The training site for pistol shooting was set up in the castle's forecourt.
All witches selected into the reconnaissance squad, including Sylvie, were issued a revolver.
After spending two days teaching the team proper gun handling techniques, Roland moved on to live-fire drills. The training included 10-meter precision shooting and 5-meter rapid fire drills, preparing them for both prepared encounters and surprise attacks.
The witches put on a show during shooting practice, but their skills fell apart the moment they actually fired.
When deafening gunshots erupt, most people instinctively cover their ears—the sight of which makes nightingales frown in dismay.
Except for Anna.
She stood motionless with both hands gripping the gun, pulling the trigger relentlessly while paying no heed to the gunfire or the smoke. Setting aside the accuracy, the sheer execution of these movements was impeccable.
Could Anna possess extraordinary talents beyond her academic prowess? Roland was secretly astonished. Yet as a large-caliber revolver, even when firing black powder bullets—which generate considerable recoil—her arm remained completely still during rapid-fire shots.
Curious, he moved behind the other person and saw two black flames clinging to the grip, pinning him in mid-air. Anna, however, merely made a fake grip gesture without touching the gun. After patting her shoulder, she pulled out the black flame earplugs from her ear, her face lit up with a 'Come praise me!' look. 'How about that? I hit the target with every shot!' Roland was left speechless, so he loudly declared, 'No one is allowed to use abilities to assist in practice!'
"Hey, why?" "Wouldn't you be flustered if you faced an enemy with God's Stone of Punishment?" Roland sighed, tucking his ear into Anna's ear. "This way, you wouldn't be scared." "Mm!" Her bright eyes sparkled with a smile. After reloading, she raised her gun and aimed again.
"Macy, come on, I need to plug my ears too," Lightning said enviously.
"Goo?" The latter pointed to the gun in his hand.
"You can't shoot anyway once you're a bird," the little girl winked. "Block the shot for me now, then I'll block it later." "Goo!" The other witches in the castle were drawn by the continuous gunfire and gradually gathered in the castle's forecourt, many of them showing eager expressions of God-like enthusiasm. By the end, nearly everyone had tried operating the firearms.
Roland was deeply moved as he watched a group of vibrant women enthusiastically handling their weapons.
He still remembers the appearance of every Witch he first met.
Anna's once slender limbs now resembled bamboo poles, her eyes devoid of life, her face perpetually etched with a single expression. Nightingale's brows always wore a shadowy cloud, her smile detached from emotion—or perhaps deliberately masking it—she kept a mocking grin at her lips. Wendy's soft whispers betrayed unhidden weariness, Ye Zi's resignation and bewilderment when wagering the future, Lily's cat-like wariness. And then there were Lightning, Mystery Moon, Hummingbird, Books, and so on...
After enduring oppression, persecution, and relentless pursuit, merely surviving was a stroke of luck. As for their future path, there was no time to ponder. Now, they were entirely different from their past selves.
The Witches radiate an extraordinary allure, their eyes sparkling with a lively glow. The future holds no uncertainty for them—beyond simply surviving, they now have the energy to pursue other aspirations, things as beautiful as life itself.
Whenever Roland saw the gratitude and trust in the witches' eyes when they met his gaze, he felt a surge of strength welling up within him.
...
After lunch, it was his turn to conduct the high-altitude throwing drills specially designed for the 'Fall Offensive.' The number of witches participating in the drill had dwindled by half, leaving only Anna, Wendy, and Lightning.
This is the minimum number of people needed to complete an airstrike.
Roland's deliberate timing of the attack for the first month of autumn was a calculated decision. If the operation began too soon, he wouldn't have time to make thorough preparations. If delayed too long, it might fail to deter Tifeo from launching his invasion—should he insist on attacking the western frontier and feeding the medicine to the forcibly conscripted civilians, the airstrike would fall short of its intended purpose.
So the autumn offensive must be launched before he has fully completed his conscription.
To fulfill his "promise", Roland planned to drop a 250-kilogram bomb directly above Graycastle Palace. Weighing as much as five nightingales, the bomb would be launched from 2,000 meters above ground, piercing through the palace's dome and detonating inside.
As the hot air balloon ascended slowly, the massive basket carried a solid simulated bomb into the sky. Since Roland was also inside the basket, the bomb was slightly smaller, weighing only about four nightingales. However, its design mirrored the real combat-ready aerial bombs, featuring a streamlined fuselage that tapered from front to back. The tail end was equipped with a stabilizing tail fin and a speed reduction parachute, ensuring the bomb remained perpendicular to the ground during descent and controlled its maximum speed.
The throwing basket has also undergone special modifications, with an iron bracket installed to position the bomb vertically at the center of the basket, half of which protrudes from the basket's base. Upon pulling the valve, the hook mechanism is released, causing the bomb to detach from the basket and fall vertically.
As the elevation rose, Border Town was soon reduced to a mere fingernail-sized patch, while the Chishui River transformed into a shimmering silver ribbon.
"It's my first time standing at such a height," Wendy gazed out the observation window. "The entire western frontier feels cramped." "It's narrow enough as it is," Roland chuckled. "Look at the wild lands to the north—that's where we should go next." "Do we need to climb any higher? I can't see the target anymore," Lightning shouted from outside the hanging basket.
"That's about right," he nodded to Anna, then made a gesture of readiness toward the little girl.
While the exact distance from the ground remains unknown, the altitude of over a thousand meters is certainly sufficient. At this height, launching an attack is absolutely safe, and the enemy cannot track the hot air balloon's movements.
With a drop distance of just over a kilometer, hitting the target is purely a matter of luck. To ensure pinpoint accuracy, this bomb must be equipped with a guidance system.
The little girl Lightning will take on this task.
"Drop the bombs," Roland ordered.
Wendy pulled the valve, releasing the bomb, and the blast air instantly surged into the hanging basket. Anna sealed the launch port with the pre-prepared cover plate and tightened the mounting bracket—these procedures had been rehearsed repeatedly on land, and the two worked in perfect harmony.
"Will she hit the target?" Wendy asked, leaning against the window.
"We'll have to wait until we get down to find out," Roland shrugged.
As the bomb descends, lightning travels at the same speed, imparting a horizontal thrust that allows it to freely alter its trajectory, transforming it into a guided munition. When nearing the target, the lightning activates the tail mechanism, separating the parachute from the bomb. This enables the bomb to accumulate sufficient kinetic energy during the final hundreds of meters, ultimately penetrating the palace's ceiling.
This way, the sufficiently high drop distance actually ensures precise landing control.
The rest is to practice this process.