Chapter 98: How to Make Nitrocellulose (Step 1: Don’t)

Chapter 98: How to Make Nitrocellulose (Step 1: Don’t)

The researcher’s skeletal fingers waved animatedly as he explained,"The compost we acquired from the farmers was just enough to saturate the nitrate, dissolving the salts. The next process involved mixing it with potassium carbonate from wood ash. After boiling and cooling a few batches, the potassium nitrate crystallized. We ground each component into a fine powder—75% potassium nitrate, 15% charcoal, and 10% sulfur. We thought we had it."

Karl leaned back, one brow raised. "The burn was too slow."

The skeleton froze. "...Exactly, my lord! How did—"

Karl smirked. "Black powder history, Dolrik. The Chinese figured that problem out centuries ago. Slow powder won’t shoot musket balls, just makes smoke."

The researcher rattled nervously before continuing. "So, we tried ball milling. The first attempt with steel balls... sparked."

Dolrik groaned. "You mean it exploded?"

The skeleton scratched the side of his skull. "Half the lab had to reassemble themselves... but yes."

That drew laughter from the table.

"After that," the researcher went on quickly, "we cast bronze into balls. Twelve hours of sealed grinding later, the powder’s burn was almost instantaneous. This," he held up a jar, "is the finished product."

Karl took it carefully, inspecting the uniform grains. Fine, glossy, good consistency. Burn rate should rival 19th century powder.

"Good job," he said. "I’ll establish a facility for mass production. One of you will supervise staff there. But the three of you will move to DEWS. From now on, you’ll work on advanced materials research. Your first priority—nitrocellulose."

The word sent a ripple through the room. Even Dolrik tilted his head. "Nitro... cellulose?"

Karl nodded, setting the jar down. "Think of it as black powder’s smarter, cleaner cousin. If you want the bare bones—" He raised three fingers."One: You’ll need nitric acid. That’s made by distilling saltpeter with sulfuric acid. Sulfuric you can make by burning sulfur with saltpeter and condensing the fumes. Crude, but it’ll work.Two: Once you have nitric acid, soak cotton fibers in it—carefully. That’s your cellulose source.Three: Wash it thoroughly to stop the reaction, then dry. If it burns fast and leaves almost no smoke, you did it right."

The researchers were scribbling furiously, eye-lights glowing with manic curiosity.

Dolrik frowned. "But acids? We don’t exactly have glassworks for containment, do we?"

Karl nodded approvingly. "Sharp. That’s part of the challenge—you’ll need to make lead-lined vessels or clay-coated retorts. Handle it wrong and the whole lab goes up in flames."

A nervous chuckle rippled around the table.

Karl shifted, his tone turning businesslike. "Until we succeed with nitrocellulose, we’ll rely on elemental propellants. Dolrik, I want you to experiment with a repeater rifle design. Firestones for propellant, arcstones for output control. Essentially, a magical equivalent of a cartridge."

Dolrik blinked, surprised. "A... repeating rifle, my lord? That’s several magnitudes more complex than a musket."

"That’s why you’ll start small," Karl replied firmly. "You’ll need precision machining. Which means a lathe."

He tapped the table for emphasis."Build one using shockstones for rotational energy. Embed copper coils and magnets, make it spin—primitive electrics. Crude, but it will work. Once you have a lathe, practice with bolt-action mechanisms. Model them after the Mauser 1871, Berdan rifles, the Beaumont, or even the French Chassepot 1866. Learn how the locking lugs and extractors function. When we have stable gunpowder, you’ll already have the designs ready."

Dolrik’s jaw slackened slightly, the idea of elemental-powered machinery catching him off guard. "A... spinning machine powered by lightning stones? That’s—"

Karl cut in, matter-of-fact. "Industry runs on precision, Dolrik. Blacksmithing alone won’t keep up with demand. You’ll need tools that make identical parts every time. Rifles aren’t swords—you can’t eyeball them into existence."

Karl leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Dolrik, listen carefully. If you’re going to work on bolt-action rifles, you need to understand the differences between the early models."

Dolrik straightened, instinctively reaching for a scrap of parchment.

Karl raised a finger. "The Mauser Model 1871. Single-shot, bolt-action. Strong locking lugs on the bolt—two massive teeth that keep the breech closed. Simple, reliable. But most importantly? It set the foundation for everything that came after. You get this right, you understand modern rifles."

Dolrik’s eye sockets narrowed, absorbing every word. "Strong teeth... locking the breech. So the bolt itself holds back the explosion of powder?"

"Exactly," Karl confirmed, pleased. "Next—the Berdan rifles, Model 1868 and 1870. Simpler designs. The bolt locks at the rear, weaker compared to the Mauser, but easy to manufacture. Think of them as entry-level bolt rifles. Crude, but they worked well enough for the Russian Empire to field millions of them. A good starting point if precision machining is still a problem."

Dolrik scribbled furiously. "Rear-locking... easier to craft."

Karl gave a sharp nod. "Then there’s the Beaumont Model 1871

Dolrik looked up, curiosity burning. "So... a spring hidden inside the bolt itself? That’s—delicate work, my lord."

Karl smirked. "That’s the point. You’ll need that lathe. Without precision, it’ll jam, misfire, or worse—blow up in your hands."

He tapped the table again, more firmly this time. "And finally—the French Chassepot Model 1866. A paper-cartridge bolt-action. Not metallic cartridges yet, but still revolutionary. The French used a rubber obturator in the bolt head to seal gases—primitive, but effective. It showed the world that breech-loading rifles were the future."

Dolrik leaned back, parchment trembling in his hands. "So many designs... each one building on the last. It’s not just blacksmithing. It’s... layers of engineering."

Karl’s expression softened slightly, a teacher proud of a student’s first breakthrough. "Exactly, Dolrik. Rifles are history written in steel. Each design teaches us something: strength, simplicity, precision, sealing, reliability. You won’t master them all at once—but you’ll study, you’ll experiment, and you’ll fail a few times. That’s the process."

Dolrik let out a low, almost reverent chuckle. "I see why you value them so much, my lord. They’re more than weapons—they’re... progress itself."

Karl leaned back, satisfied. "That’s why you’ll start with the Berdan—simpler, more forgiving. Then move to Mauser once the lathe proves reliable. Once you can machine precise bolts and locking lugs, you’ll graduate to Beaumont and Chassepot complexity. And when nitrocellulose is ready—" He paused, a dangerous grin flickering. "—we’ll be entering the era of modern rifles. Then, Dolrik, we’ll have the foundation for repeaters, even machine guns."

The room went quiet. Even the researchers, who had been so giddy about acids and powders, suddenly looked like monks listening to scripture.

Dolrik swallowed, then bowed deeply. "I will not fail you, my lord."

Karl gave a single nod. "See that you don’t. History won’t wait for us."

Silence fell for a moment, the weight of Karl’s words settling over the council.

Karl’s gaze softened, just slightly. "Good. You’ll have the opportunity to shape history, Dolrik. Don’t waste it."

The blacksmith bowed deeply, a rare moment of humility even from one so proud.

Karl let the silence stretch before he spoke, voice measured but heavy with intent."You all—we—will finally have the opportunity to evolve as ghouls."

The words struck the room like a hammer blow. A ripple of gasps broke out. For once, the scholars and warriors alike seemed shaken. Even Dolrik felt a shiver down his spine. Only Leo remained calm, arms folded, watching Karl with that knowing grin, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

One of the senior researchers finally spoke, his voice shaky. "My lord... forgive my bluntness, but—flesh? You mean... we’ll look as we once did?"

Karl nodded slowly. "Flesh. Muscle. Eyes that see and tongues that taste. All five senses returned to you. No longer hiding under cloth masks, no longer forced to pretend to be what we are not. Each of you will have your own face again. Your own identity."

Murmurs erupted, some awestruck, some disbelieving.

Libera, leaned forward, his voice hoarse with barely contained emotion. "You mean... we will feel again? The pain of cutting your own hand? The weight of a hand on our shoulder?"

Karl met his burning sockets directly. "Yes. Touch. Warmth. Pain. And pleasure. All of it."

That set the room buzzing again. A few laughed, half in disbelief, half in giddy anticipation.

"Pleasure, he says," muttered another researcher, chuckling. "I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sell the idea better than all the rest."

"Don’t be crude," another hissed—though even his eye sockets expressed amusement.

Karl let them murmur before continuing, tone firm but not cold. "I know many of you have longed for this. To eat without fear of decay. To laugh and taste wine. To feel the wind not only against bone, but on skin. You will never suffer hunger or exhaustion—our mana will sustain us—but the experiences of the living will finally be yours again."

Dolrik raised his skeletal hand, voice steady, pragmatic. "My lord, if I may—what are the risks? Surely there is no gift without cost."

Karl’s expression hardened. "You are right to ask. The transformation will take six hours. During this time, none of you can fight. None of you can even move. We will be vulnerable, all of us. That is the price. Worse still—" He paused, letting the weight settle. "—there is no way to stagger the process. Once begun, we all undergo it together. If we are attacked, we cannot defend ourselves."

The knights exchanged grim looks. For soldiers used to vigilance, the thought of helplessness was sobering.

The administrator executive adjusted his tie. "And what of the change itself, my lord? You say it is permanent?"

Karl nodded once. "Permanent. There is no return to the skeleton state. This will be our next evolution, the foundation of what comes after. A species reborn."

The room fell silent again. Then marketing executive laughed nervously. "Then I’ll be able to eat that delicious stew, the chef has been cooking."

"You’ll taste every spice," Karl said without hesitation. "And every burn if you eat it too hot. Though you already have simulated sense of smell and taste, this one evolution gives the full senses without restriction."

That drew a round of genuine laughter, breaking some of the tension.

Dullahan, leaned back in his chair. "I’ll believe it when I bite into bread and it doesn’t fall through my jaw." But even he couldn’t hide the trembling in his hands.

Karl gave him a steady look. "You’ll believe it the first time you wipe grease off your chin."

That silenced the skeptic—and earned Karl a few chuckles and nods of approval.

Then Karl’s tone grew heavier again, grounding the excitement. "Make no mistake. This will mark a new era for us. It is not without danger. But once completed, we will no longer be skeletons hiding from the living. We will be something new. Flesh-bound, yet undying. Alive... yet eternal."

The chamber erupted—not in polite applause, but in raw cheers and pounding fists on tables. It was not the sound of subordinates obeying—it was the sound of soldiers and scholars daring to hope again.

Karl allowed himself a rare smile. "That will be all. Prepare yourselves. Prepare our home. When the time comes, we either rise together—or fall forever."