Chapter Thirty-Four: Take Them Down (Part Two)

Of course, according to the demands of the Magician Faction, this could only be called a semi-magical cannon, for it was merely the use of magic during the forging process. The ultimate goal of the Magician Faction was to inscribe spells both along the inner barrel of the cannon and upon specially crafted shells, much like magical firearms, thereby achieving simultaneous physical and magical assaults. At that point, not only would the cannon be capable of unleashing the power of ninth-tier magic, it might even reach the level of super-tier spells. Thus far, the current magical firearms at most employed eighth-tier magic, because the universal firing enchantments engraved within the barrel could only accommodate up to that level. For magic beyond the eighth tier, the spell analysts had yet to extract inscriptions suitable for various ninth-tier spells. In other words, theoretically, even if a cannon could be enchanted with ninth-tier magic, it could only ever hold a single type of ninth-tier spell, and due to the complexity and length of such spells, dividing the inscription between the barrel and the shell did little to simplify matters.

The principle behind the magical cannon was, in fact, to use magic circles and alchemy to replicate the effects of each tier of magic, instead of having a true mage chant the spell. Mages, through their own understanding of magical theory, their control over mana, and their unique constitutions, could speed up their incantations or abbreviate the spells. Magical devices, however, struggled to achieve such individualization. Based on alchemical principles, the composition of any given substance is fixed and, once separated, remains constant and cannot grow or evolve. Attempting to alter this composition would either yield a new, superior substance or result in the utter destruction of the original. The magic circle, similarly, was constructed with fixed inscriptions to replace the mage's chanting. Altering the balance within a circle differed from a mage’s own adjustments during incantation. For example, when a mage shortens certain syllables in a spell to hasten or even instantly cast it, this often causes backlash, sometimes so severe that it endangers the caster’s life. Mages with special talents or extraordinary physiques might withstand such recoil, but a magic circle, being a lifeless construct of fixed inscriptions, cannot adapt or grow. Its capacity for absorbing backlash is predetermined at the time of inscription; if the backlash exceeds this limit, the entire magic circle collapses.

Thus, although the Magician Faction was eager to realize a true magical cannon, the difficulties were immense. Since the advent of the cannon, there had been a persistent debate between advocates of miniaturization—who believed making the cannon small enough for field use was paramount—and those who pursued ever greater destructive power through gigantism. The introduction of magic offered some solutions to these material problems but also introduced new ones. For example, while magic reduced the weight of the cannon, the need for elaborate spell engravings meant that—until a major breakthrough in spell analysis was achieved—only by increasing the cannon’s size could enough space be provided for the inscriptions, which in turn made the magical cannon even heavier.

Apart from these two extremes, there were moderates as well. Some opposed the magical cannon but believed that magic could aid in the forging process, thus supporting the semi-magical cannon.

No one knew what the final outcome would be. A sense lingered in the air that this era was different from those before, that the development of various theories and technologies was accelerating at an unprecedented rate. Whether it was the Randian invention of the new term "industry"—a concept first proposed by the earliest firearms faction, who believed a new technology and enterprise would arise from alchemy yet eventually sever all ties with it and form a separate discipline, hence the name "industry" to distinguish it from magic and alchemy—or the fierce competition between traditional magic and alchemy, the rivalry seemed, for now, more constructive than destructive. Every school and theory strove to shape the world in its own image. Magic and alchemy, which had long stagnated, were invigorated by the threat of being surpassed by these new disciplines.

To return to the history of this particular cannon: Randia had, without doubt, seized the pulse of the era from the start. They simultaneously pursued research into both miniaturized and gigantic cannons, as well as the magical cannon. Lavish sums were spent hiring mages and alchemists to tackle the problems; it was even rumored that Warenheit had established a national-level magical laboratory. This cannon was one of the experimental models for both gigantism and the magical cannon. Such prototypes had been secretly tested in various locales. Even in Gaul, a trial casting team had once operated, leaving behind a fully equipped armory capable of continuing the production of guns and shells, though the original team had since departed.

Wei Wuxi’s quick thinking saved him—he didn’t attempt to withstand the cannon head-on. Still, his Taoist defenses were utterly dissipated the moment they met the cannon’s force. He barely managed to escape with his life, and only after Grant joined the fray and the two combined their strength were they able to intercept the shell.

“Fire again! If they dare show themselves, blast them to death!” Hendry, standing beside Antonio, snarled. This cannon had originally been reserved for Regiment One, but it was far too massive and heavy to be mounted on the city walls. Antonio had been at a loss as to where to place it until Hendry took a liking to it, bribed a major general, and had the gun moved to his own estate. He built a gun platform, permanently aiming it at the prison entrance, so that every person approaching felt a chill of dread.

For Antonio, this arrangement was ideal. He’d long agonized over where to store the monstrous thing, and its maintenance was a costly affair. Now, the governor would bear all the expenses, and so long as Antonio controlled the armory and withheld ammunition from Hendry, no serious trouble could arise. Neither of them had ever expected that the cannon would one day be put to real use.

“Fire!” Antonio shouted excitedly. He was convinced that the blast had shattered the souls of everyone inside. The cannon was perfectly suited for the prison—though he couldn’t witness the carnage firsthand, he knew that once the shell entered that narrow space, the stone-walled confines would rebound the explosion, causing secondary and tertiary devastation. The place was likely already a scene of utter chaos, the perfect moment to strike. Killing Grant would be a tremendous achievement. According to Antonio’s powerful patrons, the Prime Minister was eager to see Grant erased from existence—a desperation even his supporters found hard to fathom. The Revolutionary Corps were troublesome, but not yet beyond control. In fact, Randia’s army had twice routed them, driving them like beaten dogs into the orcish mountains.

At Antonio’s command, the soldiers launched their first assault, carrying modified rifles as they rushed in. But as they reached the entrance, a huge, black object came hurtling out, crushing scores of them. Grant had thrown out the very shell that had just been fired inside. The force of it, though less than the cannon itself, was enough that those struck died instantly, and the dense formation was thrown into disarray, with casualties both light and severe.

“What strength!” Wei Wuxi couldn’t help but exclaim. In terms of sheer physical power, Grant’s might was nothing short of divine—surpassing even Wei Wuxi’s own invocation of the Black Tortoise’s Great Strength.