Fifth Hundred and Fifty Chapter "Beauty"

After reaching this conclusion, Roland breathed a slight sigh of relief.

As a bottom-tier combat force, the demons did not surpass the combat effectiveness of conventional hot weapons. At a distance of 500 to 1,000 meters, machine guns and artillery were enough to crush any standing enemy. The spear attack was obviously not suitable for trench warfare. It took three to five seconds for the magic stone to charge and take effect. As long as the bullet production capacity kept up, the Berserk Demon would not even have a chance to throw its short spear.

This meant that at least on the front battlefield where the two armies met, humans absolutely had a fighting chance.

"If you were born in Taqila, how wonderful it would be," Agatha said with a sigh as she looked at the weapon in Roland's hand. "There are a hundred times more ordinary people in the Fertile Plains than in Graycastle, and the same is true for witches. If everyone had a long gun in their hand, perhaps the demons would have rolled back to where they came from long ago."

Roland smiled, but he didn't think so in his heart.

After all, the empire was dominated by witches more than four hundred years ago. Assuming there was a weapon that could give mortals power beyond witches, would the Federation's high-level officials gladly accept its existence? In any era, witches were a minority – retreating all the way from the Dawn Realm to the Fertile Plains, there were tens of millions of humans, but only a few thousand witches. Would those ordinary people who had been oppressed for so long willingly step onto the battlefield? Once the strength was reversed, the collapse of the ruling class would inevitably lead to internal strife. The idea of fighting for the survival of mankind, even after the awakening of nationalism, seemed extremely empty, let alone a group of people living in slavery holding such lofty ideals.

Of course, he wouldn't say these things in public. Agatha was just a researcher for the Seekers Society, so it was better not to involve her in politics.

After the damage test, Anna cut off the demon's limbs again and put it in an iron cage.

"Is that good enough?" Agatha asked.

Roland shook his head, "Let's stop here for today. We'll do the trauma test again tomorrow morning."

"What's that?"

"Testing the demon's resistance to gunfire in various parts of its body, as well as the effects of chemical drugs, Berserk Pills, and Dream Water," he pondered, "By the way, have Lucia try to separate the components of the Red Mist and see what we can get."

It was a pity that demons could not be raised for a long time. Otherwise, with Nana Watanabe's healing abilities, a small number of demon samples would be enough to obtain relatively comprehensive data.

Agatha yawned, "Whatever you want, but I need two witch assistants to make sigils, and the materials must be prepared in advance. Once the demon dies, the blood won't last long, so it's best to start dissolving the God's Punishment Stone while it's still alive." She paused, "By the way, have you decided which kind of sigil you want to make?"

"As long as there are enough magic stones, can any kind be made?"

"Of course," she nodded, "Failure won't consume the stone itself, at most it will make me... no, nothing."

Roland raised an eyebrow, "Make you what?"

"Never mind, a slip of the tongue," Agatha pouted, "At most it will make you lose some ordinary materials."

Seeing that she didn't want to continue, he didn't continue to ask, "Let me study the 'Magic Stone Encyclopedia' first, and I'll tell you the answer tomorrow morning."

*******************

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

Idith Condé stood by the window, looking out at the city in the night – merchants often said that candlelight meant wealth, and the brighter the place after dark, the wealthier it was. She thought that brightly lit scenes would only be seen in the taverns or theaters in the inner city of the capital, but here, she learned what it meant to be brightly lit all night long.

This was the case on the south bank of the Redwater River.

Looking from a distance, the shore was as if it had been lit up, but it was not the orange-red light emitted by a bonfire, but a soft yellow light, stable and bright, like the sunlight separated by a layer of fine gauze.

Under this light, the entire factory area would continuously produce various goods at night – they called them industrial products.

The steam engine was one of them.

The visit in the afternoon left Idith feeling an indescribable shock, a shock that far exceeded the battlefield slaughter or anything else... Even His Majesty's so-called abolition of the fiefdom decree could not compare.

When she walked into the factory and saw rough iron ingots being ground into edges and corners by a rapidly rotating grinding wheel, and then drilled with holes by a drill, her eyes were immediately attracted. Especially in the end, when the iron block full of oil and debris was cleaned and turned into shiny parts, there was a sense of new beauty.

In the roar of the machines, the hard materials were processed into various shapes, and then combined together in a unique way, they could move on their own - what a wonderful power this was.

The factory floor was covered in sewage, metal shavings were everywhere, and there was noise and humid air. It wasn't a pleasant place, but Idith stayed there for the entire afternoon.

And she clearly remembered that the municipal government official who took the delegation around looked impatient, wishing he could leave this noisy place as soon as possible. It wasn't until the group planned to return to the mansion that he breathed a sigh of relief, and at the same time, a sentence left a lasting impression on her: "I really don't know what's so good about this thing? Only His Majesty Roland would think that these black lumps contain beauty."

Contains beauty?

Idith instantly felt a strong resonance.

That's right... this is beauty, the beauty brought by pure power, the beauty of being able to knead and transform metal at will, especially when she understood the working principle of the steam engine, there was another kind of beauty that borrowed the power of nature.

This beauty was far from being comparable to colorful gems or exquisite and luxurious clothes.

She only felt that something in her heart was faintly touched.

How did His Majesty know these things? Besides that, what else did he know?

Suddenly, a knock on the bedroom door interrupted Idith's thoughts.

"Sister, I'm done washing," Cole poked his head in, "The water is still hot, do you want to continue washing?"

"Have the servants boil a new basin," she instructed, "Have you figured out the principle of water extraction here?"

"I asked someone, and the water in the pipes seems to flow out of those vertical iron towers," Cole scratched his head and walked into the room, "As for how the water runs up from the well, they can't say. By the way, there's something in the bathroom that you must try. It looks like a special grease, but it gives off a fragrance when it touches water. It's great for washing your body. I bet even a milk and rose bath isn't so comfortable!"

Was this also His Majesty's deliberate arrangement? Idith couldn't help but wonder. The delegation's residence was located near the castle district, in a four-story building, the top floor of which was even half a section higher than the castle. Not only could they enjoy the night view of Neverwinter City, but the layout and facilities of the room were also quite ingenious – although not large, it was extremely comfortable to live in. According to the municipal government officials who received them, this was a hotel specially prepared by His Majesty for foreign envoys, and it seemed to be called "Diplomatic Building."

In her opinion, whether it was the clear water that flowed out continuously when the valve was turned on, or the washing materials that Cole praised, should be Roland Wimbledon's deliberate display.