The gunpowder sold in Lakeheart Town looks similar to military gunpowder—blackish-gray granules that can ignite and even propel projectiles. However, it has been carefully degraded: the purity of the saltpeter is deliberately lowered, using crudely extracted saltpeter; the charcoal comes from a variety of sources, including rice husks, straw, and even rotten wood; and each batch is mixed with different proportions of interfering substances—sometimes crushed pepper, sometimes wood ash, and occasionally shell powder or talcum powder. These additives do not affect the basic combustion and explosion, but they make the combustion residue smell strange and have a chaotic composition, enough to mislead anyone attempting to analyze it.
What's even more cunning is that Lakeheart Town's gunpowder formula is not exactly the same each time it is exported. If outsiders try to reverse engineer the "standard formula," they will only get more and more confused.
The military gunpowder used by the Northwest Legion, on the other hand, is a different system. It uses high-purity crystalline saltpeter, which is purified through multi-stage leaching and recrystallization, willow charcoal made from specific tree species, and sulfur in a precise ratio. The three are mixed according to the optimal ratio determined through repeated experiments, and then wet granulation, drying, and sieving are carried out to finally produce cylindrical particles of uniform size. This granulated gunpowder has stable combustion, concentrated power, is not easily affected by moisture, and has a range and accuracy far exceeding that of powdered gunpowder.
The complete production process was classified as top secret. The nitrate purification workshop was located deep in the 51st District and was directly supervised by the Political Affairs Council. The entry and exit of raw materials were all registered by number. Even the workers were divided into sections. Some were only responsible for washing the nitrate, and some were responsible for carbonization. No one knew the complete process.
...
At the Arcane Society headquarters, the mages' discussions continued.
"There's no point in just guessing here," Enoch suddenly said, his tone tinged with disdain. "Why don't we just try it out and see how powerful this thing really is?"
"That's what I meant too." Dorti nodded.
The group left the council chamber and came to the open space in the backyard of the headquarters. The night breeze was cool, and the moonlight shone coldly on the bluestone slabs. The attendants quickly set up a full suit of plate armor made of fine steel thirty yards away. It was the top-grade armor worn by senior officers of Gabella's guard. Its surface was polished to a gleaming shine, and ordinary crossbow bolts could not penetrate it within fifty paces.
Dorti personally took charge, picking up a small leather bag from next to the captured firearm, pouring out some black powder, and then selecting a round lead bullet. These steps were what he had seen in Marshal McDonald's battle report: "First fill with gunpowder, then stuff in the lead bullet, and tamp it down firmly with a tamping rod, leaving no gaps."
He poured gunpowder into the barrel, loaded the lead bullets, and then picked up a thin iron bar—a swivel—and pressed it down several times until he was sure it was packed tightly. Next, he sprinkled a small pinch of black powder into the small powder well on the side of the barrel as ignition.
Once ready, he handed the gun to a servant, instructing him to grip it tightly with both hands and aim it at the plate armor in the distance. He and all the mages then retreated ten paces away, their expressions cautious.
"Be careful," Mariana whispered a warning, knowing the danger of this thing.
Dorti didn't speak, but simply raised his hand and waved it. A wisp of pale blue flame floated from his fingertip and landed lightly on the medicinal pool at the tail of the firearm.
"Bang--!"
A deafening explosion erupted, louder and more violent than anyone had anticipated. A large cloud of white smoke billowed from the gun barrel, the flash extinguished in an instant. The servant was thrown back by the recoil, nearly falling over.
No one paid any attention to the servants; all eyes were fixed on the plate armor.
Under the moonlight, the once intact steel armor now bore a gaping, round hole in the center of its chest. Even more chilling was the fact that the back armor had also been pierced! The two holes, front and back, were almost in a straight line, their edges charred black; the lead bullet had clearly pierced through the entire suit of armor and was nowhere to be seen.
The courtyard suddenly became so quiet that you could hear the wind.
Some people stood motionless, their faces pale, unable to utter a single word. One person murmured softly, "Terrible...so terrifying."
"How could those mortals of the Aldor create such a vicious thing?" Helga's voice tightened. "This is no weapon; it's the whistle of death."
Grim Gavin, however, boldly stepped forward and touched the barrel of the firearm; he could feel it was still slightly warm. He closed his eyes, his palm pressed against the metal, trying to sense a trace of magical flow—rune circuits, elemental remnants, contract marks… these were all traces familiar to Spellcasters.
However, there was nothing there.
He opened his eyes and carefully ran his fingers over every inch of the gun, even sniffing it, but still found no evidence of magic. This weapon, which had just pierced through the steel armor with a single shot, was cold, silent, and devoid of any spirit; it was indeed just an ordinary piece of iron, forged by a craftsman.
Others followed suit, taking turns probing. Enoch scanned with his Necropsychic powers, Vilan stared with his Eye of Prophecy, and even Carol secretly cast a Probing Illusion—all with the same result.
No enchantments.
There is no curse mark.
There is no energy core.
It doesn't even have the most basic alchemical catalytic layer.
This gun has absolutely nothing to do with magic.
"Was it really made by a mortal?" Duke Mason's voice was hoarse, as if he were asking someone else, or perhaps himself.
No one answered him. The night wind blew through the courtyard, stirring up the lingering smell of gunpowder. The mages stood before the firearm lying quietly on the stone platform, feeling for the first time a strange sense of powerlessness, something they hadn't experienced since they had established themselves in Gabella.
The group returned to the council chamber, where the atmosphere was much more subdued than before. No one spoke loudly anymore, and even the usually arrogant Enoch frowned, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his cuffs.
Dorti sat back in the main seat, his gaze sweeping over the various faces, and slowly said, "That firearm was just one of the most basic weapons in the Aldor army."
He paused briefly, then lowered his voice: "They also have something even more terrifying, called ' Cannon '."
" Cannon?" Carol repeated softly, another unfamiliar word.
"You could think of it as... a larger version of the firearm," Dorti said. "It also uses that black powder to create an explosion that propels the metal projectile. But the barrel is thicker and longer, it carries more propellant, and its range is much greater—reportedly, it can hit targets a mile away. Note that this distance is even farther than our Thunder Hammer!"
His tone grew more serious: "Some shells are similar to the explosive fireballs fired by our ' Thunder Hammer,' exploding upon impact. But the difference is that they don't kill by spraying flames, but by the flying metal fragments from the exploding shell. Those fragments are fast and dense; a single one can sever an arm, and there's almost nowhere to hide within ten paces."