"Alright, if Mr. Smith's gonna be this generous, I'm not holding back."
Darien dropped the formal act—he was all in. In a world where steel rules, these weapons were gold.
The box held a dozen or more blades, all lined up like loyal soldiers. Simple, ornate, long, short, knives, swords—even some Western-style knight swords.
Perfect for his guards.
He tried a couple swings, then stopped.
Too sharp. One slip and he'd be in trouble.
"Mr. Smith," Darien asked, "can these machines do more than swords? Armor, maybe?"
If so, his knights would be untouchable—iron-shredding swords and near-impervious armor.
"Armor? Sure thing. We've got antique molds ready. Use light materials, it's just costume stuff. Go heavy, and it's real battlefield armor. But it's pricey and nobody buys it…"
"Shields, spears, bows and arrows? All doable," Sigmund added.
Darian's eyes lit up—this was basically a cold-weapon arsenal.
"What about ready-made armor? Hard stuff, battlefield-ready?"
"No sets lying around, but we can make some. Got alloy scraps. Titanium's ideal—light and strong—but barely enough. Steel works too, a 3mm plate stops almost anything. Heavy, though. Regular folks wouldn't move an inch in it."
"Alright, make me two sets first. I'll take a look. Oh, and throw in some spears and shields too," Darien said.
"No problem. Can have them done by nightfall, but…"
"But?"
"If you're in a rush, I can only make it pretty basic—sacrificing looks to get it done quicker."
"That's fine. Function over style—that's what matters most."
Sigmund shook his head, thinking, what's this kid on?
Still, he didn't argue. He called over a few guys, machines starting up with a roar.
Meanwhile, the inspectors finished checking the factory. After the lawyer gave the green light, Darien signed the papers. From today on, this workshop was his.
"Thanks, kid. Honestly, without you, this place might've gone under. Don't know how long I could've kept it going," Sigmund said, genuinely grateful.
"No need to thank me, Mr. Smith. I just bought the place… problem is, I have no clue how to run it myself."
"Don't sweat it, kid. I'll keep it running this month. After that, you learn the ropes, and it's all yours—or you hire someone to take over."
"Sounds perfect, Mr. Smith!" Darien said, relief washing over him.
There was no way he could manage this place himself—no clue, no time. If Sigmund was willing to stick around for now, it was a huge weight off his shoulders. If not, well, he could always offer better pay to someone else.
Darien bought the factory for a simple reason: to ship gear to the other world.
That afternoon, he grabbed dinner at the workshop. Not many workers around, but the food was solid—Sigmund had a chef who switched things up every day. The guy clearly cared about his crew.
By nightfall, the armor was ready—two sets. Not fancy, but Darien didn't care. Both were heavy plate armor. One plain steel, dull and simple; the other stainless, lighter, shinier, still practical.
Each set was semi-finished. Needed belts, padding, liners—stuff Darien would handle once they were in the other world.
The weapons came with matching swords, spearheads, and shields. The shield was small, thick, and heavy—more than enough to crush a normal swing.
"Mr. Smith, I really appreciate all the trouble you went to making this," Darien said, bowing slightly.
Sigmund clapped him on the shoulder. "Forget it, kid. My pleasure."
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🔍 Did you know?
- Modern advances in metallurgy, like alloy steels and titanium, have made armor and weapons stronger, lighter, and more durable—revolutionizing the way soldiers and warriors throughout history have been equipped.
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