Power was a magical, wonderful thing. With a single, casual sentence, Westheid had made hundreds of thousands of people abandon their work to focus entirely on manufacturing Alchemy Bombs.
These so-called Alchemy Bombs were munitions that had been iterated upon from ancient tis to the present day. They were powerful explosives made from a variety of complex materials, and could be customized with different effects depending on the need—high-explosive, incendiary, toxic, flash, and so on.
They were the purest of warti consumables. From ancient tis to the present, from the highest echelons to the lowest ranks, everyone who had ever used them swore by them.
Switching production goals to stockpile munitions wasn’t strange in itself. What was truly insane was the quota Westheid demanded.
"Within two days, I need at least thirty thousand acceptable Alchemy Bombs! Anyone who fails to et their assigned quota is an enemy spy!"
As Westheid made this righteous declaration, Yolanda’s beautiful eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at him.
Even in the Imperial thousands of years in the future, manufacturing Alchemy Bombs was an undeniably high-risk job plagued by frequent accidents, to say nothing of doing so in the ancient era of the Dragon Calamity. Yolanda had seen this era’s Alchemy Bombs; they were practically all hand-crafted items, with no modular components for mass production.
’And with this, they were supposed to produce thirty thousand Alchemy Bombs in two days?’
’Wasn’t he just being deliberately difficult?’
"I am being deliberately difficult."
At the highest point of Gavin’s Alchemy, Westheid explained his actions as he guided and helped Reiya beco proficient in using the [Dragon Soul Furnace] for forging.
"Our objective is actually quite simple: before Scorching Wings returns, we must do everything in our power to destroy the Dragon Race’s war potential on the Kepal Plain. And if we can, we should use this chance to enhance our own strength. After all, within the Trial, we must use any ans necessary."
"What about the civilians? Shouldn’t we be protecting them? They’re helpless against the Dragons."
Yolanda asked.
"And what do you propose we use to protect them? The Dragon Race, who could turn on us at any mont? That’s not a reliable plan, my silly little sister. Frankly, the Dragon Race needs its lackeys to carry out their massacres. If we cut away the True Dragons’ vassals, they’ll have to do the dirty work themselves."
Westheid wagged his finger. "And when the True Dragons discover they’ve been deceived, they won’t give a damn about mortals. They’ll all co straight for us. They’ll be so obsessed with killing us they won’t even be able to eat, let alone go on a civilian-slaughtering spree."
It dawned on Yolanda. "So you’re using us as bait, too? That’s a brilliant plan... but it’s so audacious. One misstep, and we’ll die without a grave to our nas."
"West has always been this bold, but he has the audacity to follow through."
Reiya remarked from the side. The Silver-haired Dragon Lady’s hands were held open, a longsword constructed from pure, radiant thunder extending from her palms. The destructive Dragon Thunder was contained, not a single arc of electricity leaking out.
While they waited for the Alchemy Bombs to be produced, the Giant Dragons weren’t idle either. They were ordered to gather supplies from warehouses everywhere and deliver them to Reiya’s group. Having awakened the [Dragon Soul Furnace], Reiya no longer needed blood sacrifice rituals; she could absorb small amounts of resources by pulverizing them directly with her Dragon Thunder.
This chaotic mix of energies was then rapidly digested by her [Withered Glory Sun], causing Reiya’s proficiency with her Talent to skyrocket.
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP—
Westheid saw that Reiya could now solidify her Dragon Thunder into a tangible form, and the scorching heat around her had diminished sharply. He knew the Silver-haired Dragon Lady’s mastery of the [Dragon Soul Furnace] had reached a new level.
"That’s amazing, Reiya. Every bit stronger you beco gives that much more confidence in our victory."
Yet, hearing Westheid’s praise, Reiya didn’t seem happy.
Her gaze t Westheid’s admiring one for an instant before she looked away as if burned. She lowered her head and said,
"Compared to you, West, I have nothing to be proud of. But if what I can do now is useful to you, then... that’s more than enough."
Westheid didn’t know the reason for Reiya’s sudden despondence. Though he did his best to see things from her perspective, the sensitivity and complexity of a person’s heart weren’t sothing he could easily fathom.
So, since he couldn’t figure it out, he simply stopped trying. At the very least, Westheid was certain that Reiya’s desire to win was intense.
’Good. So was his.’
Two days passed in the blink of an eye. Even though the Dragon Descendants had exhausted every ounce of their effort to produce the Alchemy Bombs—damaging much of their equipnt and causing hundreds of accidents in the process—they only managed to create nearly fifteen thousand bombs by the deadline.
Even Westheid was surprised by this production speed. ’Damn,’ he thought, ’these guys are way too efficient. Are they really working themselves to death?’
’They’re just slaves oppressed by the True Dragons, yet they’re this dedicated. So loyal.’
’It’s enough to make you cry.’
’But I’m here to purge the loyalists! The more loyal they are, the more they have to die!’
And so, Westheid passed his sentence without a mont’s hesitation:
"Damn it! The only reason you didn’t et the quota is because enemy spies are sabotaging our efforts from within!"
"Is that so? But from what we saw, these servants worked with utmost diligence. We saw no trickery."
the Giant Dragons said, confused.
"You don’t know shit!"
Westheid roared.
"It’s not enough! It’s nowhere near enough! The quota of thirty thousand that I set was ticulously calculated. It is absolutely achievable in theory! There is only one reason for this failure: enemy agents have infiltrated our ranks! They’re phoning it in, just going through the motions, and sabotaging the team’s production efficiency!"
"A purge! We must have a ruthless purge!"
Westheid’s stance was resolute. He directly commanded the Giant Dragons to begin forcibly arresting, punishing, and driving out the Dragon Descendant servants.
After toiling day and night, what the exhausted servants received wasn’t their master’s praise, but the vicious fangs of the nacing Giant Dragons.
"Master! We worked as hard as we could!"
"We really can’t go any faster. This is the fastest we can possibly work."
"If we are to maintain quality..."
"There are no enemy spies among us, truly!"
"Everyone here is loyal to the Dragon Realm! Loyal until death! Masters, we beg you to see the truth!"
"........."
Westheid coldly watched the despairing Dragon Descendant artisans, then simply raised a finger and said nonchalantly,
"Excuses. This is all due to a lack of motivation."
"If your motivation were sufficient, how could you have failed to et the quota? Stop the act, you spies from the Celestial Vault Kingdom. Did you really think you were perfectly hidden?"
"You dare cry injustice? Both punishnt and reward are blessings from on high. By proclaiming your innocence, are you suggesting the Dragon Realm can be mistaken? There is a reason you are being arrested."
To the True Dragons, Westheid’s words sounded absolutely correct. This was despite the fact that they, too, felt the Dragon Descendant slaves had worked very hard and that there had been no flaws in the production of the Alchemy Bombs.
But... True Dragons could not be questioned. Any who showed resentnt, any who expressed dissatisfaction, had to be dealt with harshly!
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