stonecrandall Chapter 839 - 455: Military Parade! Southward Advance! (Part 2)
Chapter 839 - 455: Military Parade! Southward Advance! (Part 2)
It was a slender, cold, and hard "iron tube" with simple lines.
A barely audible hum arose from the viewing platform.
Count Harvey instinctively furrowed his brows, his hand holding the teacup paused mid-air.
"These people..." he murmured, "what are they doing with sticks of firewood?"
The tone was not mocking, but purely puzzled.
He was a newly risen financial aristocrat of the South Empire, having struck it rich through shipping, mining, and finance, currently popular in the Imperial Capital.
Before the Second Prince took control of the Imperial Capital, he had sharply sensed the scent of danger and immediately transferred most of his business to the Northern Territory to rely on his second son, thinking he was being smart enough.
But at this moment, he couldn’t understand the scene before him at all.
Beside him, Yorn’s eyes shone intimidatingly.
"Father." His voice was very low, yet carried a near-reverent certainty, "Just watch, Lord Louis’s weapon will astonish you."
Count Harvey was slightly taken aback and turned to look at his second son.
Yorn Harvey, the second son of the Southern Harvey Family, now the Viscount of Silver Ridge Hill in the Northern Territory.
He was also the one with the most resolute stance in the entire circle of Northern Lords.
From the very beginning, he had been open about his choice. While everyone else was still hesitating and watching, he had already declared his intention to "cling tightly to Lord Louis," which, of course, had brought him significant benefits.
In Count Harvey’s eyes, this almost reckless loyalty had once made him extremely uneasy.
But now, he somewhat believed in these esoteric sciences, so he did not immediately refute.
The soldiers on the field had already stopped in their tracks.
At the end of the parade ground, three hundred straw men clad in full heavy plate armor were neatly arranged with helmets, chest plates, and shoulder guards, all crafted to the specifications of a Heavy Knight.
Gray’s hand fell, and a whistle pierced the air sharply.
The first row of soldiers knelt simultaneously, with their gunstock against their shoulders, and muzzles aligned.
"Bang——!!!"
A thunderous explosion erupted.
Blue flames powered by Demon Marrow spewed from the muzzles, forming a cold and deadly curtain of light.
Time seemed to stretch for a moment.
The distant armored straw men disintegrated thereafter.
The thick steel ripped apart and flipped over under the terrifying kinetic energy. Iron pieces and straw soared into the sky, as if struck head-on by an invisible giant hammer.
The wind carried the debris towards the viewing area, the crowd first fell into brief silence, then burst into deafening exclamations.
For most civilians, this was merely a spectacle, something novel, but those who understood had their expressions changed.
Count Harvey’s hand suddenly trembled.
The tea spilled onto his expensive robe, yet he was completely oblivious.
"This..." His Adam’s apple bobbed once, "If this power, if that previous volley had hit my knights..."
The words went unfinished, but the answer was all too clear.
On the other side of the VIP seats, Nico had already sat up straight.
His pupils slightly constricted, his gaze locked onto the shattered pieces of armor.
"Without the augmentation of Fighting Energy..." he muttered under his breath, "purely kinetic energy."
In Nico’s mind, calculations ran swiftly.
If one were an Extraordinary Knight, operating Fighting Energy at full force, facing this volley head-on...
It could be blocked, but not with ease.
The shield would shatter, Fighting Energy depleting rapidly.
And if it were a Heavy Knight beneath the extraordinary level...
Nico’s gaze swept over those fragments torn into pieces of iron armor, and his mind had already reached a conclusion.
"Life or death depends on luck, but as long as it’s a direct hit, combat capability would be obliterated in an instant." Nico exhaled slowly, his spine already chilled.
Thus, the so-called knight charge, in front of this cold infantry line, was merely a ritual of death.
The old butler Bradley, who had always been by his side, smiled slightly and refilled Nico’s teacup.
"Lord Nico," he said conversationally, "Are you wondering if this is some sort of one-time alchemy tool?"
Nico didn’t answer, but silence itself was assent.
"No." Bradley gently shook his head, casting his gaze towards that still-smoldering infantry line, "This is called a rifle, and its principle is actually not complex. Purified Magic Marrow Powder ignites instantaneously, propelling a metal bullet to kill with kinetic energy."
He extended a finger, making a negligible gesture: "And what is truly frightening about it has never been its power, but its cost."
Bradley’s gaze swept over those young and silent soldiers, his tone calm to the point of cruelty.
"To cultivate someone like you, an Extraordinary Knight, requires talent, magical potions, resources, and at least twenty years, costing no less than ten thousand gold coins."
"And to train a qualified musketeer, only takes an Apprentice Knight about three months."
He pointed again to the pile of shattered armor fragments in the distance, the corner of his lips curving into an exceedingly standard Calvin Clan smile.
"If nurturing an Official Knight is valued at a thousand gold coins."
"Then the cost of the bullets that shattered him is about fifty silver coins."
"Spending fifty silver coins to exchange for a thousand gold coins. This is the war economy that the young master taught me."
Nico’s hand holding the teacup froze mid-air, for a long time not bringing it to his lips.
"This is already no longer a war of knights..." he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sense of bewilderment at being left behind by the era, "This is the mass processing of life."
Nico’s mind raced, unconsciously using his decades of war experience to patch up that worldview in collapse.
He forced himself to calm down; the power was indeed horrifying, but as long as the Knight Order was fast enough, in that brief window of reloading, there was still a chance for a breakthrough.