Chapter 267 — The Lights of Civilization

The perfection of the Molten-Cut Sword marked another step in the refinement of Cecil's combat troops, in both fighting power and fighting style. In a world where every manner of magic and counter-magic existed, no single ranged or melee weapon could cope with the complexities of the battlefield, and the Molten-Cut Sword filled precisely the gap in the Cecil soldiers' current capabilities. Its other great significance lay in what it represented: a leap forward in the thinking of the domain's native craftsmen and technicians.

Unlike the novelties that had appeared in the Cecil domain before, the "Molten-Cut Sword" was conceived and brought to final production entirely by locals working on their own. Apart from a few suggestions Gao Yang had offered when the technical route was first chosen, none of the technical or creative stages in the whole process had involved him—the "cheat." The craftsmen, technicians, knights, and soldiers of the domain had pooled their ideas and completed the design and finalization of the new weapon. To Gao Yang, the meaning contained in that surpassed the Molten-Cut Sword itself as a technological achievement.

In the course of manufacturing the Molten-Cut Sword, he saw the capacity of this world's native technicians to take existing techniques and materials and turn them into something new. The blade was made from a peculiar magical material called "purple steel," whose properties were extraordinary: it tolerated extreme heat and could hardly be smelted in any sort of high-temperature forge. Only within an arcane energy field of a specific intensity did purple steel become workable. For insulation, meanwhile, the sword used a mixture of quartz sand and crystal dust—a byproduct of processing various magical substances at the "mana crystal smelting works." The mixture was highly heat-resistant and a poor conductor of heat, and once bound with an acidic adhesive it formed an extremely solid filler between the metal components...

The so-called "insulation" runes on the blade were among the most basic runes mages used in their laboratories. They constrained heat and channeled it in a directed manner into the gaps between rune clusters. In the lab, mages commonly used them as the outer shielding of alchemical benches, to keep the benches from being destroyed by magics of extreme temperature (after all, many magical experiments required extreme conditions, and no alchemical bench material could withstand every possible extreme magical effect). The rune artificers who routinely helped mages set up their alchemical apparatus had cleverly applied this rune to the Molten-Cut Sword, letting it confine all the heat near the blade in something like a "focusing" fashion...

These were substances and techniques unique to this world. Their peculiar properties would probably strike any technician from Earth as nothing short of bewildering—and yet this seemingly backward "medieval world" had its own technical routes for processing and handling them. That, indeed, left Gao Yang with much to think about.

On the second day after the Molten-Cut Sword was finalized for production, a brand-new magical device was being erected in the lord's plaza at the center of the city.

A large group of mage-technicians—the "magical industrial technicians" unique to the Cecil domain—bustled about under Karmel's direction. They hauled a tarp-covered "big fellow" to the center of the plaza, then began unbolting the metal cover plates set into the ground there and exposing the mana-net connection terminals beneath. Using rune substrates pre-engraved with various magic circles, the technicians took readings on the mana net; once they confirmed the terminals were operating properly, Karmel used Mage Hand and a weight-reduction spell to move the two-meter-tall "big fellow" directly above the connection terminals.

Drawn by this uncommon sight, people stopped one after another around the plaza. They noticed soldiers standing guard in the inner ring, but beyond that inner ring there was no sign of a lockdown. The people of the Cecil domain were used to such arrangements: it meant the lord and the scholars had created some incredible new thing, that this new thing would be of great use to the domain, and that ordinary folk were free to watch from a safe distance.

On other nobles' lands, commoners never took an interest in their lord's affairs, because those affairs had little to do with their daily lives. "What belongs to the nobles belongs to the nobles, and what belongs to the commoners belongs to the commoners"—that was how it went. But in the Cecil domain, people were gradually growing accustomed to paying attention to any change in the domain, because they knew it all bore directly on their lives.

Under the gaze of countless curious eyes, the large tarp-covered device settled squarely onto the mana-net terminals. Then Karmel's Mage Hand drew back the tarp, and a vast, mysterious magical device stood revealed before everyone.

It was a two-meter-tall square tower of crystal and metal—the finalized mana obelisk. Compared with the original half-meter-tall "prototype," it was larger, more beautiful, and would be more stable and efficient.

The technicians immediately set to work securing and connecting the obelisk. They had already sunk the anchor holes in the center of the plaza in advance; now they drove stout bolts through to fasten the magical device firmly to the ground, while another group fused the connection terminals rising from underground to the obelisk's base. On their arms they wore "gauntlets" resembling military mana terminals, but the gauntlets were fitted not with lethal scorching-ray substrates but with thermal-fusion beams of reduced power and range and enhanced sustained output. This circle, adapted from the scorching ray, was a new technology from the Rune Research Institute—and for Jenny, who had by now unraveled the secrets of nearly all low-tier runes, such an adaptation was simplicity itself.

Karmel's gaze lingered on the "industrial mana terminals" the technicians wore. He knew these terminals could be fitted with all sorts of functional modules—from thermal-fusion beams to cooling rays, even power drills and cutting saws, all installable simply by changing the casing or the modules inside. In terms of versatility, these mana terminals were even more capable than the military models. Their power output, of course, fell far short of the military versions.

According to the lord, these industrial mana terminals were themselves only an "intermediate product"; their ultimate goal was civilian application, so that ordinary people of the Cecil domain could use them in their daily lives.

Arcane sparks flickered across Karmel's face as he watched the technicians—who knew not the slightest bit of magic—use the power of magic to melt metal and fasten the mana obelisk's base in place. Their movements were so smooth that they were not a whit inferior to true mages; in fact, since they had no need to split their attention between sustaining spells and chanting incantations, they would do even better in the future.

"Magic is only a kind of power. Mages can use it, ordinary people can use it, everyone can use it." What a mad idea—and madder still, it was gradually coming true on this soil.

"All bolts secured." "Terminal fusion complete." "First layer of runes lit, mana connection established."

"Master Karmel, installation is complete. Shall we activate the obelisk? Master Karmel... Master Karmel?"

The calls at his ear roused Karmel from his distraction. He floated up slightly and coughed twice with considerable dignity to cover his embarrassment, then regarded the fully installed mana obelisk.

Without even stepping closer to examine it, he could easily see the magical power flowing within and around the device. Clearly the technicians' installation was flawless; it had already entered its optimal working state.