Chapter 83: Denise’s Fireball Spell!

Old Pete’s lines were stolen, and he immediately snapped in embarrassment, “I did a lot too!”

Just now, he’d been chased by an orc warrior, running around the altar ruins, circling the pillars—he had at least managed to draw away part of the enemy’s attention.

Of the fifteen orc infantry, six were taken out from a distance at the start; Leo cut down two, Dannis burned one to death, shot another, and Fischer and Lynch together felled three.

The orc infantry who had been hacking after Old Pete for so long, along with his last remaining companion, ran off as soon as the retreat horn sounded.

As for the warg riders, locked in battle with Harkins and Barrett, the addition of the wargs made them even stronger, keeping the two men constantly on the defensive.

So, after the orcs withdrew, no one considered pursuing them; instead, they all exclaimed at their narrow escape.

The brief and intense skirmish had left everyone utterly exhausted, and none of them could have withstood another heavy blow from a warg knight.

Leo took Dannis’s staff and examined it carefully.

This gentleman’s cane, crafted in an English style, was made entirely of metal and quite heavy, with an arc-shaped handle inlaid with a fire-elemental magic crystal.

He had assumed it was just an ornate hiking stick, perfectly complementing Dannis’s exquisite attire.

He hadn’t expected it to be a mage’s staff.

The fire crystal set at the top clearly enhanced Dannis’s fire magic, and every fireball she cast had been conjured and launched from this very staff.

Thinking it was only a magic staff, Leo hadn’t imagined it was actually a firearm.

At the tip of the staff, the dark mouth of a barrel was exposed—the entire cane was, in fact, a hollow gun barrel.

And it packed tremendous power, akin to a modern shotgun.

The orc who’d been shot dead bore a palm-sized bloody hole in his chest. That wasn’t the work of a single projectile, but the carnage caused by a dozen large steel pellets fired all at once.

Dannis smiled as she explained, “This is an alchemical firearm crafted by the renowned master Freeman. It was given to my mentor, and is an improved version of the latest dwarven musket. Since it’s powered by magic, it doesn’t need a trigger.”

“When my mentor learned I’d be traveling far, she passed it on to me for protection!”

Dannis grinned mischievously. “Since it needs magic to fire, isn’t it just another form of Fireball spell? That’s why I call it Dannis’s Fireball!”

As she spoke, she unscrewed the curved handle, revealing the chamber within, and inserted a cylindrical shell.

It was a shotgun, pure and simple.

With a single-shot shotgun like this, plus her skills as a low-level mage, Dannis really wasn’t much of a burden to the Firefly Adventurers as they roamed the wilds.

Leo could scarcely keep from drooling. The technological level of the Orlantis Empire was at best medieval, yet he and his villagers were still struggling in a backwater stuck in the classical age.

Meanwhile, the imperial capital had already entered the Renaissance.

The gulf in civilization between these places must be a thousand years wide!

Looking at such a slender alloy barrel, you could search all the Northlands and not find even a handful of craftsmen capable of making it.

Even if you handed the blueprints to the smiths of Isenpol and had them try to reproduce a similar firearm, the barrel would have to be at least a centimeter thick just to avoid bursting.

More than this alchemical firearm powered by magic, Leo was fascinated by dwarven muskets. He couldn’t help but ask, “Are dwarven muskets really this powerful?”

Dannis shook her head. “I don’t really know. I haven’t seen many firearms, and most of those were ancient relics displayed in the imperial museum—none of them very powerful, not even as effective as bows and arrows.”

“Since the western lands fell into chaos, dwarves from the west rarely come to the capital for trade. Only in the southern Free Isles does one occasionally encounter dwarven craftsmen.”

Leo nodded in disappointment—his dream of dominating with ranged firepower was dashed once again.

At that moment, he heard that grand, cold voice in his mind once more.

“You have aided the Thunder Clan and successfully repelled the orcs.”

“You have completed your novice quest and obtained access to the Midgard.”

Leo asked silently, “Access to Midgard? Where is Midgard?”

He wasn’t particularly fond of this system that had suddenly appeared.

The rewards were so meager! There wasn’t even a novice gift pack!

He wondered if there was some kind of Eureka, something to cut his nuclear fusion research time in half.

If he had to choose between this wretched system and old Grandpa Bobak, he’d pick Master Bobak every time.

Thinking of this, Leo both asked aloud and shouted inwardly, “Master Bobak, are you there?”

But there was no response.

As he pondered, lines of data appeared in his vision.

Points of light suddenly dotted the ground before him.

Auto-pathfinding activated!

Mini-map activated!

Quest guidance activated!

Health bar activated!

As one interface and marker after another popped up into his field of vision, Leo was dumbfounded.

His once utterly realistic life as a transmigrant had suddenly turned into a game!

Dannis noticed his expression shifting and asked with concern, “Leo, are you alright?”

“It’s nothing, I think I’ve... discovered Midgard.”

“What?” Dannis exclaimed, looking up and around, searching everywhere.

They were situated midway along a vast canyon; beyond lay the endless Wolfbane Plains, and further in was the sheer wall of the grand barrier.

The towering cliffs stretched northward as far as the eye could see. On clear days, one could glimpse the snowy summits above.

To the south, far in the distance, was the mighty Anzeno River falls.

The waterfall was so vast and tall, it didn’t seem all that far away.

But by sight alone, there didn’t appear to be any city ruins.

“Follow me!” Leo, unable to explain, simply led the way.

On the far side of the Storm Altar, a cliffside path wound toward the end of the canyon.

The deeper into the canyon they went, the narrower it became, and the river coursing through it grew swifter.

The further they walked, the more anxious Dannis grew. She worried aloud, “Where have all the bearfolk guards gone? Are they just letting us stroll in?”

The bearfolk guards were formidable, and the adventurers were nothing like the rugged warg knights—their little band of glass-cannoned novices would be wiped out by a single chain lightning spell.

Leo replied offhandedly, “Maybe they’re hiding, wounded.”

Dannis pressed, “How did you find Midgard’s location, Leo? I didn’t see a single clue!”

Unable to explain, Leo clutched his head and cried, “Ah, my head hurts, I must be growing a brain!”

That morning, the altar’s sword intent had left his mind a muddle and his face pale, as if he hadn’t recovered from his injuries.

And during the fight with the orcs, he’d wielded that drunken double-handed sword style, holding off two at once without faltering—a marvel in itself.

Perhaps the soul of a beastfolk sword saint had possessed him!

No one dared ask further.

They walked nearly seven or eight miles along the path before descending into the canyon, arriving at the riverbank.

The scenery here was breathtaking—clear water pools, blue tinged with green, the sky a deep azure, mountains flanking both sides. Leo felt as though he’d stepped into a painting.

The trail of glowing points led all the way beneath the waterfall ahead.