Finally, after so long, the prototype firearm was ready. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the dirt path as Carlos and Tassi headed towards Ferreira's workshop. The hot air carried the sweet, musty smell of the damp forest mixed with the distant smoke from the quilombo's bonfires.

  "You know, don't expect too much from this new weapon," Carlos warned, breaking the rhythmic silence of their footsteps. "It was inspired by the Brown Bess musket from my world. Accuracy beyond a hundred meters is almost non-existent, and even up to fifty, it's only truly effective if several people fire together, forming a volley of bullets. The big advantage is that it's easier to manufacture and can be made with wrought iron. Ideally, we'd have more blacksmiths producing them."

  Carlos looked at Tassi and noticed her thoughtful expression, her eyes fixed on the horizon, her lips slightly pursed.

  Well, she's not from my world and probably doesn't understand that for war, quantity is often more important than quality.

  No sooner had the thought completed itself in his mind than Tassi spoke, as if she had read his concern.

  "So, basically, it's easier to make and uses cheaper materials, so we can produce more weapons for more warriors, is that it?"

  Carlos couldn't contain a smile of surprise and admiration.

  "That's right! I can't believe you grasped the concept so quickly."

  When it comes to weapons and war, she really picks things up in an instant.

  They chatted animatedly about the details until they reached the workshop. The rhythmic sound of hammers against the anvil echoed from afar, a metallic and comforting sound. As they were about to enter through the wooden door, Nia suddenly appeared, coming out in a hurry. The three almost collided but, in a coordinated reflex, took a quick step back. Nia, surprised, soon flashed a wide, radiant smile, her eyes shining with excitement.

  "I was just going to deliver this to you now! Your weapon is ready!"

  She carefully lifted the weapon she was carrying. It was identical to the muskets from the movies Carlos remembered, with a long, dark metal barrel and a crafted wooden stock. In Nia's eyes, this creation had a rustic, powerful beauty.

  "Finally!" Carlos exclaimed, his voice filled with relief and expectation. "Let's quickly inform Aqua and prepare the demonstration tests. As soon as Specter sees this, I'll ask him to have all the quilombo's blacksmiths start mass production. Oh, and I have an idea to speed up the process. Instead of you making each weapon alone, what if each apprentice focused on manufacturing just one specific part? It would be like an assembly line."

  Nia tilted her head, considering.

  "Hmm, that might indeed be faster. I can test it, but for that, I'd need more apprentices."

  "I'll ask Aqua to give you more people," Carlos assured her.

  Nia then handed the weapon to him and, in a softer, almost shy tone, added:

  "Thank you. I have one more request... I'd like to see how my weapon is used. I know it's like a bow, but better, since it uses that super-potent gunpowder."

  Tassi, who was observing the interaction, intervened with enthusiasm:

  "We'd love for you to come! Especially since we need a Fire Gem adept to test another new weapon. I invented this one after seeing how the gem could be used to ignite the gunpowder."

  Carlos kept a neutral expression but thought to himself:

  You were just quicker to suggest the idea, but I was already thinking about it. I'll let you have the credit, it was pretty sharp of you.

  "Oh, and what would this new weapon be?" Nia asked, curious.

  "You'll see, it was for her that we ordered the round iron shells. We'll test her with this musket," Tassi replied. "If all goes well, we'll demonstrate it for everyone tomorrow."

  ***

  The next morning, the group gathered on the plain of stumps, the usual testing ground. The cool morning air carried the smell of wet earth and cut grass. However, with the new gunpowder workshops operating nearby, they had to move to a more isolated corner, near the forest. Tassi had prepared several targets: tree trunks carved into human shapes, with "hair" made of dry branches and leaves.

  Carlos observed the wooden dummies.

  These stumps actually look like people. Some even have carved 'faces.' That one is Jairo, the other is Jorge... I don't recognize the others. There's even one that looks like a woman with a ponytail... wait, isn't that Nia?

  Putting the stumps aside, Carlos looked around. The group of spectators was larger this time. Besides Aqua and Specter, there were seven other people and several guards. He assumed they were other mocambo chief’s, but didn't think much of it. He took a deep breath and began the explanation, trying to sound as natural as possible.

  "The use of this weapon is quite simple. With a few months of training, even a farmer can defeat a well-trained warrior. Basically, you load the gunpowder and the ammunition, aim, and pull the trigger. This activates the flint, made with pyrite, which generates a spark and ignites the gunpowder. The explosion propels the bullet at a speed sufficient to pierce a person up to a hundred meters away, but the accuracy is very low. Tassi will demonstrate the loading process."

  Tassi took the musket, stood it upright with the butt on the ground, and took out a cloth cartridge containing a measure of gunpowder and a lead ball. She bit the tip of the cartridge to tear it, poured a little gunpowder into the pan for ignition, and closed the metal lid, the frizzen. Then, she poured the rest of the gunpowder down the barrel, placed the ball—wrapped in an oily piece of cloth—and, using a ramrod, compacted everything to the bottom.

  With decisive movements, she raised the weapon, rested the stock against her shoulder, aimed at a wooden target eighty meters away, and pulled the trigger. A dry, deafening CRACK shattered the silence of the plain, followed by a thick cloud of sulfurous smoke that burned the nose. The bullet pierced the hollow target without difficulty, leaving a clean, round hole.

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  "It would easily pierce human flesh and viscera," Carlos commented.

  The spectators, initially silent, became excited and ran to the target to inspect the damage. Only Aqua and Specter remained impassive, having already witnessed much more powerful weapons.

  "At the moment, we are producing few weapons," Carlos continued, as everyone returned. "But if we put all the quilombo's blacksmiths to work making them, using the production method I suggested, I think we can make five per month. With more assistants, that number can increase even further."

  The other chief’s, who were unfamiliar with the power of firearms, were visibly impressed. The reloading was slow, but it was easy to imagine a line of shooters firing volleys against an approaching enemy.

  Carlos waited for everyone to return to their places, then picked up a small cast-iron sphere, the size of an orange, with a fire gem embedded in its top, and said:

  "Tassi had an idea for another way we could use gunpowder. I helped her design this weapon because it reminded me of the name of a weapon from my world: a grenade."

  Hearing this, Tassi felt very proud, but didn't show it.

  "However, this is a different weapon from the one in my world because it requires a fire gem adept to activate it, but its use is very simple. That's why we've named this weapon the 'Magic Grenade.' Nia will demonstrate how to use it, since she can use fire gems."

  Nia picked up the heavy iron grenade. She channeled her magical power into the gem—something this simple didn't require much magical energy; she could easily spend all day using her power on grenades because of it, making it an ideal weapon of war.

  After she poured her power in, the gem would activate after 10 seconds. Carlos had defined the timing; Nia didn't know exactly what a second was, but she had a notion of how long it was. Once activated, she didn't waste any time and threw the grenade with all her strength towards a group of three wooden targets several meters away.

  The metal grenade hit the ground with a solid, metallic thud, landing at the feet of one of the targets. The other two were further away, but not more than 5 meters. After a few seconds, it exploded with a sharp, violent report, shattering into a hundred lethal fragments of iron.

  The explosion was short and violent, a muffled roar that kicked dirt and air sideways. A brief orange flash dazzled everyone's vision, followed by a wave of heat that hit their faces. The detonation echoed across the plain, and pieces of clay flew like projectiles.

  As the brown smoke began to dissipate, carrying an acrid smell of burning, the damage became visible. The central target had simply disappeared, reduced to splinters and shards. Of the other two, one had lost both its "arms" and the other was riddled with deep holes in its "chest." A heavy silence fell over everyone, broken only by the crackle of burning wood.

  Aqua and Specter kept their calm expressions, merely exchanging a subtle smile as they watched Fernando and Melik, who couldn't hide the shock and admiration on their faces. In the past the unanimous thought was: ordinary warriors served as numbers, but it was the magic adepts who truly decided battles. The quilombo had always been at a disadvantage. The governor could hire magical mercenaries and buy gems. But those weapons... they leveled the playing field. Anyone could be as lethal as an adept. And an adept, like Nia, could become ten times more dangerous with grenades like that.

  Fernando, recovering first, turned to Ganga Zola, who was discreetly among the chiefs.

  "Ganga, I'll send the blacksmith from my quilombo to come to Aqua's mocambo to learn how to make this weapon."

  Melik, snapping out of his daze, spoke quickly, followed by a wave of agreement from the other chiefs. Specter had imagined this would happen. Fernando and Melik weren't incompetent; no one in the quilombo could afford to be, under the constant threat of attacks. Competence was the currency here, not lineage—with the obvious exception of Ganga Zola himself. In Specter's view, Fernando and Melik were two of the most competent, precisely because they always weighed the pros and cons of every decision, no matter who it came from.

  King Ganga Zola raised his hand, silencing everyone. His voice was calm but carried unquestionable authority.

  "You may proceed with this plan. But your blacksmiths will not stay in Aqua's mocambo. They will come here only to learn and then return to their own mocambos to replicate production."

  Then, his eyes turned to Carlos. He didn't look like a typical European king; he wore simple clothes, no jewels or insignia. He was a man of about forty with a common presence, but the way everyone fell silent to listen to him betrayed his power.

  "Carlos," Ganga Zola called. "From today onward, you will be the chief of this mocambo. You will take Aqua's place. It will be your responsibility to plan the best way to develop and increase the production of these weapons. Every blacksmith, artisan, resident, and guard in this mocambo will serve and obey you. And you, in turn, will obey me and serve the people of the Jabuticaba Quilombo, and me."

  Carlos was stunned. He hadn't noticed Ganga Zola among the group. The surprise was like a blow to the stomach. Ganga's words were not a request; they were an order. There was no room for refusal. Yet, a spark of ambition ignited within him. He needed power to change this world, and being the chief of a mocambo was a big step.

  Without hesitation, Carlos knelt on the damp earth, feeling the grass under his knees. He remembered scenes from medieval series he had watched.

  "With great pleasure, Your Majesty. I will serve you until death."

  Ganga Zola smiled, a brief, calculated gesture.

  "That's all for today. Continue the good work at the Armadillo Mocambo. I expect great things from you."

  The king and the other chiefs turned and left, leaving behind a charged silence. Carlos stood up, dust and small leaves sticking to his pants. As he looked around, he met the wide, surprised stares of Tassi, Quixotina, and Nia. Seizing the moment of stupefaction, he turned to Nia with a mischievous smile.

  "Maybe one day I'll become king, Nia. Then, I could make you my fifth wife, if you wanted."

  Nia's expression instantly changed from surprise to pure panic, her eyes widening. Carlos was confused.

  Was it the wrong time for a joke?

  But he soon understood the reason. An icy voice cut through the air behind him.

  "You know, that could be considered treason. After all, you're aiming to take Ganga's place. I could cut your head off right here and now."

  Carlos felt his blood run cold. He turned slowly, muscles tense, and found Specter looking at him with a stern expression. Horror paralyzed him. For a moment, he thought he had made his last mistake.

  Luckily, the seriousness on Specter's face broke. He started to laugh, a hoarse and genuine sound.

  "I was just joking! I know you made a joke to tease Nia. I've known her for a long time; we came to this quilombo together. I can even guess what happened: she asked you to be her fifth husband, didn't she?"

  Carlos, his heart still pounding erratically, choked and managed to utter only a hoarse word:

  "Yes."

  Specter laughed even more, giving Carlos a friendly slap on the back. Then he sighed, and his face became serious once again.

  "Well, I only came back because I want you to deliver a basket full of those grenades to me by the end of the month. Now you'll have plenty of people under your command, so you can send more people to work on gunpowder production. I also want all the weapons you produce."

  Carlos, still feeling the cold sweat on the back of his neck, just nodded.

  "Of course."

  This time, it was Nia's laughter that echoed, unable to contain her amusement at seeing the pathetic relief plastered on Carlos's face. Tassi and Quixotina joined her, laughing at the expression of someone who seemed to have seen death up close.

  After delivering his message, Specter turned and started walking towards his own mocambo. On the way back, he passed by the gunpowder workshop, where the workers were already toiling frantically. He stopped for a moment, looked back, and saw Carlos and his group walking away, their laughter still faintly echoing. A barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips, and he whispered to himself, so low that only the wind could hear:

  "If you keep working well like this, becoming the new Ganga isn't an impossible dream. Zola thinks he can be like a Ganga from our land or a European king, with absolute power and loyal subjects. Unfortunately, no chief here is loyal to him. We are loyal to the quilombo. And the quilombo doesn't need an absolute and cowardly king."