Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount — Good Crop Varieties

"Strip the equipment off his body and throw him into a pile of Originium Slugs. In a few hours, no one will be able to find him." He instructed his companions, making sure the corpse would not expose them before they officially began their operation. The military police were loosely managed; people often failed to return to the station for days and nights, usually because they had gone off to fool around.

But if anyone saw a military police corpse, it would certainly alarm them. They might raise their alert level, which would cause no small amount of trouble.

"Rat, are you sure it's here?"

Five people stood before a sewer wall, questioning the scrawny Rat in front of them.

"Absolutely. As long as it's in the sewers, it should be at this location."

Rat closed his eyes and thought carefully for a while before nodding with certainty. The others exchanged looks, then picked up sledgehammers, chisels, and mining picks. Following the location Rat had identified, they began punching a hole through the wall. Afraid of drawing attention, they had chosen this quieter method.

Fortunately, when the sewers had been built, the walls had only been covered with a thin layer of concrete. After a few strikes, they reached soft soil. Their progress immediately sped up, and before long they broke through the wall. Beyond it was pitch-black, with nothing visible.

A companion behind them handed over a lantern. Rat took it and turned, extending it into the darkness. The lantern's light illuminated the basement—and rows upon rows of spears, longswords, shields, and crossbows inside.

The others filed in excitedly, gazing at the weapons. Though they had rusted somewhat from being neglected for too long, their excellent quality was still obvious. They picked up the heavy weapons and turned them slightly in their hands, clicking their tongues in admiration. Rat, however, went to several crates at the very back and opened them. Sure enough, they were filled with bombs.

"Notify the others. We'll move everything back together."

Before long, the others arrived one after another and packed up everything to take away.

All that remained was the empty basement and the hole they had dug open. It might take days before it was discovered—or perhaps it would be discovered tomorrow.

But whenever it was found, it would not matter to them. They would make their move tonight.

Three hours later, in the center of the slums, several hundred impoverished residents were collecting weapons. Judging by the way they held them, this was clearly not their first time. They had likely received some degree of training already.

Any military police who dared enter the slums at this time would be shot dead by crossbow bolts from the shadows. Once everyone had received their weapons, some even tied discarded tires around themselves, providing at least a little protection.

They still wore ragged clothes, yet they stood straight. Soon, they formed into several squads led by warriors in white. There were also dozens of elite fighters wearing all manner of equipment. They were the main attacking force tonight.

Cement Nail looked at the people before him. Once tonight was over, quite a few of them would die here. Yet there was no fear in their eyes. Every one of them had joined willingly, their gazes brimming with hope and passion. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. All he could do was grit his teeth.

"Move out!"

With that, he took the lead and entered the sewers first.

The enormous force split up inside the sewers. Under their respective captains' command, they headed through different branches. With Rat's help, they had long since memorized the entire sewer layout. Every squad had its own task, its own target.

Rat's elite squad soon arrived beneath a sewer cover. It was beside the police station. Once they opened it, they could launch a direct attack on the station.

The team members silently communicated with their eyes. Rat nodded at them, then opened the cover first and poked his head out. Only after confirming there was no danger outside did he allow the others to climb up. The remaining squad members quickly emerged from the manhole and established a perimeter.

Looking at the windows barred with iron railings, Cement Nail turned and made a hand signal. One group began scaling the wall with grappling hooks, preparing to infiltrate the police station from the second floor. Another group spread out on both sides of the main entrance, ready to rush in the instant the others made their move.

Rat was in the first group. No one here was better at climbing than he was. He quickly reached the second floor. Inside were military police dressed in blue uniforms, drinking strong liquor and smoking cigarettes until the room was thick with fumes. After eating and drinking their fill, the Ursus people's characteristic violent tempers led some of them to gather over a few verbal disputes and hold a boxing match.

The brutal, fist-to-flesh fight drew even more attention. All the military police focused on the two men beating each other in the center, cheering and egging them on.

At the crucial moment when no one was watching the windows, Rat hurled the bomb in his hand inside. Naturally, it was not the kind of dust bomb that could cause mass infection, merely an ordinary explosive. After all, using something like that in an enclosed space would mean dying alongside the enemy.

He turned around, covered his face with his hat, and hung himself from the window with just two fingers. The deafening explosion, the sound of shattering glass, and agonized screams reached his ears. Once things calmed slightly, he immediately vaulted through the window and raised his crossbow. At the same time, the others climbed through as well, picking off those who still had the strength to resist.

A similar explosion sounded at the main entrance, and another squad charged in through the doors. They easily wiped out the military police, who had been left completely unable to resist by the blast. One squad attacked from top to bottom, the other from bottom to top, and they quickly took over the entire building.

Cement Nail kicked open the chief's office door, only to find it empty. He grabbed a surrendered military policeman and questioned him, learning that the chief had gone to spend the night at his mistress's home and would not be at the station at all.

Standing before the window, he looked over the town, where flames were rising in every direction. He showed no anxiety at all, because he knew that from the moment they obtained their weapons, the noose had already been placed around the chief's and mayor's necks.

They had prepared thoroughly while the other side knew nothing. The enemy was in the light, while they were in the shadows. Their victory was only natural. Now it was merely a matter of sooner or later. He had plenty of patience to wait for everything to settle.

The Rising Reunion Movement: A Plan Prepared in Advance

Claude looked at the villages and towns marked red on the map. They were spreading at an astonishing pace. The Ursus snowfields were being infiltrated in secret. One village after another, one town after another, had been replaced and taken over by them. The population under their control was steadily growing. Every village and town was assigned propagandists one after another, who would mobilize the local Ursus civilians, dispel their fear and resistance, and strengthen the Reunion Movement's control over the area.

But Claude knew very well that the truly important things on this land were not those remote villages and settlements, but the mobile cities and landships. Only they could protect people from Catastrophes. No one possessed the power to resist a Catastrophe. Under their threat, all people could do was run.

No matter how well those settlements developed, the sword of Damocles that was Catastrophe would always hang over their heads. Though after living peacefully for a long time, some people stopped treating it as a concern, there had never been a shortage of settlements destroyed by Catastrophes. It simply had not been their turn yet.

Another reality they had to face was the Ursus Empire's possible counterattack at any moment. If it sent powerful legions, their only chance of victory would be to wear them down through vast strategic depth. That required absolute superiority in intelligence. To ensure such superiority, he had to fill the snowfields with his eyes and ears.

If they took over every village and town across the snowfields, those places would become extensions of his own vision. The Ursus military could never gain the people's support. Their every move would be reported to him. By then, they would be a group of blind men, while Reunion would hold every advantage.

The hearts of those who supported them would be woven into a vast net, trapping any enemy who rashly entered this place. This was the plan Claude had prepared in advance for the Ursus military. It was an open scheme, one they could not avoid as long as they dared appear.

But the fundamental problem was that they were still far too weak. Although several blacksmith workshops capable of making weapons had appeared in the camp, the quality of what they produced was deeply concerning, nowhere near the level of the equipment they had captured. At present, all they could do was repair damaged equipment.

Claude could not help scratching his hair. Although many people had already been sent to Rhodes Island to learn various skills, distant water could not put out an immediate fire. The development before him still left him at a loss.

He had never fought this kind of war before. Every resource was scarce; nothing was plentiful. Even food had to be rationed until their next harvest of Taimai. Throughout his decades of military service, the Empire's powerful manpower and material resources had meant he had never worried about supplies for war. Wherever they fought, the Empire's Mage Association could promptly deliver supplies through teleportation arrays. That was why Imperial troops never hesitated to trade their own supplies for enemy lives. As long as they dared make that trade, it benefited the Empire.

The extreme shortage of resources had forced many of his ideas to die before they could even be born, with no possibility of implementation. He now truly felt constraints he had never experienced before. Moreover, for the Reunion Movement's future development, he was exceptionally busy every day, with only a few hours left for rest.

Just as now, after analyzing the intelligence, he still had troops to train. Before Claude, aside from Boccas, the Reunion Movement had not possessed a single officer with military experience. Naturally, it had no other members capable of training soldiers. Its early organizational structure had therefore been extremely crude, making inefficiency in warfare inevitable.

Claude had completely reorganized them according to the Imperial military structure. As more and more people joined, even with an existing model to follow, Claude's workload only increased. Even with Talulah, Alina, and Centaurea helping him, it still consumed every moment of free time in his day.

And in Claude's eyes, their army now possessed a fatal weakness: not a single unit had exceptional mobility. They had no vehicles, not even mounts. Everyone could only travel on their own two legs. Only the casters of the Yeti Squad could glide along by freezing sheets of ice beneath themselves. Even so, their speed was still nowhere near that of the Ursus military's various vehicles and land battleships.

Once a real war broke out, that enormous gap in mobility would become their greatest disadvantage. But vehicles were not something they could easily buy. Even if they could afford them, they might not find a seller. The few vehicles they had captured could currently only be used to relay orders.

Furthermore, once soldiers began intense physical training, the food they consumed would increase exponentially. Their food supplies were being depleted ever faster, yet they did not dare halt the soldiers' training, leaving them trapped in an awkward cycle. At present, one-fifth of their soldiers were dedicated to hunting and farming just to barely sustain them.

When he arrived at the training grounds beside the camp, he found a broad area nearly two kilometers wide, enough for every form of training. Before Claude, a group of soldiers in heavy armor had assembled on time.

Every one of them wore the finest armor they could find, their eyes hidden behind goggles. They were also equipped with heavy weapons such as spears and battle axes, and each possessed an Originium Art they excelled at. Claude hoped they could become the spearhead that shattered enemy formations, capable of taking on the most dangerous and difficult tasks. Thus, their treatment was also the best in the entire army.

There were not many of these soldiers, only three hundred. Even though there were many more qualified candidates, Claude did not allow them to join. The resources required to support these soldiers were enormous, and these three hundred were already the limit their finances could bear.

He conveyed an order to the adjutant beside him.

"Begin today's training. Run a few laps to warm up first."

The order was passed on. The soldiers, clad head to toe in heavy armor and carrying their heavy weapons, began moving. They ran lap after lap around the enormous grounds. Every one of them had been carefully selected from among the warriors. This amount of exercise naturally posed no difficulty for them. In the most literal sense, as Claude had said, it was merely a warm-up.

Everyone who could join this unit was a brave person who had made up their mind. They had resolved to fight against the injustice they had suffered and the injustice across this land.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Superior Crop Varieties

Centaurea entered the training ground, where shouts shook the air. It was never quiet here, day or night. New recruits continuously joining the Reunion Movement trained in every kind of warfare under the stern instruction of their instructors. Physical conditioning, close combat, weapon use, and activating Originium Arts transformed these farmers and workers, who knew nothing about war, into real soldiers.

The most eye-catching among them were a group of exceptionally well-equipped warriors. Every one wore full-body armor, stood tall and powerfully built, and had tactical boots on their feet. The weapons in their hands were all exaggerated instruments of slaughter. The blade of a battle axe was as broad as a small table, while the head of an explosive hammer looked capable of smashing a person into pulp. Red flames coiled around thick, heavy greatswords.

And the person Centaurea had come to find stood beside them, watching their every movement with a stern gaze. Orders were issued continuously, and in response they repeatedly formed into different formations—scattered squads or tightly packed square formations—each member coordinating with the others. Any enemy who wished to face them would have to endure attacks from several different weapons at once.

But it was obvious even to the naked eye that their coordination was not yet smooth. As they formed tight formations, their weapons often collided with one another's. They were visibly confused while shifting formations and could not yet unite everyone into a single whole.

Especially under Claude's gaze, many of them felt extremely nervous. The more nervous they became, the more flustered they grew; the more flustered they grew, the more nervous they became, creating many unnecessary problems. It was clear that they were still novices at fighting in formation. Yet Claude did not loudly berate them. Instead, he had them try again and again.

Through repeated attempts, the warriors stopped panicking. Under Claude's gaze, they gradually became familiar with the drills. They made fewer and fewer mistakes.

Heavy snow drifted from the sky, covering the warriors' armor and clothing. Before long, a layer had accumulated over their bodies. In this frigid climate, they trained for a long time, until sweat soaked the linings of their armor. Their strength was clearly nearing its limit, yet not one of them wavered. Every person gritted their teeth and persevered.

"Alright, stop."

Claude's voice rang out beside every soldier's ear. Only then did the troops undergoing high-intensity training stop. Some could barely remain standing and had to brace themselves against the ground with their weapons. Claude looked at them with satisfaction. Not one had sat down from sheer exhaustion.

Though they were still inexperienced in other aspects, they had begun to resemble a powerful army.

"Alright, go rest and eat. Don't take off your armor outside, or you'll catch a chill."

Upon hearing the clear order, the soldiers saluted Claude one after another, then left in orderly lines. Claude watched them, an indescribable light glinting in his eyes.

Under the falling snow, the tall young man wore heavy black armor. Snowflakes covered his hair, lending a touch of coldness to his sharp, handsome face. From afar, he stood as straight as a spear.

"Claude."

Centaurea's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked toward his friend, and a smile naturally appeared on his face, as though merely seeing her was a good thing. He raised a hand and brushed the snow from his head. His blade-sharp eyes immediately softened as well.

"What is it?"

Centaurea walked up and naturally brushed the snow from his shoulders. The snow melted under the warmth of her hand, dampening it slightly. Then she casually wiped it dry on his thick, dense cloak.

"Talulah asked me to tell you that the superior seeds have been purchased and brought back. She wants you to go see her right away."

"I'll go immediately."

Delight appeared on Claude's face, white vapor continuously spilling from his lips as he spoke. He adjusted his cloak slightly and prepared to hurry back to camp.

Watching Claude turn and leave without a second thought, Centaurea could not help puffing out her cheeks. Then her hand was suddenly tugged.

"Come take a look too."

"No, let go first! Everyone's watching."

Seeing the meaningful looks in the nearby soldiers' eyes, Centaurea was embarrassed and annoyed, yet she did not forcefully pull her hand free from Claude's. He pulled her all the way back to camp.

A case made of lightweight alloy stood before Claude. Its bright silver metal surface, free of even the slightest scratch, clearly reflected his face. The case thoroughly protected what was inside, and it even had an electronic combination lock.

Another lovely face appeared in the silver metal reflection. The two twisted horns on her head revealed her identity.

"Is our messenger here? I'd like to meet this young man personally."

Hearing Claude's words, Talulah nodded and waved toward the side. The wall, which had seemed completely empty, suddenly took on vivid color. A short Sarcher man in a white coat appeared before Claude.

He had vivid blue-green hair, along with a tail of the same color striped with black. He wore black goggles on his head. Most striking of all was the enormous zipper on his white coat, which looked more like decoration than anything else. He had an overall punk and fashionable appearance.

"This is Ethan. We have him to thank for bringing back these seeds."

Talulah introduced him to Claude with a smile. The young Sarcher stood somewhat awkwardly before Claude, unable to speak for a moment.

"Your Originium Art is interesting. It actually deceived me just now. But that is a very dangerous thing to do. I might have mistaken you for an enemy."

Claude spoke to him with some severity.

Ethan hurriedly nodded, then said hesitantly, "I'm very sorry, sir. When I heard you were coming, I got a little scared and instinctively hid myself."

"Am I that frightening? You seem awfully afraid of me." Claude raised an eyebrow slightly, seeming amused.

"Ah... haha. I only just joined, after all, and I hadn't met you before, sir. I thought you were the very serious sort..." The young man could not help scratching his head.

"Alright, in any case, we have you to thank this time. How did you bring it back so quickly?" Claude lightly waved a hand, indicating that they should stop discussing the previous topic, then continued his questioning.

"Mainly because my Originium Art can not only make me invisible, but also make the things I hold invisible. I used that to avoid quite a few inspections, then hitched rides in their vehicles and got back here quickly."

"You rode on a Ursus military train?"

"That's right, but please don't worry. They can't find me."

"Impressive. Ethan, you did very well this time—far beyond my expectations. Thanks to your actions, our situation will improve considerably." Genuinely delighted, Claude lavishly praised Ethan, making the young Sarcher scratch his cheek shyly.

"Are you interested in becoming a captain?"

Claude's question surprised Ethan, but he quickly answered, "Sir, I don't have that kind of ability. I'm a lazy person. I can barely manage myself, let alone others."

"That's fine. You can try it first. With your ability, we can form a unit capable of easily breaking through enemy blockades. That can often have unexpected effects in war."

"This..."

"We'll raise your meal allowance."

"Alright, I'm willing to give it a try."

"Haha! You've traveled a long way, so you must be tired. Go get some proper rest."

He patted the young man's shoulder twice, then had someone arrange a comfortable room for him so he could rest well.

Claude reached out and entered the password. The precise lock on the case made a hissing sound, then opened with a click. He lifted the lid, revealing another layer of translucent plastic packaging. Only after opening the plastic wrap did he reveal the small packets of seeds inside.

Naturally, the most eye-catching item was a manual nearly a finger thick, placed among the seeds. It was Claude's first time seeing a seed purchase that came with an instruction manual, but he did not dare take it lightly. He picked it up and opened it.

Several people leaned their heads together and read the text inside.

"TR-58 cold-resistant potato: highly adaptable to cold climates. During cultivation, fully loosen the soil and plant approximately ten centimeters underground..."

"KR-27 cold-resistant cereal crop: experiments have shown high yield and adaptability to cold, but its traits remain somewhat unstable. During cultivation, care should be taken to maintain a constant temperature..."

It took them several hours to finish reading the entire manual, yet its many precautions and complicated instructions still left them somewhat at a loss.

It sounded as though growing these crops required specialized training and professional supervision. But they quickly made a decision: Alina would organize a team specifically to trial-grow these crops. If they grew well this year, cultivation could be expanded next year.

The seeds were taken away. They decided to grow the crops within the camp to prevent wild animals from eating them outside. Joy surfaced uncontrollably on everyone's faces. Even the red light flickering within Boccas's eye sockets softened on his expressionless bony face.