When the plot-skips players into the game world

As for armor, the same held true—Star Antimony produced many metals but barely used them; the core materials for their golems were stones and gems, and it was only the warriors of Black Hawk Domain that required a great deal of metal.

They also developed a multitude of advanced firearms and bullets, yet they could essentially only sell them to Goblins—because the inventions of Alchemists were far more useful, and these machine guns could only be used by Hunters clad in heavy armor who could still move freely.

In Stranger's view, he was simply turning trash into treasure. The worthless stuff that no one wanted, as well as the castoff soldier types, combined to become the main force of the army. Even the strategies of the army had been rearranged to center around his research—the top brass of the Fifth Power Level all had to change their habits to accommodate him.

He continuously wrote various papers, and eventually, he didn't even need to conduct experiments personally; he simply needed to handcraft prototypes.

The army's laboratory was filled with numerous experimental personnel far more specialized than him. All he needed to do was write down theoretical possibilities and provide prototypes; they would complete various tests with efficiency far greater than his, and the test data would be returned to him by the time he awoke.

The incredibly comfortable research environment gave the Stranger a strong sense of satisfaction.

It was like drinking fine wine, his brain felt expanded and numb. He was so excited that he could research tirelessly day and night. All the troublesome parts didn't require his attention; he only needed to conceive! To imagine!

He was truly utilizing his talents—not just for Armed Gargoyles, but he'd even written down every idea that came to him, providing them to the laboratory for further verification.

Even as Star Antimony was still in a state of war, it continued to pour a substantial amount of resources into him.

Stranger believed that in just another two months... the Armed Gargoyles would be completely finished. And in the meantime, he had renovated and optimized many weapons of the old era—he hadn't worked on his primary duty of creating Patchwork Corpses for three months because his workload was increasing. The research tasks requiring his attention were already scheduled two months out.

Now, when people praised him, Stranger could accept all the compliments. He no longer fretted about his origins or his talents, for the people no longer expected of his future self, but had already begun to worship the present "Albert Lorey."

His teacher had taught him that the Path of Dusk was the path of inscription and eternity.

In his opinion, the Path of Dusk signified "the present."

—Now, is eternity!

But when that old woman who had saved him was blasted into a mess of flesh before his eyes,

the blood that splattered like droplets, albeit feeling somewhat grainy, evenly covered his face. His face was turned dark red, marked with dense, speckled bloodstains, much like a windowpane during a rainstorm.

No longer was there praise, no longer flattery. No more was there recognition from elders or acknowledgment from superiors.

He had come into contact with much blood, with many corpses. Yet he had never gotten himself so dirty—for the sake of preventing infection and contamination of materials, he always followed procedure, wearing gloves and protective gear whenever he handled corpses.

He had indeed witnessed executions. But on Star Antimony, death row inmates were extremely valuable materials... aside from Necromancers, the Son of the Moon and Demon Scholar both needed them too. To ensure the integrity of the bodies, executions were performed with electric shocks or injections, and even hangings were scarce.

In the instant the bomb dropped, he felt as if the explosion had awakened him.

The past few months seemed like a dream...

And in that fleeting moment, it was as though he had awakened from a reverie.

The Stranger even had a momentary delusion—as if he had drunkenly pushed his own child down the stairs. In an instant, his brain became clear again, and the noisy world turned silent.

Now, when he recalled his own research... he only felt nauseous.

"...what a genius."

The Stranger looked at his hands with self-mockery: "A genius at killing, huh..."

After he had passed out, the blood on his hands had long been wiped clean, yet now he repeatedly envisioned a hint of crimson appearing on them.

Meanwhile, the sounds of battle outside gradually subsided.

—It was likely that Star Antimony had won.

Stranger calmly thought to himself.

He had now been captured... ostensibly escorted, but in reality detained. He was utterly unable to complete his task and would likely find it hard to advance smoothly.

This advancement had already failed.

He truly couldn't imagine, with golems and Gargoyles "escorting" him, how he could possibly escape.

...and there were still several days ahead; he didn't know how he'd endure them.

Just then, the curtain to his compartment was lifted.

And the person who lifted the curtain made Stranger pause for a moment.

Because he recognized this person.

"The Guardian of Avalon... Master Nobel?"

The weary, golden-haired middle-aged man asked calmly, "Do you... want to go back to Star Antimony?"