504 Bob the Weapon Supplier

504 Bob the

Weapon Supplier

[POV: Bob]

Bob stood suspended in the dim vastness of the Underworld, his enormous frame drifting slowly as his single eye scanned the emptiness with quiet intensity. Despite his size, there was a certain restraint in how he carried himself, as though every movement was carefully measured to avoid unintended destruction.

He was Bob.

A master craftsman and a master builder.

Back in Paradise, his name carried weight, though not always in the way he preferred. Many knew him for his engineering brilliance, for the structures he shaped and the mechanisms he brought to life. Some had even taken to calling him “Bob the Builder,” a title he never quite rejected, yet never truly embraced either.

Blacksmithing had always been his real passion.

His kind, the Asura Eye, were known across the Greater Universe for their mastery over the forge, their colossal bodies, and the singular, massive eye that defined their perception. That eye allowed them to observe existence in scales both vast and minute, measuring reality in ways most beings could not comprehend.

Of course, many races claimed similar prestige.

Bob did not concern himself with those claims.

What did concern him was Paradise.

His neighbors had grown insufferable.

Those mud-eating, earth-dwelling, diamond-dealing, gold-hoarding midgets had begun flaunting their creations with increasing arrogance. The favor of the gods had tilted toward them, and they wore it proudly, as though it validated their craft above all others.

It irritated him more than he cared to admit.

He wanted to surpass them.

He needed to surpass them.

To do that, he needed to create something undeniable.

A masterpiece.

That, unfortunately, required resources.

Which was why he found himself here, in the Underworld, of all places, working part-time as a merchant.

It had not gone well.

His people communicated best through eye contact, through subtle shifts in perception and intent. Spoken language was… inefficient. Even with Qi Speech, his words came out slow, stretched, and often awkward.

There was also the issue of his voice.

If he failed to control it properly, the force alone could tear apart his surroundings, reducing customers and nearby celestial bodies into debris. It had nearly earned him a bounty from the Celestial Circle, though no formal complaint had been filed.

Even so, customers were scarce.

Bob had begun to consider giving up.

Perhaps returning home without a masterpiece was better than continuing this futile effort.

That was when he saw it.

His eye focused, narrowing slightly as it locked onto something moving through the Underworld.

A ship.

Not just any ship.

Even at a glance, he could tell it was extraordinary. Its structure, its energy flow, the integration of different systems? It all spoke of craftsmanship that rivaled legendary constructs. It was not quite on the level of Naglfar, but it stood proudly among creations like the Argo.

Whoever owned it was wealthy.

Very wealthy.

Bob hesitated.

Then impatience took over.

His massive hand reached out, carefully, far more carefully than anything his size should have allowed, and grasped the ship. Even then, the motion caused turbulence, the surrounding space rippling under the pressure of his grip.

He immediately regretted the abruptness.

“Sooowry… juuust… peeedling…” he said, forcing the words out slowly.

He adjusted his hold, loosening it enough to show he meant no harm.

“Meee meeerchant… seeell cooool stuuufff…”

Inside the ship, the figure he had caught blinked up at him.

For a brief moment, Bob felt something unusual.

It was subtle, but clear.

The man was observing him.

Not just looking, but interpreting.

It felt… similar to how his own kind communicated.

Bob hesitated, and then introduced himself. “Meee Bob…”

Then the man spoke.

“The name’s David, Bob,” he said. “So, folks from your place have similar naming conventions.”

Bob froze slightly.

He did not fully understand the question, but he tried to respond anyway.

“Yeeeees… Noooo…”

The answer came out awkward, stretched between uncertainty and effort.

Embarrassment settled in.

Paradise was complicated. Too many factions, too many cultures, too many ways of naming and living. Some sought battle, others indulgence, others pursuits that barely made sense to outsiders. It was a realm shaped heavily by the influence of Supreme Fate, and that influence was anything but simple.

Before Bob could attempt to clarify, David spoke again.

“Ah, I get it,” he said. “You mean the Asura Realm consists of multiple cultural systems, so naming conventions vary depending on the dominant group in a region.”

Bob paused.

That was… correct.

The pink-haired woman nearby let out a small sigh.

“How did you get all that?” she asked.

David laughed lightly.

“It’s my Linguist skill,” he said. “I’ll explain later.”

Bob remained still, quietly impressed.

Then David gestured toward the others.

“Anyway, Bob, let me introduce my family,” he said. “This is my partner, Alice.”

The pink-haired woman nodded in acknowledgment.

“And this,” David continued, placing a hand on a dark-haired girl who looked thoroughly uninterested, “is our daughter, Gu Jie. Or Guin, depending on her mood.”

“No, not Guin,” the girl snapped immediately.

She turned her head away, her expression cold as she distanced herself from Alice, the tension between them subtle but unmistakable.

Bob noticed the family drama.

He also chose not to engage with it.

Some things were better left alone.

“And I’m Yang,” a white, blob-like cat added. “Nice to meet you.”

Bob blinked slowly, taking in the group before him.

A strange family.

A strange ship.

And, perhaps, a strange opportunity.

Bob hovered in the dim expanse, his massive eye fixed on the group before him as he gathered what little courage he needed to continue.

“Wannaaa see coooool stuff?” he asked, his voice slow and stretched, each syllable carefully restrained.

David’s face lit up almost immediately.

“Sure, buddy! What do you have?”

That response alone nearly overwhelmed him.

Without thinking, Bob reached into his pocket dimension and pulled.

And kept pulling.

The vacuum of space around them began to fill.

Weapons of every kind spilled outward in an expanding display, neatly suspended despite the lack of ground. Swords of varying lengths and curvature gleamed with polished edges, spears radiated sharp intent, axes carried brutal weight, and bows curved with elegant precision. Staves, wands, and orbs floated among them, each humming faintly with crafted purpose.

The collection continued to grow until it blanketed the surrounding space, a small armory adrift in the Underworld.

Bob froze slightly afterward.

He realized he might have overdone it.

Embarrassment crept in again, though he said nothing, his eye subtly shifting toward David as he waited for a reaction. This was his first real customer, the first one who had not screamed or fled at the mere sight of him.

That alone made this moment feel important.

David grinned.

“You’ve got a lot of fun toys,” he said. “But I don’t exactly have the budget to mass-buy everything here.”

Bob’s excitement dipped slightly, though he remained attentive.

“How do you even do business?” David continued. “Do you take spirit stones? Coins? Souls? I heard the Underworld runs mostly on souls.”

Bob paused.

He had not thought that far.

The realization settled in slowly, followed by a deeper wave of embarrassment. He had come here with a goal in mind, yet overlooked something as fundamental as currency.

His purpose had been clear.

The Underworld was rich in resources, second only to Heaven itself. The sheer volume of souls moving through its layers created a constant exchange of goods between realms, and beneath its surface lay veins of minerals that had accumulated long before the division of existence.

It was, by all logic, the perfect place for a blacksmith like him.

And yet, he had not even prepared for trade properly.

His thoughts drifted briefly to Paradise.

Some called the Underworld barren, but that only meant they had never seen the broader stretches of the Asura Realm. Paradise was only paradise for those who ruled it. For others, like his kind, it was labor without end, forging endlessly under the expectations of gods who rarely looked their way.

And now, even that position was threatened.

The dwarves had begun to rise.

Their craft, their resources, their influence? It all grew at a pace that made his people uneasy.

Desperation had followed.

Bob’s eye dimmed slightly as those thoughts passed.

Then David spoke again.

“I see the resolve in your eye, buddy,” he said, his tone softer now. “I don’t know your full story, but I think there’s business to be made here.”

Bob focused on him again.

“What do you think about an exclusive deal?” David continued. “You sell only to us, and we’ll make sure you get the best returns.”

The words settled heavily.

“There’s no need to hold back, Bob,” David added with a grin. “This is your lucky day. If you’ve got people back home with goods to sell, we’ll take those too.”

Bob remained still, absorbing every word.

“Head to the Luminary’s Rest,” David said. “Ask for Hei Mao.”

Then he turned slightly.

“Yang, can you escort him there? Just leave a clone or mark us. We’re not in a rush.”

The white, blob-like cat let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Fine, fine,” Yang replied.

Bob watched the exchange carefully.

His gaze lingered on Yang.

He could see it clearly.

That creature was not merely a pet.

It was a soul construct, something born from David himself, carrying a connection that went beyond ordinary companionship. Even in Paradise, beings like that would be revered. Entire factions worshipped feline entities, elevating them to divine status, punishing any who dared show disrespect.

And here, one stood casually at his side.

Bob felt something shift within him.

Excitement.

…

..

.

[POV: Ru Qiu]

Ru Qiu stood at the threshold of Luminary’s Rest, his gaze steady as the first batch of the Player Covenant gathered behind him. The transition had gone smoothly, far smoother than expected, and that alone was enough to put him slightly at ease.

War’s forces had not discovered the warp satellites.

That detail mattered.

Nongmin’s foresight had proven invaluable once again, the stealth formations embedded within the satellites masking their presence just enough to slip beneath notice. It was a quiet success, the kind that did not announce itself but shaped everything that followed.

Behind him, the players were already reacting.

“Yo, this map is insane!”

“Look at the skybox, what the hell?!”

“Bro, Underworld update goes hard!”

Their voices overlapped in excitement, filled with the kind of energy that made Ru Qiu briefly wonder whether bringing them here had been a wise decision.

In front of them stood Luminary’s Rest.

The massive red torii gate rose against the dim backdrop of the Underworld, its structure both striking and unnatural in a realm like this. It stood as a declaration, unmistakably tied to Hei Mao’s influence. Beyond it, the settlement stretched outward, anchored by a centerpiece that was impossible to ignore.

A towering statue.

Da Wei’s likeness had been carved in exaggerated grandeur, every detail refined to reflect something far more dignified than the man himself.

Ru Qiu felt a faint sense of satisfaction.

He knew Da Wei would hate it.

“This place is quite inhospitable,” Fanarys remarked from beside him.

Ru Qiu nodded slightly.

“For the living, yes,” he said. “What’s wrong? Regretting coming here already?”

Fanarys let out a sharp scoff.

“Oh, please,” she snapped. “If this place lets me grow stronger and vent some frustration, I’m all in.”

Saber, standing nearby, raised a hand slightly.

“I suggest we cool down our jets a bit,” she said.

Fanarys frowned.

“What even are jets?”

Before that could spiral further, Arthur’s voice cut in.

“I mean, I appreciate that the trip wasn’t long and all,” he said, “but what in radiant glory is that?”

He pointed upward.

Ru Qiu followed his gaze.

There, looming far too close for comfort, was something that immediately disrupted the atmosphere.

A moon.

And sitting on top of it?

Ru Qiu’s expression flattened slightly.

A massive, rotund creature with a single enormous eye, its size dwarfing the celestial body beneath it. The proportions were absurd, the image almost comical despite its scale as the said creature sat daintily on the moon.

The players behind him erupted.

“WHAT IS THAT?!”

“Boss fight?! That’s gotta be a boss fight!”

“Screenshot, screenshot, hold on—!”

“Do you think it drops legendary loot?”

“Can we attack it?”

“Someone try aggro it!”

Ru Qiu exhaled slowly, already feeling a headache forming.

He turned to Saber.

“Can you tell them not to attack the cyclops?” he said.

Saber winced slightly.

“…Yeah, I’ll handle it.”

She stepped forward, raising her voice.

“Everyone, do not engage that creature!” she called out. “I repeat, do not do anything reckless!”

A few players groaned in disappointment, though most were still too busy gawking or capturing the moment to argue properly. Before things could escalate, a familiar figure appeared. Hei Mao approached with measured steps, his expression composed as he stopped before Ru Qiu.

“Lord Uncle Ru Qiu,” he said, bowing slightly. “Apologies for the delayed greeting. I was occupied with negotiations.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward the massive cyclopean figure in the distance.

Ru Qiu raised a brow.

“I’m surprised you’re calling me that,” he said. “But I’m even more surprised by… that.”

Hei Mao grimaced faintly.

“That would be Master’s arrangement,” he replied. “His name is Bob. He will be supplying us with weapons moving forward. Some of his kin may also arrive to trade.”

Behind them, the players reacted immediately.

“Wait, new vendor?!”

“Let’s go, gear upgrade time!”

“Finally something worth spending on!”

“Why is there no microtransaction system?! This is painful!”

Ru Qiu ignored the noise, his attention still on the distant giant.

“You’re certain it’s safe,” he said, “having something like that so close?”

Hei Mao hesitated for a fraction of a moment.

“I believe we will be fine,” he said.

As if on cue, something shifted at the edge of the horizon.

A Void Beast emerged, its form massive and distorted, moving with a presence that warped the surrounding space. It approached without hesitation, drawn perhaps by the activity or simply wandering without purpose.

Ru Qiu’s eyes narrowed slightly, ready to unleash his flames.

Before anyone else could react, Bob moved.

The giant’s hand descended with overwhelming speed.

It grabbed the Void Beast effortlessly.

Then tore it apart.

The motion was clean, casual, almost absentminded. The creature’s form split in two as though it had never possessed resistance to begin with. Without pause, Bob brought the pieces closer and began to eat, his movements slow and unbothered.

Silence fell.

Even the players stopped talking.

Ru Qiu stared for a moment, then exhaled quietly.

“…I see,” he said at last.

That answered the question.

…

..

.

[POV: Bob]

A hundred years passed in what felt, to Bob, like a long and steady forging process rather than the passage of time.

From his vantage point atop the moon that now served as both his workshop and resting place, he watched Luminary’s Rest grow into something far more lively than when he first arrived. What had once been a strange outpost in the Underworld had turned into a thriving hub, and at the center of much of its activity stood an unlikely constant.

Him.

The faction known as the Player Covenant had become his most voracious customers.

They came in waves, tireless and relentless, bringing with them all manner of payment. Precious minerals, spirit stones, crafted weapons, and even souls taken from those they had subjugated were offered without hesitation. Their willingness to trade anything of value had unsettled him at first, especially when they approached him so boldly, demanding to purchase his work without fear.

His initial discussion with Hei Mao had been brief but impactful.

The arrangement was simple. The players would deal with him directly, and he would have complete freedom to determine the value of his creations. That freedom had been daunting, considering his lack of experience in commerce.

Hei Mao noticed immediately.

Without hesitation, the man educated him on market standards, pricing structures, and demand cycles. Then, almost casually, he suggested that Bob triple his prices.

Bob had been confused.

Hei Mao had been insistent.

In time, Bob realized it worked.

Meeting David had already felt like a turning point, but being brought into this system, guided without restraint yet supported when needed, had changed everything. He integrated quickly into Luminary’s Rest, finding himself surrounded by individuals who treated him with an unexpected level of generosity.

They gave him space.

They gave him materials.

They even gave him gifts.

The players, however, remained… unsettling.

Their eccentricity had no clear limits.

There was a time they increased the size of his moon simply so he could sit more comfortably. Eventually, it became large enough for him to lie down entirely, turning it into a proper resting place whenever he needed it.

Another time, one of them had loudly professed affection toward him.

Bob had been caught completely off guard.

He rejected the confession as gently as he could, citing the obvious barrier between their species. The fact that they were both male had only added another layer of complication he did not feel equipped to navigate.

The player had not seemed discouraged.

That part worried him.

Hei Mao had his own peculiar instructions.

On several occasions, he insisted that Bob deliberately break weapons during upgrades when requested. The reasoning traced back to David, whose words Hei Mao followed closely.

Bob did not fully understand the logic.

Still, he trusted David.

So he complied.

Strangely, it worked.

Players returned more often, drawn by the process rather than deterred by it. Business improved, demand increased, and what initially felt counterintuitive became routine.

Eventually, Bob began issuing quests.

He felt guilty about it at first, as though he was imposing work onto others, but the players reacted with overwhelming enthusiasm. They sought out his tasks repeatedly, eager to complete them, eager to return.

His business flourished.

He remembered one particular occasion clearly.

A group of players had dragged a Void Beast toward him, their voices overlapping in chaotic excitement.

“Pull it closer!”

“Drag it to Bob, trust me!”

“Easy EXP, just let him handle it!”

Bob had not understood their intent until it was too late.

The creature had lunged.

He reacted instinctively.

The result had been immediate.

The Void Beast was torn apart, but so were several of the players caught too close. The force of his movement alone had been enough to erase them.

Bob had stood there in silence afterward.

He felt… bad.

The next time those same players returned, he offered them discounts.

They seemed pleased.

Void Beasts themselves were unpleasant creatures, their forms warped and their presence unsettling. Yet within them existed rare and valuable materials, strange metals that did not behave like anything found elsewhere.

Bob had begun experimenting.

At one point, he regurgitated a newly processed alloy onto his workspace, the molten substance shimmering with an unnatural density. He called it Void Steel, a fusion of conventional minerals and the anomalous matter harvested from Void Beasts.

To shape it, he used a star.

Quite literally.

He pulled a fragment of a dying star closer, using its heat and mass as a forge, hammering the alloy with careful, controlled strikes. Each impact echoed through space, sending ripples across the surrounding void.

The result had been promising.

Not perfect.

But close.

Satisfied for the moment, he returned to his moon and resumed his usual position, continuing his trade as customers arrived in steady intervals.

Then something new appeared.

A messenger bird.

It carried with it a communication orb from Paradise.

Bob’s eye brightened slightly as he activated it.

Immediately, multiple voices spilled out.

“Bob! Is that you?!”

“Let me talk first!”

“No, I saw him first!”

“Move aside, you’re blocking the view!”

The familiar chaos of his family unfolded before him, their forms crowding into the projection as they argued over who would speak.

Then, one by one, they settled.

“We received the materials,” one of them said. “And the funds too.”

“You’ve done well,” another added.

“Are you eating properly?”

“Are you safe?”

Their voices carried warmth, concern layered beneath their usual energy.

Bob responded slowly, carefully.

“I’m… fiiine…”

He spoke with them for a while, exchanging small details, listening as they shared updates from home. The tension he once associated with Paradise felt distant in that moment, softened by the connection.

Before the communication ended, they left him with one final piece of news.

They would be sending more of their kind.

To help him.

To support the growing business.

The projection faded.

Bob remained still for a moment.

Then, a deep, slow sound echoed from him, something between a laugh and a satisfied exhale.

“Ha ha ha ha…”

Life had become good.

And from where he stood, it seemed it was only going to get better.