Chapter 489: People Everywhere

“Hurry up! Get these components installed on the main cannons. Once we set off for the battlefield, there won’t be time for you to calibrate them. You didn’t participate in the battle at the Dragon Isles, so steel yourselves now—when the time comes, no one will care whether you were a soldier or a scholar!”

The outer deck of the Sky Mechanical City’s main district, once an industrial loading zone for cargo transport and factories with significant environmental impact, had been completely stripped bare. The mountains of warehouses were now replaced by arrays of alchemical cannons standing like a dense forest.

A considerable number of scholars moved between these newly erected artillery batteries, using spells and tools to pry open metal casings, inspecting and maintaining the internal circuitry and structural integrity.

Many alchemical spider constructs mingled among these residents—scholars by trade, now applying their laboratory dexterity to military maintenance. The broadcasting devices mounted within the mechanical constructs blared incessantly, urging these still-unaccustomed scholars to hasten their movements and work with greater efficiency.

It was not to torment these volunteers who had chosen to fight against the Utopia organization; their character was beyond reproach, for the Sky Mechanical City never forbade its residents from returning to the surface. Rather, the voice emanating from the mechanical spiders spoke only the truth.

Once on the battlefield, who would care about the past identity of those engaged in war? A scholar? Even if one had been a saint, they would only be met with indiscriminate slaughter. This was the hard-won experience of the one who had participated in the battle against Melos on the Dragon Isles; it was his first taste of war, and he had witnessed its sheer cruelty.

“Hum… Boom!”

The heavy, rhythmic roar of engines echoed through the area, followed by the thunderous thud of massive objects hitting the ground. In this industrial zone, now transformed into the front line of the deck, several alchemical machines as colossal as the Iron King, Bogul, were being lowered by cranes, their parameters already undergoing calibration.

These giants would be deployed to the front as vanguard breakers, shielding the troops advancing behind them. Indeed, the dwarves had handed the manufacturing schematics of the Iron King, Bogul, directly to the Sky Mechanical City. With the city’s industrial capacity, building these formidable machines was far simpler than it had been for the dwarven kingdom.

In fact, around the perimeter of the deck, one could see numerous crystals hovering above pedestals. Vast amounts of energy were pumped into them through conduits connected to the city’s main power core, causing the crystals to glow with high-level intensity. This was elven technology: the Crystal Spires.

There were many such items, including large-scale spell arrays kept secret by various human kingdoms. The cutting-edge technology mastered by the intelligent races of the continent had been fully mobilized, reforging this academic sanctuary into a war fortress far more powerful than it had been in ages past.

This time, no race held back. Whether it was resources or proprietary technology, everything was funneled through various channels to the Sky Mechanical City, arming this fortress—the concentrated wisdom of the continent—to serve as the sword that would win the war for the future of all intelligent life.

Even the Sky Mechanical City’s own database could not have fully cataloged every technology held by the various races; some things were meant to be kept as insurance, sealed away by kingdoms rather than shared. Yet, this time, even those sealed treasures were surrendered for the city’s use.

The power gathered here was several orders of magnitude beyond the battle against Melos on the Dragon Isles. The reason was simple: the crisis was truly imminent. Unlike the ethereal, rumored threat of the “Dragon God” Melos, the destruction wrought by the Utopia organization’s towers and the rising concentration of void energy in the material world had placed the danger squarely before the intelligent races.

If they did not win, it was over. The logic was simple. While a few kingdoms might still harbor dreams of self-preservation, hoarding key assets to gain an advantage after the war, the majority had chosen unity—a unity forged by crisis, much like during the Abyss War.

“I will adapt as quickly as I can…”

A wizard’s hand passed through a metal casing to adjust the internal components of an alchemical cannon. Isaac whispered to himself. This alchemist had been among the first customers of the “Level Eight Fitter Shop” that Wang Yu had opened in the Sky Mechanical City long ago.

That little alchemical shop had brought this obscure alchemist a modest extra income, allowing him to purchase a batch of equipment and solve the immediate crises of his meager life. But talent, after all, was not something everyone possessed.

The extra income had provided a brief period of comfort, and the complete set of equipment made him feel as though his alchemical skills had improved significantly. Yet, he soon realized he remained an ordinary alchemist with no standout abilities, gradually fading into mediocrity, his life barely stable enough to survive on the Sky Mechanical City.

His days had been mostly dull, with only minor ripples: one friend had vanished after traveling to another plane; another companion, in even worse straits, had been forced to leave the Sky Mechanical City to become a professor at a magic academy in his homeland; and then there was a former classmate who had successfully climbed the ladder of a medium-sized society, living a life far better than his own.

Most acquaintances were like Isaac—lacking exceptional talent, their lives just barely sustainable, yet predictable to the end. As they aged and their minds lost their youthful agility, they would lose even the ability to stand on the Sky Mechanical City, forced to return home as ordinary alchemists with no hope of further advancement.

This was certainly not what Isaac wanted. Life on the Sky Mechanical City might not even be as easy as back home, but in the path of alchemy, exploring further realms was one of the few extraordinary pursuits in his otherwise ordinary life. This was why he stayed in this academic sanctuary, even knowing there was almost no hope.

As for now, why join the Sky Mechanical City’s battle against the Utopia organization? There was no complex reason. Isaac was certain that whether it was his own self, still holding onto hope for the future, or his friends who had accepted mediocrity and returned home, none of them wanted to die like this.

They were undeniably ordinary, but that did not mean they were willing to be killed by the Utopia organization for no reason. What a joke—the alchemist community, even the most inept among them, almost always harbored the basic dream of creating something that could grant immortality.

At the very least, let them die of old age. To be killed by this Utopia organization along with everyone else was something Isaac could not accept. So, rather than waiting for that unsettling outcome, it was better to participate personally and see the end of himself and this battlefield. At least, even if he died, it would be a result he had influenced.

There were many like him. Many of these scholars were ordinary residents who had not passed the Central Tower’s combat tests. They knew nothing of war; all they could do was apply their laboratory methods to mechanical maintenance. But with them, the stability of these war machines was indeed a grade higher than before.

“Loading complete. Preparing to depart for the designated location. The route will include the boarding of elite troops from several kingdoms, as well as large-scale war weapons.”

The announcement echoed throughout the Sky Mechanical City. The aerial fortress, which had been monitoring the special environment near the Holy See of Light, began to stir as all its power cores ignited, setting a course for the Ashlands.

Along the way, the armies of the Five-Race Alliance would assemble, and the Sky Mechanical City would transport these soldiers and their heavy weaponry to the front lines. These elites among elites would be a crucial link in the coming battle.

Even if many of them were participating in war for the first time, having previously been scholars or clerks, the fact that they could board the Sky Mechanical City and reach such positions meant they were, compared to the common folk, truly worthy of the word “elite.”

……

The cart horse panted, shaking its head. Even a sturdy horse with magical beast blood would grow weary and irritable after pulling a merchant caravan for days. But the destination was near; the merchant guild Damian belonged to was about to reach its goal—Alastair.

The towering city walls in the distance had already come into view for the caravan members long before they arrived. The few in the group who had visited Alastair before were astonished. This had been a mere frontier town of Leicester; when had it acquired such massive fortifications?

Before the heavy gates stood squads of knights in standard armor, and above them hovered several battle-mages, scanning the surroundings. This was entirely different from before; the changes in Alastair were nothing short of night and day.

“Welcome, partners.”

Using the prayer communication network to verify their identities, the Nightfall Church’s caravan was quickly granted passage. Entering this “frontier town” on the edge of Alastair, the members were surprised by the scene within.

Various races mingled in the town. Slimes helped orcs build houses; druids transformed into giant bears to carry heavy cargo; beautiful elves ran small shops, selling their wares…

It was clear that many were preparing for the coming war, yet no one had abandoned their current lives because of the conflict that would decide their fate. Different races lived together in this small town, working in unison to build and reinforce its facilities, giving this “frontier town” a prosperity that defied its classification.

“This is amazing, Damian. Are your two companions here?”

The dwarf who had been chatting with Damian about Alastair earlier seemed very happy. The situation in this town was much like the early days of the Nightfall Church in the Royal City of Shadow—different races living together, harmonious life and abundant manpower lending the town a vitality it never possessed before.

The recent influx of Nightfall Church members into Alastair had given the kingdom a chance for rapid development, leaving the merchant guild members surprised and delighted as they witnessed these changes.

Although mutual acceptance of different races was one of the tenets of the Nightfall Church, other places had their own rules, making it nearly impossible to replicate the early days of the Church. Thus, for the guild members who had just arrived, this was a brand-new experience.

“They arrived much earlier, in a town closer to the Royal City, but they should come to visit us in a few days,” Damian replied, naturally rubbing his “sore” arm.

“That is truly enviable. This place always makes one feel that the days ahead are full of hope.”

The smile on the dwarf’s face and the bustling activity of the residents reflected in Damian’s eyes. As he fabricated the whereabouts of his two companions—who could never possibly appear again—the mark on his body transmitted a scorching sensation, and his thoughts suddenly grew restless.