Eventually Father and Alex departed from the workshop.

Though before leaving, both of them kept glancing back toward the rifle resting beside the shack.

Especially Alex.

The expression on his face had shifted completely after witnessing the chestplate get pierced clean through.

Once they were gone, the workshop slowly returned to normal.

Or at least—

As normal as a hidden industrial workshop in the middle of the forest could be.

The rest of the day was spent producing reserve ammunition.

Most of our existing supply had already been burned through during testing and practice, leaving us with only a handful of usable cartridges remaining.

And every single one still needed to be crafted painstakingly by hand.

By the end of the day, my eyes felt strained from staring at measurements for hours.

Eventually I returned home near sunset.

Father was already waiting for me.

"I’ve prepared the site."

I looked up slightly.

"The site?"

"For the knights and steel production."

Right.

The new workshop area.

Father handed me several folded documents and rough sketches.

"I also gathered the materials you requested."

That alone probably cost a ridiculous amount of money.

"I’ll send the knights in a few days," Father continued, "but you can visit beforehand if you wish set everything up properly."

I nodded slightly.

"That’ll help."

After a little more discussion, we parted ways for the night.

—————

The next morning—

I was back inside the shack carefully crafting ammunition while Finn handled the latest steel delivery.

The workshop had become strangely peaceful lately.

The sound of grinding wheels turned softly outside while the furnace crackled nearby.

One by one, I carefully assembled another cartridge while checking measurements against a steel ruler.

Even tiny mistakes could ruin an entire round.

Then suddenly—

BANG.

The workshop door slammed open hard enough nearly fly off its hinges.

I immediately looked up.

Finn came stumbling inside looking completely panicked while Potato stood outside absolutely drenched in sweat and breathing heavily from exhaustion.

Both of them looked like they had sprinted across the entire territory.

"Leon—"

Finn tried speaking, but what came out sounded more like incoherent screaming mixed with breathing.

"What?"

Finn continued rambling rapidly.

"THEY—THE—BORDER—THE KING—ARMY—"

I immediately grabbed both of his shoulders.

"Finn."

He kept breathing heavily.

"Finn."

Finally he looked at me.

"Speak slowly."

Finn took one massive breath before practically screaming:

"THE KINGDOM OF MAGNETO DECLARED WAR!"

The workshop suddenly went silent.

Even the furnace somehow felt quieter.

For several long seconds—

I just stared at him.

Then slowly—

My eyes drifted toward the rifles resting against the wall.

My mind immediately started racing.

The Aldric territory sat directly near the border.

A weak border county like ours would absolutely become one of Magneto’s first targets.

Even if the Kingdom of Valenor mobilized reinforcements immediately—

It would still take weeks.

Weeks to gather forces.

Weeks to organize supply lines.

Weeks to move troops across the kingdom.

And by then—

The border would probably already be burning.

Finn was still breathing heavily while staring at me.

"What do we do?"

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead my eyes slowly drifted across the workshop.

The furnaces.

The steel.

The waterwheels.

The half-finished expansion plans.

I had been preparing for industrial growth.

Mass steel production.

Machinery.

Engines.

Vehicles.

Everything had been moving toward long-term development.

But war changed timelines.

Suddenly none of that mattered anymore.

If Magneto broke through the border before Valenor’s main armies arrived—

None of my future plans would survive long enough matter.

Slowly, I looked back toward the rifles resting against the wall.

The answer was obvious.

The expansion of steel production would have to wait.

That realization annoyed me more than I wanted admit.

Every delay pushed my industrial plans further back.

But surviving came first.

And right now—

Survival meant weapons.

More weapons.

More ammunition.

More firepower.

Leon accepted that a handful of rifles would never stop an invading army alone, his priorities shifted.

The battlefield didn’t just reward killing power.

It rewarded confusion.

Disruption.

Fear.

That realization led to the next stage of experimentation.

The workshop became increasingly dangerous over the following days as Leon began testing compact powder-filled bombs.

Some produced thick clouds of smoke capable of obscuring vision across large areas.

Others created violent blasts strong enough to scatter formations and terrify horses.

And nearly all of them scared Finn half to death.

"LEON!"

Finn stumbled backward while smoke poured from a failed test near the riverbank.

"You almost blew my eyebrows off!"

Leon ignored him while writing observations down across several sheets of parchment.

The devices were unreliable.

Some detonated too early.

Others failed entirely.

One launched itself sideways into a tree instead of toward the target.

But slowly—

The designs improved.

Metal casings became stronger.

Ignition timing became more predictable.

The smoke mixtures became denser and longer lasting.

Eventually the forest testing grounds became scarred with blackened craters and shattered stumps.

Finn stared toward one of the newest devices nervously.

"...You know what the worst part is?"

"What?"

"You’re starting to look excited every time something explodes."

Leon paused slightly.

"...That’s fair."

More importantly—

The inventions were practical.

Smoke could hide troop movements.

Explosive charges could break formations.

Panic alone could decide battles before swords ever crossed.

And in a world dominated by knights and mages—

Nobody was prepared for warfare like this.

By the time I returned toward the Aldric manor, the sky had already begun darkening.

The road back felt strangely tense.

Over the past several days there had already been reports of skirmishes and probing attacks across the border.

Nothing major yet.

At least—

That was what everyone kept saying.

But the moment the manor came into view, I immediately knew something was wrong.

Soldiers were everywhere.

Wounded men lay across the courtyard and halls while servants rushed frantically between them carrying water, bandages, and medical supplies.

Some soldiers screamed in pain.

Others simply stared blankly upward covered in blood.

The smell hit me immediately.

Blood.

Smoke.

Burned flesh.

My stomach dropped.

I immediately rushed inside.

The deeper I went into the manor, the worse it became.

Then finally—

Near my parents’ room—

I saw Alex sitting against the wall.

A bloodied sword rested loosely in one hand while thick bandages covered the entire left side of his face.

"Alex!"

I immediately rushed toward him.

My eyes instantly moved toward the room behind him where maids and nurses constantly moved in and out.

Father.

For one horrible second, I thought the worst.

But Alex spoke before panic could fully set in.

"He’s alive."

I felt my chest loosen slightly.

"Unconscious," Alex continued quietly. "But alive."

I sat down beside him immediately.

"What happened?"

Alex stayed silent for several seconds before finally speaking.

"We were stationed near the border forts."

His grip tightened slightly around the sword.

"At first it was normal."

Skirmishes.

Pressure attacks.

Small engagements.

The usual border fighting.

Then his expression darkened.

"And then a B-rank mage descended from the sky."

My stomach dropped instantly.

A B-rank mage.

That was far beyond ordinary battlefield troops.

Even Alex and Father two c-ranks together wouldn’t stand much chance.

Alex leaned his head back against the wall tiredly.

"The bastard dropped straight into the battlefield."

He described the fight quietly.

Long.

Brutal.

Exhausting.

Both him and Father were only C-rank mages, and even with supporting knights and troops, the difference in power had apparently been overwhelming.

At one point, a knight sacrificed himself blocking a strike that otherwise would have killed Father outright.

Alex’s expression twisted slightly while remembering it.

"We were losing."

There was no pride in his voice.

Only exhaustion.

"Father’s mana capacity was nearly reaching its limit. Mine too."

Then finally—

A retreat horn sounded from the Magneto forces.

The enemy army withdrew alongside the B-rank mage.

"If that signal hadn’t sounded..." Alex muttered quietly, "...I don’t know what would’ve happened."

But judging from his expression—

He absolutely did know.

And it wasn’t good.

I looked toward Father’s room silently.

Then toward Alex’s injuries.

Then finally toward the blood covering the manor itself.

This wasn’t some distant war anymore.

It had reached me.

Alex suddenly spoke again.

"If they send that mage back..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

We all understood.

The border wouldn’t hold.

Not against someone like that.

And because Mother was our only healer strong enough to treat Father, she had been forced remain behind instead of going to the battlefield.

Which meant their forces were now even weaker.

I slowly clenched my fists.

Then finally spoke.

"Finn and I will coming."

Alex immediately looked toward me sharply.

"No."

"I’m serious."

"Absolutely not."

He suddenly raised his voice.

"You are NOT going anywhere near that battlefield!."

After everything he had just experienced, I understood why.

But I also understood something else.

Without advantages—

Valenor’s border forces would lose.

We argued back and forth for several minutes.

Alex refused repeatedly.

Until finally—

I said something that made him hesitate.

"The weapon I use is ranged."

Alex frowned slightly.

"I don’t fight up close."

His expression remained skeptical.

But I continued.

"I can attack from far outside normal combat distance."

That finally made him pause.

Because he had seen the chestplate.

He had seen what the rifle could do.

Eventually Alex let out a long exhausted breath before rubbing his face with one hand.

"...I hate this."

"So is that a yes?"

He stayed silent several more seconds before finally speaking.

"...Fine."

Then immediately afterward his expression hardened again.

"But you stay behind the main lines."

I nodded once.

Even though internally—

I already knew things probably wouldn’t stay that simple.