverized stone grazed his cheek. It hurt. He wiped it with his hand, and a tiny bit of blood stained his fingertip. Just a scratch. But his fingers trembled ever so slightly. In his past life, he'd never been exposed to a rain of arrows like this. He'd searched for enemy snipers on the battlefield, but he'd never imagined thousands of arrows blotting out the sky. "Inversion." He chanted the spell quietly. A hazy magical light gathered in his palm, then vanished immediately. —In that instant, one of the arrows flying towards him subtly, ever so slightly, changed its trajectory. Just a tiny bit. Truly, only about a finger's width. Even so, the arrow grazed past Leon's ear and pierced the lumber behind him. If he hadn't used Inversion, it might have hit his right shoulder. "[laughing]Heh heh, well, somehow..." He laughed lightly. He was trying to calm himself down. But the eyes of Kyle next to him weren't laughing at all. "Is that really all you've got?" Kyle glanced at Leon while gripping his spear. He was still young—probably around the same age as himself. But his face was already that of a seasoned warrior. "Y-yeah... well, my magic's just this much," "I heard you're the second son of the Margrave," Kyle's voice dropped a little lower. "I heard your big brother, Lord Allen, burned a ladder squad to ashes with his Flame Dragon magic. Seems he was doing great work on the other wall today too." —Ah, here we go again. A thick, sludgy feeling spread in his heart. "And yet, you can't even take down an enemy? What the hell are you doing, second son?" His voice was low, but it was meant to be heard. A few young soldiers nearby glanced at Leon and quickly averted their eyes. "[cold]Useless." That last word cut right to the bone. Leon couldn't say anything. Because it was true. If all he could do was deflect arrows slightly with Inversion, he'd be better off climbing down the wall and swinging a sword. But that was impossible with this body. His swordsmanship was hopeless, and his stamina was below average. *(Damn it.)* He clenched his teeth. *(I know that, alright.)* Even so, he couldn't bring himself to leave this wall. —If only I had a gun here. His partner from his past life surfaced in his mind. The M1903 Springfield. Pull the bolt, look through the sights, and with a single finger, take down an enemy commander eight hundred meters away. Even without using Inversion, he could change the course of a battle with his sniping alone. But it doesn't exist. Not yet, in this world. "[whispers]...Dammit." The moment he muttered that, —*Pheeeew!* A high-pitched whistle echoed across the wall. "Enemy retreating! All hands, hold your positions!" The rain of arrows gradually weakened. In the distance, he could faintly see the dark shadows of the Andavari army returning to their camp. Today's attack seemed to be over, for now. Leon leaned his back against the wall and slid down to sit. His breathing was ragged. His hands on his knees were still trembling. *(Useless, huh.)* Kyle's words repeated in his head. *(Well, yeah. All I can do is deflect arrows a little. I can't protect anyone, I can't defeat anyone.)* A dull ache throbbed deep in his chest. But he was already used to that pain. —My brother is amazing. Compared to him, I'm... "...Haaah." A sigh escaped him naturally. At the foot of the wall, the wounded were being carried in one after another. Soldiers wrapped in bandages. A man bleeding from his shoulder. A young man with an arrow through his leg, walking while supported by his comrades. Groans, tearful voices, and the sound of gritted teeth mingled chaotically. Amidst it all, Waldberg Lumia was running around. Her long, pale purple hair swayed gently with every movement. Her clear, silvery eyes held a serious light each time she checked on a wounded person. Her small elven ears trembled slightly with tension. "[gentle]Are you alright? I'll heal you right away." She knelt down and held her hand over a wounded man's shoulder. A pale, light-blue light seeped from her palm, and the wound slowly closed. "[gentle]...Thank you, Lumia." The soldier smiled weakly. Lumia shook her head. "[gentle]Does it still hurt? Do you need some water?" Her voice was gentle. Even though she was tired, she didn't let it show on her face at all. She had been using healing magic continuously for hours. She'd rushed out of the castle's infirmary, prioritizing those she could treat with magic, and when bandages ran out, she'd torn the hem of her own clothes to use as substitutes. Suddenly, a soldier spoke to her. "[serious]Hey, miss, are you an acquaintance of the young master?" "Young master?" "The second son of the Ferden family. Just now, an arrow came flying at me on the wall, but his magic deflected it a bit. Thanks to that, I was saved." Lumia's eyes lit up slightly. "[gentle]Leon did...?" "Yeah. Well, something like that won't be much of a glorious deed. But, I was saved." The soldier laughed, and Lumia smiled in return. "[gentle]Thank you for telling me." She stood up. Desperately hiding her unsteady legs, she started walking towards the wall. When she found Leon coming down from the wall, Lumia let out a sigh of relief. He was staring blankly up at the sky. A single red streak in his black hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His deep brown eyes looked terribly tired, and there was no strength in his shoulders. "[gentle]Leon." When she called out, Leon straightened his back a little. "[surprised]Hm? Oh, Lumia. What's up, with your clothes all tattered like that?" He said it half-laughing, but his voice lacked energy. Lumia stopped and looked straight into Leon's eyes. "[gentle]Just now, someone was saved thanks to your magic." "...Huh?" "An arrow deflected slightly, and missed what would have been a hit to the shoulder. It's thanks to you." Lumia smiled. But she had dark circles under her eyes from fatigue, and her complexion was pale. Despite that, she smiled as if she was truly happy from the bottom of her heart. For a moment, Leon couldn't say anything. *(Saved?)* *(With my crappy Inversion magic?)* "[laughing]Heh, heh heh... Well, that's good." Embarrassed, he deliberately answered lightly. But Lumia kept her gaze fixed on Leon. "[gentle]Leon, you are properly protecting someone." It was a quiet voice. "[gentle]I know you're always thinking you wish you could do more, but I know you're doing your very best with what you can do right now." Something sizzled deep in Leon's chest. *(Ah, damn it.)* *(You always do that.)* "[whispers]...If only I could do more." Before he knew it, those words had left his mouth. It was a serious voice, surprising even himself. Lumia smiled softly once more. "[gentle]Yeah, I'm sure you will." Saying just that, she ran off towards the wounded again. Leon stood rooted to the spot for a while. *(If only I could do more.)* His own words from just now echoed endlessly in his head. —Do I really think that? —Seriously, that I can do more? The answer was clearer than he'd ever imagined. —I can. Definitely. In the evening, as he passed by the tavern "The Slanted Moon," he heard soldiers' voices leaking from inside. "[excited]Did you hear!? Lord Allen apparently held off a ladder squad all by himself again today!" "[surprised]That Flame Dragon magic is in a league of its own, huh. The heir of the Ferden family really is different." "[laughing]With Lord Allen here, we're definitely gonna win this war!" Leon stopped in his tracks. Beyond the tavern's heavy wooden door, his brother's name was brought up repeatedly amidst laughter. —As expected of Lord Allen. —Worthy of being the next head of the family. —He's nothing like his younger brother! That last line stabbed into his ears. *(I know.)* It felt like his chest was being filled with pitch-black mud. *(I'm not strong like my brother, I can't use fire, and Inversion is a shitty magic—)* —Useless. Kyle's voice resurfaced. —Second son. —You can't do anything. Leon clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm, a dull, throbbing pain. *(But.)* *(There has to be something only I can do.)* *(The knowledge from my past life—this is one thing I won't lose to anyone in.)* "[whispers]...I've just gotta do it." His soliloquy faded into the night wind. By the time he returned to his room, the night was already deep. Making sure no one noticed, he lit a lamp. The small light dimly illuminated only a corner of the room. He spread a piece of parchment on his desk. He picked up a quill pen. *(Remember.)* *(All of my memories from my past life.)* Leon closed his eyes. —M1903 Springfield. Overall length about 110 centimeters, barrel length 61 centimeters, caliber .30-06. Bolt-action. Five rounds in an internal box magazine. A perfect blueprint surfaced in his mind. The blued steel, the wooden stock, the fine gradations of the sights, the feel of the bolt's play—he remembered it all. He opened his eyes. He ran the pen. The length of the barrel, the shape of the chamber, the structure of the bolt, the small parts of the receiver. One by one, he wrote them down without forgetting. Drawing lines, adding dimensions, annotating. He was reproducing the partner he had disassembled and maintained hundreds of times in his past life, this time as a blueprint. —Bullets. Brass casings. Lead bullets. And— "...Gunpowder." His hand stopped. The sound of his heartbeat was annoyingly loud. *(There's no gunpowder.)* It was obvious. The concept of gunpowder itself didn't exist in this world. He didn't even know if saltpeter or sulfur existed. The reason no one carried a single gun despite a hundred-year war was exactly that. "[whispers]Why didn't I realize that... Am I an idiot?" The ammunition section of the blueprint he'd drawn on the parchment looked terribly blank. Without gunpowder, the bullet won't fly. Without gunpowder, this gun is just a rod of iron. "[angry]Dammit!" He slammed his fist on the desk. A heavy *thud* sounded, and the lamp's flame flickered unsteadily. *(Another method—something, a substitute—)* He thought for hours. Push the bullet out with magic power? Cause an explosion with fire magic? But how could he incorporate that into the barrel? A material that releases magic power all at once... magic steel? If it's magic steel mined from the mountains, it has the property of conducting magic power. But how could he make it release "instantaneously"? He couldn't find an answer. The night deepened, and even as dawn approached, only the initial blueprint remained on the parchment. "[whispers]...Not yet." Saying just that, Leon put down his pen. *(I will absolutely never give up.)* *(Even if there's no gunpowder in this world, I'll risk my life to figure out another way.)* —Lumia's face suddenly floated into his mind. *'Someone was saved thanks to you.'* *'I know you're always