As Arin spent the day inside his tent, nursing the aftermath of his overexertion, far from his quiet suffering, another kind of headache was brewing—one that had nothing to do with sore muscles and everything to do with responsibility. While Arin lay still, drifting between sleep and discomfort, Herman sat in his office staring at a problem he had hoped wouldn't land on his desk for at least another year. Unfortunately, hope had never been a reliable strategy.
"So tell me, Rian," Herman said, his voice carrying a restrained irritation as he held up the document in question, "why exactly did they decide to push this onto me?" His gaze was sharp, though the exhaustion behind it dulled its edge slightly. The paper itself looked innocent enough, but the contents were anything but.
Rian, standing calmly across from him, allowed himself a small, wry smile. "I don't have a satisfying answer for that, sir," he admitted. "But if I had to guess, it's because no one else wanted to deal with it. And since you currently hold the most consolidated authority, they decided it technically falls under your jurisdiction. The military is responsible for security, and the police are currently integrated into the military… so it became your problem."
Herman stared at him for a moment, then let out a slow breath. "I really hate how much sense that makes," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "What an absolute mess to dump on us." His tone carried a mix of resignation and irritation, the kind that came from recognizing a problem that couldn't simply be ignored or brute-forced into submission.
The document in his hand was an official inquiry from the European Parliament, and its deceptively simple topic was how law enforcement would function once humanity returned to Earth. Under normal circumstances, this would have been firmly outside Herman's responsibilities. But circumstances were far from normal. By folding the police into the military during the crisis, he had unknowingly ensured that this exact issue would come back to haunt him.
"So," Herman continued, leaning back slightly as if distance might make the problem smaller, "how exactly are we supposed to respond to this? When we get back, at least seventy percent of the population will have seen active service. That means most people will have fought, killed, and learned how to defend themselves. Everyone will be armed in one way or another." He paused, his expression tightening. "That creates more problems than it solves."
Rian nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. With firearms losing their dominant position, crime becomes both easier and more difficult at the same time."
"Right," Herman said immediately, seizing on the point. "We no longer have a universal deterrent. Bows and crossbows don't carry the same psychological weight as guns. And worse, if someone sees an arrow coming, it's actually possible to dodge it."
Rian tilted his head slightly. "On that particular point, you may be underestimating certain individuals, but overall, yes—that is a valid concern."
Herman waved that off. "Fine, exceptions exist. But that's not the core issue. The real problem is that we don't have a reliable replacement. Guns used to enforce order. Now they're borderline useless against anyone with mana." His expression darkened slightly. "Which brings me to something that still irritates me—do we actually have a better explanation for why that is, or are we still stuck with 'just accept it'?"
Rian's smile sharpened slightly as he reached for a folder and handed it over. "We do have a proper explanation now," he said. "Though I've taken the liberty of simplifying it."
Herman accepted the folder, already wary.
"The short version," Rian continued, "is that mana behaves similarly to what the scientists are calling 'black matter.' It interacts with normal matter, but the reverse is not true. In simpler terms, objects without mana cannot meaningfully affect objects or beings that contain mana."
Herman blinked once, then frowned as he processed that. "So… normal matter can't influence mana, but mana can influence normal matter."
"Exactly."
"…That's absurd."
"Yes," Rian agreed calmly. "But it is consistent with observed results."
Herman let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Still makes more sense than 'just accept it,'" he admitted reluctantly. Then, after a brief pause, his eyes lit up slightly. "Wait. If that's the case, then couldn't we just make bullets out of mana-dense materials? That would solve the problem, wouldn't it?"
For a moment, there was genuine hope in his voice—the kind that came from spotting a simple, elegant solution.
Rian's expression, however, didn't change.
"They would not consider that a viable option," he said.
Herman's hope immediately dimmed. "And why not?"
"Cost," Rian replied without hesitation. "We currently have no natural sources of mana-dense metals. Everything would need to be purchased through the system. And at present, every available point is already allocated toward essential knowledge and infrastructure."
Herman's shoulders sagged slightly. "Of course it is."
"And even if we did have access to sufficient materials," Rian continued, "there is another issue. Mana-dense metals degrade over time if not properly processed. The mana seeps out within approximately a month. To prevent that, each piece must be carefully crafted by hand. Mass production is inefficient and wasteful under current conditions."
Herman stared at him in silence.
"So let me get this straight," he said slowly. "We'd be spending enormous amounts of resources to produce ammunition that expires, requires manual crafting, and still wouldn't be available in sufficient quantities."
"Correct."
"…That's worse than I thought."
He leaned back, exhaling heavily. "At that point, we might as well make swords out of the material instead. At least those don't disappear after a month. Supplying cities with a handful of bullets that arrive too late to matter is pointless."
Rian gave a small nod. "That is the current consensus."
Herman dug his fingers into the surface of his desk, the wood creaking slightly under the pressure. "I swear… why am I even dealing with this? This is not my department."
Rian politely looked away, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was holding back amusement. Watching one of the world's most powerful men struggle with bureaucratic nonsense had its moments.
After a few seconds, Herman straightened, forcibly regaining his composure. "Right," he said, as if nothing had happened. "We're not solving this today. So we send it back."
Rian's attention snapped back immediately. "With what justification?"
"With the truth," Herman replied. "Once we return to Earth, the police will be removed from military control. Emergency powers will be lifted, and jurisdiction will revert to the appropriate authorities." A faint, satisfied smile appeared. "Which means this becomes their problem again."
"Understood," Rian said, already taking mental notes.
"But," Herman added, raising a finger, "we don't send it back empty-handed. We include recommendations. Enough to show we've 'addressed' the issue."
"Of course."
"First," Herman began, slipping into a more authoritative tone, "they need to properly train their officers. Not just basic policing—combat readiness. If the average civilian can fight, then the police need to be able to suppress them when necessary."
Rian nodded, writing it down.
"Second, every city should have at least twenty individuals with archer-class capabilities," Herman continued. "Ranged control is essential. They need the ability to neutralize threats without immediately escalating to close combat."
"Reasonable."
"And third…" Herman paused briefly. "They need to re-examine the system shop. With multiple perspectives. Police chiefs, administrators—anyone relevant. We already know certain items and options unlock under specific conditions. If they can find something useful there, it might solve half their problems."
Rian finished noting everything down. "And if they don't?"
Herman immediately grimaced. "Then prisons are going to become a nightmare."
A headache formed almost instantly, and he waved the thought away. "Not my problem," he muttered, almost like a mantra.
Rian wisely chose not to comment.
Instead, Herman shifted topics abruptly. "What about Karl's situation with the points?" he asked, his tone sharpening slightly.
Rian paused for the briefest moment before answering. "Ah. That situation turned out to be… somewhat anticlimactic. We didn't have the funds to repay them, and neither did the other nations. So the matter was quietly set aside. If we don't bring it up, it's likely to remain forgotten."
Herman looked at him flatly. "And how much of that do you expect me to believe?"
Rian smiled politely but said nothing.
Herman exhaled. "You know what? I don't actually care." His expression shifted, a dangerous edge creeping into it. "They ignored my orders. That's what matters."
The room seemed to grow colder.
"Give Karl the names of everyone involved," Herman continued calmly. "We'll handle it. Quietly. Up to the appropriate level."
Rian inclined his head. "Understood."
A faint smile spread across Herman's face—one that carried no warmth whatsoever.
"That should send the right message."
"Right away, sir," Rian replied, already turning to leave.
Even after more than fifty years at Herman's side, he had learned one thing very clearly.
When Herman smiled like that…
It was best not to be in the room.