Weapon seller in the world of magic

Liu Wei’s voice went softer, almost rueful.

”This was my father’s dream. I don’t want the cannon for myself. If you build it, use it however you need. All I want is to build it—prove the design. As for the armor you asked for, I’ll deliver Sky‑grade sets—top tier—if you supply the right materials: compatible spirit cores, mythril ore, and black titanium blocks.”

There was a pause as Sungjun let the offer settle.

Finally, with that calm, measured tone he used for everything consequential, Sungjun answered: ”I’ll need to see your work first. Build the two armor sets to specification. We’ll talk about funding later.”

Liu Wei bowed his head and accepted the condition. ”Understood. I won’t waste the opportunity.”

*

A couple of hours later, Sungjun and Liu Wei were sharing lunch in quiet contemplation. Midway through, a servant entered and bowed, reporting, ”Sir, the chopper has entered the city skies.”

Sungjun nodded once. ”Good. Prepare the landing pad.”

When the servant left, he turned his gaze toward Liu Wei. ”You know what to speak and what not to speak, right?”

Liu Wei straightened, understanding the weight of those words. ”Of course. I know how to hold my tongue.”

”Good.”

A short while later, they returned to Sungjun’s office. The atmosphere inside was taut—Tempest stood quietly in a corner, watching over Seongha, who was waiting on the couch.

Liu Wei froze the moment his eyes landed on her. The attraction toward the beauty became evident on his face for a moment. His pulse quickened involuntarily, but he forced his gaze to steady, reminding himself who she was—the boss’s close friend, perhaps his woman, and the daughter of Ryu Dongsik.

When Sungjun entered, Seongha stood up immediately. ”Hey… Oppa.”

Then, more nervously, she added, ”It’s really you, right? Not the imposter?”

Sungjun’s lips curved into a faint, tired smile. ”It’s me.”

He gestured toward Liu Wei. ”This is Liu Wei—your father’s acquaintance from the prison.”

Seongha blinked in surprise, eyes shifting between them, but before she could speak further, Sungjun motioned for her to sit. ”Let’s talk properly.”

As they all took their seats, Sungjun’s tone softened just slightly. ”Did you bring the serum?”

She nodded and retrieved a small glass vial from her purse—a faintly glowing green liquid. It wasn’t an ordinary medicine; it was a truth-binding alchemical serum, a spell that forced honesty from anyone who consumed it.

Sungjun accepted it, rolling the vial between his fingers thoughtfully.

”The answers you seek,” he said, glancing at Liu Wei, ”will come from your father’s acquaintance. But tell me, Seongha… even if we use this serum, can you truly trust the truth you hear? Because in this world, nothing is absolute.”

For a long second, silence filled the room. Then, with trembling fingers and tear-bright eyes, Seongha snatched it from Sungjun’s hands and tossed the vial aside, letting it shatter softly on the carpet.

”I trust you, Oppa. I know you well enough to believe you wouldn’t lie just to run from guilt.”

Sungjun’s expression softened at those words. He nodded once and turned to Liu Wei. ”Then speak. Tell her what she deserves to know.”

Liu Wei exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself before diving into waters he’d long avoided.

”Miss Ryu,” he explained with a steady voice. ”To tell you the story of your father, I will have to begin with mine. I used to be a weapon designer for a dark guild known as Dawn and Dusk, based in western Siberia. Three years ago, one of the weapons I built was used in a massacre that wiped out an entire settlement. Because of that—because of my hands—an entire community was erased. The courts called it genocide by complicity. I was thrown into the maximum security prison, sentenced to death with fourteen years to wait for it.”

He paused, eyes lowering for a moment before continuing. ”The prison was divided into several levels, based on the crime. I was thrown into level 4, filled with murderers and rapists. That’s where I met your father, Ryu Dongsik. Back when I met him, he was already a king on the floor. He tamed even those serial killers who were mentally unstable, too. Everyone called him the Dragon. And from the moment I met him, I was already overwhelmed by his aura, and before long, I became his henchman.”

Liu Wei’s gaze drifted as if recalling those dark days. ”He approached me one day, asking me to make him weapons after I gave in to him, telling him my secrets. You see… I held a mysterious power that lets me create weapons out of thin air, just from pure imagination. It neither needed mana nor natural energy.”

As Seongha stared at him with a bit of disbelief, Liu Wei lifted his right hand and murmured, ”Create.”

A sleek black handgun materialized out of thin air, glimmering faintly before dissolving into dust seconds later.

”That’s my ability—creation through imagination. I can manifest weapons out of nothing, but they only last for minutes or hours before vanishing. Your father saw potential in it. He began organizing the prisoners, using the weapons I made to arm them. In the end, he caused a rebellion to escape.”

Seongha’s breath quickened. Sungjun remained silent, his eyes fixed on Liu Wei.

Liu Wei continued quietly. ”Dozens died—guards and inmates alike. When it failed, your father was sentenced to the deepest part of the facility… Level-7.”

He hesitated, as though the next words were too heavy to utter.

”That place… however, was a pit of nightmares. The truth is—Level-7 was never built to hold humans. It was built to contain something else.”

Liu Wei looked up, meeting Seongha’s gaze directly. ”It housed a creature called Wendigo—a spirit king that feeds on the flesh…”

Seongha’s eyes widened, her lips trembling. ”You mean… my father…”

Liu Wei nodded solemnly. ”Yes. He was devoured by that beast.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Finally, he added, voice softer now—almost reverent: ”When my turn came, I was sent there as the next sacrifice. But fate… or maybe the gods themselves… had other plans. Mr. Han—Sungjun—was sent to the same level. He killed the spirit king and saved me. Without him, I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

Liu Wei lowered his head deeply. ”And that’s the truth, Miss Seongha.”

For a long moment, Seongha said nothing. Her hands trembled as she leaned forward, burying her face in them. The silence in the room was so thick it felt alive.

Sungjun reached out and gently grasped her arm. His voice was low—almost hoarse. ”I’m sorry… I promised you I’d bring him home, but I couldn’t keep that promise.”

He hesitated, guilt flashing through his eyes. ”If only you hadn’t waited so long to tell me—”

He stopped himself midway, realizing what he had just implied. ”I’m sorry. That was… uncalled for.”

Seongha slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were glistening, but no tears fell. Instead, she gave a small, weary smile.

”It’s alright. We live at the edge of life and death every day, Oppa. I knew it was a risk when I asked you to find him. Still… I guess I just hoped there’d at least be a body—something to bury, something to remember him by.”

Her voice broke slightly at the end, and a deep sigh escaped her lips.

Neither Sungjun nor Liu Wei said anything for a while. They couldn’t bring themselves to tell her the truth—that even her father’s soul had been devoured by Wendigo, leaving nothing behind, not even ashes.

After a long silence, Seongha spoke again, ”I need time… some space to think. Don’t contact me for a while, and don’t send any orders to my division. Let them operate independently for now.”

Sungjun gave a slow nod. ”I understand. Take as much time as you need.”

As she stood and left, the door closing softly behind her, Sungjun looked out the window in silence, his jaw clenched. Liu Wei sat still across the room, saying nothing, although wondering what is the nature of relationship between Seongha and Sungjun

Two weeks later;

In the morning, wearing a suit and fake spectacles, Sungjun set out on a three-hour drive alone toward Blackburn City, roughly located two hundred kilometers from his estate.

His destination: Royal Gold Guild.

On paper, it was a non-combatant guild, publicly registered under the Royal Gold Group—a powerful but private conglomerate specializing in well… almost everything from logistics to AI Robotics, secretly run by Pavel and owned by Sungjun.

As for the Royal Gold Guild, it wasn’t a simple guild that is located somewhere in a guild district and posts missions to the Hunters either. It was more of a company within itself with several departments.

The Guild has an Alchemy Lab where elite potion masters work to refine elixirs and stimulants.

There is a Trainer Center where monster tamers conduct evolutionary experiments, pushing captured beasts beyond their natural limits.

There is also a Smithy Complex where rare ores, spirit cores, and technological components are merged to produce custom weapons and armor.

Breeding grounds where monsters are bred.

And many more…