Ch.362The Road to Karkata Continent (3)

“Ahh… I finally feel like I can live.”

As Berkman rose up, saying he finally felt like he could live, Viktor looked at him questioningly.

“Is it because of the new weapon?”

“Huh? Ah. No, that’s not it. We dwarves always live in the mountains, so we’re not used to sea breeze at all. It’s that… the fishy smell is too strong.”

“I see…”

Viktor’s expression suggested he somewhat understood.

Indeed, for those not raised by the seaside from birth, that pungent aroma called the scent of the sea would be like poison to land-dwellers. Just like how fermented foods might be healthy, but their smell alone gets them banned from decent hotels.

“By the way, how’s that weapon that combines a grenade launcher and a hand mortar coming along?”

“Ah, it fires well enough, but the range and reloading are giving me headaches. Can’t test either of those inside the ship.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

They couldn’t exactly put holes in the ceiling, and it would be ridiculous to deliberately bring sand, soil, and dust into a steel-covered ship interior. The ship’s interior wasn’t an ideal place to test the reliability of weapons—the most crucial aspect of any armament.

Unless, of course, they were testing short-form firearms or daggers that could be freely wielded indoors.

“Can you show it to me?”

“Of course. Hawkman! Bring that thing over!”

“For crying out loud… Do I not have hands or feet of my own…”

At his brother’s call, Hawkman came stomping in with the typical dwarf gait, carrying the new weapon with a scowl on his face.

It consisted of one long pipe and one short pipe attached horizontally, connected by a thick joint, resembling something like a flamethrower in design.

“You hold this short part with both hands and fire it either in an arc or straight. We’re planning to make it compatible with both grenades and mortar shells, but it’s not going smoothly right now. We haven’t decided whether to make it muzzle-loading or breech-loading, nor whether to rifle the barrel.”

“Hmm.”

The design was crude, without even a sight attached. While it might excel in mass production, such a sparse design seemed unlikely to adapt to the ever-changing battlefield.

“Weight?”

“About 12kg?”

“Too heavy for a grenade launcher, but too light for a mortar.”

“I told you. It’s somewhere in between.”

Grenade launchers tended to lack sufficient power, while 60mm mortars, being on the lighter side, were often popular as hand-held mortars—ones that omitted the baseplate and bipod, allowing for rough aiming by hand.

Naturally, developing a weapon that could compromise between the two made sense, but the fact that no such weapon had emerged over thousands of years testified to how difficult it was to create.

“How will you handle the recoil?”

“Since you’re not shouldering it when firing, is there really a need to manage recoil?”

“I guess not… After all, you’re firing bombs, so recoil doesn’t matter much.”

The shot grouping would inevitably scatter, but for an area-effect weapon, some dispersion was acceptable. If extreme precision was needed, one would use a cannon instead.

“Alright. Let me give you precise specifications. Weight under 15kg. Length under 170cm. Single-shot capacity. Use 60mm mortar shells. Muzzle-loading for quick reloading, with sights calibrated for direct fire within 1km. No rifling to ensure faster reloading. Does that seem sufficient, or do you need more conditions?”

“Hmm… No. That should be enough.”

“That sounds doable!”

To overcome this ambiguity, Viktor set clear conditions for them.

These conditions were surprisingly important. Throughout military weapons development history, there were countless failed weapons where developers tried to add too many features without clear goals, resulting in skyrocketing costs, plummeting reliability, nightmarish manufacturing processes, and overly complex operation.

If nothing else, Viktor, who knew much about history from his days as a library rat, didn’t want to repeat such mistakes.

*

Much to the dwarves’ regret, the Sky Warden stopped at the coast and sent down a shuttle with several soldiers, a medical team, and the new weapon.

The coastal environment—humid, sandy, and windy—was perfect for testing the weapon’s reliability.

The soldiers wore thick protective gear to guard against potential explosions, and they set up targets and wind detectors at 100, 300, 500, 700, and 1000 meters.

Following the dwarves’ instructions, they loaded the clean weapon, took position, and fired at the 100-meter target.

Bang!

The soldier’s body shook as the projectile left what could be called either a gun barrel or a mortar tube—the terminology was still unclear. The high-explosive shell successfully hit the target, obliterating it completely.

They proceeded to fire at increasingly distant targets, and it became evident that accuracy diminished significantly with distance. Despite having a sight, the weapon’s awkward design forced the operator into an uncomfortable position, almost hugging the weapon to aim.

This was proven when hitting the 1km target consumed over 30 shells, even accounting for the shooter’s lack of experience.

“Tsk. Direct fire at 1km range is indeed too much to ask.”

Viktor muttered before turning his attention to the soldiers preparing for indirect fire tests.

They embedded the reinforced base into the sand and fired. The mortar shells scattered in various directions until they adjusted their aim based on the wind detector readings, finally hitting the target.

Indirect fire tests continued at 1km, 2km, and 3km, with accuracy plummeting as the range increased, similar to direct fire.

Since the maximum range of a 60mm shell was just over 2km anyway, this wasn’t particularly disappointing. Still, the dwarves seemed upset that even with their supposedly superior craftsmanship compared to humans, they were emptying several boxes of shells just to hit a single target.

Next came the reliability tests: soaking shells in saltwater, dipping the barrel in sand, deliberately striking the chamber, and filling it with saltwater before draining it.

The first few shots fired normally, but cracks appeared in the base after the sixth shot. For the seventh shot, they fired remotely from a distance, and the weapon exploded in a flash, devastating a 30-meter area around it.

Fortunately, there were no casualties, but had someone been firing it directly, several lives would have been lost.

The soldiers collected the tattered remains before boarding the shuttle with the remaining shells, while the dwarves headed down to the lower flight deck without a word.

*

[Lack of stability: Without a baseplate and bipod, stable long-range firing is impossible.]

[Aiming difficulty: Shoulder-firing is impossible, making the sight essentially useless.]

[Strong recoil: Firing 60mm shells causes extreme operator fatigue.]

These were the three main drawbacks of the new weapon.

The dwarves looked dejected, but Viktor considered it quite satisfactory. From a legion commander’s perspective, a weapon that could move with infantry, capable of both direct and indirect fire, and using existing shells was very appealing.

The three weaknesses were less about the weapon itself and more about human frailty in operating it. With an exoskeleton and ballistic calculator for the operator, it could be perfectly usable.

“Well, this is good enough. What should we name the weapon?”

“Hmm… since it’s a cannon carried by infantry, how about ‘infantry cannon’?”

“That name’s already taken by small-caliber cannons. Since it can be carried by hand, wouldn’t ‘hand cannon’ be more appropriate?”

“Hand cannon… That’s a good name. Let’s go with that.”

“Viktor, what improvements would you suggest?”

“First, remove the sight. It’s cumbersome, and forcing oneself to aim through it might cause injuries.”

The dwarf, the sun, and the sage began chatting amicably about the new weapon’s name and potential improvements.

In the distance, Raisha was watching with an expression that said “Is that really so interesting?” But honestly, who could resist the appeal of a hand-held mortar?