War Machines

New Basilicata.

The grand walls of the mountain city stood atop sheer cliffs.

Endless supply convoys slowly traveled along the mountain roads the Texans had carved out through years of labor.

New Basilicata had a small permanent population, but its stockpiled supplies were abundant. With war approaching, wolfkin squads stationed across the land hauled materials back to the "hive" day after day like diligent worker bees.

After all, their opponent was the empire where the sun never set. Even great powers like France, Germany, and Russia would feel their scalps tingle at the thought of fighting the world hegemon head-on in open plains or within range of the Englishmen's terrifying naval guns.

Much less Texas, a mere small nation.

Fringilla faced the cold mountain wind and took a deep breath, feeling her muddled mind clear considerably.

She had been invited to set up formations on the city wall once more, only to discover after climbing up that layer upon layer of intricate formation patterns had already been carved into it.

That was both good and bad.

Even after becoming an elite, with her strength greatly increased, there was no way she could cover such an enormous city in formation patterns alone. Back when it had only been Wolfsborg, she had already felt pressed for time despite having nearly a month.

The downside was that she could no longer let loose as freely as she had when painting on a blank canvas.

She had to carefully work around the existing patterns, avoid interfering with their original functions as much as possible, while also maximizing the power of her Blood Domain. It was like dancing in shackles.

She had never been in a good mood when doing such meticulous work.

A rather ordinary-looking wolfkin spellcaster in a cowboy hat said somewhat smugly,