Chapter 545: Arms Race

After the promotion ceremony, Morin returned to the Falkenstein Manor.

The letter from Falkenhayn specified that the Instruction Brigade would deploy in three days, so Morin decided he needed to make a trip back. After all, he likely wouldn't return from the Eastern Front until next year.

Half an hour later, the familiar manor appeared at the edge of his vision.

The guards at the gate spotted the familiar staff car from afar and quickly phoned inside. By the time Morin's car stopped at the entrance of the main building, Cecilia had already come out to meet him.

Her pale gold hair was casually tied back, and she wore a warm-colored homewear dress. The moment he saw her, Morin completely relaxed.

Compared to the harsh scenes of the battlefield he was about to return to, everything here gave Morin an unreal, dreamlike feeling.

"You're back."

Cecilia's voice was calm, lacking any excess emotional fluctuation as usual. She walked up to him, her gaze landing on his new epaulets.

"Well, it seems I'll have to call you 'Your Excellency the General' from now on~"

"Please don't tease me, Sister Cecilia." Morin smiled and shook his head. He looked earnestly at the woman before him, his tone turning serious.

"One more thing... The Instruction Brigade and I will be shipping out soon. Starting tomorrow, we won't see each other for a long time. I leave the domestic affairs in your hands."

Morin waited a few seconds after speaking, expecting Cecilia to say something. But she merely stood quietly for a moment, then reached out, grabbed his wrist, and turned toward the stairs.

The battle-hardened Morin instantly understood her intentions.

"Wait... I haven't showered yet..."

Before he could finish, Morin was dragged upstairs.

The bedroom door quickly closed behind them. Cecilia turned around and silenced him in a way that left no room for further argument.

At that moment, all excess words lost their meaning.

Who knew how much time passed or how many times they intertwined; eventually, the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, and the chirping of insects outside the manor drifted in through the half-open window.

Cecilia lay on her side, her back pressed against Morin's chest, while his arm rested loosely around her waist.

Neither slept, yet neither spoke. They simply lay there in silence for a long time.

Cecilia finally broke the silence.

"You don't need to worry about things in the rear." Her voice carried a lazy, husky tone characteristic of the aftermath.

"I will help Helga keep an eye on the Schmeisser Company. I'll send people to assist with the production line expansion, and I plan to arrange a dedicated team to manage the production activities of your other industries... If there's anything else you need me to handle, list it out in advance."

"As for Helga and Patricia... I will find an opportunity to have a proper, private chat with the two of them."

Morin let out a long breath and kissed the top of Cecilia's head.

"You really have thought of everything for me."

"What else? Let you go to the frontlines while still worrying about this mess in the rear?"

Cecilia rolled over to face him, her hand tracing his chest.

"All you need to do is come back alive with a victory."

...

The next morning, Cecilia personally helped Morin dress in his uniform.

She buttoned it up one by one, flattened his epaulets, and straightened his collar. Her movements were meticulous, as if performing a ritual.

After fastening the final button, Cecilia took half a step back and looked him up and down.

"Not bad, still looking sharp."

Morin stood before the floor-length mirror, glanced at his reflection, and then grinned at her.

"Of course. Where else did you think those nicknames came from?"

Cecilia expressionlessly slapped the back of his head.

"Stop being glib."

She walked Morin all the way to the main gate. The Instruction Brigade's driver was already waiting, and a maid had opened the car door in advance.

Morin got into the driver's seat and turned to look at Cecilia. She stood on the steps, her hands folded in front of her, the morning breeze gently blowing the tips of her hair.

"I'm off."

"Mhm."

There were no cinematic, tearful farewells at this moment. Everything that needed to be said and done had been left in last night.

The car slowly drove away from the manor. In the rearview mirror, Morin saw her beautiful figure standing in place until the shadows of the trees completely obscured her.

Morin retracted his gaze and refocused his attention on the road ahead.

He pushed down the messy thoughts in his head, replacing them with the mountain of tasks he needed to handle next.

Finalizing the march route, conducting the long-distance marching test for the entire brigade, planning the logistical supply connections...

And the intricate relationships on the Eastern Front... This time, he didn't have the Crown Prince backing him up, so many things might not go as smoothly as they did during the Balkan War.

Since the previous day, the pace of the entire Instruction Brigade had abruptly accelerated.

Officers across the battalions and companies busied themselves inventorying equipment and verifying supply lists. Supply troops loaded massive quantities of ammo crates and provisions onto trucks and heavy-duty wagons in batches.

The brigade's overall training intensity also decreased slightly to prevent any mishaps from overtraining right before departure, especially for the newly supplemented troops.

In Morin's view, they actually needed more time to fully adapt to the Instruction Brigade's training and combat style. But right now, they could only bite the bullet and deploy.

As for Morin's own focus, it fell on planning the march route.

The Army High Command had approved Morin's request for the "entire brigade to maneuver to the border station." This presented both an opportunity and a test for the Instruction Brigade.

The planned route from their current garrison to the designated railway hub on the eastern border spanned approximately 240 kilometers.

For a pure infantry unit of this era, covering this distance would take a considerable amount of time. For an undertrained unit, marching for ten days to half a month would be considered normal.

But the Instruction Brigade was not a pure infantry unit. Morin heavily promoted the brigade's mechanization precisely to gain the capability for long-distance rapid assaults.

However, the subordinate Armored Instruction Regiment possessed a large number of half-track armored vehicles and wheeled trucks driven by radiant crystal engines. While this cutting-edge equipment drastically improved the unit's mobility, it also served as the biggest unpredictable factor during a long-distance march.

"General, according to the plan, the Armored Knights and the 150mm heavy artillery will be transported by rail first... Next, here are the three currently proposed alternative routes."

Inside the Instruction Brigade's command room, Rundstedt spread a map marked with different colored routes on the table and introduced them one by one.

Having just joined the Instruction Brigade and immediately taking charge of such a large-scale operation, Rundstedt took it very seriously. He repeatedly reviewed the operational details, afraid of missing any unnoted issues.

"The Northern Route has moderate passing difficulty throughout, but I have yet to confirm the load-bearing data for two bridges along the way..."

"The Central Route is the shortest, but a third of the journey consists of dirt roads. They could become muddy on rainy days."

"The Southern Route detours a bit, adding nearly thirty kilometers, but over 90% of it is simply paved. It also has the densest concentration of supply depots along the way."

Morin nodded after listening.

"So which one do you prefer?"

Rundstedt hesitated barely a second. "The Southern Route, General... It is the safest."

Morin fell silent for a moment before unexpectedly tapping his index finger on the section marked as a dirt road.

"I want to take the Central Route."

Rundstedt paused.

"General... that dirt road section on the Central Route..."

"I know."

Morin raised a hand to interrupt him, then glanced at Manstein and Paulus.

"This march itself is a practical test of the mechanized unit's long-distance maneuverability... If we travel entirely on paved roads, it loses the meaning of the test... Besides, the road conditions on the Eastern Front are vastly worse than back home. I hope you are all mentally prepared."

Morin paused before continuing, "Therefore, I need to know exactly what marching speed the Armored Instruction Regiment can maintain under less-than-ideal conditions, how many mechanical failures will surface, and the response time of our logistics support under extreme road conditions. These factors will directly affect our subsequent combat effectiveness on the Eastern Front."

After Morin spoke, Rundstedt opened his mouth but ultimately swallowed his objections.

Manstein also added to Rundstedt, "It sounds risky, but the logic holds up... If we don't test in peacetime, it will be too late when problems arise on the battlefield. This is the style of our Instruction Brigade."

"I understand."

Rundstedt digested this for a few seconds and nodded. He then picked up his pen and began annotating supplementary information on the Central Route map. This attitude of unhesitating execution allowed Morin to quietly breathe a sigh of relief.

"General, then I will take some men to recalculate the distribution of logistics nodes along the Central Route. I also need to have the Armored Instruction Regiment and the supply train make some preparations in advance..."

"Mhm, go ahead."

After Rundstedt left, only Manstein and Paulus remained in the combat room.

Morin first picked up a document on the table to review, then asked casually, "How has Major Rundstedt adapted during this time?"

"Quite well, General."

Manstein leaned back in his chair, rolled his shoulders, and continued, "He just hasn't fully let go yet; he's a bit too cautious... But that's a strength. Our brigade headquarters needs a cautious person to act as a safety net."

Paulus chimed in, "He probably hadn't encountered the concept of 'mechanized unit long-distance maneuverability' before coming here, right? To be honest, when I first arrived at the Instruction Brigade, I also found many things unheard of."

"That's normal. He will take it slowly."

Morin stood up and glanced at the wall clock.

"Alright, you two get back to work as well. Hurry up the equipment readiness reports from each regiment; I want to see them before evening."

After the two saluted and exited, Morin stood alone in the combat room for a moment, his gaze falling on the map marked with the Central Route.

240 kilometers.

If all went well, the Armored Instruction Regiment should be able to complete the march within three days and conduct a few scheduled drills along the way.

If things didn't go well... then it would perfectly reveal exactly which links would fail.

That evening, in the officers' dining hall.

Rundstedt carried his tray and found the table where Manstein and Paulus sat.

The three ate and chatted, the topic gradually shifting from the march route to Morin's personal command style.

"Lieutenant Colonel Manstein, Lieutenant Colonel Paulus..." Rundstedt put down his fork and lowered his voice. "Is the General always like this normally? So... relaxed?"

Manstein chewed a piece of beef, swallowed, and nodded.

"Pretty much. Compared to other generals in the Army, he is indeed easier to get along with."

Paulus chimed in, "Plus, the General doesn't put on airs. If you have any issues, just bring them up directly. He won't get angry just because a subordinate holds a different opinion."

Rundstedt hummed thoughtfully.

At this point, Manstein put down his utensils, his expression turning a bit more serious.

"However, Major Rundstedt, I need to give you a heads-up about something."

"What is it?"

"The General's 'approachability' only manifests in daily life. Once he enters a combat state..." Manstein paused. "You'll find he becomes a different person."

"His orders are concise, his demands precise, and he won't give you time for repeated confirmations."

Paulus picked up the thread. "And during the after-action reviews, it's worse than being scolded. He will break down the reasons for your mistakes and explain them so clearly that you won't even have the face to make excuses."

Rundstedt remained silent for a few seconds, then picked up his cup and took a sip of water.

"When I reported for duty on my first day, the General mentioned four words to me: 'Unity, Tension, Seriousness, Liveliness.'"

"Correct. The Instruction Brigade emphasizes this in daily operations." Manstein set his cutlery aside. "Sounds simple, but it's not easy to execute."

Rundstedt quietly repeated the four words, then gave a slight nod.

"Major General Morin's Instruction Brigade is indeed different from any other unit in the Empire... I haven't been here long, but I already feel it."

"You haven't seen anything yet~" Paulus chuckled, then sighed. "Everything is great, except the General flatly refuses to let me go to the infantry regiment... It's a bit regrettable."

"The General definitely has his considerations for this arrangement."

Manstein nudged him with his elbow. "Besides, Ewald is going first to lay the groundwork. By the time you head over, someone will be there to show you the ropes. Isn't that better than crossing the river by feeling the stones yourself?"

Paulus thought about it, and his expression relaxed slightly.

"You make a good point..."

"Alright, alright. Hurry up and finish eating. We need to get back to work and then turn in early. We have a pile of things to do tomorrow."

Early the next morning, a telegram from the Teutonic Order's headquarters was delivered to Morin's desk.

Around noon, several familiar military vehicles parked at the brigade headquarters' entrance. Ludwig, who had previously returned to the Teutonic Order headquarters to report in, rejoined the unit.

"Tsk tsk tsk, the youngest general in the Empire... Friedrich, you bastard, your promotion speed makes even me jealous..."

Arriving at Morin's office, Ludwig circled him several times, looking him up and down while clicking his tongue in amazement.

"Enough... I don't have time for jokes right now. I saw the telegram."

Morin interrupted him, waving the telegram paper in his hand.

"The Order gave a general overview in the message. Can you elaborate on the details?"

Ludwig pulled up a chair and sat down, putting away his joking demeanor. He answered seriously, "Two experimental 'Two-Seater Armored Knights' will be deployed to the Eastern Front for practical combat testing. The Grand Master's intention is for one of them to specifically operate alongside the Instruction Brigade."

"Grand Master Leonia said this herself?"

"Yes. She decided it in front of everyone during a meeting at headquarters. Plus, she'll be coming to the Eastern Front herself."

Ludwig chuckled, then continued, "Also, regarding the additional squad quotas seconded this time, those veteran knights are all fighting for the spots... The Instruction Brigade is gaining more and more attention within the Order."

Morin smiled but didn't reply. The knight squad Ludwig previously commanded had integrated quite smoothly with the Instruction Brigade during their past few battles, and Morin was more than happy to command more Armored Knights.

After all, units like this were genuinely useful...

Ludwig added, "One more thing. The Order's magitech engineers developed a shaped-charge armor-piercing warhead that can be fired from the 77mm assault gun."

Morin instantly perked up. A proper HEAT shell has finally arrived.

"The principle is the same as the shaped-charge anti-armor weapon you came up with before, but this time they added a propellant charge to make it into an artillery shell format."

"How is the firing accuracy?"

"To be honest... it's very mediocre."

Ludwig spread his hands truthfully.

"The effective combat range is basically limited to under 200 meters. Even long shots within 200 meters rely heavily on luck..."

Morin leaned back in his chair to digest this information. 200 meters... For the engagement distance between Armored Knights, that was basically the length of a single explosive charge.

But one had to realize that these giants previously relied almost entirely on close-quarters melee combat. Being able to launch a sufficiently threatening attack at a preemptive range of 200 meters was already a qualitative leap.

"Ludwig, do you personally think this attack method has practical combat value?"

"Of course!"

Ludwig raised both hands forward, mimicking the motion of an Armored Knight firing an assault gun.

"Blast them a few times upon meeting. If we destroy them, it's a massive profit. If not, it still shaves down the enemy's spell shield before we charge in to finish them off in melee. At the very least, it provides a higher margin of error than before."

Morin nodded. This aligned perfectly with his own judgment. The alteration of the Armored Knights' combat style via ranged firepower was only the beginning.

But that was a matter for later. Right now, having a 200-meter preemptive advantage was enough to give the White Army's Armored Knights on the Eastern Front a very hard time.

Even if the Britannians took the field themselves, they would definitely be suppressed... After all, the enemy's attempts to "copy homework" had only reached the plunger-grenade stage.

"Alright, noted... We'll discuss the specific coordination plans in detail when we meet on the Eastern Front."

During these days before the Instruction Brigade's departure, alongside the Teutonic Order's armaments upgrade, the Magitech Research Institute also provided an unexpected pleasant surprise.

A team spearheaded by Patricia before the war had finally completed the development work on a project Morin had long anticipated. Right before the Instruction Brigade set out, they delivered the related project documentation.

The core content was that this team from the Imperial Magitech Research Institute had successfully reverse-engineered the Britannians' "Griffin Mark V Siege Magic Crystal Cannon."

This item was spoils of war Morin had captured earlier on the Kingdom of Aragon battlefield. After being sent back to the Empire, the folks at the research institute had been tinkering with it. Morin had always coveted its "precision guidance" capability.

Now, after so much effort, the Magitech Research Institute had finally figured out the principles and attempted to create a "Saxon Empire Replica Version" that met Morin's needs.

Honestly, Morin's first reaction upon seeing this document was wondering if this technology could be applied to Armored Knights to solve the accuracy issue of delivering shaped-charge anti-armor shells over long distances...

However, Morin also knew that combining two completely different systems engineering projects would undoubtedly present immense difficulty. He probably shouldn't hold his breath for it in the short term.

In the explanatory document Patricia drafted herself, she stated upfront in very straightforward terms that they had grafted the Magic Crystal Cannon's core technology onto the mortars the Army was currently rolling out.

The reasoning was that the Britannians' Magic Crystal Cannon was essentially a large magical mortar. With a high-arcing trajectory and large firing angle, it shared a natural similarity with how mortars operated.

It was just that the current "Experimental Magitech Mortar" had two limitations.

First, restricted by the Saxon Empire's relatively lagging magitech reserves, the smallest caliber they could achieve for this "Experimental Magitech Mortar" was 115mm.

This caused the entire system's weight to far exceed expectations. Morin's initial hope for a man-portable weapon was completely impossible right now. It had to be towed by trucks or horses. At best, manual labor could be used to make do during short-distance transfers within a position.

Second, just like the Britannian original, the Magic Crystal Shell required a guider to continuously output mana during flight to correct its trajectory. Otherwise, accuracy would drastically decrease, and the airburst fuze could not be triggered.

Currently, the only candidates in the Instruction Brigade capable of acting as guiders were Morin himself and Klaus's "Thunder Warriors," because only they possessed sufficient mana affinity to conduct the guidance.

According to tests by the Magitech Research Institute, standard mana-affinity personnel or magitech engineers could not complete the guidance task.

Combining these two points, it was obvious this weapon could not be widely deployed in the short term.

Unless the "sub-tier diluted modified serum" developed based on "First-Generation Thunder Warriors" like Klaus could enter formal production, subsequently mass-producing large numbers of soldiers with high mana affinity...

However, for the current Instruction Brigade, forming eight or nine Magic Crystal Mortar crews was no problem at all.

Therefore, Morin quickly summoned Rundstedt and the others to share this news, instructing them to prepare to receive the equipment upon arriving at the transfer station.

After hearing Morin's introduction of the "Experimental Magitech Mortar," Rundstedt's eyes immediately lit up.

"115mm caliber, mana-guided precision... General, this will be highly effective against fire points inside fortified structures."

Morin added, "Not just fortifications... It will also achieve excellent results against enemy infantry clusters massing in trenches, or even for conducting unconventional counter-battery fire... Based on my experience, as long as the guider can observe the target, this thing basically hits wherever you point it."

"The problem is the number of guidance personnel..." Rundstedt frowned.

"It's enough for now. The 27 Thunder Warriors will be organized into nine guidance squads, each assigned one to two Magic Crystal Mortars. We will rotate them during routine combat and commit them en masse during key battles."

Morin looked at the major, who was still adapting to the Instruction Brigade, and continued, "First, we transition 'from zero to one.' We'll handle the rest gradually."

...

Holy Britannia Empire, Norfolk County.

Rowan Atkinson stood on the newly constructed observation tower at the edge of the training grounds, watching several squads undergoing tactical coordination training below.

These were a batch of rookies added just last month. Their movements were relatively crisp, at least avoiding the humiliating scenes of "spells accidentally injuring allies" that occurred during the first batch's training.

But that was about it. For these former mages, infantry tactical skills were still far beyond their reach.

We need to lower the standards a bit more. This batch's foundation is indeed inferior to the previous two.

As this thought flashed through Rowan Atkinson's mind, his new deputy, Philip, popped up from the observation tower's stairwell.

In that instant, the "Baron" felt as if he saw the "Old Man" again...

But he quickly snapped back to reality and asked, "What is it?"

"Among these new mages, quite a few can't even cast 3rd-circle spells stably... Under the previous standards, these people wouldn't pass the entry assessment at all."

Rowan didn't reply. He crossed his arms over the railing and continued observing the training below.

A recruit was attempting to use a spell to coordinate an attack with his teammate's rifle fire, but there were obvious issues with their synchronization. Before the attack even officially launched, the spell had already slipped from his hands...

"I know what you want to say..." Rowan finally spoke. "But this isn't something I can decide."

His new deputy, Philip, hesitated before asking in a low voice, "Is it the intent of the Mage Order's upper echelons?"

"And Military Intelligence... The expansion order was issued jointly by both."

Rowan shook his head and let out a long sigh.

"Within three months, the 'Spell Jägers' need to expand from their current understrength status to 18 squads... Where will the people come from? We can only scrape the bottom of the barrel."

Philip frowned upon hearing this.

As one of the first "Spell Jägers," he knew very well that at its inception, the screening standards for this special unit were quite strict—stable casting of at least 3rd-circle spells, along with passing the Army infantry's full suite of physical and tactical assessments.

But now with the expansion order, the standards had to be compromised.

"Speaking of which, those low-circle mages... are they genuinely willing to come?" Philip asked after a period of silence.

"They are." Rowan turned and leaned against the railing. "And the number of applicants far exceeded my expectations."

"Why?"

Rowan didn't answer immediately; instead, he glanced at Philip.

"You are an official 3rd-circle mage. In the Empire's system, you are still considered useful. But think lower... What kind of treatment does a 1st-circle mage, or someone stuck at the 2nd circle for half their life unable to advance, receive in the Empire's spellcaster hierarchy?"

This rendered Philip completely silent.

The Empire's spellcaster system was a pyramid. High-circle mages were few in number but controlled the vast majority of resources and say, while mid-circle mages could barely scrape together a decent living.

As for those low-circle mages with limited talent, destined never to break through the 3rd circle... To put it harshly, their entire lives amounted to being tools for the high-circle mages.

Because the Holy Britannia Empire possessed profound magical foundations, the fierce internal competition among spellcasters was exceedingly severe. The status of hopeless low-circle mages was far inferior to their counterparts in the Saxon Empire.

At least low-circle mages in the Saxon Empire could engage in magitech development and pursue an academic route.

But in Britannia... low-circle mages weren't even qualified for the academic route.

Their most common destination was serving as an apprentice-cum-servant for some mid-to-high-circle mage, toiling away for decades.

"Therefore, the Spell Jägers are to them... an opportunity to change their fate," Rowan Atkinson concluded.

Philip asked, "Even if it means going to the battlefield?"

"Going to the battlefield beats scrubbing crucibles for a lifetime... Besides, as long as they can earn merit on the battlefield, the promotion track is much faster than the traditional spellcaster hierarchy."

He glanced at the rookies on the distant training ground. Those young faces, whose movements were not yet fluid, were plastered with a resolute expression that spelled out "taking a gamble."

That afternoon, the official liaison from the Highland Mage Order arrived.

The meeting was arranged in a spare reception room at the "Spell Jägers" training base, as the base itself had originally been converted from a manor.

When Rowan arrived at the reception room, a 4th-circle mage named Darren Cox was already sitting in a chair, reading through a thick stack of documents he had brought.

"Lord Atkinson."

Cox stood up and extended his hand. Rowan Atkinson shook it briefly and let go.

"No need to call me 'Lord'... Let's get straight to the point and skip the pleasantries."

Though somewhat surprised by his efficiency, Cox quickly pushed the document in his hand forward.

"Regarding what was mentioned previously, the order to select personnel from the 'Spell Jägers' to participate in the 'Griffin Blood' project has now been officially issued."

Rowan opened the document and skimmed a few pages. He had already caught wind of the general contents through various channels; now he merely possessed the official written material.

"Voluntary enrollment," Cox emphasized. "It will not be forced."

Rowan flipped to the later pages, which listed a myriad of technical parameters and theoretical explanations. It was written with flashy jargon, but offered little practically useful information.

"What is the specific nature of the enhancement?"

"Injecting a specially formulated enhancement serum, paired with modification surgery, to achieve a breakthrough increase in the test subject's physical constitution and upper mana capacity limit... Additionally, there is a certain probability of directly elevating their spellcasting circle."

"And the success rate?" Rowan Atkinson asked flatly.

"Current experimental data shows a success rate around sixty percent."

"And the remaining forty percent?"

"Uh... They will experience varying degrees of side effects. Mild cases require long-term recuperation, while severe cases..."

"Lose their lives," Rowan Atkinson finished the sentence for him.

Cox fell silent, offering no denial.

"How do you plan to explain this to these 'Spell Jägers'?" Rowan Atkinson leaned back in his chair. "Just tell them straight up that 'there's a forty percent chance you won't come back'?"

"I will make some adjustments to the phrasing..."

Rowan Atkinson cut him off. "What do you mean, 'make some adjustments to the phrasing'? You're not planning to tell them the specific risks?"

Cox's expression finally showed a hint of unnaturalness.

"Lord Atkinson, these low-circle mages already signed an agreement when they joined the Spell Jägers... They know very well they are heading to the battlefield and could die at any—"

"Dying on the battlefield and dying as a test subject are two entirely different things."

Cox opened his mouth but failed to respond. Rowan Atkinson stared at him for a moment, then closed the document and tossed it back onto the table.

"I have a question."

"Please speak."

"Why am I not allowed to participate in this project?"

Cox clearly didn't expect him to ask this. He was taken aback for a moment before shaking his head.

"You are a 6th-circle mage, a core member of the Highland Mage Order, and the command structure of the Spell Jägers cannot function without you... The higher-ups don't want you taking this risk."

Hearing this, Rowan Atkinson immediately sneered.

"So the Mage Order's higher-ups are well aware that the risk of this 'Griffin Blood Project' is not low. Am I right?"

Cox's expression shifted as he finally realized he had been trapped. He forced a laugh and rubbed his nose, clearly trying to figure out how to salvage the situation.

"Lord Atkinson, let us... change the subject."

Cox cleared his throat and produced another document.

"The 'Flight Spell Enhancement Kit' currently in development. If tests are successful, it will be prioritized for delivery to the Spell Jägers."

Rowan Atkinson took the material and flipped through it. It was a wearable auxiliary device based on magitech engineering design, capable of massively increasing the speed, maintainable altitude, and duration of the 【Flight】 spell.

"Has this thing been tested?"

"The laboratory phase is complete. Next, it requires validation in a practical combat environment."

"So 'prioritized delivery' just means letting the 'Spell Jägers' serve as live combat testers?"

Cox's smile finally faltered.

"Lord Atkinson... Could you not assume the worst about everything?"

"I'm not assuming the worst." Rowan Atkinson set the material down, his tone unfluctuating. "I'm just telling the truth."

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the training grounds.

"I will read through the documents you brought. As for the 'Spell Jägers' participating in the enhancement project... I have no right to object. However, as you said, the principle of 'voluntariness' must be followed."

"Please rest assured, Lord Atkinson... I can guarantee that much."

"I hope so..."

Only after the liaison left did Rowan Atkinson slowly exhale.

He sat back in his chair, opened the material on the flight spell kit again, and reviewed it. The technical parameters were quite detailed, and the practicality of enhancing the 【Flight】 spell was indeed very high.

However, having the "Spell Jägers" be the first to equip it always gave him the feeling that they had become "guinea pigs."

He thought of those low-circle mages crawling and rolling on the training grounds. The reason these guys were willing to come here and endure hardship was because they believed the "Spell Jägers" could provide them with a different way out.

Yet the Empire and the Mage Order's high command... seemed to be turning this way out into another form of consumable production line.

Rowan Atkinson gradually felt that in order to win this war, the Empire was step-by-step breaching boundaries that shouldn't be touched.

And that rumor circulating privately within the Mage Order about "Armored Mages" surfaced in his mind once again.

"Hopefully I'm just worrying over nothing."

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