Roland's Resolve, the Phantom Eagle Clan's Deliberations

But Roland's expression soon grew uncertain.

He had suddenly realized that with equipment this powerful, Faoken could produce High Mages in large numbers. And that meant—

If I don't change, this equipment will replace me sooner or later!

As a High Mage, his spells had been the foundation of everything he had achieved. Among his peers, he was no weakling.

But in Faoken, before the equipment known as Steel Bone Armor, everything he had once relied on would come to nothing.

Yet more than the disillusionment of seeing technological progress overwhelm his own efforts, another thought surfaced in his mind:

With Steel Bone Armor, the Reformist Faction might not remain on the losing side of future power struggles. It could turn the tables at any moment.

Equipment that could be mass-produced was more reliable, more controllable, and easier to replicate than a high-ranking mage trained over many years.

From what he had learned of Governor John these past few days, he doubted John would stop at equipping ordinary soldiers.

Sooner or later, John would apply the technology on a wider scale.

The implications were obvious.

At that moment, Roland recalled the last look Marchioness Schwarz had given him before he left the family.

That look of condescension, that barely concealed contempt—years later, he could still see it clearly.

"You filthy bastard, remember this: you're an insect I can crush whenever I please. You'll never rise above your station while I'm here!"

Marchioness Schwarz's scornful words echoed in Roland's ears. His fists clenched tight, but after a long while, he slowly relaxed them.

"Haa!"

Roland let out a long breath and refocused on the rows of Steel Bone Armor awaiting repair. The uncertainty in his eyes gradually hardened into resolve.

It was as though he had finally made a decision that