192: Industrial prototype

With the self-exile of Stedwick, the City of Magic, in that soaring white light, taking with it the last remnants of nostalgia for the magical glory of the old era, the will to resist across the entire North Continent collapsed like a sandcastle.

The kings of small nations, highland lords, and tribal chiefs who once depended on the Mage Council no longer had the courage to resist Gareth's highly organized Salvation Army.

"Surrender, or perish."

This simple and cold ultimatum spread to every inch of the Northern Lands with the roar of the Red Dragon Klaus Difan.

This time, without the power of mages and the obstruction of magic-guided legions, Gareth's path of conquest was unbelievably smooth. In less than half a year, the flags of the Salvation Army flew over every city wall from the Arctic Ice Field to the Central Great Plains.

Thus, this vast continent called "First Land" by the natives of Mana Star finally welcomed the second true unification in its history after thousands of years of division and war.

The last one to achieve this was the legendary ancient magic empire that had long since vanished into the dust of history.

Gareth stood on the terrace of the newly built imperial palace. This had once been the capital of a duchy that resisted most fiercely, but now it was the heart of the new regime. He looked down at the city being repaired, the [Embrace of the Stars] battle armor on him still as bright as new, but there was little joy of victory in his eyes.

"Your Majesty."

Imperial Intelligence Director Solace appeared silently behind him. "The last troll tribe in the North has declared its surrender. Now, the entire continent, except for those rarely visited desolate lands, has been incorporated into the empire's territory."

"We have accomplished what most emperors in history failed to fully achieve."

Gareth did not look back. His gaze crossed the layers of buildings, the distant mountains, and cast toward the even more remote East.

There lay the endless Sea of Storms.

"It's not enough, Solace, far from enough," Gareth's voice was low. "The First Land continent is only a part of Mana Star. Across the sea, there is the West Continent, and the Southern Archipelagoes... If we cannot unify the power of the entire planet, what will we have to face those opponents who are about to descend from the sky?"

He turned around and walked to the huge world map hanging on the wall, which clearly depicted the full view of Mana Star. Although the First Land continent was vast, it only occupied about 40% of the global land area.

"We need to cross the sea." Gareth's finger tapped heavily on the location of the Sea of Storms. "We need a fleet, a fleet that can conquer the ocean and project the empire's will to every corner of the world."

Solace fell silent.

He knew the terror of the Sea of Storms better than anyone; it was shrouded year-round in violent magical turbulence, with waves a hundred meters high and deep-sea behemoths the size of islands lurking within.

"Your Majesty, reality is cruel," Solace had to pour cold water on the idea. "Years of continuous warfare allowed us to unify the continent, but it also drained the last drop of blood from this land. The treasury is empty, the fields are barren, and the young men have suffered heavy casualties... We are struggling even to maintain basic livelihoods; where would we find the resources to build an ocean-going fleet capable of crossing the Sea of Storms?"

"Building ships requires massive funds, vast amounts of high-quality timber and steel, and even more skilled craftsmen and sailors."

"And," Solace paused, "even if we could build ships, ordinary sailboats simply cannot survive in an environment like the Sea of Storms. We would need magic-guided warships, but after Stedwick vanished, high-level mages and alchemists have almost gone extinct. We simply don't have the technology to build vessels that can resist magical storms."

This was the stalemate Gareth faced.

He possessed vision and power beyond the era, but the foundation beneath his feet was a total mess.

This continent had been bled dry by war.

"What about magic?" Gareth asked, unwilling to give up. "Where is Cecilia?"

"I am here."

Cecilia, wearing the robes of the Chief Court Mage, walked in. The staff in her hand shimmered, but her expression was somewhat dim.

"Cecilia, is there a kind of magic?" Gareth asked urgently. "The kind that can teleport an entire army to a distant place?"

Cecilia shook her head with a bitter smile.

"Your Majesty, you think too highly of magic, and too highly of me."

"That kind of ultra-long-range spatial magic capable of teleporting thousands of troops only exists in myths and legends or in the core Forbidden Library of Stedwick. With the self-exile of the Mage Council, that most profound knowledge has been lost to time."

"The most I can do now is teleport a few people over short distances or open a small portal that lasts for a few minutes." Cecilia sighed. "To rely on magic to project a million-strong army across the ocean? Unless a true god personally descends."

"Is even the path of magic cut off..."

Gareth slumped back into his chair.

He looked out the window, the sense of urgency in his heart whipping his soul like a lash.

Ilya had said that the Human Federation's fleet was on its way.

That was an Interstellar Fleet capable of crossing the universe, not something that could be resisted with sailboats and horse-drawn carriages.

He only had a dozen or so years left.

"Without a navy, I cannot unify the globe."

"Without unifying the globe, we cannot concentrate the resources of the entire planet."

"If we cannot concentrate resources, when that moment comes, we will truly be like lambs to the slaughter, left at the mercy of others."

Was he really going to give up?

Just then, Gareth's hand touched the cold, hard object on his chest.

It was the data pad Ilya had left for him.

He pulled it out and lit up the screen.

The dense text and charts on it recorded basic technology from the early development of Human Civilization within the Wanderer's database, including knowledge of the era known as the "Industrial Revolution."

"Then we will take another path!" Gareth muttered to himself.

"We don't need mages, we don't need expensive magic-guided materials; we will use a cheaper, more violent power more suitable for ordinary people to arm this empire!"

He stood up abruptly and slammed the data pad onto the table.

"Solace, Cecilia, pass on my orders!"

"Stop all preparation plans for the deep-sea navy and pause the exploration of the Sea of Storms."

"We're not leaving yet."

"Right here on this continent, we are going to carry out a complete transformation!"

...The next five years were world-shaking for the people of the First Land.

They were also five years that made them feel their worldview was collapsing and being reconstructed.

Under Gareth's iron-fisted rule, the entire empire became a high-speed machine.

In the first year, he issued the "Agricultural Reform Decree."

Utilizing modern agricultural knowledge recorded in the data pad, Gareth promoted deep plowing, crop rotation, and primitive fertilizers synthesized from alchemy waste.

Although there was no such miracle as hybrid rice, the mere change in farming methods and the introduction of fertilizers caused the grain yield of that barren land to increase several times over.

Hunger, the demon that had plagued the First Land for millennia, was pushed back into hell.

People with full stomachs finally had a glimmer of light in their eyes and the strength to work.

In the fourth year, the roar of mines and steel resounded through the skies.

Gareth no longer allowed blacksmiths to clank away in small workshops; he concentrated all blacksmiths and earth mages to establish the first blast furnace near the mines.

When the crimson molten iron flowed like a river from the blast furnace and the first batch of cast iron—not of the highest quality but produced in staggering quantities—cooled and took shape, all the craftsmen were struck with awe.

"This is chemistry." Gareth stood before the blast furnace, his face reflected red by the firelight. "This is the power mastered by mortals."

With steel, there were tools.

In the seventh year, the seed called "Education" began to sprout.

Gareth forcibly demolished temples everywhere and converted them into "Imperial Academies." He broke the monopoly of the nobility and the church over knowledge, using movable type printing to mass-produce simple literacy textbooks and basic arithmetic books.

He didn't need to cultivate philosophers or artists; what he needed were workers who could read blueprints, gunners who could calculate ballistics, and soldiers who could obey orders and understand complex instructions.

This was literacy with a strong utilitarian purpose, but objectively it enlightened the people.

In the ninth year, in the depths of the Imperial Royal Workshop, with the assistance of Cecilia and several other mages who had joined the empire, and through the day-and-night efforts of countless craftsmen, a steel monster spewing black smoke and steam emitted its first roar.

That was the first steam engine of the First Land.

Although its airtightness was poor and its efficiency was pitifully low, and it would occasionally make abnormal noises, it could drive a huge flywheel to rotate, converting thermal energy into a continuous stream of kinetic energy.

"It eats coal and spits out strength!"

"It's stronger than a hundred oxen! And it never tires!"

Although Ilya's data pad contained internal combustion engines and even electrical technology, Gareth understood that he couldn't move too fast. Given the current foundation of the First Land, steam power was the best choice.

In the tenth year, the results of the transformation began to erupt.

Angus City, the former capital of the Rocasia Kingdom, had become the new Imperial Capital.

If someone who left ten years ago returned now, they would absolutely think they had come to the wrong place.

The once white city walls and elegant spires were now shrouded in a gray haze of smoke and dust.

Hundreds of towering chimneys stood on the outskirts of the city, day and night spewing black smoke into the sky; they were the flags representing industrial power—dirty, yet full of vitality.

Broad roads were no longer muddy dirt paths but hardened surfaces paved with crushed stones and a certain black gelatinous substance (primitive asphalt).

There were no cars yet on the roads, but steel carriages driven by small steam engines that made a huge noise had appeared, dragging heavy goods as they crawled slowly between cities.

And in the city's suburbs, a massive arsenal was running at full speed.

The dull thud of forging presses and the sound of assembly line conveyor belts never stopped.

Dark gun barrels were drilled and shaped one by one, and standardized fixed ammunition was filled and sealed.

Although they were only the most primitive smoothbore muskets and muzzle-loading cannons, with the boost of large-scale production, their numbers were staggering.

Gareth stood on the palace tower, looking down at the city filled with the smell of coal smoke and engine oil.

"Ten years..."

Gareth took a deep breath of the not-so-fresh air, yet felt it smelled better than any spice.

"Although it's ugly, crude, and ruins the scenery."

"But this is the path that belongs to us."

"Your Majesty," Solace stepped out from the shadows and handed over a report. "The newly formed musketeer corps has finished training. Although their accuracy is average, under your line tactics, their fire density is enough to shred any charge from the old era."

"Additionally, the prototype of the steam ironclad has already had its keel laid in the shipyard. Although it cannot yet cross the Sea of Storms, its role in coastal defense is beyond anything a sail-driven warship can compare to."

Gareth nodded.

He didn't know if his defiance would succeed; he only knew he had to do his best.