"And some shells didn't explode at all," he continued. "They were solid iron balls that fell from the sky and crashed into the crowd—rolling through the crowd and leaving a trail of blood, crushing horses, shields, and bodies. MacDonald wrote in his report that a single volley from the Sentinel Legion caused an entire square to collapse on the spot, both because of fear and because… it simply couldn't stand up."
The hall was completely silent.
The mages exchanged bewildered glances. In their understanding, the Aldor's methods resembled large-scale, high-level spells, but those required high energy consumption, chanting, charging, and mana circuit support. Aldor's Cannon, however, sounded like a kind of... mass-producible, deployable, and relentlessly devastating "mortal thunder."
"In other words," Helga said with difficulty, "they can achieve effects close to our high-level explosive magic without using mages or spells, just with iron pipes and black powder?"
Dorti nodded slightly.
He closed the battle report in his hand, his tone calm yet weighty: " MacDonald and Siegfried jointly proposed in their letter that we should study Aldor's weapons, figure out how they work, and then replicate them to equip the Imperial army. They believe that if successful, Gabella's combat power will be greatly enhanced."
These words immediately enlivened the atmosphere in the council chamber.
"That's a great idea!" Grim Gavin was the first to nod. "It's just iron pipes and black powder, right? Let's take it apart, see what it's made of, and do it the same way."
"Yes!" Duke Mason chimed in. "Mortals can make it. We have the alchemy and craftsmen of the Arcane Society. Perhaps we can gather some more mortal craftsmen with superb technology. Are we not as good as them? We can replicate it in a few days."
The crowd chattered excitedly, as if they could equip themselves with thousands of Cannons and tens of thousands of firearms the very next day and sweep across the mainland.
Doughty Matte, sitting in the main seat, remained silent, his face as dark as a cloud. He tapped the edge of the stone table lightly with his fingers, his eyes downcast, revealing no emotion.
Enoch, standing next to him, turned his head away, staring at the shadow in the corner, a cold smile playing on his lips, but he remained silent.
No one noticed their silence; the mages were still enthusiastically discussing how to improve the firearm and how to combine Cannon with Explosive Flame, as if victory was already within their grasp.
Dorti raised his hand, silencing the murmurs that filled the room.
"Everyone, calm down." His tone wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable weight. "Copying Aldor's weapons... might not be a good thing. We need to think this through; it could bring some unforeseen consequences."
"What consequences?" Helga frowned. "Isn't strengthening the military a good thing?"
"Exactly," Grim Gavin agreed, "that will make Gabella even stronger!"
The monks looked at each other, clearly not understanding what Dorti was worried about. Some even laughed out loud, thinking he was being too cautious.
Just then, Enoch, who had been silent all along, suddenly raised his head, his eyes sweeping across the entire room like knives.
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" His voice was hoarse, tinged with annoyance. "If the Empire's mortal army—those peasants who can't even do the most basic meditation—can also unleash destructive power comparable to magic using iron pipes and black powder..."
He paused, a cold smile creeping onto his lips. "Then what's the point of having us? What's the point of having the Arcane Society?"
These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head.
The council chamber fell silent instantly. The mages, who had been enthusiastically discussing the imitation of Aldor firearms, gradually lost their excitement, replaced by bewilderment, shock, and finally, a lingering fear.
Yes, if an ordinary infantry army can defeat an elite knight order with a volley of firearms without using spells or magic, and if a few cannons placed outside the city can demolish sturdy city walls... then what irreplaceable value does the Arcane Society, the organization that rules the empire's magic and strategy, have?
Mariana slowly closed her eyes. What was bound to happen would eventually happen. She didn't know whether to feel fortunate for her son or to feel sorrow for her kind.
Dorti stood up, his voice low but carrying a warning in every word: "Some may think I'm exaggerating, but please consider how much Arcane Society has paid to get to where it is today."
He looked around at the crowd, his gaze heavy: "For hundreds of years, we have lived in anonymity, hiding in cellars, deep mountains, and abandoned monasteries, living like rats. The Vatican calls us blasphemers, and mortals see us as the source of calamity. How many of our compatriots have been burned at the stake? How many families have been wiped out because of a single word,'suspected spellcasting'?"
He paused, his tone growing increasingly solemn: "It wasn't until the Empire went to war with the Holy See of Light that we truly had a chance. The Fire Dragon Legion was invincible on the battlefield, tearing apart enemies with magical weapons and protecting their positions with flames. It was those victories that allowed the nobles and people of Gabella to see with their own eyes that mages were not monsters, but the pillars of the Empire."
"We can finally walk the streets of Gabella with our heads held high, wear robes and crowns, attend court to discuss politics, and breathe in the sunlight." Dorti's voice trembled slightly. "This was not obtained through begging, but through proof—proof that the Spellcaster is indispensable to the Empire."
He took a deep breath.
"But now, the mortals of Aldor, with just an iron pipe and a handful of black powder, have achieved the destructive power that only mages could previously accomplish. If this weapon becomes widespread, if the Empire discovers—that it can win wars without us..."
He didn't finish speaking, but everyone understood.
"Then what are we?" Enoch retorted coldly, his eyes sinister. "Are we back to being rats chanting spells in the sewers? Or locked up in the Black Tower as 'potential threats'?"
He glanced around, his tone laced with sarcasm and pain: "Have you forgotten? Twenty years ago, there were children in Gabella throwing stones at people in grey robes and yelling 'Wizards, get out!' Do you really think mortals accept us out of kindness? No, it's because we need them, and they need us even more."
"Once we're no longer useful," he sneered, "the hatred will return. And it will be even more intense than before—because they will be afraid, afraid that one day those of us who 'once held power' will want to take everything back."
The council chamber was deathly silent.
The excitement I had just felt about replicating Firearm had vanished, replaced by a chill that seeped into my bones.
Looking at the captured firearm on the table, they suddenly realized that it was no longer just a weapon, but a key that could either open the door to a new era or lock the Spellcaster's path to the sunlight again.