Technology God, Truly Our Gospel!

In the golden hall, the light from the magic crystal lamps made it impossible to tell that night had already fallen.

A lively melody echoed through the hall, and the air was thick with intoxication and extravagance.

The nobles stood about in twos and threes, wine glasses in hand, chatting and guessing at the theme of today's banquet... though perhaps there was no theme at all.

The nobles of the Dawn Kingdom always held one banquet after another with nothing better to do. Even the Chilly Moon could not dampen their enthusiasm for festivities.

The banquet was not particularly large. With the formal proceedings about to begin, only a dozen or so nobles had arrived, all of them minor or mid-ranking nobles.

It seemed the host had deliberately excluded the great nobles.

The music gradually softened and faded away, and the nobles' gazes turned almost simultaneously toward the entrance to the hall.

Two capable attendants in servant uniforms pushed open the heavy, ornate doors, and the master of the estate, Count Vilan Wells, entered. He wore a black formal suit, with short golden hair and two meticulously groomed mustaches, looking exceedingly refined.

Yet his complexion was deathly pale, with two unnatural patches of red on his cheeks, making him look like a clown from an amusement park.

It was not because he was in poor health.

Among the nobles of the Dawn Kingdom, only those with ample wealth could have such a complexion.

This was because nobles without magical talent often consumed large quantities of magic potions in order to experience the power of magic.

Those costly magic potions were not something ordinary nobles could afford.

Seeing the count's pleased smile, as if something wonderful had happened, quite a few people's expressions grew more cheerful as well.

But when some noticed the lean, middle-aged man beside the count, their expressions changed slightly.

The middle-aged man's formal attire, etiquette, and bearing were all impeccable, but he was Viscount Rost!

That freak!

With a barren viscountcy, he had forcibly seized the sources of income of more than a dozen nobles. Later, those nobles secretly came for him, only to be blown to death by Mana Bombs.

Even now, the families of those dozen or so nobles were still weeping behind closed doors!

Why was he here?

Their curiosity grew ever stronger, but noble breeding prevented them from speaking rashly. They could only turn their eyes toward Count Vilan Wells...

"Count Wells, thank you for your fine wine and food. This has truly been an impressive banquet. My friend, I believe you wish to introduce your new friend to everyone?"

"Before introducing this friend, I would rather everyone take a look at the theme of this banquet." Count Wells walked to the center of the hall and had the attendants carry up a large box.

The instant it was opened, everyone fell silent!

"Oh! My heavens! Count Wells, how could you place so many Mana Bombs in the banquet hall? This is far too dangerous for us."

Mana Bombs were renowned throughout noble circles. After the northern war, most of these nobles had purchased some and stockpiled them in their castles for defense.

Precisely because they understood them, they found them all the more terrifying.

Some who knew Rost were already letting their imaginations run wild.

At that moment, a noble suddenly spoke up. "Count Wells, why do these Mana Bombs look different from those sold by the Coffin Bearer? They are different from those made by the kingdom as well! Could these have been produced in your Wells Fief?!"

The moment those words were spoken, every noble turned their gaze back to Count Wells.

Vaguely, they seemed to understand the purpose of this banquet.

"No, these are the work of the Rost Viscountcy." Count Wells still wore his aristocratic smile as he introduced Viscount Rost to the crowd. "Compared with the Mana Bombs made by the kingdom, those produced in Viscount Rost's workshop are more refined and cost less!"

How could a viscountcy produce something more refined than the kingdom's own products at a lower cost?

Every noble present wore an incredulous expression.

It was not until the next day, when they flocked to the Rost Viscountcy and saw production flowing like an assembly line in the Mana Bomb workshop, and saw the magic arrays charging automatically... that every one of them stared wide-eyed!

Magic items could be made like this?!

Mana Bombs could charge themselves?!

"Wisdom God above! Viscount Rost, the things produced by your workshop are simply... simply unimaginable. Have the Wisdom God and the Knowledge God blessed you?! How else could you create such an incredible production method?!"

All it took was several dozen Mage Apprentices and a magic array to produce Mana Bombs without interruption, at an efficiency far greater than what they had heard... In a daze, they saw a money-printing machine before them. Not even a mint could make money this fast!

Viscount Rost smiled. "It is the Technology God! Magic devices, Mana Bombs, the Self-Charging Magic Array—everything here is the blessing of the Technology God! I received the guidance of the Technology God... and now, the radiance of the Technology God will shine upon every one of you as well! So long as you join my undertaking..."

Rost was a clearheaded man. He knew that if he remained merely a viscount, he would be destined to fail at large-scale production, unable to establish either his own name or the name of the Technology God in the coming Mana Bomb craze!

After all, if he produced too much, the other great nobles might truly devour him.

But if production remained small-scale, he would be unable to maximize the influence of Mana Bombs. So he thought of a solution: cooperate with a great number of minor and mid-ranking nobles, borrowing the funds and influence of more than a dozen, perhaps even dozens, of them to expand rapidly.

That way, he might gain even more benefits despite having more people sharing the pie. Moreover, the influence of the Technology God would spread rapidly through these nobles' territories.

Perhaps a single minor or mid-ranking noble amounted to nothing in this decaying kingdom, but when more than a dozen of them gathered together, they would become a force not to be underestimated.

A force even the royal family would have to take seriously!

Viscount Rost did not remain at the scene for long. The details of the business required private discussions; for now, they needed to discuss and think things over.

If there were technical questions, the hedge mage was still present.

"Viscount Rost, it seems your plan has gone very smoothly. They will most likely all join this great undertaking!" Count Wells could no longer conceal his excitement.

Viscount Rost nodded. "Thank you for your assistance, Count."

"Please, do not be so formal!" Count Wells hurriedly waved his hand. "I am one of the 'shareholders' here too, am I not? If we want to carve this piece of the pie out of the royal family's hands, inviting them to join us is essential."

"They are nobles like us—interested in new things, bold enough to invest, and with little land. This will become the lifeblood of their families. They will protect our enterprise as they would protect their family honor!"

"Let us hope so!" Rost nodded. "The more people participate, the more funds are invested, the larger our scale, the greater our output, and the bigger the slice of the pie we receive. That will fill their bellies."

Count Wells rose to his feet with a laugh, unable to hide his excitement. "To this wonderful age—the Technology God truly is our gospel!"

"To this wonderful age!"