Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The enemy ranks contained multiple high-order mages, and although there was no direct evidence, the possibility could no longer be ignored.

What is the most powerful weapon against a mage?

To find the answer, one must first understand where a mage's biggest threat lies.

It is not their Spell ability. For even the most potent Spells, when deployed on the battlefield, are merely methods of killing.

What is never lacking within an army is methods of killing; even if mages were allowed to kill without resistance, how many could they kill before their magic is exhausted?

Are there more kills with swords, bows, spears, and cannons?

Are the leftovers from swords, bows, spears, and cannons more?

After facing the might of magic time and again, soldiers of the Senas Alliance gradually realized that the greatest threat of a mage lay not in their Spell abilities, but in their extreme stealth.

You can eliminate enemies you see, but how can you eliminate an enemy you can't see?

Spellcasters possess no external features, no extra eyes or missing limbs compared to ordinary people.

If there were any visible differences between mages and ordinary people, identifying those with Spell potential amid the masses would not be so difficult.

Thus, any enemy could be a concealed mage. It might be the young soldier, barely out of boyhood, or the old man with a face marked by years.

They could disguise themselves as ordinary soldiers, striking suddenly at the enemy's front-line commanders during combat—in fact, this was the primary mode of operation for court mages during the Sovereignty Wars.

They could also disguise themselves as the enemy, sauntering into the enemy camp and silently assassinating high-value targets—General Simmons, a dear friend and comrade of Marshal Ned, met his unexplained end by magic like this.

In fact, if it were not for the Empire using it as propaganda, the Alliance wouldn't even know that General Simmons had died by assassination. Everyone thought that a sudden stroke had caused Simmons's death.

So... what is the most powerful weapon against a mage?

The answer is quite simple:

The most powerful weapon against a mage,

is another mage.

...

...

...

War, war, war.

War is tiresome, not only for the soldiers but also for the people in the rear.

Within the first week of the outbreak of war, it was the topic on everyone's lips in Sea Blue City.

High-ranking officials talked about war, clerks talked about war, coachmen talked about war, traders talked about war, and even prostitutes talked about war. All people discussed was war, war, and war.

But after a week, the fervor for the topic quickly cooled down.

Citizens' attention returned to grain prices, firewood prices, and the private scandals of the ruling elite; merchants resumed the discussion of the trends in bulk commodities; the once-quiet Sea Blue Port bustled once more; gentlemen talked about horse racing and whether to donate a military position for some credit; ladies were besotted with the latest trendy attire from the Republic of Paratu.

No one knew what tortures, battles, and pains the soldiers at the frontlines were enduring.

In the outskirts of Sea Blue City, within the lavish mansion of the Navarre family, a grand ball was taking place.

Although night had already fallen, the chandelier hanging from the dome cast the hall in light as bright as day, adding even more romantic ambiance than sunlight.

Mrs. Navarre, with a deft touch, had transformed the hall supported by twelve marble columns into a spectacle of blooming splendor.

The air was suffused with the scent of face powder and the burning of laurel candles, as well as the faint aroma of flowers.

Climbing roses, fancy basil, geraniums, hydrangeas, oleanders... The flowers and brocades cleverly segmented the space, leaving just enough room for guests to hold their glasses and chat casually, while also avoiding any sense of emptiness in the large banquet hall. Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

It was hard to imagine how much effort Mrs. Navarre must have invested to turn the "Twelve Pillars" from an ordinarily desolate stone hall into such a beautiful and pleasant space.

The melancholic and beautiful "Lorina" echoed under the hall's dome, with elegantly dressed young people dancing away on the floor.

Girls were everywhere: their gorgeous dresses with hoop skirts spun around revealing glimpses of beautiful slender legs; embroidered shawls seemed carelessly draped over arms, but deliberately exposing flawless shoulders; peacock feather-fanned fans adorned with gold dangled lightly from delicate wristlets.

As the dance ended, the girls smiled and curtsied, lifting the hems of their dresses to bid farewell to their partners, but not agreeing to a second dance with the same gentleman.

Ana Navarre sat alone on a sofa looking lost in thought. Her smile returned, albeit formulaically, when gentlemen invited Miss Navarre to dance the next piece.

The sudden glimpse of vitality from the "Iceberg Beauty" caused the heart of each suitor who came to invite her to dance to skip a beat.

But Ana graciously declined all invitations, and after the gentlemen walked away with regret, Miss Navarre quickly reverted to her preoccupied state until the next suitor appeared.

Her sister, another Miss Navarre, Catherine Navarre, came back to Ana, the unique purple dancing shoes tapping a "tap-tap" rhythm on the stone floor.

Catherine's cheeks were flushed and her forehead glistened with perspiration. The heat from dancing three consecutive dances made her feel warm, and she fan herself gently with her hand as she caught her breath.

"That Mr. Michel is so greedy. The dance had ended and he was still holding onto my hand, refusing to let go—I was almost scared to death. Humph, he should not expect a second dance invitation from me," Catherine exclaimed with excitement as she sat next to Ana, affectionately linking arms with her sister: "Don't be so glum, Ana."