To Defeat a Sword Master (2)
I let out a long sigh of relief. Finally, it worked. After grinding away at this for nearly a month, the payoff was worth it. The upgraded Communication Magic Tool was a resounding success.
Whoosh.
…Well, I did break a lot of things along the way, but who cares? Success is success. That’s all that matters.
“Hans, can you hold this and activate it for me?”
“What is this?”
“The improved version of the Communication Magic Tool.”
“…This thing?”
I could understand why Hans was reacting like that.
…It had gotten quite a bit bigger, hadn’t it?
It wasn’t like I wanted it to be this bulky. The original was small enough to hold in one hand, so I’d hoped the upgrade would stay roughly the same size while only improving performance.
But every time I tried to miniaturize it, the thing would overload with mana and explode.
My artifact-crafting skills were still lacking, but in this crude, home-workshop environment, this oversized version was the only stable option I could manage. Improving my skills would come with time and practice. Once I returned to proper facilities, I’d need to set up a real research environment.
Even if I couldn’t match the Magic Tower, I needed to reach at least a similar level to make the artifacts I truly wanted.
‘Trying to engrave precise magic circles in the field is basically impossible. It’s like trying to solder precision components without a microscope.’
Anyway, the final upgraded Communication Magic Tool that emerged looked suspiciously familiar—like something I’d seen during training in my previous life.
Not that the appearance was identical, but the overall vibe was.
‘I swear I remember seeing communications soldiers carrying these on their backs… Should I make a dedicated backpack for this thing?’
It was a clunky, rectangular box with a simple metal rod attached to help with mana transmission and reception. Yeah, the design definitely triggered some serious déjà vu.
“I’ve activated it, but how do I actually communicate?”
“Ah, see that round thing attached to the side of the box?”
“You mean this weird thing with all the lines coming out of it?”
Hey, it’s not that weird!
Do you have any idea how hard it was to pull mana-metal into wire form in this primitive workshop environment? I swallowed my indignation, but… yeah, from a modern perspective, it did look pretty bizarre.
I’d originally tried to make it work with a single wire, but it kept failing. In the end, I had to bundle multiple strands together, which made the whole thing look like some kind of metallic monstrosity.
“Just speak into that. It’ll pick up the sound, transmit it, and spit it back out.”
“Understood. Should I keep it activated?”
“Yeah. I’m going to move around and test the range.”
Rustle, rustle.
I grabbed the other paired unit. Since I didn’t have a proper backpack yet, I’d stuffed the device into a standard military pack and pulled out just the rounded communicator handset.
Jangle, jangle.
Yeah, it didn’t look great. Without a custom rig, the wires kept catching on the top of the pack. Still, for a field test, it would do.
“Fly.”
I stepped outside the tent and cast the flight spell. I hadn’t spent the entire month just working on the magic tool, so my mastery of flight magic had improved significantly. I’d even added a few tweaks.
By visualizing a streamlined air membrane that formed automatically in the direction of flight, I could now fly much more smoothly than before. Of course, reaching the altitudes of modern airplanes was still completely out of the question, but I felt like I’d reached at least the level of a small personal aircraft.
My top speed had improved along with my proficiency too. I could probably push past two hundred kilometers per hour without much trouble now.
“Hmm, how far should I go this time?”
Last time I tested it with Count Reventil, we’d managed a stable ten kilometers. How far could this final upgraded version reach? Thirty? Or maybe even more?
Whoosh!
A crisp sound sliced through the air beside my ear. It was the soft friction of air gently parting against the wind barrier created by my magic.
I decided to fly for about fifteen minutes at a leisurely hundred kilometers per hour. That should put me around twenty-five kilometers out.
The test results were more than satisfactory.
The maximum range was about sixty kilometers. Even accounting for the lack of obstacles in the open sky, that was an impressive distance for clear communication.
‘Beyond that, the output seemed to fall off.’
Still, this was far beyond a success. With this, we could move beyond small-scale tactical operations and begin employing proper large-scale strategy and tactics.
‘For example, if I deploy reconnaissance teams over a wide area and only strike at undefended sections of the wall, we could slowly devour the enemy’s main camp.’
Or I could recreate the famous revolving door tactic from World War II with much greater ease. Luring the enemy in and then counter-encircling them was a classic strategy used throughout history. But with reliable communication devices, both the effectiveness and speed of execution rose to an entirely different level.
‘Especially since the enemy won’t even realize what’s happening until our forces have already been deployed.’
Traditional communication methods—whether flag signals or prearranged sounds—were fundamentally the same across eras and cultures. Visual or auditory signals to allies were necessarily limited, and the enemy could observe them too, even if they didn’t understand their exact meaning.
‘But if operations are conducted through Communication Magic Tools, it’s completely different.’
Information exchanged through the devices drastically reduced the chance of the enemy detecting the prelude to an operation. That meant greater operational secrecy and a massive increase in success rates.
Imagine enemy knights hidden behind a thick infantry line suddenly charging the center—only for our side to have already confirmed via aerial reconnaissance that their center is completely empty. We execute the breakthrough, and crash! By the time the enemy knights scramble to reinforce the center, our forces have already withdrawn after completing the objective. All that remains for them is a shattered center and a devastated main camp. Advancing our infantry after that would be like taking candy from a baby.
‘Of course, countermeasures will eventually appear.’
There is no such thing as an unbeatable tactic in war. Everything gets countered eventually. The Communication Magic Tool and Altar Cannon I developed would likely become obsolete someday too. Who knows when someone might come up with some insane method like hijacking the signal to eavesdrop?
‘The important thing is that until then, no one can stop me from reaping all the sweet, sweet benefits. Hehehehe!’
Kekeke. Sword Master? Come at me, bro!
I’m not scared anymore!
“Ehehehehehe!”
Flap!
“…Did something good happen?”
The person who threw open the tent flap was the Third Prince. His face was expressionless, but there was a strange mix of emotions—like he’d just witnessed something he really wished he hadn’t.
…The timing really couldn’t have been worse. Tsk.
“Have you been well, Your Highness?”
“No need for formalities. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Maybe it was because we’d seen each other so often over the past month, but the Third Prince’s attitude felt noticeably colder. Or rather, it wasn’t exactly cold—more like he’d grown accustomed to my eccentric behavior?
…Not that I was admitting my actions were eccentric. Anyway.
“I’ve successfully improved the Communication Magic Tool.”
“Oh? The one you mentioned before? How successful are we talking?”
“It can now reach a distance that would take about two hours to travel by horse.”
Roughly fifty kilometers. The actual range was longer, but I lowered the number to account for obstacles or interference that might reduce signal quality. After all, areas with strong residual mana or powerful magic interference could disrupt it, so some conservative adjustment was necessary.
The Third Prince’s eyes widened in genuine surprise when he heard the specs. Heh heh heh. As expected.
“So this is what all that money was poured into?”
…No, damn it.
“Your Highness, this is quite an incredible achievement.”
“But didn’t you burn through half the tax revenue of my territory in the process?”
Ugh. Hearing that from my investor left me speechless.
I had been obsessed with miniaturization and lightweight design in the beginning and ended up wasting quite a lot of resources. It seemed I’d left a rather bad impression.
“Hah, well, half of that was a joke. You really have developed something remarkable.”
…So the other half was serious, huh?
Tsk. Maybe I should try to improve my image through impressive performance on the battlefield.
Regardless of my inner turmoil, the Third Prince walked over to the Communication Magic Tool.
“How do I operate this?”
“Just hold the round piece on the side and infuse it with mana.”
Vrrrrrr!
The moment he heard me, the Third Prince immediately poured mana into it.
“And after that? Do I need to press any of these things in front?”
“Ah, those aren’t necessary right now.”
“Right now?”
“They’re features prepared for when multiple units are used simultaneously, so they’re not useful at the moment…”
“You’re not wasting money for no reason, are you?”
I just got a little carried away trying to make it as perfect as possible, okay?
It was true that some of these functions weren’t strictly necessary when only we were using the devices, but I’d still added things like mana frequency shifting for channel changes and various other features.
They’ll all be useful later, right?
When I turned back to look at the Third Prince, he was still staring at me with clear suspicion in his eyes.
Ahem. It’s not money wasting! …Probably.
“Anyway, make one for me and my brother as well. Include an instruction manual and send it together.”
Luckily, it seemed he was willing to let it slide. Phew. That was a relief.
Now that the tension had eased, something else suddenly occurred to me, so I asked the Third Prince.
“Your Highness, I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“How is the expansion of the mage unit progressing?”
“…It’s become rather troublesome.”
Huh? Last time I asked, he said it was going fine?
“It seems there’s serious conflict between your original unit members and the new recruits. Normally such reports wouldn’t reach me, but word has gotten all the way up.”
Ah, so that was the problem.
Come to think of it, the new recruits we were gathering needed to be at least Third Circle to operate the Altar Cannon. It wasn’t surprising that they might look down on the relatively lower-circle veterans.
‘Especially since mages from the Magic Tower tend to scorn those of lower circles.’
Hmm… How should I handle this?
After the Third Prince left, I continued pondering the conflict within the mage unit, but no clear solution came to mind.
‘Tsk. Pride in one’s circle level is basically a passive trait for mages. I have no idea how to fix that.’
Forcing something didn’t seem like it would solve the issue. Some kind of mindset reform was needed, but without a proper trigger, what could I do?
Whooooosh!
Feeling frustrated, I left the tent and walked outside. The cold late-autumn wind brushed across my body.
Hmm, it was starting to get chilly out here.
…Wait. Chilly?
Oh, that’s right! Perfect timing.
Since the season was about to turn to winter anyway, I could run a brutal cold-weather training regimen. It would instill discipline in the new recruits and give the veterans a chance to raise their circle levels.
Hellish Winter Training. That was the answer.