Blacksmith of the Apocalypse Chapter 683: Somewhere Else (18)

683. Sowhere Else (18)

"What is the aning of this?"

He asked facing a row of weapons that were suddenly pointed at him. He had co to work as usual and was about to take a break when a group of officers stord the workshop.

"Cormac Payl, you are arrested under the suspicion of treason."

"Thomas? What do an by "treason"? There has been no such thing a treason ever since the foundation of the districts," Cormac argued, unimpressed by the glinting weapons pointed at him.

"Co on, Cormac. Don't make this hard on us. It's a decision from above."

"So I should just go along with this bull crap? I'm the second-ranked Blacksmith of Urth. I am head and shoulders above anyone in this place and you want to arrest for treason? I am the sole reason we aren't too far behind Delta. God, I wish there was sothing I could betray you shitheads for if that ant I could finally get proper materials!"

The blacksmith had been stuck with Ypsilon for months now. It was great in the beginning. Mark Baker understood the worth of crafting professions. He and his colleagues were supplied with materials ti improve and develop their skills. Soone even beca a Gunsmith and recreated firearms.

However, with Baker gone, their treatnt had suffered. They were called a "superfluous expense" compared to those that had chosen to change to Gunsmiths or Engineers. Even with his budget cut trendously, Payl has managed to cross the precipice of the craftsman tier.

Still, he stayed instead of opening his own business. So kind of stupid love for his ho had made him stay.

"I did a lot for this place. I even sacrificed my own progress to make the very weapons in your hand and YOU have the gall to threaten with my own products?!"

Payl was a lanky man with a buzz cut, not what you would expect when you heard the word blacksmith. But as he went on in his tirade, his righteous rage made him seemingly grow in the eyes of the guards that ca to arrest him.

"Look, Cormac. This has nothing to do with us. We are just supposed to arrest you," Thomas said ekly. The others also seed conflicted about the situation.

"You know what? Fine! Let see what piece of trash has the balls to pull sothing like mother-flipping treason out of their dusty drawers."

He was going to take a look at what was going on and then make a decision. Nobody stopped the blacksmith from grabbing his bag and wristwatch from the worktable before following them. They didn't walk far as all kinds of facilities existed inside the agency. Soon he sat in a desolate interrogation room with a table and two chairs.

"Mr. Payl, I'm glad you cooperated with the guards. We wouldn't want you to get hurt before your process, right?" an investigator entered with a smug smile and sat down opposite him.

"Where did you even exhu so prehistoric law like treason?"

"haha, prehistoric. Good joke, Mr.Payl, but that is not the point. We have receipts that you have been purchasing large quantities of from the System Church, is that right?"

"Oh, and when did buying stuff beco illegal?"

"We suspect you of illegally selling weapons and equipnt to the criminal organization known as "The Scene"."

Cormac couldn't help but laugh.

"Pfft! The Scene? Those lowlifes that took over the rim areas? I wouldn't sell them even the scrap tal from my workshop. But still, how would that be treason?"

The blacksmith didn't really care what they alleged him to have done. He had made his decision. He was already dissatisfied with the treatnt he experienced after Baker was assassinated, but this situation was the final nail in the coffin. Right now, he was only here to see if he could get a better picture of who was after him.

"Is that so? How co then, that we caught mbers of the Scene wearing equipnt of quality only you could make in Y-City?" the investigators asked with a malicious grin.

"We know everything about you, Payl. You used governnt supplies to make and sell weapons to criminals. That is treason!" he concluded triumphantly.

Cormac stared at the man as if he was a lunatic. He didn't even need to ntion that his story didn't make sense back to front. How was it using governnt supplies, if he supposedly bought the materials for the items himself?

However, the blacksmith didn't care. He could already make himself a picture with what the man had just said. He didn't doubt a mont that they probably caught so strawn from the scene with weapons from his workshop.

Since he wasn't the one that gave it to them, soone else from inside must have done it. It beca quite clear to him, that soone was trying to make him the scapegoat.

"I see, so soone higher up supplied stuff to the scene and now they are looking for soone to take the bla. It's a sha."

"The only sha is that soone with your potential sank so low, just because your funds were cut!" the investigator kept accusing.

"It's a sha. You know so much, but... I bet you didn't know this."

With a wave of his hand, a golden net was shot from his wristwatch and caught the investigator. He wasn't just so ek little crafter that would take their bla lying down. If there was soone in the leadership behind this, there was no way to solve this peacefully.

Not that he intended to in the first place. He had done his due and didn't owe this place anything. He had been deliberating and preparing, but his decision to leave had been finalized with this shitshow. The investigator was struggling on the ground.

The man was a lv.75 player, but even his superior stats were unable to get him out of the golden net. The threads were so fine, they instead cut into his flesh without giving in, whenever he tried to move. Cormac crouched down beside the man on the ground.

"You thought you knew everything, but where did it get you? Didn't you ever think a little further? I was clearly not selling anything to the Scene, you know that. Then what did I do with all the materials I bought? Look, I will show you."

The next mont a massive golden bull appeared from the blacksmith's inventory. It proceeded to tear down the steel-reinforced walls as if it was paper. Taking a seat on the bull's back, he held up both of his middle fingers at the investigator.

"Never underestimate a craftsman,"

"Especially, if they are a chosen," he thought to himself with a grin.

Sitting on the bull's back, the automaton beca faster and faster, completely unimpeded by the walls of the agency, or people jumping in its way. Cormac already wore a thick tal suit, clinging to the back of the bull for his dear life.

This was his first ti actually riding it, and he had imagined it very differently.

"That's Payl! Stop him!"

"Cormac, stop!"

He could hear the voices of people as he rushed by but ignored them. Y-City had made its decision, and so did he. The mont the bull broke through the outer wall of the agency building, it vanished into his inventory and was replaced by a massive golden eagle that took him to the sky.

Cormac decided to leave Y-City on that day. Freed from the shackles of obligations, the only question was where to go from here. He wouldn't be able to stay in Y-City and there was no need to look back, as he kept everything important in his inventory anyway.

There was really only one option for now, with Beta having fallen to ruin, he would need to aim for Mount Agra and ultimately Delta. His only problem was his level. The blacksmith was barely lv.35. Even with his epic tal suit, would he be able to make his way through the mountains?

He had heard rumors that the mountain range had gotten more dangerous. Would his strength suffice? Cormac had no high hopes to find a caravan. Travel to Mount Agra had starkly decreased because of the danger.

All because their fine governnt had to flip off Minas Mar and decided to give it their own botched try in opening a safe route to the mountain city. Because of this bunch of bumbling buffoons, he would have to risk his life to get to Agra.

At least it would be a safe journey from there...

With thoughts like these, he set off on his arduous journey to the west.