Chapter 267: The Light of Civilization

The forging of the Molten-Cut Sword marked a significant leap forward in both the combat effectiveness and tactical versatility of the soldiers of the Cecil Domain. In a world rife with magic and counter-magic, relying solely on ranged or melee weapons was no longer sufficient to handle the complexities of the battlefield. The Molten-Cut Sword filled a critical gap in the soldiers’ arsenal. Yet its significance went beyond mere technology—it represented a profound intellectual breakthrough among the domain’s native craftsmen and technicians.

Unlike previous innovations that often involved external input, the entire process—from initial concept to finished product—was independently completed by local hands. Aside from a few strategic suggestions from Gawain during the early stages, every technical and creative step was carried out without his “cheat code” intervention. Craftsmen, engineers, knights, and warriors pooled their collective wisdom to design and finalize this new weapon. For Gawain, the meaning embedded in this achievement far surpassed the sword’s technical merits.

Throughout the sword’s creation, he witnessed the local artisans’ remarkable ability to manipulate the world’s unique materials and technologies. The blade itself was forged from “Purple Steel,” a rare magical alloy with extraordinary properties. It could withstand extreme heat but was nearly impossible to melt using conventional high-temperature furnaces. Only within a specific intensity of arcane energy did Purple Steel become malleable. Meanwhile, the sword’s heat-insulating core was crafted from a mixture of quartz sand and crystal dust—a byproduct of the “Mana Crystal Smelting Plant” where magical substances were processed. This composite was highly heat-resistant and a poor conductor of thermal energy. When combined with an acidic adhesive, it formed a remarkably durable filler between metal components.

The so-called “heat insulation” runes etched onto the blade were among the most common basic runes used by mages in their laboratories. These runes could contain and redirect heat, channeling it through gaps in the rune array. In alchemy labs, such runes often formed the outer protective layer of alchemical platforms, shielding them from the extreme temperatures generated by magical experiments. Rune artisans, who frequently assisted mages in setting up alchemical devices, ingeniously adapted these runes for the Molten-Cut Sword, enabling it to focus and confine heat energy near the blade’s edge.

All these materials and techniques were unique to this world. Their properties would seem utterly baffling to Earth’s engineers, yet this seemingly backward “medieval” realm had developed its own technological pathways to process and utilize them. This realization left Gawain deeply moved.

The day after the Molten-Cut Sword entered production, a brand-new magical apparatus was erected in the lord’s square at the city center.

A large group of mage-engineers—specialized “magical industrial technicians” unique to the Cecil Domain—were busy under the leadership of Kamail. They transported a large, tarp-covered “block” to the center of the square, then began removing metal plates embedded in the ground to expose the magic network’s connection nodes beneath. Using pre-engraved rune plates, the technicians measured the network’s status, confirming the connection points were functioning properly. Kamail then used Mage’s Hand and Weight Reduction spells to carefully position the two-meter-tall “block” above the exposed node.

The unusual scene drew a crowd. People gathered around the square, noting that soldiers guarded the inner area, but there was no sign of martial law beyond it. The citizens of the Cecil Domain were accustomed to such events: it meant the lord and scholars had created something extraordinary, something that would greatly benefit the domain. The common folk could watch safely from a distance.

In other noble domains, peasants rarely cared about their lord’s affairs—they were seen as irrelevant to daily life. The old adage “what belongs to nobles belongs to nobles, what belongs to commoners belongs to commoners” held true. But in the Cecil Domain, people were gradually learning to pay attention to every change in their land, because they understood it directly affected their lives.

Under countless curious gazes, the tarp was pulled away, revealing a massive and mysterious magical device.

It was a two-meter-tall obelisk made of crystal and metal—the finalized Mana Obelisk. Compared to the original prototype, which stood only half a meter tall, this was larger, more elegant, and promised greater stability and efficiency.

The mage-engineers immediately began securing and connecting the obelisk. They had pre-drilled circular holes in the square’s center for bolts, which they now used to firmly anchor the device to the ground. Others welded the underground connection nodes to the obelisk’s base using specialized arm-mounted “industrial mage terminals.” Unlike the military-grade terminals equipped with destructive heat ray modules, these industrial versions were fitted with lower-powered, sustained-output thermal beams—an innovation from the Rune Research Institute. For Jenny, who had already unraveled nearly all the secrets of low-level runes, modifying these devices was a simple task.

Kamail’s gaze lingered on the mage terminals worn by the technicians. He knew these devices could be outfitted with a variety of functional modules—from thermal beams to cooling rays, even power drills and cutting saws—simply by swapping the casing or internal components. In terms of versatility, these industrial terminals surpassed their military counterparts, though their power output was significantly lower.

According to the lord, these industrial mage terminals were merely an “intermediate product.” The ultimate goal was civilian adoption, enabling ordinary people in the Cecil Domain to harness magical power in their daily lives.

Arcane sparks flickered across Kamail’s face as he watched the technicians—who barely knew any magic themselves—melt metal and install the Mana Obelisk’s base with magical precision. Their movements were so smooth, they rivaled true mages. In fact, without the need to maintain spells or chant incantations, they might even surpass them in the future.

“Magic is just a form of power. Mages can use it, ordinary people can use it—everyone can use it.” Such a radical idea, yet even more radical was that it was steadily becoming reality on this land.

“All bolts secured.”
“Connection nodes welded.”
“First layer runes activated. Magical link established.”

“Master Kamail, installation is complete. Shall we activate the obelisk? Master Kamail? Master Kamail?”

The calls snapped Kamail out of his reverie. He floated up slightly, clearing his throat with a dignified cough to mask his embarrassment, then turned to the fully installed Mana Obelisk.

Without needing to peer closely, he could easily see the magical energies flowing inside and around the device. The technicians’ work was flawless; the obelisk was now operating at peak performance.

“Open the obelisk. Release the limiter,” Kamail murmured.

A mage-engineer stepped forward, pressing the rune trigger on the obelisk’s base and securing it with a safety pin. A low hum filled the air as the massive device began to glow with a beautiful blue light. The once deep purple crystal body brightened, and its components slowly rose into their designated positions, suspended by floating runes.

A surge of magical energy swept across the square. Few could feel its gentle caress, but Kamail spread his arms wide, quietly savoring the sensation of power filling the air.

Having adjusted his own arcane flow, he no longer felt the “itch” that had once plagued him.

Soldiers standing nearby immediately stepped forward. After receiving confirmation from the technicians, one soldier pulled out a prepared pamphlet from the lord’s office and began loudly explaining the obelisk’s purpose and safety precautions to the gathered crowd. Kamail paid no attention to the speech; instead, he tilted his head back to gaze at the sky above the Cecil Domain.

A pure white snowflake drifted down, caught in a magical whirlwind, spinning as it fell to the edge of the square. Then another, and another—snowflakes fluttered down in increasing numbers.

It was snowing. Since the onset of winter, the southern region had already seen several snowfalls, but to Kamail, these flakes seemed to carry a different meaning.

“Do you wish to extinguish the light of human civilization?” the ancient mage whispered, eyes fixed on the sky and the growing flurry.

“You cannot snuff it out.”

In the middle of the first winter in the new Cecil Domain, humanity’s very first Mana Obelisk was lit.

Across from the lord’s square, inside the lord’s manor, Gawain stood on the balcony, quietly watching the scene below through the open window. After the obelisk’s activation, a faint smile touched his lips—not one of overwhelming joy, for everything had unfolded as expected. The greatest surprise had come when the prototype was first designed.

He turned and stepped back into the room, casually picking up a palm-sized “receiver” device that had been improved and miniaturized. He installed it into a newly fitted slot on the wall. With a soft click, the receiver seamlessly connected to the room’s magical circuits, and a magic crystal lamp designed to test the mana field lit up.

Hetty was already standing inside, smiling at Gawain. “Ancestor, the first Mana Obelisk has been activated. We will proceed with the plan to retrofit all mage devices within range, adding mana field receivers. Future factory-produced mage equipment will come pre-installed with these receivers. As for the magic crystal lamps used as streetlights, they will remain powered by the old magic network system without modification.”

Gawain nodded. “Very well. Proceed as planned.”

“To be honest, I thought you would personally preside over this ‘activation ceremony,’ as you have on similar occasions before,” Hetty said with a smile. “After all, it’s such an important moment.”

“There will be many important moments ahead. I don’t need to be present for every one. Let Kamail take the spotlight this time—he needs the acceptance and recognition of the domain’s people,” Gawain replied calmly. “Besides, we have more pressing matters than standing in the square for a ceremony.”

“You mean… the report from the Dark Mountains observation tower this noon?”

“Exactly. The Grant Wall flickered once—that’s never a good sign.”

(End of chapter)