"Tevyat to John. Come in," A staccato of snaps disturbed his thoughts. Kaeya softly chuckled as he snapped his fingers in a rhythm beside John's ear. "You're imagining things again."

"Eh, just thinking something…" John's mind trailed as he looked at the pile of bodies stacked on top of one another. Dead bodies of Fatui skirmishers and agents. A knight noticed one of them was struggling to breathe, bleeding to death from gunshot wounds. With a casual move, he, whose identity John didn't know, shot the downed skirmisher - it did not thunder with a loud bang. Instead, it cackled like a combination of a whip crack and shattered glass.

A thin ribbon of smoke spiraled out from the gun's suppressor. Its leather brass catcher clung to its side, as it echoed when a spent round jingled inside.

"Hey. You could've just stabbed him. Those things are hard to make, you know." John lightly scolded the knight… that is if he was even one in a sense of methodology. After all, knights were known for their swords and shields, not guns.

"Um, my apologies, sir," Timidly responded the knight in dark armor, his voice barely above a whisper, his face hidden behind a charcoal black helmet.

John scoffed.

Back on Earth, spent rounds held little value globally. After all, why bother in the hassle of gathering and recycling every used cartridge when its cheaper sourcing from factories? But in Teyvat, a single crate of ammunition might equate to a small mansion. Given that every round was meticulously assembled by hand, from powder to projectile, it meant that each shot held a value far surpassing mere mora.

In terms of cost-effectiveness and tactical value? Priceless in practicality.

It can take a warrior a lifetime to master the sword, but it can take a minute to make a single round of 10 mm.

… Except for those darn brass cartridges, John thought.

He immersed himself in his mind. That's why every spent casing has to be reused as much as possible.

Extruding and machining a new brass cartridge for each shot using crude machines was no walk in the park. Every round has to be reliable for the gun they're designed for its straight blowback operation to cycle smoothly, and as such, meticulously tested. His humble workshop can only do so much. Currently, he could churn out small boxfuls of new rounds a day.

Regardless of how limited the production was, it's still a game-changer.

A soldier of the Fatui would invest years in rigorous training before being deployed to foreign lands. Their Delusions, inferior imitations of genuine power, exacted a price equal to their lives, a cost matched only by their proficiency in wielding them.

John couldn't help but imagine the expenses involved in churning out a batch of Skirmishers. Perhaps he would have to inquire with Diluc for the figures, but what he did know, without a doubt, was that a single well-aimed 10mm round could render all those expenses utterly worthless.

But perhaps he should compare the known facts.

The Knights of Favonius would favorably choose the youth to instill knightly virtues, loyalty, and mastery of the sword and shield. Their training, just like its laws, was loose. Every trainee is more or less left to their own devices where those with noteworthy skills are chosen by captains. It's not uncommon to see people training on their own around the headquarters' poor excuse of a training facility.

The Millelith of Liyue would accept any citizen under thirty. Their structured program would last a year for a batch to complete the basics. Their large population allowed for a larger military that necessitated formalized training where one glove fits all. It explains why polearms are their main weaponry, where their lethality and ease of use can be maximized in mass formation.

Then there are the samurais of Inazuma, whose warrior culture dedicates themselves to the way of the blade, either for honor, glory, fame, or as a way to pay homage to their Archon. Their tradition naturally progressed its nation's bladesmithing techniques which have no equal. You can imagine how their culture makes them the most capable martial practitioners.

For Sumeru? No existing formal military. But why would it need such a thing for a nation that emphasizes knowledge? Why bother when mercenaries can do all the work for most of its security concerns?

The most notable as of yet is Fontaine. They have robots, but what's odd is that they supposedly aren't all armed with guns from what he's heard. Maybe it wasn't as effective as he thinks compared to what he was familiar with. Then again, it should be noted that the technological milestones of the seven nations don't mirror Earth at all, and thus it'd be a moot point to draw metrics and comparisons.

However...

If even the Fatui hadn't abandoned melee in their doctrine yet, it just goes to show that the firearms of Earth would be superior as a result of its two centuries' worth of development, refined through countless conflicts and fueled by the ever-competitive arms race.

So if he were to master his manufacturing capabilities and build a dedicated munitions facility where it wouldn't be impossible for the rate to reach thousands per hour… the world would tremble.

The sociopolitical dynamics between the Ordo Favonius and Fatui would be completely turned over.

No more will Mondstadt bend and kneel on her bruised knees.

"Hey, John—oh, you've got that look again," Kaeya's familiar voice called out, though it barely registered with him. In the background, a few dozen knights, clad in their distinctive custom black attire signifying the newly established company, were busy piling corpses at the heart of the ravaged Fatui base. John chuckled to himself. It takes a psychopath to laugh while looking at the corpses, but if Kaeya didn't know any better, he would have been worried.

The cavalry captain just sighed, still trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Well… former cavalry captain. Technically, he has no cavalry to lead; Varka had taken everything in his company for the biggest expedition the Ordo Favonius had orchestrated. Officially, it was only a title in status. But if he had any role left, it was shrouded in secrecy.

A captain of a hidden unit secret to the public, a company armed with weapons and gadgetry unconventional to any military and following a methodology inspired by Earth's elites, they were a complete antithesis to the conventional concept of a knight.

Or, as John put it, Mondstadt's first special fucking forces.

Sure, going up against the Fatui always seemed like a pretty bad idea… unless it's swept under the rug. Yes, they're the most powerful military in Tevyat. They wouldn't expect any serious opposition in establishing secret bases all over Mondstadt, all established in remote parts of the region but still within her borders nonetheless.

So you can just picture how mad they'd be when their bases started vanishing one by one, all disappearing without any significant traces. And who'd have thought it was done by a secret unit under the Ordo Favonius? It's not something anyone would expect, especially from what seems to be an agrarian nation where the only significant sign of mechanization is with its windmills.

But face it, dead or alive, these invaders weren't really on the political radar. Even if they knew the source of it all, what are they going to do?

Complain?

In public?

And admit that they actually are making secret bases, without anyone's consent as a foothold for future operations, meant to destabilize Mondstadt?

Ha!

They can all burn.

John summoned his custom-built catalyst, that could be described as an ornate, oversized thumbtack the size of a cane. A foci, where its energy could be focused on a tiny point. This one in particular was his magic welding torch he frequently used for a lot of his projects. However, if the situation needs to be, it can be a makeshift flamethrower.

"That's everything?" John asked.

Kaeya only nodded with a faint smile, "That's what I have been wanting to tell you, but I didn't want our genius mastermind to be disturbed in his scheming."

John chuckled at his teasing.

Every dark knight distanced from the pile and grouped themselves in a loose formation. They all stood in silence as each held their own integrally suppressed submachinegun, black in color just like their uniform. With a forward gesture, his catalyst pointed in the same direction to the corpse pile. It was engulfed in flames, with fire that burned so hot that it didn't take long to turn everything into ashes.

"Man, Visions are just so OP", John thought, as his Pyro vision hanging from his belt glowed red.

It was no wonder why people feared the Fatui. All of their soldiers were armed with rip-off versions. He could imagine how Tevyat reacted when Delusions first came into the game. Delusions are inferior compared to the real thing, but the fact that an organization managed to reverse engineer a power believed to be only granted by gods would of course feel… wrong.

It was literal blasphemy to Celestia.

Imagine out of nowhere that DARPA somehow turned every soldier into a ripoff Jesus who can run on water.

… No matter.

Things will change.

Back on Earth, wars are won by factories. World War II, for example, the most devastating conflict in human history as of yet (and God forbid there'd be a sequel), was won not only on the battlefields but also in the assembly lines of the Allied nations. At the end of the war, millions of war materials were produced. Just as the Soviet Union has been infamous for its human wave tactic, the USA was for its industrial production.

The numbers alone of each of the hardware produced post-war, from the battlefield workhorse the M4 Sherman to the infantry's grand M1 Garand, would boggle Snezhnaya. The production capacity demanded by sheer necessity at that time would make Fontaine's industrial capacity a cottage industry. World War Two wasn't a war won with the "warrior spirit" or "knightly virtue" that traditional militaries here in Tevyat were familiar with. Those were significant factors of course, but what dictated the battlefield was how much you could throw at your enemy.

And soon enough he will bring the same thing in Mondstadt.

"You're making that look again."

"Hehe."

End

Edit: Jan 24, 2024 - some editing here and rewording there.