“Clack!”
The iron cage was opened, and the bristle boar charged out in a fury.
However, before it could enjoy even a second of its rampage, the chainsword came roaring right at its face.
“Rip!”
Flesh and blood sprayed everywhere as the chainsword buzzed violently, slicing the beast clean down the middle on the spot.
Carried by momentum, the two halves of the carcass flew past Gar's sides, sailing two or three meters before slamming onto the ground with a wet thud.
Thick, viscous blood gushed from the clean cuts. A severed hoof twitched a couple of times with residual life before the beast grew completely still.
“How was that, Your Grace? My thinkin' wasn't half bad, was it?” Gar stopped channeling mana and rested the chainsword on his shoulder. Seeing Irene lightly clap her hands and nod in approval, a smug grin instantly spread across his face.
This was the first real-world test since he had dreamed up this weapon, and seeing such power made Gar incredibly excited.
But the test was not over yet.
After gloating for a moment, Gar raised the chainsword once more and walked toward the other targets amidst a roaring hum.
The wooden target was easily sliced in two.
The stone target took a bit more time, but after kicking up a shower of sparks, it was also successfully cut through.
However, when it came to the steel target, the chainsword had barely cut a centimeter deep before it got stuck.
The buzzing of the sawblade ground to a halt.
Gar felt a bit embarrassed. He stole a quick glance at Irene, then, refusing to admit defeat, channeled even more mana into the weapon.
“Whirrr!”
With a violent hum, the sawblade bit a little deeper, but a plume of black smoke also began to billow from the chainsword.
Everyone present frowned.
Anyone with eyes could tell that something was wrong with the chainsword.
Yet Gar refused to back down. He continued to frantically pour mana into the chainsword, putting even more muscle into his grip.
His entire face turned slightly purple from the sheer exertion.
“Whirrr!”
“Boom!”
Finally, with an overloaded screech, the sawblade snapped in two with a loud crack. Gleaming with a cold light, it flew outward with a sharp, whistling sound.
Directly toward Irene.
“Watch out, Your Grace!” Fido cried out in alarm, lunging forward to block the blow.
But Irene was even faster.
With lightning speed, she extended two fingers and pinched the flying shard just as it was about to strike her eye.
The mana circuits on the broken blade flickered, throwing off showers of sparks against Irene's fingers, yet they couldn't leave even a single scratch on her.
Ultimately, the sparks fizzled out reluctantly.
“Thud!”
Gar collapsed to the ground, his face pale.
This was not just from the excessive consumption of mana, but also because he was utterly terrified by what had just happened.
Gar felt his heart hammering against his chest. Swallowing hard, his cowlick twitched nervously as he looked at Irene and stammered, “Your Grace... I, I didn't mean to.”
“I know,” Irene said, releasing her grip on the broken blade and letting it clatter to the floor. She dusted off her clean hands and added, “There's a saying in the Draconic Inheritance: failure is the mother of success.”
“A single failure is nothing. There will be plenty more failures in the future, so you'll get used to it.”
“Uh...” Gar choked on his words, but seeing that Irene wasn't angry, he relaxed a bit. He scrambled up from the ground, yanked the stuck chainsword out of the target, and sighed after inspecting the fractured metal.
“I reckon I'm just not cut out for this precision stuff. Tryin' to dream things up without blueprints makes the end product way too different from the real thing.”
With that, he cradled the smoking chainsword, walked over to a corner, and began drawing sad circles on the floor.
The increasingly long cowlick on his head drooped limply.
The glowing orb named Mia floated over to hover above Gar's head right on cue, flickering with a dim light like a dying lightbulb.
A melancholy atmosphere instantly enveloped the entire Equipment Department, as if a light snow were falling indoors.
Irene frowned at the sight and asked another member of the Equipment Department, “Is he always like this?”
The member shuddered first, snapped to attention, and then reported loudly, “Reporting to Your Grace! Department Head Gar is often like this. We've already gotten used to it!”
“Alright then.” Out of respect for his personal space, Irene turned and began walking toward the exit of the Equipment Department.
She had only taken a few steps when Fido suddenly caught up and reported, “Your Grace, we just received word. The soldiers patrolling the perimeter have spotted another three-man adventurer party.”
“Oh?” Irene paused. “Have they been dealt with?”
Ever since the war ended, adventurer parties had been showing up from time to time.
Each group would shout about bonds and friendship, seeking to slay a dragon to prove their worth.
Though they were generally weak and mostly swatted to death by Irene and Daviel,
these adventurers were like mosquitoes. Being buzzed by them constantly was getting rather annoying.
Because of this, Irene had deployed all her soldiers to patrol day and night. Once they spotted anyone, they would notify the nearest Black Knights and Imperial Guard to carry out a precision strike.
“They've been thoroughly cleaned up,” Fido said with a hint of pride. “Cezar went to handle it. He happened to be nearby and headed over as soon as he got the message.”
“That's good then.” Irene yawned, stretched her tired limbs, and prepared to head back to continue reading.
After killing the two Gold Rank experts of the Duchy of Reny, she had acquired quite a collection of magic books. Combined with the library of the old Gold Rank mage she had slain earlier, Irene's current knowledge base was incredibly profound.
As she thirstily absorbed this knowledge, Irene felt she was on the verge of touching the threshold of the Gold Rank.
When that happened, her mage class level would likely surpass her actual dragon growth stage.
“Oh, right.” As if remembering something, Irene stopped. “Since the adventurer incursions are dwindling and the Eastern Kingdoms haven't made any moves, let the half-beastkin and beastkin mobilized from the various tribes return home for now.”
“They've been away from home for so long; it's time they went back to see their families.”
Hearing this, Fido bowed his head deeply and choked out, “Your Grace is wise!”
Irene waved her hand dismissively and strode out of the Equipment Department.
...
Outside the Black City lay the former battlefield, where blood, fire, iron, and tears had once been spilled, writing countless unsung hymns and roars of fury.
Now, only a silent desert remained.
The yellow sands, once stained red with blood, had already returned to their original color.
Only the obelisk, standing dozens of meters tall and towering amidst the yellow sands, could prove that here...
there had once been a war of iron and blood!
Carved onto the obelisk were rows of names, chiseled by Irene's own hands.
These were the names of the soldiers who had fallen in the Wine War.
They would be remembered forever, even if, after endless ages, the obelisk completely weathered... and collapsed...
Rate on N.U.
