Free Web NovelEduardo Calvin knelt in a scorched bush, clad in a field cloak already stained with ash and mud, looking like a bounty hunter of noble birth.
"Are you sure this place can yield any valuable clues?"
He tugged at his glove, speaking to the grizzled hound beside him.
It was a breed specifically trained to locate decaying corpses, its nose twitching lightly, ears perking up occasionally, pacing restlessly on the scorched earth.
"...Nothing? Another wasted trip?"
The hound whimpered twice, indicating there was something there.
"Haaah—"
Eduardo sighed, flinging his cloak back, completely disregarding the bloodstains and dust on his clothes.
He casually brushed aside the caked, scorched earth, then pried open a pile of burnt vines, finally unearthing a piece of wreckage covered in black bone fragments.
The object was almost unrecognizable, like a wax figure crushed in a furnace, emitting a half-dead stench.
His face immediately soured: "Lord, what sin have I committed—"
Eduardo complained, pulling a clean white cloth from his embrace to wipe the mud from his fingers, yet his movements still retained a noble elegance and restraint.
The hound looked at him, gave a low bark, and licked his sleeve, as if comforting him for another wasted journey. "Yes, yes, I know you're more frustrated than I am."
He patted the dog's head, then looked up at the distant gray-white sky.
Just as he began to question life, his dog, the Church, and even why the world was so cruelly arranged for him to dig graves—a dark shadow swept across the gray-white sky.
Its wings were extremely long, unfolding like blades, cutting through the heavy wind, then swooping down towards Eduardo.
Eduardo didn't look up, only narrowed his eyes, and his mouth twitched.
"...Tsk, the one I left for Louis."
He maintained his half-kneeling posture and extended his left arm.
The gray-feathered bird skillfully flapped its wings, landing on his shoulder, its sharp beak gently pecking at a silver ring.
He took it off, unfolding the slightly wrinkled letter.
The paper wasn't exquisite; it even showed signs of being dampened by moisture.
The general content of the letter: "Found a special corpse, possibly related to the Mother Nest's spiritual core. If you have time, you can come to Red Tide Territory to see it."
The first second, he frowned.
The second second, he took a deep breath.
The third second, he looked up at the gloomy northern sky, as if seriously evaluating whether destiny itself was playing a trick on him.
Then he looked down at the pile of rotten mud he had just dug up at his feet, which even divine grace was too lazy to resonate with, and his mouth twitched slightly.
"I spent over half a month, personally digging thirty-six graves—and he just 'casually' picked up a 'special corpse'?"
Eduardo muttered in a voice that sounded as if his soul had left his body, then sat down with a thud, pulling the "Worm-Eaten Household Dog" into his arms.
"Little Gray, let's go. Red Tide Territory—at least it's warmer there."
The hound licked his chin as if in reply, while the gray-feathered messenger on his shoulder began to meticulously preen its feathers, completely ignoring the man's inner collapse.
Eduardo stood up, patting the dust from his clothes: "I hope this time there's a real result. This bad feeling in my heart is getting deeper and deeper."
The north wind howled, and the wasteland north of Red Tide City seemed to have been scraped by an ice blade, the exposed ground long frozen solid.
This was the "Test Blast Wasteland" used for weapon testing, where the Magic Bomb was previously test-fired.
The Knight silently lifted two heavy iron boxes to the center of the wasteland, raising a thin layer of dust as they landed.
"Lord, both weapons you designed are complete. Please inspect them." Mike blinked his bloodshot eyes, but his face held an undisguised excitement and pride.
Louis stood behind him, nodding silently.
Mike skillfully opened the first box with both hands, and a cold metallic gleam immediately shot out.
It was a black and red flamethrower device, like a dormant beast.
The main unit resembled a heavy metal backpack, covered with engravings and explosion-proof welds, connected to a thick tube that extended to the nozzle at the front.
The front of the nozzle was like a beast's open mouth, with a faintly glowing blue ignition crystal embedded in its inner wall, subtly hinting at a premonition of death.
Mike carefully knelt on one knee, pulled out the pipeline, as if grooming the wings of a child he had personally raised.
He gently tapped the metal canister with his finger: "This is the main model of the flamethrower, weighing about thirty pounds, with a backpack design. It uses a pneumatic system to propel Fire Scale oil, and the front end has an automatic ignition device; pulling the trigger ignites it."
Mike stepped back half a pace and waved to someone not far away, "For the Fire Scale oil part, let the formulator explain it personally."
Silco walked to the flamethrower with a triumphant smile on his lips, gently patting the metal canister.
"This is my fourth-generation Fire Scale oil," he said, his voice not loud, but clear and steady. "It's thick, extremely adhesive, and can stick to armor, leather, and even snow to burn continuously.
In actual tests, it can burn through three layers of leather armor and ignite an entire pile of wet ground. The range is controlled between three and four meters, balancing strike area and precision. A single spray can last up to twelve seconds.
Of course, if you keep pressing the spray, in less than a quarter of an hour, a small squad of Snowsworn could pretty much turn into charcoal specimens."
Louis had no concept from his explanation and directly ordered: "Begin the experiment."
The cold wind roared across the wasteland, stirring up the scattered snow and dust on the ground.
Today's "target" was still an Ice Wilderness Boar, as this fire-resistant magical beast was most suitable for such experiments.
It was now tied up with ropes on the test stake, roaring and growling incessantly, the hot breath from its nostrils condensing into white mist in the cold wind, its four hooves frantically pawing the ground, its eyes full of bloody ferocity and unwillingness.
Louis called for someone.
A sturdy Apprentice Knight stepped forward slowly, his face tense but without any hint of retreat.
Under Mike's personal guidance, he put on the main flamethrower unit, checking the pressure valve, trigger buckle, and ignition crystal—all steps were meticulous and well-trained.
"Aim for the center of the stake, don't go for the head," Mike reminded in a low voice.
The Apprentice Knight stood firm, feet apart, stabilizing his lower body.
He held his breath, the nozzle aimed at the boar's chest.
All onlookers retreated, moving beyond the designated safety line.
The air seemed to solidify, leaving only the cold wind and the sound of metal friction.
"Begin," Mike commanded.
The trigger was suddenly pulled.
"Boom!!"
A deafening blast shook the wasteland, and a furious fiery serpent suddenly shot out from the nozzle, scarlet mixed with deep orange, as if hell had opened its mouth, spewing forth a roaring tongue of flame.
The fiery tongue crawled rapidly along the ground, advancing close to the earth, instantly scorching weeds, distorting the air, and the scorching, acrid smell cut into the nostrils like a knife.
The moment the flames engulfed the Ice Wilderness Boar, it was as if a fierce tiger had seized its prey.
The burning Fire Scale paste adhered tightly to the boar's fur, and the fire immediately spread rapidly along the fat, even emitting a series of explosive oil fires in the intense heat.
"Oink oink!!"
The tied boar let out a tragic roar, struggling frantically, dragging the ropes and rushing left and right, its thick, tree-trunk-like limbs, though bound, still sent sparks flying.
Amidst the rolling thick smoke, its black fur rapidly carbonized, fat exploded, and the air began to fill with a stench like roasted corpses.
Among the onlookers, some gasped and retreated, some couldn't help but cover their mouths and noses, while more stared intently at the fiery slaughter.
Silco lowered his head and pressed the stopwatch, observing the details of the flame adhesion, burning, and target reaction while timing.
Ten seconds, eleven, twelve.
The fire finally began to weaken, and the boar let out a final low growl, collapsing with a thud, its burning corpse still smoking, like a relic from hell.
"Adhesion met expectations," Silco wiped the smoke from the tip of his nose and nodded. "Twelve seconds of spray was just right, the firepower didn't stray. The ignition crystal successfully triggered on the first try, with zero delay; performance was very ideal."
He walked forward and pointed to the Apprentice Knight's shoulder strap:
"However, the carrying structure still has room for optimization. The recoil is too strong during spraying, and the shoulder straps are too tight, affecting aiming stability."
He turned to Mike, "You can add a waist strap to share the impact, and use soft padded leather to reduce pressure."
"Noted," Mike nodded.
Louis, however, stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the still-smoking remains, then looked at the steadily standing young Knight, reaching out to pat his shoulder.
"Well done."
In his mind, he was already rapidly analyzing the battlefield practicality of this terrifying weapon.
If this was the power, a three-person team rotating operation would be enough to suppress an entire enemy breakthrough point.
Moreover, even an Apprentice Knight could stably control the flamethrower, to say nothing of higher-ranked Knights.
The flames finally extinguished, leaving only a pile of pitch-black charcoal in the center of the wasteland, with faint traces of what was once part of the boar's skeleton discernible in the ash.
The wind dispersed the acrid smell, and everyone slowly approached, still savoring the shocking scene they had just witnessed.
Silco bent down to examine the remains, squatting there to check the thickness of the carbonized layer and traces of grease, muttering to himself, "It's simply art."
Louis quietly gazed at the charred boar carcass, but in his mind, he was already envisioning another battle scene.
Flamethrowers, coupled with custom heat-resistant armor tailored for Knights—this was a fatal blow to the Worm-Eaten Household!
Can they fight? Not important, just burn them to death.
Those guys from the Worm-Eaten Household basically had no long-range attack methods; it was all close-quarters biting.
As soon as the firepower started, the Worm-Eaten Household rushing forward would be like moths to a flame, unable to last even five seconds.
He couldn't help but let out a low laugh, a cold tactical thrill flashing in his eyes.
This was frontal suppression, overwhelming force, a pure weapon prepared for the "Human Defense Line."
Louis stepped forward, raising his hand to pat Mike's shoulder.
"Good job."
Mike immediately stood ramrod straight, his bearded face full of excitement, even speaking half a beat faster:
"This—this is all thanks to your Lordship! Your design is truly amazing, I—I wouldn't have thought of such a brilliant structure in eighteen lifetimes!
The heat guidance for this nozzle, when you drew it back then I thought it was just a doodle, but it actually came to life! Not only did it come to life, it's also so incredible!"
Facing Mike's endless praise, Louis merely smiled slightly, as if listening to a passing breeze.
"Don't just flatter me, tell me about the second one," he said, his tone unhurried. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
Mike paused for a moment, then nodded vigorously as if a switch had been flipped: "Yes! This second treasure—I dare say, it's absolutely one of your most insane ideas!"
He quickly walked to the second iron box nearby, raised his hand, and with a 'click' of the iron lock, he lifted the cover cloth, revealing a thick, short, and heavy launch tube.
The tube body was cast from cold iron alloy, with sharp lines and a faint pattern of molten casting on its surface, exuding a sense of immense weight.
Connected to one side was a simple yet sturdy tripod, with deployable steel claws attached to the bottom of the stand for stable ground placement.
"This is a Magic Bomb Launcher," Mike straightened up, his tone solemn.
"It's not a single weapon, but an entire launch system—it can switch between handheld and tripod modes depending on battlefield needs."
As he spoke, he lifted the launch tube, supporting the bottom with one hand and the middle with the other, and heavily rested it on his shoulder.
The muzzle's diameter was so large that even unlit, it exuded a startling power.
"Light Magic Bombs are lighter and have an anti-recoil leveling device, allowing Formal Knights to shoulder-launch them during field operations, making them suitable for surprise attacks or guerrilla warfare."
"But the real 'teeth' of this thing are here."
He bent down to adjust the launcher's position, firmly planting the tripod into the ground, pulling out the support claws, and slowly adjusting the launch tube to a forty-five-degree elevation angle.
Then he took out a heavy Magic Bomb warhead from the bottom of the box.
Unlike gunpowder bombs that rely on physical explosions, this one compresses the magma essence into a core crystal, releasing a focused magical energy shockwave upon detonation.
"This is a Heavy Magic Bomb," Mike said softly, "and it's the one that successfully passed the last test."
"Such a guy must be launched using a tripod. Not because of insufficient manpower, but to control the recoil upon ignition. It's so strong that the operator would have their shoulder bone shattered on the spot."
He steadily loaded the warhead into the launch tube, ensuring the engravings and gaps were aligned before stepping back half a pace.
Mike looked up at Louis. The craftsman's characteristic confidence on his face receded a bit, replaced by a rare calmness and solemnity.
"We don't know what kind of enemy it will ultimately face," he said, "but if the target is a city wall, it's simply a siege weapon."
Next was the testing phase.
The test site was chosen in a scorched earth area, the black clearing left from the previous test.
The ground was scorched, barren, with carbonized wooden stakes and twisted iron pieces remaining, and the air still carried a faint smell of {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} charcoal and burnt metal.
Mike waved his hand, and several Knights together dragged two Ice Wilderness Boars, tightly chained, to a distance, fixing them at two marked points, sixty and eighty meters away respectively.
They struggled and roared, their huge tusks scraping the ground, but they could no longer escape.
Silco walked forward, carrying a heavy metal canister, and took out a Light Magic Bomb.
The object was like an iron can as thick as half an arm, its casing dull, evidently cold-forged and heat-treated, with a "magic essence detonator cap" at the bottom, exquisite and deadly.
He seemed uninterested, introducing it coolly: "The Light Bomb has a maximum range of about one hundred paces, propelled by magma essence, suitable for Knight squads to throw by hand or launch from the shoulder. Lethal radius: severe injury within ten meters, scorching within twenty-five meters. The accuracy of the blast point is controllable."
After he finished speaking, a tall Formal Knight stepped onto the firing position, steadily loading the Magic Bomb into the launch tube.
He tightened the retaining ring, aimed at the sixty-meter target, took a deep breath, and then sharply pulled the trigger.
"Whoosh!"
With a muffled thud, the Magic Bomb arced into the air, trailing a faint magical energy plume as it flew towards the distant target. In that instant, Weil instinctively turned his head to avoid the light.
Boom!!!
A dazzling orange-red fireball suddenly exploded in the distance, as if a burning giant palm had slammed down onto the earth.
Flames surged skyward, and scorching heat waves swept in, seemingly igniting the entire sky.
The shockwave burst like rolling thunder, making the ground tremble slightly.
The Ice Wilderness Boar at the sixty-meter target was instantly engulfed by the pillar of fire, its ice armor melting, flesh splitting, and bones disintegrating into dust in the blast.
The one eighty meters away was also affected, its body charred black, its mournful cries intermittent.
Billowing black smoke rose near the blast center, and even the test shed a hundred meters away was shaken, causing dust to fall.
"Oh my god," Weil instinctively took half a step back, his eyes filled with shock.
Even the accompanying young Knights changed their expressions, many covering their ears, their faces showing fear.
Even an Elite Knight, if hit head-on without battle qi defense, would most likely be incapacitated or even explode on the spot.
Yet, in the face of this overwhelming power, Louis merely narrowed his eyes, revealing a satisfied expression.
In contrast, Silco had already hidden far away.
He, of course, knew the true power of this "Light Bomb," as he had personally manufactured it.
But he didn't particularly like this finished product, as it was a compromised version.
The Fire Scale paste was insufficient, so he had to settle for less, lowering the ignition temperature and explosive intensity, barely managing to mass-produce this batch of light combat bombs.
And Mike had already gotten up from the ground, brushing off the dust, his excitement barely contained on his face.
The aftershocks of the explosion had not completely dissipated, and the air was filled with the smell of scorching and gunpowder.
Louis stood in place, squinting at the target area, which had been blasted into half a crater. After a long moment, he nodded.
"The explosive power is acceptable, it's enough."
His tone was calm, but Mike's eyes lit up upon hearing it, becoming as spirited as if he had taken a small pill.
Seeing Louis's satisfaction, Mike then proceeded to the second test.
He raised his hand to Louis, his voice rising: "Next, we enter—the Heavy Magic Bomb test phase!"
Silco carefully carried the Heavy Magic Bomb from the second iron box, his movements steady, but his fingertips trembled slightly, as if he were holding a sacred artifact.
The appearance of this Magic Bomb was almost identical to the Light Bomb, still a thick, short, heavy metal casing, with only close inspection revealing the subtle differences.
But the real difference was hidden beneath the internal casing, where Fire Scale paste flowed slowly, like lava veins winding within the metal, faintly emitting an orange-red glow, giving off an unbearable sense of heat.
And at its core, a red platinum magic crystal was quietly embedded, its intense light flickering restlessly, like a burning heart that could explode at any moment.
Silco's eyes reflected the faint glow, his voice low and hoarse, filled with an uncontrollable excitement and pride: "This one has an expanded lethal radius of severe explosion within fifty meters, causing severe shockwave injuries within eighty meters, and the blast center temperature approaches two thousand degrees Celsius."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but grin, the fatigue and grease on his face seemingly nonexistent, replaced only by pure fanaticism and a sense of accomplishment.
A craftsman immediately stepped forward, skillfully securing the tripod and embedding this Heavy Magic Bomb into the launch slot.
The fire crystal propulsion device began to hum, like the low growl of some beast.
The angle slowly rose, finally settling at a forty-five-degree elevation, aimed at the base of a sturdy rock mountain three hundred paces away.
This was a deliberately arranged long-range strike test.
The rock layers at the base of that mountain were hard, containing cold iron and profound ice veins, which ordinary explosives could not break.
As the craftsman finished his countdown, the fuse was pulled, and the heavy bomb roared out of the tube!
Bang—!
The Magic Bomb traced a crimson trajectory, trailing a burning plume like a meteor as it soared into the sky, flying for nearly three seconds before accurately hitting the base of that mountain!
Boom—Rumble!!!
In that moment, it was as if the God of Fire swung his hammer, fiercely smashing the backbone of the Northland!
It wasn't just the mountain surface that exploded, but it completely collapsed from within.
The center of the blast created a scorched giant hole several zhang deep and tens of meters in diameter, the rock instantly melted, and the edges rolled with crimson flames, like the throat of hell opening!
High-temperature air currents and rock fragments gushed out, sweeping towards the mountainside.
The entire hillside collapsed, the accumulated snow was evaporated by the air current, the exposed soil instantly carbonized, burning long scorch marks. The ground cracked, as if torn by giant claws.
Even more terrifying, the opening not only exploded but also continuously spewed dark red flames formed from ignited Fire Scale paste.
Flames danced wildly at the foot of the mountain, howling incessantly in the wind, and even visible heat distortions appeared in the air.
Even though everyone stood at the observation point a hundred meters away, they felt an unbearable heat, as if the air was ignited, and even breathing was searingly painful, with dust waves hitting their faces and their eardrums humming.
Weil was the first to blurt out: "That's not an explosion—that's digging a hole! That's—mountain-swallowing fire!"
Mike looked at the distant collapsing and burning mountain base, and replied in a low voice: "This is what it's prepared for siege. One shot of this can destroy a city wall."
The mountain continued to rumble and collapse, flames spreading, burning through the accumulated snow, and even igniting underground natural gas veins, accompanied by a series of muffled thuds, spewing out more dark flames, as if a volcano had just emerged above ground.
A full thirty seconds passed, and the flames still hadn't extinguished, the blast center still surging with a tide of fire, that "Eye of Flame" seeming to have opened and not yet closed.
Everyone was silent, the air filled with a scorched stench, and the heat and roar lingered for a long time.
Weil's eyes were wide, and he didn't notice the bloodstains on the side of his face from the flying dust: "If I were standing there, I probably wouldn't even have ash left."
And Silco was almost unable to hide his excitement.
He stared at the still-rolling flames, his eyes filled with pride and a kind of almost fanatical satisfaction.
This was the weapon he had created, this was the formula of destruction he had concocted.
More importantly, this was not the strongest version.
Mike looked up at the still-collapsing mountain base, his tone unusually low and solemn: "This is not an ordinary weapon—"
"It's a combination of explosion and hellfire."
He turned to Louis, his voice heavy: "My Lord, this kind of thing—it's not for clearing paths, it's for ending wars."
Louis nodded slowly: "Begin mass production immediately. It's very likely—it will be needed soon."
Upon hearing this, Mike's heart tightened, and he immediately nodded vigorously like a pecking chick.
