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Fizz gasped softly. "Ooooh. Pretty geotry. I love when reality becos decorative."
John did not answer. He kept feeding mana. The lines thickened. The shapes deepened. The floor humd.
Then, like a thought becoming solid, a crafting table rose.
[Ding! System Notification: Item created Semi Automatic Crafting Table.
Item Grade: Rare Utility.
Function: Parts crushing pressing carving and rune channel shaping.
Limit: Manual assembly required for final product completion.
Limit: Requires host mana input during operation.
Note: Table output quality scales with host control and material grade.]
It did not rise like wood being lifted by hands. It rose like the world had decided there had always been a table there and was only now admitting it.
The table was wide and heavy, made of dark tal and stone fused together, with channels carved into it like veins. A set of rune rings sat along one edge, spinning slowly. A small tray chanism rested at the center, with a shallow depression shaped to hold raw material. On the right side, a clamp arm waited, open, ready to hold and press and shape.
Semi automatic.
Not a machine like the ones from John's old world. Not gears and springs and screws. This was magic pretending to be a machine. It would do the heavy shaping, the crushing and pressing and carving, as long as John fed it mana and the proper materials. Assembly still required hands. Assembly still required choices.
It was a tool, not a miracle.
Fizz hovered over it, eyes bright. "It is beautiful," he declared. "It is like a al you can build weapons on. I approve."
John ran his fingers along the edge. It felt cold. It felt hungry. It felt ready.
"Can it make snacks," Fizz asked hopefully.
"No," John said.
Fizz looked offended. "Then it is flawed."
John ignored him and opened his system inventory in his mind. The item slots flashed in his awareness like shelves in a private room. He selected a bundle of prepared tal blanks that the system had provided as part of a crafting reward. They were not normal tal. They were mana receptive alloy, soft enough to shape under the table's runes, hard enough to hold enchantnt without tearing.
He placed the first set of tal blanks onto the table tray. The tray clicked softly, and the grooves lit up in thin, pale lines like veins under skin. John fed mana into the ring, careful not to surge. The table answered with a low hum that felt like a big animal settling into work.
[Ding! System Notification: Crafting queue initiated.
System Notification: Mana conductive alloy accepted.
System Notification: Standardized component molds loaded.
System Notification: Output consistency locked.
System Notification: Batch production active.]
The table began to crush and press and carve. It did not do it like a blacksmith. It did it like a machine pretending to be a spell. tal shifted. Shapes erged. Barrels, fras, chambers, a focus ring with micro channels, a grip core that would not split under recoil. Each piece slid into a neat pile as if ashad to be ssy.
Fizz watched the pile grow and licked his paw with deep satisfaction. "Look at it go. It is like watching a bakery but with danger. I feel nourished."
"You are always nourished," John said.
"Yes," Fizz said. "I have done the work of being small and adorable. The world must pay rent."
The rune rings brightened and began to rotate faster. A low hum filled the forge space. The clamp arm shifted, pressed down with careful force, and the tal began to change.
Not lt. Not bend like cheap tin. It changed the way clay changes when a potter knows what they are doing. The edges sharpened. The surface smoothed. Tiny channels appeared where channels were needed. The blanks erged as finished parts, each one identical to the last, each one made with the sa silent precision.
Fizz's mouth fell open. "It makes the pieces," he breathed, then leaned in close and whispered, "Does this an we can mass produce glory."
John picked up one of the finished parts. It was small. It looked harmless. It was not.
It was a component for his mana gun.
Calling it a gun felt strange. It was not a normal firearm. It did not rely on smoke powder. It did not rely on mundane physics alone. It was a mana caster shaped like a gun because John understood guns, and because the shape made aim intuitive, and because the shape made fear imdiate.
This weapon fired condensed mana, driven by a mana stone used like fuel and guided by the user's own mana as ignition and control.
One shot per stone.
One burst of power.
Then the stone was empty.
John had designed it that way on purpose. It prevented rapid misuse. It turned each shot into a decision. It also made the weapon easier to justify in his own mind. A trump card. Not a habit.
[Ding! System Notification: Recipe detected Mana Caster Gun Prototype.
Status: Assembly phase.
Required: Fra core barrel focus ring rune channels grip core.
Power source: Single use mana stone or beast core.
Fire mode: Single shot.
Safety: User mana input required.]
Fizz floated around him, practically vibrating. "Tell you are making another," he said.
John set the part down. "We will assemble one," he said. "We will test it. Then we will see."
Fizz's eyes glead. "I volunteer as a test subject."
"No."
Fizz puffed. "Not getting shot. holding it. pointing it at the sky and yelling sothing heroic."
John's mouth twitched. "We will see."
He worked steadily.
He did not rush, because rushing made mistakes, and mistakes with weapons beca funerals. He assembled the fra with careful hands. He seated the rune channel pieces into their grooves. He aligned the focusing ring. He set the grip core, which held the user's palm imprint and translated mana input into stable flow.
The crafting table had made the parts, but John still had to make them behave together.
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