Three Years and Decreasing Strength Compensation

"Everyone, get ready!

Open the valves. Steam charging. All units, watch the pressure gauges!"

Hiss!

In a target range overgrown with weeds on the outskirts of Faletis Royal Capital Beckler, white steam swirled through the air. A line of soldiers stood facing the targets, metal tanks strapped to their backs and strange firearms in their hands.

The Commander swung his command saber down hard and shouted:

"Fire!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

High-pressure steam surged forth, propelling a scorching metal storm through the air. In the blink of an eye, it shredded the first row of targets into fragments.

"Fire again!"

At the order, the soldiers pulled a locking mechanism on their guns, pushed conical bullets into the magazines, and pulled the triggers again—all in less than a second.

"Fire again!"

Though these "steam firearms" were far bulkier than ordinary flintlock guns, their advantages were equally obvious.

As long as they were preheated and the steam pressure tanks remained above the required level, they could keep firing without the tedious process of loading gunpowder and bullets.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Beside the range, a group of distinguished spectators lightly applauded the performance of this newly finalized weapon.

"The prerequisite is that you don't suddenly run into an encounter battle in the wilderness, with no time to produce the necessary steam.

These High-Pressure Steam Guns should have broad application prospects in urban defense, where logistical support can be provided. Especially when dealing with those things, concentrated firepower is the only thing ordinary soldiers can rely on."

Standing at the front of the group in a military greatcoat, a saber at his waist, Evan gave it a positive assessment.

At this moment.

It was already the autumn of Sea Origin Calendar Year 196, three years since Evan and the others had landed on the moon.