The Magic That Belonged to Everyone

Boom!

A blinding flare erupted from the strange shell's tip, lighting up the entire courtyard.

A powerful blast swept outward, sending sand trickling down the sandbag wall.

Everyone instinctively ducked.

After the brief roar, the courtyard fell deathly silent. Only the idle rumble of Ludwig's Armored Knight remained, while an acrid smell hung in the air.

Several seconds later, people cautiously peered out from behind cover.

Through the smoke, they saw the huge white armor plate still standing, apparently intact.

Had it failed?

The thought crossed nearly everyone's mind.

"I knew it..." An artillery officer shook his head in disappointment. "Wishful thinking..."

Even Andrei of the International Brigades, the chemistry professor, and the workers looked crestfallen.

Only Morin showed no disappointment. Instead, he wore a confident smile.

Because a familiar notification had sounded in his ear.

["Technology" entry unlocked. Please check it promptly.]

Following the notification, Morin opened his interface and found that a tab on the left, once marked with a question mark, now read "Technology."

For now, opening it revealed only one major category, [Military Technology], and that category contained just one technology: the Shaped-Charge Armor-Piercing Shell.

A small line beneath it read: Can be improved.

"Lieutenant Colonel, go take a closer look."

Morin's voice finally broke the silence.

Inside the cockpit, Ludwig had also assumed it had failed.

He was about to throw away the useless hunk of metal in his hand. Puzzled by Morin's words, he opened the cockpit and jumped down anyway.

But as the smoke cleared and he saw the entire armor plate, he froze.

At the center of the seemingly intact plate was a tiny, inconspicuous hole.

It was only the size of an Imperial Copper Penny, with impossibly smooth edges. The surrounding metal looked as though it had melted under intense heat and solidified again, and it still glowed faintly red.

This... this was...

Ludwig's mind went blank.

He slowly crouched and touched the edge of the hole with a gloved finger.

Heat came through the glove, unmistakable against his fingertip.

"Lieutenant Colonel, careful! It's hot!" Morin called.

Ludwig barely heard him. He had seen what lay on the other side of the hole.

A beam of light shone straight through it.

"Holy shit. It really went through..."

Lieutenant Colonel Ludwig, usually so refined that many called him the very model of a nobleman, could not help swearing.

A crude, oddly shaped contraption had cleanly pierced the main armor plate of an Order of the Garter frontline Armored Knight from the front?!

How was that possible?!

Ludwig whipped around and fixed Morin with a stare, as though he were looking at a monster.

His lips trembled. He wanted to speak, but his throat felt blocked, and not a word came out.

By then, everyone present had seen the "wound" in the armor plate.

Shock, wild joy, disbelief...

A swirl of emotions crossed every face.

Then they burst into deafening cheers!

"We did it! We did it!"

"My God! It really punched through!"

The workers and veteran artillerymen hugged one another, laughing and crying.

The chemistry teacher from Silesia adjusted his glasses and murmured, "Incredible... There really is no end to learning. No end at all..."

Amid the uproar and jubilation, Ludwig finally found his voice.

He strode up to Morin, seized him by both shoulders, and shook him hard.

"I swear by the Emperor... Morin! What kind of magic is this?! Are you a damned archmage hiding your identity?!"

Born into nobility and trained in the most orthodox traditions of knighthood, Ludwig understood the world through clear rules.

On one side stood mortal steel and courage. On the other stood the mysterious magic wielded by mages, dependent on talent and inherited knowledge.

An uncrossable gulf separated the two.

Yet today, Morin and a group of people he had hastily gathered had used a pile of scrap to create a weapon capable of threatening the finest magitech creations.

It shattered everything Ludwig thought he knew.

Morin did not answer. His gaze passed over Ludwig's shoulder to the cheering ordinary people from different countries and walks of life—the artillerymen of Saxony, the workers of the International Brigades, and the intellectuals of Silesia.

The same pure joy and hope shone on all their faces.

They came from different places, held different positions, and believed in different things.

But now, none of those differences mattered. The same emotion lit every face—hope.

Morin suddenly smiled.

It was a smile from the heart, utterly at ease.

Meeting Ludwig's bright eyes, he slowly shook his head.

"No, Lieutenant Colonel."

"This isn't magic."

Morin did not speak loudly, yet his voice carried clearly above the din.

He slipped free of Ludwig's hands, turned, and pointed to the motley group marveling at the armor plate.

"This isn't magic," Morin repeated.

"It's his knowledge." He pointed to the bespectacled chemistry teaching assistant.

"It's their skill." He pointed to the calloused workers.

"It's their precision and experience." He pointed to the relieved veteran artillerymen.

Finally, he looked back at Ludwig, wearing a brighter smile than ever before.

"And it's yours too, Lieutenant Colonel... your courage to take a risk."

"It's science, Lieutenant Colonel... a power that needs no mysterious bloodline or blessing from the gods. Any ordinary person can master it, if they're willing to learn and put that learning into practice."

He paused, giving everyone time to absorb the radical meaning of his words.

He looked at them: the workers in ragged clothes, the soldiers stained with oil, the scholarly intellectuals. Understanding was dawning on their faces.

"But in a way, I suppose it really is a kind of magic... magic that belongs to every one of us!"

The words struck like a boulder dropped into a still lake, sending waves through every heart.

Ludwig slowly let go. The way he looked at Morin had changed completely.

Curiosity had given way to admiration, then to shock...

What remained was something more complicated: awe, mingled with a trace of fear he could barely conceal.

He understood exactly what Morin's words meant.

This was more than a weapon.

It would change war. It would change everything in the world.

"Hahahaha! Well said!"

A hearty, booming laugh broke the solemn moment.

Andrei of the International Brigades strode over and slapped Morin on the back with a hand like a shovel, making him stumble.

"'Magic that belongs to everyone'—now that's good! Well said, Comrade Morin! I like that!"

His laughter set the whole courtyard alight.

The tense silence shattered, replaced by a thunderous tide of cheers and shouts!

The soldiers and workers lifted Morin high and tossed him into the air.

Despair vanished. Hope burned anew in every eye, brighter than ever before.

"Quick! Make as many as we can! How many shells do we have left? Take them all apart!"

"Molds! Make more molds! Everyone, get moving!"

The makeshift workshop became a frenzied production floor once more, and a crude but efficient assembly line quickly took shape.

With a successful attempt behind them, they worked faster and faster.

But the Royal Army and the Britannians would not give them much time.

Just as everyone threw themselves into production, warning whistles sounded across the city.

The enemy was making its next move.