Privet VIII had been confident about the war against the Fallen faction. After all, the Fallen had only been operating in the shadows for the past two decades, and their strength was still far weaker than that of the Orthodox faction.
Even with their ambushes and surprise attacks, severely damaging the Orthodox faction’s forces at sacred sites and schools, the Orthodox faction still maintained a strong position in the kingdom’s military. Privet VIII had been certain that victory was within their grasp.
But now, with the failure of the Chaos Pact, the Orthodox faction’s strength had plummeted by at least seventy percent. Faced with the imminent war, their chances of victory were growing slimmer by the day.
Deep in thought, Privet VIII abruptly turned around, ready to take action to change the course of the situation.
“If the Chaos Pact is no longer dependable, we’ll need to turn to the magic scholars who’ve signed Elemental Pacts,” he muttered to himself.
However, halfway through his thoughts, he paused and turned back to speak to Owen:
“The person in the black robe earlier… that was the Archbishop of the Church of the Mechanical God. They’re able to create magical devices that even ordinary people can use, which would give our military a significant boost.”
“Now that the Chaos Pact is unreliable, we may need their magical devices more than ever. Owen, make sure to cooperate with him to the fullest!”
Owen’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was the Archbishop of the Church of the Mechanical God? I’ve always wanted to meet him!”
More than a month ago, Owen had bought a magical air conditioner from the House of Machines and brought it to the Gallon Institute to study how a device so simple could be powered by magic. But after a month of research, he was still no closer to understanding the inner workings of the magic chip inside the air conditioner.
And it wasn’t just him—many of the professors at Gallon Institute were baffled as well.
The best they had managed to do was replicate the markings on the magic chip, but they still couldn’t figure out how it functioned.
Privet VIII clapped Owen on the shoulder. “This is a perfect opportunity for you to seek guidance from him. Treat him well, meet his needs, and if you run into any difficulties, come to me.”
After outlining his decision to work with the Church of the Mechanical God, Privet VIII instructed Owen to take care of the matter, then quickly departed. He needed to check on the status of the magic scholars in the army as soon as possible.
Owen watched the king leave, then slowly began to calm his thoughts.
With the Fallen faction regrouping, the king’s position had already been precarious. Now that the Chaos Pact had collapsed, it seemed increasingly likely that the local lords would begin to question their loyalties.
After all, the lords followed the royal bloodline, not Privet VIII himself.
And with the Fallen faction backing the Duke of North County, who also held royal blood, if the king’s power faltered, the lords might abandon him. Instead of rushing to his aid in the war, they could very well sit back and watch, or even switch sides to the Duke of North County.
In this situation, the king needed to urgently reinforce his military forces.
“The Mechanical God… magical devices that anyone can use…”
Owen murmured to himself as he walked toward the direction the Archbishop had gone.
Meanwhile, Karien stood outside an experimental field, observing a group of young researchers conducting experiments. It felt strangely familiar—just like the work Karien had done here several years ago.
“Is the Archbishop interested in creating magic as well?” Owen’s voice was calm as he approached Karien.
Karien, hiding his true identity behind a mask, carefully adjusted his tone. “Of course. The magical devices of the Church of the Mechanical God are created by modifying magic. Many of the spells developed by Gallon Institute provide us with fresh inspiration.”
Owen nodded. “Your church’s magic chips have given me new insights. I’ve studied magic my entire life, but I never imagined that a magic array didn’t have to be circular. The Church of the Mechanical God is truly remarkable.”
Hearing his mentor’s praise, Karien felt a surge of satisfaction. But he kept his tone neutral, knowing the importance of maintaining his cover. “The Church of the Mechanical God aims to make magic accessible to everyone, which is a groundbreaking achievement in itself. Naturally, the way we inscribe magic must break away from traditional rules.”
“I’ve learned something new,” Owen said with a smile. “Regarding the Church of the Mechanical God’s request, I’ve already heard from His Majesty. He wants me to cooperate with you. What do you need us to do?”
Owen, a researcher in the Theory Department, had been tasked with this coordination? Karien was a little surprised. But from their interactions so far, it seemed Owen had not recognized him. After all, Karien was not the same person he once was. With his mask and altered voice, it would have been nearly impossible for Owen to identify him.
“We’ll begin by working on the Elemental Grenades. Right now, we need the help of a large number of inscribers,” Karien said, producing a magic chip.
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“The core of the Elemental Grenade consists of ten small ‘Explosive’ magic arrays. Your Inscription Department just needs to replicate the patterns on this chip.”
Owen took the chip from Karien and examined the intricate patterns, his curiosity piqued. “How did the Church of the Mechanical God manage to arrange these ten magic arrays so closely together?”
As a magic researcher, Owen had tried to combine small arrays himself, but the interference between them made them unstable. The more arrays involved, the greater the risk of failure.
Yet the magic chip Karien held seemed flawless. The arrays were perfectly stable, with no signs of elemental leakage.
“If you were to join the Church of the Mechanical God, I could explain it to you on behalf of the Mechanical God,” Karien responded with a smile.
Owen didn’t seem surprised. He had asked the question out of curiosity, not expectation.
“If it’s just a matter of copying the patterns, there shouldn’t be any issue,” Owen said, holding up the ‘Explosive’ chip. “I’ll contact my colleagues in the Inscription Department and have them stop everything else to focus on this. Are there any precautions we should be aware of?”
Karien nodded. “Since the metal casing for the Elemental Grenade is standardized, the magic chips need to match that size for smooth assembly later. The patterns must be precise—any mistakes could result in accidents.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “I’ll send my assistant to work with you. By the way, he’s also from the Gallon Institute.”
“Oh?” Owen raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s his name?”
“Arij.”
Looking at the more than a hundred engraving researchers in front of him, the thin, red-brown-skinned Arij felt a bit nervous.
Not long ago, he had been quietly working in a secluded cottage at a suburban manor when he received a sudden order from Mr. Sixteen, summoning him to the Gallon Research Institute.
Among the engravers in front of him, some were former colleagues. But there was no camaraderie between them. His alien heritage had led to exclusion during his time in the Gallon Research Institute’s engraving department.
As his old colleagues eyed him now, their discomfort was palpable.
"Arij, I never thought we’d meet again!"
A middle-aged man with messy hair, a full beard, and a scruffy appearance—looking like a street performer—clapped Arij on the shoulder. "I’m glad you’ve joined the Mechanical God Church. It’s a better fit for you than this place."
This was Fro, the head of the engraving department at Gallon Research Institute.
Fro had recently gone with Owen to purchase magical air conditioners from the House of Mechanics and had developed a strong interest in the magical chips of the Mechanical God Church.
Before the Chaos Contract collapsed, Fro had been engraving a high-tier weapon. But the failure of the contract caused his work to grind to a halt. When the Mechanical God Church reached out to them for collaboration, Fro immediately gathered the engraving team.
But what Fro didn’t expect was that the person responsible for coordinating the project from the Mechanical God Church would be none other than Arij.
Fro didn’t particularly like Arij, but he didn’t hate him either. The engravers had often rejected the alien in the past, making it hard for Fro to assign him meaningful tasks. Many engraving jobs required teamwork, after all.
Recently, Arij had clashed with a colleague and escalated the issue to the institute’s director, causing quite a stir. After deliberations, the higher-ups decided to let him go.
And now, Arij was back, this time as a representative of the Mechanical God Church—a development that stirred mixed emotions in Fro.
The engravers were standing in silence, waiting for instructions. Fro cleared his throat.
"We’re facing a crisis. The magical devices from the Mechanical God Church can significantly bolster the king’s army. I don’t want anyone repeating past mistakes. Focus on the task at hand. Understood?"
"Understood!" the engravers responded in unison. Despite still harboring disdain for Arij, none dared voice it.
Fro knew better than to expect these engravers to overcome their prejudice against Arij in such a short time. Even he had his biases, though they were more subtle. But with the stakes high, he needed to make sure they stayed focused and didn’t let personal feelings derail the mission.
"Arij, begin."
Without a word, Arij nodded and started his work.
He held the engraving pen with precision, swiftly sketching intricate lines on a standard Lantite chip. The process was flawless, and the complex patterns appeared almost effortlessly.
In less than five minutes, Arij completed the engraving of the “Explosive Burst” chip, the result indistinguishable from the sample provided by the Mechanical God Church.
Fro, who had never paid much attention to Arij's work, was genuinely impressed. As a low-tier engraver, Arij hadn’t drawn Fro’s attention before—typically, mid-tier engravers handled low-tier work and only reported exceptional talents.
Fro glanced at one of the men in the crowd. That was Arij's former group leader. It seemed Fro had been too focused on research and hadn’t managed the engraving department as well as he should have.
But that was beside the point now. Arij wasn’t concerned with Fro’s thoughts—his mind was solely focused on completing Mr. Sixteen’s orders and ensuring the success of the task.
The Gallon Research Institute no longer mattered to him. He had only one goal now: finish the job so he could return to the peace of the cottage.
Arij finished his explanation, and the engravers began to replicate the chip in groups.
Most failed after barely engraving a fraction of the chip, and only a few high-tier engravers managed to replicate the chip, though some inaccuracies remained.
Arij examined their work and selected two engravers. "These two are qualified."
The rest were not.
The task proved far more difficult than Fro had anticipated. Fortunately, with support from the equipment department, they had an ample supply of Lantite chips. Even if mistakes were made, the chips could be reprocessed and reused.
Fro instructed the team to keep engraving until they could replicate the chips accurately.
Most high-tier engravers got it right after their second attempt. Mid-tier engravers improved after ten tries. Low-tier engravers showed varying progress—some quick, some slow.
By the end of the day, the majority had met the standard. The team was now producing around 2,000 "Explosive Burst" chips daily. As their skills improved, their output would increase.
Alongside the engraving department, researchers from the theoretical and formation departments with magical engraving skills also joined the effort, pushing production even further.
While Gallon Research Institute worked at full capacity to replicate the chips, Karien had already arrived at the Black Iron Territory, heading toward the valley factory.
Blass, the blacksmith in charge, had halted production of magical air conditioners and other items to focus on manufacturing metal casings for elemental grenades.
"Blass, how many workers are in the factory right now?" Karien asked.
Blass, a short and stocky man with brown facial hair, wiped sweat from his brow. "Around 300. One hundred are blacksmiths, the rest are regular workers."
Blass, now the factory manager, was overseeing the operation.
"If we focus all these workers on elemental grenades, how many can we produce per day?" Karien inquired.
Blass quickly calculated. "Elemental grenades are relatively simple. If we exclude smelting and a few other essential tasks, we can make about 8,000 per day."
“8,000?” Karien frowned. “That’s too slow.”
"Too slow?" Blass was taken aback. With the factory now running on an assembly line, production was already much faster than before. Compared to regular blacksmith shops, output was ten to thirty times greater. Wasn’t this enough?
Karien’s eyes narrowed. “Have the machine tools I requested been completed?”