Free Web NovelOn a morning at Test Site Three, a discomforting smell of coal hung in the air.
The area was enclosed by towering grey rock walls, making its level of secrecy one of the highest in Red Tide City.
Currently, the center of the field seemed to have been set up as a deadly trap: half-man deep muddy trenches, crisscrossing sharp chevaux de frise, and several thick stone walls mimicking city wall structures.
Louis's gaze fell upon the behemoth covered by a tarpaulin in the center of the field.
Half a step behind him, Knight Commander Lambert stood like a silent statue.
This Extraordinary Knight also looked at the behemoth, his eyes devoid of doubt, only possessing a soldier's characteristic scrutiny.
He knew Louis never did anything in vain; since Lord Louis called this the 'New Era,' something capable of changing the rules must be hidden beneath that tarpaulin.
However, the young knights Gray and Sako, standing on the other side, were a bit restless.
Gray tugged at his collar, looking at the muddy ground, "How much longer do we have to wait?"
"Be patient, you talk too much," Weil interjected.
This once clumsy young knight who used to follow Louis around was now seventeen years old.
Serving as Louis's guard for many years had stripped him of his youthful naiveté, and his once somewhat thin shoulders were now held ramrod straight.
He no longer paid attention to Gray's impatience, keeping his hand on his sword hilt, intentionally mimicking his most admired Lord Louis.
Meanwhile, in the center of the field, Hamilton was nervously wiping the mist from his goggles.
He and the dozen or so Mechanist Team members behind him looked utterly disheveled, their faces covered in oil, eyes dark-rimmed, and their work clothes patched and covered in coal dust.
But these artisans, who usually only stared blankly at blueprints, now had eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and unease.
"Are you ready?" Louis asked.
Hamilton took a deep breath and nodded to the apprentices behind him.
"Unveil!"
The coarse ropes were pulled down, and the huge waterproof tarpaulin slid off.
The words Gray was about to say caught in his throat, but this was not due to amazement, but because it was too ugly.
There was no elegant, streamlined armor, no mysterious glow of alchemical runes.
What appeared before everyone was a low, clumsy, wedge-shaped lump of steel.
Its surface was covered with dense rivets, and the black armor plates still bore hammer marks and oil stains from forging.
The enormous V-shaped dozer blade at the front looked like a wild boar with an iron shovel for a face.
"This thing..." Gray frowned, "With all due respect, my Lord. It looks like it would struggle just to turn around. If we were on a battlefield, I could ride my horse around it three times."
Lambert turned his head and calmly glanced at Gray.
No words were needed; those battle-hardened eyes immediately silenced the young knight.
Hamilton heard Gray's mockery, but he did not retort, merely patting the cold rivets silently, as if soothing a sleeping beast.
"Don't jump to conclusions," Louis said indifferently. "Hamilton, first round of testing."
Hamilton waved his hand, and a Formal Knight-ranked test knight raised a fine steel spear and thrust it fiercely at the front of the war machine.
"Clang—"
The spear broke, and the knight stumbled backward from the recoil.
"Isn't that a bit too much acting?" Kosa, who had been eager to try, finally couldn't help but speak.
The young man strode out, bowed to Louis, "My Lord, that amount of force isn't even enough to tickle me. Mr. Hamilton doesn't need to arrange such a charade to demonstrate its hardness. Let me try."
Louis nodded, "Then you try it."
A glint of excited ferocity flashed in Kosa's eyes. He was now a High-Rank Elite Knight, dealing with a lump of iron should be no problem.
He grabbed a weighted pure steel javelin from the weapon rack, took a deep breath, and his arm muscles bulged like rocks.
"Hmph!"
Accompanied by a thunderous roar, the javelin transformed into a black afterimage, screaming as it tore through the air and slammed into the war machine.
This strike was enough to pierce through three layers of iron-clad tower shields.
"Thud!"
It wasn't the crisp sound of tearing steel, but a grating, dull thud, like a heavy hammer smashing into a rotten wooden stake.
Kosa himself jolted violently, sliding back two steps.
On the ugly armor plate, the javelin was twisted and deformed. Only a thumb-deep, glowing white dent remained on the armor's surface.
"This is impossible..." Kosa ignored the sharp pain in his hand, rushing up to touch the dent, his eyes full of disbelief, "The feel isn't right, it's like hitting some kind of... elastic stone."
"This is Composite Armor," Hamilton stood beside the war machine, straightening his previously stooped back, his voice filled with a technician's pride. "The outer layer is Cold Iron fine steel, and the innermost layer is riveted steel plate.
But the key is in the middle; we sandwiched in three inches of elastic teak soaked in tung oil. Your strength is great, but it was all absorbed by the wood."
The Mechanist Team members behind him also puffed out their chests; it was their masterpiece, the result of countless experiments.
"My Lord," at this moment, Lambert, who had been silent, suddenly stepped forward.
"This armor is indeed extraordinary," Lambert's voice held a hint of respect. "May I test its limits?"
Hamilton's expression changed. He looked at Louis with some concern.
Composite Armor could block Elite Knights, but facing an Extraordinary Knight... that was an unknown territory.
Louis, however, nodded, a hint of inquisitive interest in his eyes, "Go ahead. Don't hold back."
Lambert took a deep breath and took a specially made two-handed warhammer.
Pale red extraordinary battle qi wrapped around the hammerhead like flames, and the surrounding air twisted due to the high-density energy.
"Break!"
Lambert unleashed a hammer blow.
"Boom—!!!"
A huge roar echoed within the enclosed test site, and the war machine's twenty-ton body actually jolted violently backward from this single strike.
A piercing alarm sounded from within the war machine.
Hamilton rushed forward as if scalded, checking for cracks on the armor, shouting at the driver inside, "Report structural integrity! Is the main beam broken?"
"Main beam intact! Only the external armor is deformed!" The apprentice's trembling but excited reply came from inside.
The smoke and dust dissipated.
The front armor of the war machine had not been penetrated. However, at the point of impact, a terrifying, basin-sized huge dent appeared, half a foot deep.
Hamilton let out a long breath, turned around, and shouted excitedly at Louis, "It held! My Lord! Structural integrity!"
Lambert put down the heavy hammer, looking at the dent with a grim expression.
"I used my full strength," Lambert turned around, looking at the other knights who also showed shock, "A full-power strike only dented it; it would probably take another hit to pierce it."
Gray felt his throat go dry.
Even an Extraordinary Knight couldn't destroy it with one blow?
"That's enough," Louis's voice interrupted everyone's thoughts. "Next test."
Hamilton immediately yelled at the artisans, "Pressurize! Open the valves to maximum! Make this beast roar!"
As high-energy coal was shoveled into the furnace, thick black smoke spewed from the thick exhaust pipes at the rear of the war machine.
"Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!"
It was a crude noise, like a giant beast suffering from a lion's roar.
The tracks began to turn, churning up mud. It was indeed not fast compared to a warhorse, but the visual oppression was devastating.
Immediately after, it crashed into the row of chevaux de frise in front, specifically designed to block cavalry.
"Crack, crack."
Those sharp hardwood stakes, which were quite troublesome for knights, were as fragile as instant noodles in front of the dozer blade and tracks.
The war machine showed no signs of slowing down, directly rolling over them, plunging into the muddy trench, and then, accompanied by the roar of the engine, it laboriously climbed out.
"It's too clumsy," Gray gritted his teeth, making his last stand of stubbornness. "As long as I don't ram it and keep moving, its main cannon is fixed, it can't hit me at all!"
Louis glanced at him and spoke coldly: ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
"Hamilton, load the iron shot canister. Clear a one-hundred-twenty-degree fan-shaped area in front."
The war machine stopped turning.
The short, thick, unaesthetic cast iron barrel slightly lifted.
With a crisp "click," the driver pulled the huge loading lever, forcefully pushing a sealed iron canister filled with lead shot, scrap iron slag, and flint oil into the breech.
The sound of the locking mechanism engaging was like an iron behemoth closing its teeth.
"Fire."
There was no trajectory of a shell flying out.
In that instant, everyone only felt their eardrums violently throb, as if someone had struck a brass gong inside their heads.
"Boom—!!!"
A storm of orange-red erupted from the muzzle, accompanied by rolling flames.
Hundreds of thumb-sized lead pellets, mixed with sharp iron shards, instantly transformed into an impenetrable net of death under the violent thrust of alchemical gunpowder.
It was a metal storm in the true sense of the word.
Within thirty meters ahead, fifty iron targets, pulled by ropes to simulate cavalry charges, were directly hit by the metal storm.
In the same second, they completely lost ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) their original form.
No blind spots, no gaps.
The ground was plowed unevenly, and the soil was blown half a foot deep.
Those iron men... their breastplates were pierced, their limbs torn off, and shattered metal fragments scattered and fell in the smoke, clanging as they landed back in the mud.
Even the stone wall at the edge of the field, used for testing, was riddled with bullet holes, and shattered stones flew everywhere.
The entire field was dead silent.
Gray stood frozen, his face ashen.
His lips trembled slightly, and his hands subconsciously shielded his chest, as if the scorching heat wave would tear him apart the next second.
The evasive maneuvers he had just rehearsed in his mind, his proud horsemanship... seemed so ridiculous in the face of this absolutely violent metal net.
No prediction needed. No aiming needed.
Even a fly would be turned into dregs within this fan-shaped area.
Lambert's mouth twitched slightly. As an Extraordinary Knight, his dynamic vision allowed him to see more clearly than others; the speed of those lead pellets was so fast that even afterimages were invisible.
Even he, if he entered this range unprepared... Lambert closed his eyes, a scene flashing through his mind: rows of war machines advancing, spewing out continuous lead shot and flame storms, and his Knight Regiment falling like mown wheat.
No glorious duels, only industrialized slaughter.
This thing stripped knights of the battlefield space they relied on for survival.
But it wasn't over yet; Louis gave no one a chance to catch their breath, ordering again, "Continue to the next item."
"Fourth round of testing, City Breaker," Hamilton gestured to the war machine.
The driver pulled the operating lever, and the war machine vibrated violently in place.
Thicker black smoke spewed from the exhaust pipes at the rear, clearly accumulating pressure for some heavier attack.
The breech opened, and the still-warm iron shot canister casing was ejected, falling into the mud with a sizzling sound.
This time, two loaders worked together to push a conical shell, marked with red danger signs, into the breech.
The war machine slowly adjusted its angle, its muzzle pointing at the thick Granite Stone Wall two hundred meters away.
"Fire!"
"Thump!!!"
Unlike the tearing roar of the buckshot just now, this time the cannon fire was dull and powerful, like a heavy punch slamming into the chest of the earth.
Everyone's vision couldn't even keep up with the black shadow exiting the barrel.
The next second.
Two hundred meters away.
"Boom—!!!"
A huge explosion erupted from the granite wall.
The two-meter-thick Granite Stone Wall was as if crushed from within by an invisible giant hand.
Crushed stones shot out in all directions like shrapnel, and smoke and dust rose several feet high.
When the smoke and dust cleared, the once sturdy defensive fortification had become a huge gap, with scorched marks from the explosion still remaining on the broken stones.
Lambert's pupils contracted violently.
This was Silco's proud Magic Bomb, launched from inside.
Immediately after, the war chariot let out a roar, its tracks churning up mud as it accelerated its charge.
It was like an enraged bull, using the massive V-shaped Plow on its front to smash into the ruins.
"Crash—"
The remaining wall completely collapsed under the impact of the steel, leveled to the ground.
The area was dead silent, with only the 'clack' sound of the war chariot's engine cooling down.
The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, making people's throats dry, but no one dared to cough.
"It's very strong," Louis broke the silence, his voice calm to the point of being cold, "But it's not perfect."
Lambert took a deep breath, forcing himself to recover his composure from the shock.
"The sides and back are blind spots, and the visibility is also very poor," Lambert's voice was a bit dry, "If someone gets to the side and attacks the tracks or the observation slit, it's useless."
"We need to compensate for this," Hamilton quickly recorded, sweating profusely, "We can open firing ports on both sides of the vehicle, but..."
"Heavy Armored Cavalry," Weil, who had been standing behind Louis, suddenly spoke.
The young man's voice was not loud, but it was unusually steady. He looked at the steel monster, with no fear in his eyes, only thought.
"Lord, since it is an anvil, it needs someone to wield a fly swatter for it."
Weil pointed to the war chariot's flank, "We cannot let this thing fight alone.
I suggest dispatching the strongest Heavy Armored Cavalry to form a dedicated escort team to advance with the war chariot. The war chariot will be responsible for breaking through the defense lines, and the knights will be responsible for slaughtering enemies attempting to approach the war chariot's flanks."
Louis turned his head, looking somewhat surprised at the young man who had followed him for two years.
The child who used to just stand there foolishly holding a sword now understood tactical coordination.
"Well said, Weil," Louis nodded approvingly.
He looked at Lambert: "Did you hear that? This is called 'Knight-Tank Coordination'."
Lambert nodded, his gaze still fixed on the war chariot.
But at this moment, Hamilton, beside him, did not show a relaxed expression; instead, he seemed to hesitate: "Lord, I don't understand tactics. But..."
Hamilton scratched his oil-stained hair, then turned to look at a frail young man behind him holding a thick ledger: "Regarding costs and logistics, let Toby report to you. The numbers of those gold coins really give me a headache."
The clerk named Toby was called out, startled, and quickly ran forward with the ledger.
"L-Lord!" Toby pushed up his sliding glasses, his voice trembling, "According to... according to the Mechanist Team's calculations..."
"Just give me the numbers," Louis interrupted him.
"Yes!" Toby swallowed, opened the ledger, "This prototype, including research and development and material consumption, cost a total of nine thousand eight hundred gold coins. Just that round of testing cost sixty gold coins in fuel and ammunition."
Hearing this number, the young knights around gasped.
Nearly ten thousand gold coins? That's enough to buy a prosperous small town!
"As for the cost per vehicle..." Toby's finger traced across the ledger, "Currently, the manufacturing cost of this Red Tide Mark I is one thousand two hundred gold coins. This... this is equivalent to a lord's entire annual income."
Gray couldn't help but murmur, "Crazy... over a thousand gold coins for a lump of iron? That money is enough to buy a territory in the Northern Frontier."
"That's just a prototype."
Hamilton interjected, "Once it's finalized for mass production, many parts can be cast with molds instead of blacksmiths hammering each one. The cost will come down."
Toby quickly nodded and added, "Yes! If... if a production line can be established as Lord said, the estimated cost for the first ten units could be reduced to around six hundred gold coins."
"Six hundred gold coins..."
Lambert repeated the number softly. For ordinary people, it was still an astronomical price, but for a weapon of war... Louis took the ledger, didn't even look at the numbers, and simply closed it and handed it back to the clerk.
"Is it expensive?"
Louis turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, finally resting on Lambert.
"Lambert, to train an Extraordinary Knight like you, from six years old strengthening bones and muscles, the magic potions drunk, the famous teachers hired, the weapons damaged... plus that one-in-ten-thousand luck, how much money does that take?"
Lambert was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Incalculable, Lord."
"Exactly."
Louis patted the war chariot's rough armor plate, producing a dull thud.
"As long as this thing has blueprints and raw materials, Red Tide's workshops can build three a month. As long as you feed it fuel, it won't get tired, won't be afraid of death, and won't flee due to morale collapse."
"I have money, and I have railways. Establish repair stations at all train stations and transport it to the front lines by train."
Louis's voice became exceptionally firm, "Even if one blows up, I won't feel bad. Six hundred gold coins, that's just the profit from selling two carts of spices."
"But if a knight like Lambert dies, or a hundred young men like Gray die, that would be a loss Red Tide cannot bear."
With all worries resolved, Louis looked at everyone present.
"Kosa, how long have you practiced with the spear?"
"Fourteen years, Lord."
Louis pointed to the driver who had climbed out of the war chariot, a greasy-faced, scrawny apprentice who looked like a monkey.
"His name is Bill, and two months ago he was a farmer. But with that one strike just now, he could turn you into a sieve."
These words completely shattered the last bit of pride of the young knights.
Many knights present showed complex expressions in their eyes.
Excitement was because Red Tide had a divine weapon, but more than that was an indescribable melancholy.
Unless one was an Extraordinary like Lambert, in the face of such a steel torrent, the glory of ordinary knights seemed to become worthless.
Lambert took a deep breath and knelt on one knee.
This commander had no melancholy; as a soldier, he deeply knew that with the empire's situation deteriorating and the southern threat increasing daily, this cruel efficiency was Red Tide's guarantee of survival.
"Lord," Lambert's voice carried determination, "Times have changed."
For young people like Gray and Kosa, who had practiced martial arts diligently since childhood, looking at the monster still spewing black smoke, the sense of loss in their hearts could not be filled by a few slogans.
If ten years of diligent spear practice was inferior to a farmer pulling a joystick, what was the meaning of all that sweat?
Louis keenly captured this emotion. He did not leave immediately but walked down from the observation deck, treading through the mud to the war chariot.
He reached out and patted the hot armor plate, feeling the rough vibration.
"What, feeling wronged?"
Louis turned around, his gaze sweeping over the dejected young knights, finally landing on Lambert, who had just stood up.
"Lift your heads," Louis's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable command.
He pointed to the behemoth beside him: "Look at it closely. It is indeed tough, and its firepower is indeed fierce. But Hamilton, tell them, how long did you prepare to make it run here for these ten minutes?" frёewebnoѵēl.com
Hamilton, who was nearby, quickly wiped the oil and sweat from his face, and said with a wry smile, "Two whole days, Lord. We had to preheat the boiler, check over two hundred valves, and we also needed a dedicated convoy to transport water and coal for it.
Those few shots just now were exhilarating, but that was burning money. Just that high-purity coal alone was enough to buy that pile of spears."
"Did you hear that?"
Louis looked at the knights, "It's blind, it's deaf, and it's a picky gold-devouring beast. It can't see the assassins creeping up from the side, nor can it hear the sound of a bowstring being drawn in the shadows.
Once its tracks break, or the coal runs out, it's just an iron coffin left by the roadside. If it operates alone, a nimble assassin has a hundred ways to kill it."
Louis walked up to Kosa, looking at the big barbarian.
"Kosa, this thing can smash open city walls, but can it climb cliffs? Can it infiltrate enemy camps to decapitate commanders? Can it engage in bayonet fights with enemies in the ruins of a street battle?"
Kosa was stunned for a moment, then subconsciously shook his head: "No, Lord. It's too fat."
A sparse laughter broke out around them, and the atmosphere relaxed slightly.
Louis turned his head: "Creating it isn't to eliminate you, but to liberate you."
"Recall past wars. Even the most Elite Knights had to brave arrow rain, using their bodies to charge into enemy spear formations. That was suicide, a waste of talent."
Louis pointed to the war chariot behind him.
"Now, this dirty, tiring work, leave it to it."
"It's responsible for attracting fire, it's responsible for smashing through defense lines, it's responsible for eating dirt at the front."
Louis walked up to Lambert and helped the commander straighten his slightly askew shoulder guard.
"And you... you will change from 'consumables' back to'surgical scalpels'."
"When it has thoroughly disrupted the enemy's formations, you will cut in from the flanks, using your swords to harvest those panic-stricken commanders, to pursue and kill those fleeing remnants."
"The war chariot is the hammer, smashing all obstacles; and the knights are the sharp sword, precisely piercing the heart."
Louis's voice carried clearly to everyone in the morning breeze: "As long as war exists, human intuition, reaction, and courage will never be obsolete. It needs you to protect its flanks, just as you need it to block the arrow rain from the front."
The last trace of melancholy in Lambert's eyes vanished.
He looked at the ugly machine, then at Louis. Only now did he truly understand the young lord's intention; this was not replacement, but complementarity.
"Mutual arms," Lambert repeated softly, then gave Louis a standard military salute. This time, there was only pure battle intent in his movements, "This subordinate understands."
At this moment, the rising sun finally climbed over the high wall, and golden sunlight spilled onto the muddy test field.
On one side was a crude, clumsy Industrial Monster spewing black smoke, and on the other side was a square formation of knights clad in refined steel armor, wielding sharp blades.
These two forces, originally incompatible, at this moment, merged wonderfully together.
"Alright, don't just stand there," Louis waved his hand and turned to walk towards the exit, "Clean this big guy up. Hamilton, don't forget to open a few ventilation firing ports for it; Bill's face was purple when he got out just now."
"Yes, Lord!"
Laughter finally erupted on the test field. But this laughter no longer held disdain, but was filled with anticipation for the future.
