Secondly, he had come over with the Lord of Suffering, and this youngster had discovered a new spell formation for emergency treatment of the wounded, which could potentially rescue severely injured soldiers whose hearts had stopped beating from the grasp of death itself. Moreover, he had already succeeded in several cases yesterday, and the Divine Envoy had confirmed that he would not support the Chief Commissioner’s actions—his duty was, after the investigation concluded, to ensure this child returned safely to Carterburg.
Third, although the Chief Commissioner was from the Central Administrative Province, the Seventeenth Guard Infantry Division also had new recruits from the Carterburg region. Some people recognized the boy; they said he was very close to His Highness Faye of the Mowish royal family—in the eyes of the Chief Commissioner, being close, and not opposed, basically meant that this child had at least the prospects of a prince to back him. He would be out of his mind to have him join his Seventeenth Guard Infantry Division as a conscript, and forcefully drafting the child would earn him a family’s enmity...which would be deadly.
Therefore, the Chief Commissioner could only settle for the next best thing—I don’t want your person, but could you provide a training manual?
The Chief Commissioner knew that to ask for this was extremely impolite—every sharpshooter’s training method was a closely guarded family secret. It was not like those Transcendent sequences, which required a person to have special talent and various materials. A good sharpshooter training manual could turn an ordinary person into a dangerous being capable of killing a Transcendent from three hundred meters away.
Any low-level Transcendent Professional faced with a bullet flying at them from three hundred meters away would be weak and helpless.
Even the division commander was surprised when he heard the Chief Commissioner’s intention: "I must be insane to have agreed to come with you."
As he spoke, he knocked on the small wooden plank outside the tent—after the investigation concluded, it was the residence of the child named Malin Gaiate, and he would return with the Divine Envoy later this afternoon.
"Please come in," came the crisp voice of the child from inside.
He was clearly a child who had not yet started to develop, yet he was already a standard sharpshooter, and it was said also a Transcendent. The disparity between people was sometimes so vast it made the Chief Commissioner feel breathless.
He thought of his own children, whom his family once considered geniuses, but compared with this child, they were as different as clouds and mud.
Following the division commander into the tent, the Chief Commissioner saw the child, who was sitting on a chair wrapped in soft padding beside the stove, writing something in a small manual.
"Commander Ataf Ivanovich Ivantaf, and Chief Commissioner Vitelli Smirnovitch Pavlyat, Your Excellencies, what can I do for you two? I think I already understand," said the child.
What do you understand.
The Chief Commissioner gave a wry smile—I haven’t said anything yet.
"The rifle I modified will stay behind, including the sights, the fore-end, and the bipod. You can order them through Carterburg’s workshop. If your military places orders, I can call on the Dwarven craftsmen to prioritize your production. If you have your own armories capable of producing the same precision items, I can also grant you authorization," the child calmly stated, then he smiled at the two middle-aged men.
As the Chief Commissioner, Vitelli shook his head. He knew the capabilities of military armories; they wouldn’t have trouble making standard rifles, but to produce such precise barrels, sights, and bolts, human craftsmen ultimately fell short compared to the Dwarves: "Our armories can’t make them, but if we purchase in bulk, can you really conscript Dwarven craftsmen?"
"I don’t think there should be a problem. For the first batch, we will produce five hundred sets of modification components within three months, and..." the child put down his pen: "This is your sharpshooter training manual. You can use it to train long-range sharpshooters. As long as they learn the content of the manual and combine it with high-precision firearms, gifted sharpshooters could even hit targets over four hundred meters away."
"Four hundred meters!" Vitelli’s commander exclaimed in amazement.
Vitelli’s eyes gleamed—sharpshooters capable of hitting targets at four hundred meters! This meant any Chaotic Sorcerer would pose no threat to the defense line protected by these sharpshooters; they wouldn’t even be able to get into position to attack before being shot down. But as a Noble, he knew that such benefits naturally came at a cost: "What do you need?"
"The components provided to you by the workshop are not free. I will collect the fees through the components already received, and as for this manual, in my eyes, it’s worthless, but in your hands, it’s priceless," the child said with a smile as he handed over the manual.
The Chief Commissioner accepted the handbook, feeling as if he had caught a gold mine—in the eyes of the Nobles, it was indeed a priceless treasure.
"Lord Malin, such a valuable gift will benefit our legion immensely," the Division Commander said with a serious face.
"No, not just your legion, but all the legions of the Mowish Kingdom will benefit from this, trust me." This child seemed unsatisfied with just that; his vision was far beyond what adults like Vitelli and Ataf could see.
"Your vision is far longer than ours," Vitelli admitted wholeheartedly—offering such an important training manual, even if he could earn a hefty profit by selling those components, was rightful; his contribution outshone his gain.
Because the Sharpshooters trained could kill Chaotic Sorcerers from a great distance, this would greatly relieve the pressure on the frontline fighters. The danger of a lunatic with a cold weapon could hardly be compared with a lunatic who could cast spells.
"It’s nothing, I’ve said before that you came to me knowing what you wanted to say, now I wonder if my guess was correct," Lord Malin asked with a smile—he deserved that title.
Vitelli nodded vigorously, "You are right, I was just wondering what the cost would be."
"If you really want to pay a price, then for all the young ones in this world, slay more Chaos," the child’s face was full of smiles, and he seemed not to care about his own gains or losses.
"We will definitely keep our promise, my lord," Commander Ataf struck his chest.
"So, I entrust everything to you both, hoping to hear of your victory in Carterburg," said the lord, his smile fading a bit, "Oh, I almost forgot to say, have the Sharpshooters learning this manual swear an oath. I am teaching them this knowledge not for them to turn it against the innocent; those who break the oath will surely be pursued by the God of Justice. And if one day your legion faces annihilation... make sure to destroy this manual. I do not wish to see such Sharpshooters in the ranks of the Chaos army, understand?"
"Understood, Ataf and I will be the first to swear the oath," Vitelli’s heart bore no ill will—this was as important as Lord Malin had said.
He did not want to imagine that his own child, if he became a soldier, could be killed by a Sharpshooter from the Chaos Legion capable of striking from four hundred meters away.
"Well then, you may leave; I’d like to rest a bit. Otherwise, going home with dark circles, the girls at home would worry," the child said with a contented smile, while Vitelli and Ataf also smiled widely, "Then we shall take our leave, my lord, may you have a far-reaching future."
"Until next time, my lord, may you have a far-reaching future."
"Thank you, and may you achieve outstanding military feats."
The child watched the two men leave the tent and, as the tent flap closed, Vitelli saw him close his eyes and lean back in his chair.
How wonderful it would be to have such a child.
For the first time as a father, Vitelli began to envy another father.