Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Leonia looked at the two men, who seemed to want to speak but were holding back. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight onto one leg.

"If you have something to say, say it directly."

The Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights raised her elegant chin.

"This is the research and development workshop, not the Knight’s Chapel. You two don’t need to hide anything from me."

Hearing this, Sims and Staudinger exchanged a glance.

Ultimately, the older and more "senior" Staudinger spoke first.

The Master Magitech Technician set down his magitech probe, wiped his hands on his overalls, and spoke earnestly to Leonia:

"Your Excellency Grand Master, this proposal brought forward by Colonel Morin... that is, the tactic of ’high-mobility light Armored Knights coordinating with camouflage nets and large-caliber anti-armor artillery’..."

"I must admit, this tactic of hiding in the dark and taking potshots indeed runs completely counter to the ’honor’ and ’knightly spirit’ the Teutonic Knights have always upheld."

This part was Staudinger ’covering his bases’. After finishing this disclaimer, the Master Magitech Technician continued:

"But it is undeniable that this ’dishonorable’ combat plan is indeed more efficient in the current battlefield environment, and more suitable for our Teutonic Knights."

Staudinger having opened the discussion, Sims beside him picked up the thread.

"Grand Master, we must face reality."

Sims pointed to the dismantled elite Britannian Armored Knight nearby.

"Compared to the Britannians’ Knights of the Garter, we indeed have a gap in basic magitech."

"Our Armored Knights are inferior to the enemy’s in mobility, response speed of the sympathetic operation system, and maximum power output."

"Under these circumstances, if we want to gain an advantage on the battlefield, we can no longer cling to the traditional mindset of knightly duels and fight them head-on." Sims looked toward the other side of the workshop as he spoke.

Leonia followed his gaze to a new type of Armored Knight currently being assembled with "composite armor."

"We need to use other methods to maximize our strengths and avoid our weaknesses."

"The ’weakness’ of the Teutonic Knights is naturally the basic performance of our Armored Knights and the reaction ceiling of our pilots."

"But our ’strength’ lies in the unique, leading-edge technologies currently possessed by the Empire."

"For example, the ’shaped-charge anti-armor weapon’ is a very vivid example."

Sims spoke faster and faster; clearly, he had been mulling over these words for more than a day or two.

"Since the outbreak of the war, any enemy Armored Knight that has engaged the Teutonic Knights has suffered heavily against this new weapon."

"Later, based on Colonel Morin’s suggestions, we added spaced armor and composite armor to the machines, allowing our knights to truly achieve both offense and defense on the battlefield."

"Since we now possess a weapon capable of penetrating heavy enemy armor from a distance, rationally integrating it into our tactical system is an absolute matter of course."

Leonia listened quietly to their alternating analysis.

The two coordinated quite tacitly; every reason they stated had been carefully thought out and was definitely not a spur-of-the-moment idea.

A faint smile appeared on her face as she looked at these two technical backbones of the order.

"How long have you been holding these thoughts in?"

Sims and Staudinger were both taken aback for a moment, then, in perfect synchronization, raised their hands to scratch their heads. The scene was momentarily comical.

"Well, actually, ahem..."

Sims gave a dry cough.

"The last time Colonel Morin proposed those suggestions at the forward base, we felt they made a lot of sense and have discussed them privately many times."

Staudinger chimed in to add:

"It was just that, considering Your Excellency Grand Master has always placed extreme importance on ’knightly honor,’ we were afraid bringing it up would anger you, so we never dared to elaborate on it."

Hearing this, Leonia couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

She shook her head and sighed.

"Perhaps... times really have changed."

The "Golden Lion" turned around, looking back at the wreckage of the Britannian Armored Knight.

"So, as technical directors, do you definitively believe the ’suggestion’ Morin sent back possesses practical operational value?"

Sims nodded immediately, his tone very certain.

"Grand Master, Colonel Morin’s suggestion is not only valuable, but it can entirely serve as an alternative development path for our upcoming new models of Armored Knights."

He walked to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and quickly drew a rough diagram.

"It’s like the ’snipers’ that have begun to be gradually equipped in various Army infantry units."

"This new type of Armored Knight, in my view, can serve as a supplement and support to our existing Armored Knights!"

"They can discard the defense provided by heavy armor in pursuit of extreme concealment and mobility, creating a lightweight Armored Knight specifically designed to carry large-caliber anti-armor artillery... According to previous tests, even the Army’s 75mm gun is no burden for an Armored Knight..."

"Then, just as Colonel Morin suggested, utilizing camouflage nets to achieve concealment without the need for magical constructs, they can deliver precision strikes against high-value enemy targets from a distance."

Sims tossed the chalk back into the box and dusted his hands.

"Since we already possess a weapon capable of penetrating enemy armor from a distance, why should we have our precious pilots risk their lives charging in for close-quarters combat?"

Leonia turned to look at Staudinger.

Meeting the Grand Master’s gaze, the Master Magitech Technician nodded firmly.

"My thoughts are entirely aligned with Director Sims."

Leonia fell silent; only the low-frequency hum of operating magitech equipment remained in the workshop.

In her mind, she replayed the campaign where she led the main force of the Teutonic Knights to sweep through the "Knights of the Golden Fleece" in the United Kingdom of Flanders at the start of the war.

Those heavily armored charging Armored Knights of the Golden Fleece were ruthlessly slaughtered by the "shaped-charge anti-armor weapons" they had only recently been equipped with.

Her ability to lead the charge and go ’unleash unparalleled devastation’ amidst the enemy ranks was indeed largely thanks to the "shaped-charge anti-armor weapons," aside from her own skill.

Honor cannot save a knight’s life...

What allows one to survive and achieve victory on the battlefield are more unreasonable weapons, more insidious tactics, and those underhanded methods sneered at by traditional nobility.

"It seems... the ’laws of the ancestors’ really do need to change."

Leonia turned around, faced the two technical directors, and issued a formal order.

"Sims, Staudinger... I agree. You two are to immediately begin research and development in this direction."

"Aside from referencing Colonel Morin’s suggestions, you can also freely explore your own ideas without any reservations."

Staudinger opened his mouth, his expression somewhat surprised.

"Grand Master, are you sure we don’t need to consider traditions like the ’Honor of the Order’?"

Hearing this question, the self-deprecation on Leonia’s face deepened.

"Honor?"

She walked to the window, looking at the brightening sky outside.

"In 1410, when the Order was disastrously defeated by the Polish-Lithuanian allied forces at Tannenberg, and the Grand Master along with a host of elites died on the spot, that so-called honor was already shattered to pieces."

"My previous stubbornness in maintaining these things was mostly to fulfill a deathbed promise to the previous Grand Master."

Leonia turned around, appearing much more relaxed.

"Since the times have changed, the Teutonic Knights should also change accordingly."

"Go ahead and do it, but I need to see results."

Holy Britannia Empire, Norfolk.

This was a spacious country manor, far removed from the hustle and bustle of London, and even further from the meat-grinder fires of war on the Europa continent.

The Highland Mage Order’s 6th-circle Enchantment school mage, leader of the Anti-Mage Killer squad, the one who retreated unscathed... "Baron" Rowan Atkinson was sitting at his large desk.

He held a cup of black tea, savoring it slowly, while a translucent blue hand formed of mana held a pen, writing furiously on paper, drafting the Anti-Mage Killer squad’s work plan for the next quarter.

After writing about half the content, Rowan Atkinson felt a soreness in his lower back from sitting too long.

He set down the black tea, crossed his hands over his head, and stretched vigorously, his bones emitting several crisp cracks.

Following that, the Highland Mage stood up, walked to the massive window in the room, and looked out.

The open space outside the manor was immense. Originally a lawn for horse riding, it had now been converted into a training ground.

Dozens of figures in military uniforms were crawling and rolling through makeshift obstacles.

A portion of them were gathered in a temporarily constructed shooting range at the edge of the manor, conducting high-intensity shooting practice with various infantry weapons.

Muzzle flashes blinked constantly, but the room Rowan Atkinson was in was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Because he had set up sound-insulating magical items around the windows, completely shielding the noise from outside.

If he hadn’t done this, he wouldn’t have been able to continue working in this environment of constant gunfire.

Watching the figures rolling around the training ground outside, Rowan Atkinson couldn’t help but mentally give himself a thumbs-up for his brilliance.

After "volunteering" to lead the "Anti-Mage Killer Squad," the first thing he did was decisively pull all the remaining remnants of the "Spell Jägers" into his team.

Looking at it now, it was an incredibly correct choice.

These remnants, beaten to a pulp by that "Mage Killer" of the Saxon Empire, were unlucky trash in the eyes of others, but perfect human shields in his.

Under his silver-tongued persuasion, the higher-ups of the Highland Mage Order and the bureaucrats of the Military Intelligence Service actually recognized the uniqueness of the "Spell Jägers."

After all, although this unit suffered catastrophic casualties on the Western Front, they were indeed an organized unit that had survivors return alive after clashing head-on with the "Mage Killer."

More importantly, these people brought back a lot of first-hand, crucial records regarding the Mage Killer’s combat style, spellcasting habits, and tactical preferences.

Using this as an excuse, coupled with his own experience of "close contact" with that plague god...

After taking over these men, Rowan Atkinson quickly applied for massive funding from above and began the expansion and reorganization of the "Spell Jägers."

Which was why he could now comfortably stay in Norfolk on the home islands.

As long as he kept delaying using various excuses like training incomplete, tactical integration still needing time, and specialized equipment still being calibrated, he could legitimately stay far away from the flames of war.

Rowan Atkinson turned and walked back to his desk, picking up the still-warm black tea and taking a sip.

He was pondering in his head about adding a few more extremely time-consuming special training subjects to the next quarter’s plan.

For example, anti-reconnaissance drills in extreme weather, or wilderness survival in a state of deep mana depletion.

The more complex and time-consuming the plan he wrote, the longer he could stay in the rear.

Just as he was about to control the "Mage Hand" to pick up the pen and continue writing, he suddenly sensed a surge of mana. At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small black dot rapidly approaching in the sky outside the window.

Rowan Atkinson stopped his pen and turned his head to look.

It was a massive white hunting owl, wings spread, flying straight toward the window of his room.

What made Rowan Atkinson’s heart tighten sharply was that he keenly perceived clear mana fluctuations radiating from that hunting owl.

This was no ordinary bird; this was a familiar.

The white hunting owl circled once in the air, landed precisely on the windowsill outside the French windows, and gently pecked the glass twice with its beak.

The relaxed expression on Rowan Atkinson’s face vanished instantly.

He recognized the metal cylinder gripped in the hunting owl’s talons; the surface of the cylinder was engraved with the exclusive insignia of the Highland Mage Order.

In that instant, the leader of this "Anti-Mage Killer Squad" realized that his peaceful days of slacking off in this country manor were probably coming to an end.

Rowan Atkinson sighed, walked over, and opened the window. The hunting owl cooperatively raised its talon, offering the metal cylinder.

After he reached out and took the cylinder, the hunting owl immediately turned and flew into the air.

Having flown barely a dozen meters, the massive white body rapidly disintegrated in mid-air, turning into a cluster of dispersing mana light motes and vanishing completely.

Closing the window, Rowan Atkinson unscrewed the cap of the metal cylinder and poured out a faintly glowing, transparent crystal.

He walked to the desk, pulled open a drawer, and took out a special magitech device whose base was covered in runes.

Rowan Atkinson carefully inserted the crystal into the groove at the top of the device until it fit perfectly. Then, extending a finger, he injected a sliver of mana into the device’s base.

The runes on the device lit up sequentially and began running smoothly.

A few seconds later, a low, emotionless male voice sounded in the quiet room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Atkinson."

Rowan Atkinson stood by the desk, resting his hands on the tabletop, listening quietly.

He knew this voice well; it was the senior liaison officer from the General Directorate of Military Intelligence responsible for interfacing with the Highland Mage Order.

"Given the significant changes in the situation on the Balkan Peninsula, and that our Imperial allies have fallen into grave peril, following a joint resolution by the Highland Mage Order and the General Directorate of Military Intelligence, you are hereby issued your latest mission:"

"You are requested to immediately lead the Anti-Mage Killer squad under your command, which has completed its initial formation, and proceed to the London Mage Tower teleportation zone within twelve hours."

"Your destination is the Kingdom of Bulgaria on the Balkan Peninsula."

"You will coordinate with other Highland Mages there to assist our allied armies in rapidly crushing the Bulgarians’ resistance."

"This operation will be considered the first actual combat training and evaluation since the formation of the Anti-Mage Killer squad."

"You may review the relevant documents and logistical supply lists upon your arrival in London."

At this point, the male voice paused.

"Good luck, Mr. Atkinson."

"This message will self-destruct in five seconds..."

The voice ended, and the device stopped running.

Rowan Atkinson stared at the device on the table. It quickly ejected the crystal inserted in the groove onto the tabletop.

Five seconds later, accompanied by an extremely faint cracking sound, the crystal disintegrated from the inside, turning into a pile of powder devoid of any magical luster.

Looking at that pile of powder, Rowan Atkinson slumped weakly against the back of his chair, as if drained of life.

He knew the comfortable days of hiding in the rear were completely over.

However, he soon felt a slight sense of relief.

The Balkan Peninsula...

The Kingdom of Bulgaria...

"Fortunately, it’s just going to the Balkan Peninsula for an ordinary combat test."

Rowan Atkinson stood up from his chair, walked to the dressing mirror, put on his mage robes, adjusted his collar, and looked at himself in the mirror.

"As long as I’m not going to deal with that perverted ’Mage Killer’ on the Western Front, dealing with ordinary armies with the batch of ’Spell Jägers’ under my command, supported by me, will be more than enough."

He pushed open the door and strode out.

"Yes, as long as I don’t run into that man, everything will be fine."

May 9, 1915.

When the first rays of morning sunlight pierced the clouds, shining on the steep rock faces at the southern foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, they also illuminated a long string of figures slowly climbing up the mountainside.

The mountain wind, carrying a lingering chill, howled through the gorge.

Morin wore a standard set of Saxon mountain jäger equipment. His shotgun was secured to the rucksack on his back, a thick windbreaker covered his tactical chest rig, and his boots were fitted with specialized crampons.

Following behind several instruction unit soldiers, he was climbing arduously upward along a winding mountain path that could barely be called a road.

Their destination was the Predeal Pass, located at an altitude of 1033 meters.

Among the numerous passes along the entire southern foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, the terrain of the Predeal Pass was relatively gentle, offering the best overall passability.

If they didn’t secure this place, the large-scale troops and supply convoys of the Saxon Empire simply couldn’t smoothly cross this natural barrier and enter the plains region of Romania.

And in the world before Morin’s transmigration, the allied forces of the Second Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire during World War I primarily sent their massive armies into Romania through here...

After receiving that incredibly urgent telegram from the General Staff in Dresden, Morin immediately deployed his forces.

He dumped the tedious tasks of transferring the main forces of the entire Kampfgruppe, coordinating logistics and supplies, and receiving follow-up troops entirely onto Kleist, Manstein, and Paulus—his three capable lieutenants.

Meanwhile, he himself led the soldiers of the 1st Company, 3rd Battalion of the instruction unit. Acting as the absolute vanguard of the entire army, they boarded a Saxon Army military train ahead of everyone else.

Following that, this military train, operating with top-priority right-of-way, sped all the way to the assembly point at the southern foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.

After a brief rest and inspection of equipment and supplies, Morin’s team didn’t take any breaks, plunging directly into this complex mountainous terrain.

Why take the 1st Company, 3rd Battalion this time, instead of the "Honor Guard" 1st Company, 1st Battalion?

The reason was actually very simple. Although the instruction unit possessed extremely high overall quality, to achieve the goal of "parallel development of multiple combat subjects," each battalion also achieved a degree of "specialization."

Currently, the backbone of the 3rd Battalion consisted of veterans drawn from the Bavarian mountain jäger units when the instruction unit was first established.

3rd Battalion Commander Steiner usually acted like a nice guy in front of others, but under his rigorous specialized training, the entire 3rd Battalion possessed extremely outstanding mountain combat capabilities compared to the 1st and 2nd Battalions.

And just like the other two infantry battalions, the 1st Company within the 3rd Battalion was the cream of the crop...

"Commander, the path ahead is blocked by a rockslide. The point squad just sent word that we have to bypass that ridge."

An officer walking ahead of Morin stopped, turning back to report to him.

"Then bypass it. Watch your step, and don’t make too much noise... We’re already here, no need to rush too much."

Morin nodded. Compared to the officer, who was already sweating profusely, Morin’s face showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever.

With his body enhanced by the Second-Generation Sentinel Modification Potion, this level of mountain climbing didn’t even count as a warm-up for him.

However, Morin also had to consider the physical exertion of the ordinary soldiers behind him.

Because the path they chose was not a wide road suitable for large armies, but a steep mountain trail more suited for covert infiltration.

The unit climbed upwards for another half hour or so. The surrounding vegetation began to thin out, exposed grayish-white rocks became more frequent, and the air grew thinner and colder.

"Halt! Situation ahead!"

A soldier at the very front of the column suddenly raised his right hand, forming a fist.

The entire company halted their advance instantly. Everyone quickly sought cover behind nearby rocks and crouched down in perfect synchronization, making no unnecessary clinking sounds.

Morin and the officer in front of him lay behind a massive rock, poking half their heads out to look upward.

And on his system map, the unit card representing this detachment had also arrived near their destination, the Predeal Pass.

However, at this moment, several red unit cards also appeared within the dispelled fog of war.

Clearly, the vanguard had detected an enemy presence.

[Kingdom of Romania Army - 2nd Home Defense Brigade - 3rd Border Guard Regiment Pass Outpost]

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