Translator: Cinder Translations
...
In the factory filled with the roar of steam and metal, a massive boring machine, resembling a steel behemoth, stood tall. Workers slowly hoisted the rough cast iron cannon barrels to the center of the machine using chains and pulleys.
As the water-powered flywheel roared to life, the boring tool, like a precise scalpel, pierced into the cannon bore. Sparks, mixed with iron shavings, sprayed out like a golden rainstorm, filling the air with the scorching smell of metal.
No longer reliant on manual skill and experience, the gears and connecting rods of the boring machine advanced with the steady rhythm of a mechanical pulse, cutting the inner walls of the cannon bore to a mirror-like smoothness, with an error margin no thicker than a coin.
Amidst the mist of coolant and steam, the cannon barrels on the assembly line underwent a transformation: the once rough cast iron shells were now endowed with standardized curves and calibers, neatly arranged on the inspection table like perfect replicas, reflecting the industrial civilization's relentless pursuit of flawless repetition.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows of the factory, casting oblique rays on the rows of dark cannon barrels. The cold, straight metal axes seemed to herald the arrival of a new era—the manufacturing of war machines had finally leaped from the fingertips of craftsmen into the absolute realm of steel and mathematics.
The military leaders from Crystal Glare watched this scene with solemn expressions. Each of them wanted to say something, yet no words came out. Before their visit, the scene they had imagined was one of skilled master craftsmen leading apprentices, wielding heavy hammers to forge the cannon barrels, much like the blacksmiths of the continent had done for centuries.
Although their creations were more ingenious—using rapidly expanding gases to propel metal projectiles—the methods of producing these marvels were not vastly different from those used to make ordinary swords and knives. If one could grasp the concept, what the craftsmen of Alden could do, so too could craftsmen from other regions.
But the scene before them shattered that image. It was clear to everyone, based on intuition alone, which method was more advanced and which was more primitive.
Humans possess an acute intuition for things that are more powerful, advanced, and potent. Just by their appearance, one can often judge their superiority, much like how a more aesthetically pleasing fighter jet is often more capable.
The visual impact of machine mass production compared to traditional handicrafts is incomparable. It was evident that Alden's production methods had far surpassed the general level of the rest of the world at that time.
...
Since the victory at the Black Worm's Nest, Stanford had begun the process of gaining control over the northern territories. He first used Gunther's attack on the Black Worm's Nest as a pretext to pressure the Blood Ox Tribe, demanding their submission to Marquis Grayman as punishment for the assault.
It was only then that Chief Asoye of the Blood Ox Tribe learned of his eldest son's foolish actions and that Gunther had died. This news struck Asoye like a heavy blow. Although he knew Gunther had acted unreasonably, he still refused the demands of the Black Worm's Nest.
Stanford, who had always addressed the chief as an old friend in his letters, showed no mercy this time. He immediately assembled a force of over five thousand, consisting of both humans and subjugated orcs, and marched on the Blood Ox Tribe.
The two sides clashed fiercely in the forest near the Blood Ox Tribe's settlement. The orc warriors, armed with primitive weapons, charged out from the gaps in the trees like a tidal wave, roaring with fury as they lunged at the human army.
However, the Black Worm's Nest forces deployed firearms and cannons, quickly countering the attack. The forest was soon filled with the sounds of explosions and thick smoke, severely obstructing visibility for both sides.
The subjugated orc warriors acted as human shields, engaging the Blood Ox Tribe's fighters with their comparable height and strength. Although they lacked firearms, their metal weapons were still superior to the stone tools wielded by the Blood Ox Tribe. As the subjugated orcs held the enemy at bay, the riflemen behind them seized the opportunity to deliver fatal blows.
Ultimately, the Black Worm's Nest forces, with their superior equipment, overwhelmed the enemy. The number of fallen Blood Ox Tribe warriors grew, and after several hours of intense fighting, those who saw no hope of victory fled deep into the forest.
Chief Asoye, protected by his loyal warriors, found himself unable to retreat as the human army closed in from all sides. The old orc was severely wounded, his back hunched as he knelt on the scorched earth. His cracked armor had been torn apart by lead bullets, and his exposed chest bore several gaping wounds, the dark green skin revealing charred flesh beneath.
His broken axe was deeply embedded in the soil, serving as a crutch to support his failing body. The faded war paint on his skin twitched with the spasms of his muscles. The loyal warriors around him were in no better condition—exhausted or grievously wounded, clinging to their last breaths.
Hearing the sound of rifles being reloaded through the smoke, Asoye's cloudy eye suddenly gleamed with ferocity. A battle cry, mixed with blood, erupted from his throat, and his warriors raised their weapons, determined to fight to the bitter end.
"Bang!"
The volley of gunfire roared, and the last warriors of the Blood Ox Tribe fell. One bullet spiraled through Asoye's skull, freezing his final roar into an eternal echo within the forest.
As the smoke cleared, the battered body of the chief, riddled with wounds, lost its last support and collapsed to the ground.
The Black Worm's Nest emerged victorious. With the momentum of their triumph, the human army issued an ultimatum to the indigenous tribes of the land who had long held hostility toward them: either choose peace—under Alden's rule, of course—or be driven to the northern ice fields.
The Blood Ox Tribe, once the most powerful in the region, had been led by Chief Asoye, a figure of great authority. Their sudden downfall left the other hostile tribes without a banner to rally around, making the Black Worm's Nest's control over the northern territories all the more seamless.
It was at this time that Alvey and his attendant Marek arrived in the northern territories. After a long and arduous journey, they were both physically and mentally exhausted, their clothes tattered by the winds of the grasslands. Each leading a gaunt horse, they stumbled into the forest.
Perhaps as compensation for their misfortunes, luck finally smiled upon the two travelers. With the Black Worm's Nest's increasing control over the northern territories, Alden's outposts had spread deep into the forest. They soon encountered a trading post, where they received timely aid. Guided by the staff, they continued their journey toward the Black Worm's Nest.
(End of the Chapter)
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