Otaku Translation: Lone Adventure V5C1

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Volume 5: The Beast Tamer

Chapter 1: The Telescope’s Function (Part 1)

The "telescope" is a type of accessory that, when worn, enhances the wearer's field of vision to a certain extent. Its creation involves a series of intricate and painstaking processes. To successfully craft one, you first need to extract “rough glass” from vast quantities of quartzite jade, then repeatedly purify it until you achieve “transparent glass,” followed by “crystalline glass,” and finally the finished product: “pure glass.” These materials are then shaped into various thin lenses—some convex, some concave—using specialized molds. Additionally, you must refine brass from copper ore and fashion it into pliable sheets. Lastly, the lenses are carefully arranged in a precise sequence, mounted onto the brass, and rolled together to form a peculiar cylindrical object. Only then can the telescope be considered complete.

Up until now, my experience had been limited to extracting substances from natural materials or purifying them at most. I’d never tackled anything as complex as this. The process demanded meticulous precision, especially during the lens-grinding phase—a single misstep could render an entire piece useless, undoing hours of effort. This was the part that frustrated me the most. According to the blueprint, both alchemists and machinists could learn to make telescopes, but I suspected the latter would find these procedures more intuitive.

The trial-and-error process of crafting the telescope was excruciating. I spent a fortune purchasing mountains of quartzite jade from mineral traders, only to melt them down in a specially enchanted furnace, removing impurities layer by layer. By the time the process was complete, only a fifth of the original material remained—and this had to be repeated three times. Even with my magically enhanced backpack filled to the brim with ore, I ended up with barely enough pure glass to fit in the palm of my hand. The sheer wastefulness of it all made me fantasize about hacking down Mount Uzig and dumping the whole thing into the furnace out of sheer frustration.

But that was just the beginning. When I moved on to grinding the lenses, my life truly descended into misery. I had to cut solid blocks of glass into thin slices, then meticulously grind them into delicate shapes. One wrong move, and they’d shatter into shards. After spending three full days turning a warehouse’s worthbarely handful-sized blockand eventually thin slicea clumsy slip reduced it to fragments scattered across the floor. You can imagine how utterly defeated I felt at that moment, wishing for nothing more than to vanish into oblivion.

By the time I completed all the necessary lenses, I’d lost count of how many gleaming white chunks of quartzite jade I’d gone through. It felt like I’d personally melted an entire mountain range into a few tiny transparent discs so small they’d barely serve as condiment plates. The sheer determination it took to persist through such a monumental task brought tears to my eyes—even I was moved by my own perseverance.

When the first telescope finally came together in my hands, the fruits of my labor became clear: not only did my alchemy skill leap to level six, but my overall character level surged to thirty-three. Overjoyed, I strapped the device to my belt and rushed to test its capabilities.

Peering out the window of Edgeville’s workshop, I immediately noticed an improvement in my vision. Previously, standing here allowed me to see no farther than three streets away; beyond the intersection leading to the city gates, everything blurred into indistinct silhouettes. Now, however, I could clearly discern figures walking near the fourth crossroads ahead. Through the telescope’s lens, I even spotted an elven man approaching from afar. He was tall and slender, his pale cheeks framed by flaxen hair that billowed softly in the breeze. His sharp nose and serene expression exuded effortless charm.

His emerald-green eyes shimmered with a quiet mystique, hinting at secrets hidden beneath their surface. Slung over his shoulder was an ornate blue composite bow carved with intricate designs. As he strolled leisurely down the street, two elegantly dressed human women approached him, engrossed in conversation. Oblivious to his presence, they continued chatting until they were mere steps apart. Startled, the women froze mid-step, while the elf seemed equally surprised, unable to halt his momentum in time.

Just as collision seemed inevitable, the elf deftly sidestepped to the left, pivoting gracefully on his leading foot and spinning lightly to avoid the pair. The movement was fluid and elegant, showcasing both his quick reflexes and impeccable balance, almost like a dancer gliding across the stage. Yet, despite his agility, fate had other plans. Unaware of a towering iron signpost behind the women, he collided headfirst with it, producing a sharp thud audible even from dozens of paces away. Judging by the sound, the impact must have been painful.

This unexpected mishap sent the previously startled women into fits of laughter. Hand-in-hand, they scurried off, casting curious glances backward as they pointed and giggled at the hapless elf still sprawled against the signpost, leaving behind a trail of melodic chuckles.

If you haven’t guessed already, this clumsy elf was none other than Elegant Strings—one of my former adventuring companions, a fellow warrior whose legendary nearsightedness and atrocious archery skills made him unforgettable. Watching him stumble through the bustling streets toward the main gate, I couldn’t help but cringe. In just a few dozen steps, he managed to collide with pedestrians five separate times, walk straight into walls twice, trip over loose stones three times, and once even bash his head against a pillar hard enough to draw blood—all while muttering apologies under his breath, clearly unsure what he’d hit.

Observing his chaotic progress, I suddenly had an idea. What if the telescope could improve his vision? Inspired, I bolted downstairs and dashed toward the city gates.

The area around the gates was packed with people—some waiting for others, some accepting quests, but most setting up stalls to sell goods. Everyone knew that shopkeepers, particularly natives, were notorious for exploiting adventurers. They’d offer insultingly low prices for valuable loot: a decent sword or accessory might fetch less than fifty silver coins, while raw materials like minerals or herbs sold for next to nothing. Meanwhile, the same items resold in their shops commanded triple or quadruple the price.

Frustrated by this exploitation, many planewalkers opted instead to set up makeshift stalls in the busiest parts of town. Here, sellers displayed their wares openly, allowing buyers to negotiate directly. This system benefited both parties: sellers earned higher profits, and buyers secured better deals. Personally, I frequented these markets often, buying raw materials for my alchemical experiments and selling my finished products.

Compared to native shops, the stalls offered not only lower prices but also a wider variety of goods, including rare and sought-after equipment. Among the most frequently mentioned items were “game cards” and “Renminbi”—terms I’d heard countless times without ever seeing the actual objects themselves. Phrases like “Tearfully selling game cards, 500 gold each, no haggling!” or “Professional gold farmers offering 1,000 gold for 50 Renminbi, 20% discount during our grand opening!” echoed through the crowd.

Strangely, whether in Kampnavia or Valor Fortress, I’d never seen these coveted items. All I witnessed were crowds eagerly exchanging piles of gold coins for... nothing. Buyers walked away grinning, as though relieved to be rid of their money before it exploded in their bags. Occasionally, someone would stand in the center of the square, fuming and cursing loudly about being scammed—accusing someone of taking their money without delivering the promised game cards, vowing vengeance upon the swindler’s family.

Though I’d never laid eyes on them, “game cards” and “Renminbi” seemed to function similarly to gold coins, likely foreign currencies used across Falvy’s continent. Together, they formed the backbone of Delrania’s financial system. Of the two, Renminbi appeared to hold the steadiest value, maintaining its worth despite fluctuations in exchange rates and gradually appreciating over time. It was widely regarded as the premier currency of the land—a true symbol of stability amidst economic uncertainty.

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