Weapon seller in the world of magic

The underground stronghold of Mulan was dim, lit by hanging crystal lanterns that flickered with a cold, etheric glow. Despite the heavy stone walls and fortified checkpoints, an air of desperation still clung to the place; no one had the smiles or relief on their faces.

Now, deep inside the command structure, in a cavernous chamber known as the War Room, or what Mark called it, a different kind of stillness had settled.

The round table was made from obsidian mined from the planet's veins over the course of years. Very sturdy but also brittle, just like Mulan City. Around it sat the remaining captains, lieutenants, elite fighters, and the Lord of Mulan. Most were quiet, tense, trying to make sense of the power the young outsider had displayed on the surface.

At the head of the table, Mark sat casually but confidently, one leg crossed, fingers interlaced before him.

He finally spoke.

"I'll speak directly. I'm not here to command your every move," he began, voice calm, direct. "I'm not here to babysit survivors."

He looked around at each face.

"What I am here to do," he continued, "is give you a chance to face your current as well as your future enemies with your own hands."

He tapped the table once. "I'll supply firearms, the ones that don't need magic but could kill hordes of beasts," he said, eyes locked on the captain across from him. "I'll also provide ammunition, which is like arrows for the bow. And I'll also train your people on how to use them so that even a weak one who could only hide in this shelter could contribute something to protect their home."

Murmurs broke out.

"Why them?" someone asked. "They can't even hold a blade…"

"They'll die…"

"I don't know what these firearms or ammunition mean, but do they really help us?"

Mark raised a hand. The room quieted again.

"Listen to me very well. I don't know the intentions of the council, and I don't know when the next full-scale assault will happen, but I know for sure that you win when your entire city can fight back. You have like what… 4600 soldiers? Even in the case of a war, only half of them could be deployed to fight the beast horde. The other half is needed here to protect civilians from any internal strife, and to protect 370,000 people…"

There was silence for a moment.

Mark continued. "Now, imagine, just even ten percent of them could wield firearms. 37,000 people with weapons, each could atleast eliminate one feline beast…"

While Mark's words indeed incited hope amongst the captains and even the City Lord, many also seemed skeptical. One of them was Captain Ji, who said. "It's too risky to involve civilians. They are inexperienced, and we might not have time to train them in war tactics."

"Then don't pay attention to them," Mark said simply. "You do what you always do, protect the city from any outside trouble. And give me just one week to train the volunteers. I will transform them into warriors."

He stood up slowly, walking around the table, and stopped beside the City Lord, who sat at the other end. "Lord Qi, I've seen too many cities fall because people waited for a hero. I don't want to be your 'hope.' I'm just here to give you a gun and show you how to aim it."

He walked back to the head of the table and sat down again. "This is your war now. I'm just here to make sure you live long enough to fight it your way."

The map shimmered once, then disappeared.

All eyes were on him.

And for the first time since the outpost's fall, the majority of them didn't look hollow anymore.

They looked ready.

Three weeks later;

In an unnamed valley, a battlefield had formed. Not between two empires. Not between titans. Just broken humans—scraped together and trained in desperation—facing off against a tide of snarling feline beasts.

There were no commanding roars from beast generals. No tactical formations from their side. This was a mindless surge, wild and aggressive—designed to overwhelm, to drown resistance in numbers.

But the humans didn't falter.

A young woman with soot on her cheeks fired her Five-seveN sidearm at a charging panther-kin. The beast snarled until it staggered mid-stride. Its limbs locked, eyes wide. It collapsed, twitching, as violet arcs of lightning pulsed from the wound.

Beside her, an older man fired three shots. One bullet embedded itself into a beast's chest and exploded with a burst of frost, freezing its front limbs in place. Another shot lanced through a leaping puma-beast—and the creature's fur began to smoke, as the poison infused in the bullet seeped into its veins.

None of these were soldiers.

They were bakers. Carpenters. Ex-scavengers. Survivors with shaking fingers and grim determination.

But they had teeth now.

Each weapon looked ordinary—just military-issue Five-seveNs from Earth. The ammo, however, was anything but. Crafted by Mark himself, using his creation energy and laced with Ark's elemental precision, each bullet carried the power of an element.

Some generate flames, while some freeze. Some could produce electric shocks, while some induce poison.

What they lacked in power, they made up for in effect.

Above it all, Mark stood atop a jagged cliff, the wind tossing his coat like a banner. His expression was calm and focused.

Both hands moved in a rhythm only he understood, his ether flowing from his palms like ink across parchment. Magic circles appeared before him—thin, elegant—and out of them, clips of specialized bullets formed and floated into metallic crates by his side.

Every ten seconds, another hundred rounds.

In his head, Ark's voice chimed softly every now and then.

"Batch 147 complete. Suggest introducing the incendiary piercing variant to adapt to increasing armored beasts."

Mark nodded slightly. "Add a delayed detonation timer. One second fuse. Enough time to get inside the armor."

"Confirmed. Adjusting now."

Down below, Yuan Feng was in full berserker mode, slicing beasts apart with dual crescent blades, covered in blood and howling with joy. "COME ON, YOU FURRY DEMONS!"

Reva, from a nearby ridge, crouched behind a collapsed boulder and provided cover fire. Her tail flicked behind her, golden eyes calm as her bullet struck a leopard beast mid-leap. It dropped instantly, paralyzed.

Ryder Night flickered through the field like a ghost, his blade rarely visible, his sidearm used only when a silent kill wasn't fast enough.

Lan Xia floated just above the melee, her palms glowing with frost. She wasn't even firing. She was guiding the cold, adjusting the air pressure itself to make enemy projectiles freeze mid-flight or drop harmlessly to the earth.

Mark watched them all, then looked at the human volunteers holding their own among titanic odds. They weren't just surviving anymore; they were winning.

And he couldn't help but mumble. "My first step to becoming an intergalactic weapon seller is success. Now, once those two frontiers were cleared out, the next step would be dealing with the Sky Pavilion Sect." Then, after a brief pause, he sighed. "But it is a pity that casualties are also higher than I expected. I didn't take their mental fortitude into account. Due to unnecessary panic, many lost their lives. Of 69322 warriors I rose up, only a little more than half remained. sigh..."