Speaking of the Cunning Hares' financial deficit, as one of its members, Ignis knew he had to lend a hand—otherwise, if such a good organization went under, where would he even go?
After visiting Anby, Ignis asked Nicole about the Blacksmith Association. To his surprise, she had already looked into it.
To become a member of the Blacksmith Association, one must attend their monthly on-site test. The content of the test was simple: forge a blade according to the given specifications on the spot. As long as the blade met the examiners' standards, one could become a registered member.
Afterward, members could take forging commissions through the association or sell their own works under its name.
"I heard one of their custom blades can sell for hundreds of thousands," Nicole said, her eyes gleaming with excitement—practically overflowing with the sight of imaginary cash. "Ignis, their test is this month. How about signing up?"
To be honest, Ignis had no doubts about his own skills. With the physical prowess of a Space Marine and the ancestral smithing techniques of the Salamanders Chapter, joining a local blacksmith guild was hardly a challenge.
His only concern was that his reputation might draw unnecessary attention. Fortunately, Nicole assured him that if he didn't want to appear publicly, he could consign his works through the association, though they would take a slightly higher commission.
When the Salamander nodded in agreement to participate, Nicole nearly jumped with joy. After all, according to their earlier agreement, Ignis had promised her half the profits. Judging from the chainsword he had crafted for Anby, his craftsmanship was undoubtedly that of a top-tier master smith.
With him on board, the Cunning Hares' financial troubles would soon ease.
That night, the usually serious Nicole drank a bit—rare for her—and happily hugged Nekomata while petting her like a kitten.
As for Ignis, he had matters to deal with in his workshop.
During the battle against Ironhammer Security and the mutated Lady Sophie, he had realized one thing—his firepower was lacking.
He didn't know how many more enemies of that level might appear, but having weapons capable of dealing with heavily armored targets would never be a bad idea.
Although resources were limited—unlike his time in the Chapter, where, with the Adeptus Mechanicus' assistance, he could craft melta guns or double-barreled heavy meltas—he could still make some simpler explosives with what he had.
For example, anti-personnel grenades—he could forge the casings himself, use existing fuse designs, and fill them with one of several enhanced ether-based explosives. While he no longer had the tools to make preformed fragments, filling the shells with steel balls was simple enough.
By inserting conical partitions to form a shaped charge and fitting small deployable drag-chutes to stabilize the fall, he could even produce a makeshift anti-armor grenade.
As for incendiaries or smoke bombs, with the materials he already had, all it would take was hammering out a proper casing, adding enough filler, and assembling the rest.
Why not just buy them? For one, commercial explosives were too weak—not nearly powerful enough for his standards. And secondly, they were designed for standard humans. In Ignis's massive hands, especially when clad in power armor, they were like tiny toy firecrackers—utterly impractical.
When Nekomata walked in, brushing her messy hair, Ignis was carefully attaching a fuse to an anti-armor grenade.
The catgirl, curious as ever, leaned closer to observe the Salamander's precise movements and the ominous-looking device—but wisely swallowed her impulse to startle him.
Though Ignis's fingers were thick, the grenade itself was large enough. After some delicate maneuvering, the fuse was in place and the safety pin secured.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Ignis admitted to himself that this kind of delicate work really should be handled by someone with nimbler hands.
"You actually didn't come here to mess around," the Salamander said, turning toward the wide-eyed catgirl. "Your hair's still sticking up."
Nekomata brushed her hair again. "I'm not stupid. That thing's obviously delicate—why would I try to scare you while you're handling it?"
"Fair point. If I slipped, the whole building might take off," Ignis said, glancing at his handiwork—a long-handled anti-armor grenade. "I packed ten kilograms of ether explosive in there."
"How much!?" Nekomata's fur practically stood on end. Then she noticed the pile beside him—all grenades. "Wait, are you saying these are all bombs!?"
"Yeah. After running into Ironhammer Security and that Typhon autonomous combat mech, I figured we needed some extra firepower for next time." Ignis tossed a grenade into the air.
"P-Put that down, meow! Aren't you afraid it'll go off!?" Nekomata's voice cracked as she backed away, tail puffed out.
"Relax. They've all got safeties. Not that easy to set off." Ignis placed it back down. "So, what brings you here?"
Because of her Thiren heritage, Nekomata's hearing was far sharper than a human's, so she rarely visited Ignis's workshop. According to her, the noise when his forge was running was "like hammering directly inside her skull."
"The Red Fang Gang tried making their own explosives once," she said, her ears flattening. "They blew up half their hideout—several people died." Her gaze drifted uneasily over the line of massive grenades. "Anyway, I came to ask if you could make me a pair of short blades."
Her large, glistening eyes looked up at him pleadingly—a classic cat's begging face, impossible to resist. Ignis nearly gave in on the spot—almost lit the forge right then and there.
Still, he asked what kind of blades she wanted.
Nekomata walked over to one of Ignis's combat knives, lifting it with both hands. "Something like this, but with a row of studs on the guard—like a knuckle duster."
A D-shaped guard with striking studs and a Bowie-style blade—a very practical design for close combat.
But with her small hands, that kind of weapon would be tricky to size properly. Anby's chainsword had only needed a shortened blade; its grip was still manageable.
Ignis rubbed his chin, considering how to secure such a small piece during forging—then he remembered he had a workbench fitted with mechanical arms.
He could use that to stabilize smaller components. In fact, even attaching the grenade fuses would be easier with it.
Right, he thought with a sigh. For a visitor from the Warhammer world, I sure keep forgetting I can rely on advanced tools.
"Alright," Ignis said, looking into Nekomata's big eyes. "But you'll have to wait a few days—I've got some other things to handle first. Leave me your current blade so I can record its specs and make sure the new ones fit you perfectly."
"You're the best!" Nekomata cheered, leaping up to hug Ignis around the neck and rubbing her head against him affectionately. It took quite a struggle for the Salamander to pry her off—she really was clingy.
After the catgirl bounded out happily, Ignis organized the completed grenades by type and, to stop Billy from touching anything out of curiosity, even set up a sign that read [Explosives – Do Not Touch].
When he finally turned around, he found Nicole standing in the doorway. Her face was flushed from drinking, eyes half-closed as she leaned against the wall—she looked half-asleep.
"Nicole?" Ignis called softly.
"Wha–aaah!" Nicole let out a startled yelp, flailing before regaining her balance. "Don't sneak up on me like that! Scared me half to death!"
"You were totally dozing off," the Salamander said, a vein throbbing on his forehead. "Go get some rest in your room."
"I saw Nekomata skipping out all happy. What did you promise her?" Nicole yawned and stretched.
"I agreed to make her a pair of blades," Ignis replied. "By the way, Anby's asking to be discharged early. She's worried about our financial deficit."
At the mention of money, Nicole visibly deflated, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor with her knees hugged close.
"This month's tight again," she muttered. "Even though that last commission paid extra, it barely covered Anby's treatment and your shares."
She buried her head between her knees. "And a few more debts are coming due soon… This is driving me crazy."
With a heavy sigh, she groaned, "If only a bag of money would just fall from the sky."
"Ignis, hurry up and get that blacksmith certification. Otherwise, we really might go bankrupt."
"Yes, boss. I'll sign up tomorrow," Ignis replied, recalling Gray Street.
"I remember the black market there allows you to sell things. Should we try setting up a stall?"
Nicole lifted her head, looking at the Salamander. "We haven't found anything valuable in our recent commissions. The most expensive thing we've got is that old Starlight Knight badge Billy found in the Red Fang Gang's old hideout. We can't just sell that."
"Boss, I've got some treasures we can sell." Ignis picked up one of the massive anti-armor grenades, easily weighing over ten kilograms. "Take a look at this."
"What's this—a cylindrical hammer?" Nicole took it, and nearly dropped it from the sheer weight. "It's that heavy?"
"My custom anti-armor grenade," Ignis said casually. "If my calculations are correct, it can punch through 600mm of ether-alloy plating."
"Wait—what!?" Nicole shot to her feet instantly. "You're thinking of selling that? To whom? And for what purpose!?"
"Huh?" Ignis blinked, genuinely puzzled. "Maybe… the Public Security's armored vehicles?"
"Ignis." Nicole's tone turned deadly serious. "Destroying Public Security armor counts as insurrection."
"I am not getting arrested for being an illegal arms dealer supplying tools for riots!" Nicole cried, clutching her head in despair.