How to Start a War in Another World
Today's virtual chat room felt like some top-tier restaurant straight out of a royal palace on the Ereinia continent. A dazzling mana stone chandelier cast a soft glow, and at the center sat an enormous round table, intricately carved to perfection. I was just marveling at the insane detail in this system-provided virtual space when I stepped inside.
"Oh! You've arrived, Repairman!"
The first to greet me was the Tower Master, the one who'd set up the chat room. I waved back cheerfully.
"How've you been, Tower Master? Feels like forever even though it hasn't been that long. But... your face...?"
I started with a friendly hello, then froze mid-sentence. The multidimensional community's virtual chat rooms perfectly mirrored the participants' real-world appearances and conditions. And the state of the guy in front of me? Total disaster. Dark circles plunged all the way to his jawline, and his once-lustrous white beard was matted, tangled, and singed black in spots. He looked exactly like someone who'd pulled an all-week bender without sleep or a shower.
"Haha... pay it no mind. I've been lost in research on that artifact you gave me—time just flew by."
His body screamed exhaustion, but his eyes burned with the fierce gleam of someone who'd unlocked some profound truth. Apparently, that elementary school light bulb kit I'd handed over had kept a grand archmage up for days on end.
"Any progress?"
The Tower Master puffed out his chest proudly.
"Indeed! Hahaha! Don't let the looks fool you—I'm a pioneer in magitech! Electricity is astonishing. A purely physical phenomenon, untouched by will or human intent. Utterly captivating!"
Some fancy words slipped in there...
"Mental... directionality?"
I tilted my head at the unexpected philosophizing, and the Tower Master launched into an excited rant.
"Didn't you know? Primordial mana responds to will and spirit. A high-circle mage like me could snuff out every street mana lamp in the city if I wanted."
Thinking about it, yeah, that tracked. Mana was this mystical energy that channeled the caster's imagination and will into physical force on reality. For an archmage with overwhelming mana and mental power, dominating or suppressing lesser mana flows around them was child's play.
"But electricity? Nothing like that. Fascinating. Even that 'battery' you mentioned—the thing that stores it."
Flip the switch, it lights up. Break the circuit, it goes dark. No room for a mage's grand will to interfere. After a lifetime mastering the mental control of mana, the Tower Master must've found these objective physical laws refreshing.
Just then, the air rippled again, and the Royal Alchemist materialized.
"That's just it... don't get me started... the nagging..."
"Hey, Alchemist! You made it?"
But the moment he entered, he clutched his back and groaned. Even his bald dome had lost its shine, looking dry and flaky. Had he even been taking care of it...?
"Aigoo, that fool keeps hounding me to research and deliver a metal that holds electricity. As if that's something you whip up overnight!"
The Alchemist shot the Tower Master a glare and grumbled. No matter how brilliant, replicating battery principles—ion flow and chemical reactions—from scratch was impossible in one go.
"Alright, next trade, I'll hunt down some battery-making textbooks."
YouTube tutorials were everywhere these days. Grab a few and toss them over—problem solved.
The Tower Master's weary face lit up instantly.
"You'd do that? Much obliged!"
"No biggie. Any progress on your end, Alchemist?"
The guy who'd gotten the plastic perked up at my question, straightening his back with a smug, meaningful grin.
"Of course! Kuhahaha! With any luck, we could produce plastic right here on Ereinia!"
I widened my eyes in shock, and he pressed on triumphantly.
"That 'petroleum' you mentioned—the black liquid."
Just a casual aside when I'd explained plastic's origins. Refined from naphtha byproducts in crude oil processing—basic knowledge for me.
"Yeah?"
"Kuhahaha! Turns out our kingdom's lousy with it after some geological surveys!"
"...Come again?"
I doubted my ears.
"Didn't you say? Any continent teeming with life for eons must have oil."
"I... might've."
"And it does! Oceans of it in our kingdom!"
Oil-rich nation, huh...? Oh. So this old coot's kingdom was sitting on Middle East vibes in Ereinia's geopolitics? Black gold gushing wherever they dug?
"I'm quick to act, you see. Sent out survey teams right away—researching extraction now. Magic should make it easy!"
Uh... something... something felt off. Like I'd just upended an entire continent's power balance.
Earth had changed since gates opened and mana stones emerged as new energy, but oil's clout endured. You couldn't swap all modern infrastructure to mana overnight. Plus, mana stones and oil served totally different efficiencies and uses—both vital.
But if a medieval fantasy world, blind to that buried black liquid's worth, suddenly spotlighted it as infinite potential fuel and alchemy goldmine?
War's coming!!
Had I just taught them how to ignite war in another world? History proved it: Overwhelming resources drew bloodbaths. Empires and kingdoms unleashing knights and mages over drilling rights—territorial carnage flashing in my mind.
I shook my head quick. Nah, don't jump ahead. Their world might be more rational and peaceful than I thought.
I swallowed dryly, treading carefully.
"Uh... question."
"Hm? Shoot."
"Do folks over there fight wars over resources?"
The Tower Master and Alchemist's eyes bulged in unison. Like I'd asked if water was wet.
"Obviously. Mines, forests, plains—wars big and small rage over land even now."
Fuck. Screwed.
Had I handed them war's spark? I pivoted fast.
"S-So, when're the Zhuge Clan and Sacheon Tang folks showing?"
***
Speak of the devils. Right after I changed topics, the system chime rang like it'd been waiting.
The Tower Master and Alchemist glanced at the entrance, beaming.
"Ah, perfect timing—here they come."
A grand holographic double door, fitting the opulent round-table vibe, swung open smoothly. Two figures glided in gracefully.
The Tower Master rose, extending a hand.
"Welcome! Young Lady Zhuge!"
"Lady Tang!"
Huh? Young lady? Straight out of a wuxia novel. I whipped my head around.
And there stood two stunning martial artist beauties, shattering every expectation.
Whoa! Oh whoa?
After crusty bearded geezers and balding codgers, these radiant stunners made the whole chat room feel brighter, fresher, like a floral breeze had swept through.
One had sleek short hair that screamed sophistication—unbelievable for a martial artist. She wore form-fitting pristine white robes, lightly fanning herself with an ink-painting fan. Dripping intellectual, icy allure.
The other let long black hair cascade to her waist, her deep green robes subtly hugging her curves. Upticked eyes that mesmerized dangerously, exuding perilous seduction.
They approached the elders with elegant bows.
"Greetings, Elder Ma, Elder Yeon."
I nearly choked. Tower Master as Elder Ma, Alchemist as Elder Yeon? The absurd wuxia localization of their surnames had me floored.
Done with the old-timers, they turned to me, clasping hands in classic fist-palm salute.
The white-robed short-hair beauty spoke first, calm and clear.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Zhuge Seryeong of the Zhuge Clan."
The green-robed one smiled slyly, voice silky soft.
"Nice to meet you. Tang Yeohae of the Sacheon Tang Clan. Looking forward to working together, young hero."
Just from tone and vibe, their personalities shone: The upright, scholarly Zhuge intellectual versus the deadly, venomous Sacheon Tang poison mistress.
But screw archetypes and backstories—my brain had one thought on these two.
Fuck, they're gorgeous...