“Dispel Magic!”
The Arcane Guard’s mind buzzed and went almost blank.
For a 3rd-Circle [Dispel Magic] to successfully cancel a 4th-Circle [Stoneskin] spell, there were only two possibilities.
Either the attacker had incredibly good luck…
Or, the more troubling situation:
The attacker had cast [Dispel Magic] by spending a higher-Circle Spell Slot!
No matter which one it was, it ant the attacker’s Caster Level was absolutely no lower than his own!
The crowd had begun to panic. The surrounding security guards tried to rush forward, but the terrified citizens blocked them, making it impossible to get close.
Just then, the Arcane Guard from the car behind finally reached the front.
“Cover His Highness!”
The two guards exchanged a look and imdiately reached an unspoken agreent.
They simultaneously began channeling mana, preparing to activate [Mage Armor] and [Shield], ready to use their bodies as shields in front of the Archduke.
But at that mont, from a corner neither of them had noticed, a middle-aged man who had previously looked utterly terrified suddenly frowned.
He hadn’t planned to act.
According to the plan, one person should have been enough to eliminate the target.
But these two troubleso Royal Arcane Guards were more difficult than he anticipated…
The opportunity was fleeting. He couldn’t wait any longer.
The middle-aged man imdiately stopped walking, softly uttering an arcane word.
At the sa ti, he made a gripping gesture with his right hand toward the Archduke’s car.
“…”
Everyone within a seven-ter radius centered on the open-top car suddenly found themselves unable to make any sound.
Concurrently, they couldn’t hear any noise from outside this area. The entire world seed to have been muted.
The spells the two Arcane Guards were channeling were interrupted once again by this sudden change.
They looked at each other in horror, their eyes wide with incomprehensible shock.
[Silence]!
It was only a 2nd-Circle spell, but its effect was lethally decisive at this mont!
It’s over.
This was the thought that flashed through both Arcane Guards’ minds simultaneously.
Then, a fireball the size of a basketball instantly materialized in front of the man who had launched the initial attack.
The fireball, carrying a scorching blast wave and a blinding light, scread as it flew toward the black open-top car carrying the Archduke.
Boom!
A deafening explosion finally shattered the silence of the [Silence] spell.
The intense fla instantly engulfed the entire car, as well as the few nearby guards who hadn’t managed to run away in ti.
The massive shockwave blasted car parts and wreckage in all directions. The entire street was enveloped in the terrifying sound of the blast.
It all happened too quickly. From the mont the Arcane Guard noticed the anomaly and engaged the assassin to the explosion of the fireball, only a brief period of tens of seconds had passed…
The crowd on the street first froze for a mont, then erupted in earth-shattering screams and cries.
People scattered like headless chickens. The scene was utterly chaotic.
Oskar Potiorek, the Governor of Bosnia, stood not far from the explosion site. The massive shockwave had thrown him to the ground.
Ignoring the blood pouring from his head and the ringing in his ears, he struggled to look up, staring in disbelief at the raging fire and the scattered car wreckage.
“Your Highness… Your Highness!”
He muttered, his eyes vacant, completely paralyzed by shock.
Just monts ago, he had confidently guaranteed the Archduke the safety of Sarajevo…
But now, the Archduke had been blown to smithereens by a fireball spell right in front of him.
Outskirts of Dresden, Teaching Assault Battalion Garrison.
Morin had just finished his morning training and was walking toward the camp ss hall with Kleist and Manstein.
“Sir, I have arranged for the newly arrived batch of MG14s to be inspected and stored.”
“This afternoon, we can organize the third batch of machine gunners for live-fire practice.”
Kleist reported as he walked.
“Hmm, you and Manstein can handle that arrangent.”
Morin nodded, then reminded him:
“Rember, emphasize safety protocols.”
“Understood, sir.”
Manstein nodded in response.
“I have already ensured the company NCOs study the operating manuals in advance. They will conduct the demonstrations this afternoon before the soldiers get hands-on experience.”
Morin felt reassured by their plan and was about to say sothing else when the system prompt in his mind suddenly sounded without warning.
His steps faltered. He instinctively opened the system panel.
A red exclamation mark was flashing furiously on the 【Intelligence】 tab.
Morin’s heart sank with a terrible premonition.
【Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, the Duchess of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, were killed by a Fireball spell attack in Sarajevo.】
Staring at the brief but explosively informative intelligence, Morin froze.
Although he had known that the wheels of history would eventually roll forward, and despite his previous ntal preparation, the intensity of the shock when the mont truly arrived was imnse.
History, after all, had not been altered by the capture of Princip.
The spark that would ignite the entire powder keg of Europa had simply changed its form, but it had still been lit.
And this ti, the thod was more direct, more violent…
Assassinating an Empire’s Crown Prince on the street with a fireball spell?
This was no re extremist act by nationalists… What nationalist group could possibly procure a Mage assassin?
“Sir? What’s wrong?”
Kleist and Manstein saw Morin suddenly stop, his expression strange, and asked with concern.
“Uh… nothing.”
Morin snapped back to reality, slowly shaking his head, his gaze becoming incredibly profound.
He looked up at the clear blue sky over Dresden. Only one thought remained in his mind.
What was ant to co, has co.
The news of Archduke Ferdinand’s assassination on the street could not be suppressed.
Furthermore, it was an attack using a fireball spell, an event with maximum visual effects. Everyone on the street, including journalists, had personally witnessed the horrific explosion.
The news spread like wildfire, transmitted by telegraph across the entire European continent within the day.
Vienna, Hofburg Palace.
When Emperor Franz Joseph I of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, now 84 years old, received the urgent telegram from Sarajevo and quickly scanned its content.
The old Emperor’s body swayed violently, and he almost collapsed backward.
“Your Majesty!”
Aides cried out, scrambling to steady him.
The old Emperor’s face was ashen, his lips trembling. He could not speak for a long ti.
He had endured so many tragedies in his life…
His only son died in a suicide pact with his lover. His wife (Empress Elisabeth) was stabbed to death with a file on the shore of Lake Geneva.
Now, even his designated heir had been blown up in the street.
The old Emperor remained silent for a long ti, his eyes filled with endless fatigue and sorrow.
In this mont, he suddenly realized that he and this fading Empire seemingly had no other choice…
At the sa ti, Austro-Hungarian Army General Staff Headquarters.
Chief of Staff Conrad was stunned when he heard the news.
He sat silently in his chair, not saying a word.
The atmosphere in the office was suffocating.
He had always viewed Archduke Ferdinand as the biggest obstacle to his military reforms and aggressive foreign policy. The two had argued and opposed each other on countless occasions.
But now, upon hearing the news of the Archduke’s death, there was no hint of satisfaction in Conrad’s heart.
He walked to the window, looked at the sky over Vienna, and let out a long sigh.
“The Empire has lost the person it needed most.”
Conrad knew better than anyone that the re existence of Archduke Ferdinand was a deterrent and a balance against the restless nationalist forces within the Empire.
Although the Archduke opposed his war agenda, the Archduke’s political vision was, on another level, sustaining this vast yet fragile Empire.
But now, that safeguard was gone.
The Austro-Hungarian Empire was left with only one choice.
Conrad turned around, the grief on his face replaced by a steely coldness and grim resolve.
Saxon Empire, a Royal Yacht cruising the Baltic Sea.
Emperor Albert II was enjoying a rare vacation.
When the aide-de-camp handed him the urgent telegram, the smile on his face instantly froze.
He silently read the contents of the telegram, and after a long mont, he looked toward the Balkan Peninsula, muttering to himself:
“War in the Balkans is inevitable.”
He put down the telegram and instructed his aide-de-camp:
“Notify the Chancellor and the War Office. Prepare for a Privy Council eting. Furthermore, cut the vacation short. Return to Wilhelmshaven imdiately.”
Gallic Republic, Paris.
President Poincaré was discussing the increasingly severe worker strikes at ho with several cabinet ministers when he received the news.
“What? Ferdinand was assassinated? By a fireball spell?”
Poincaré snatched the telegram from his secretary’s hand, reading it repeatedly, his expression utterly shocked.
“The Austrians are likely to go mad this ti.”
One official said worriedly:
“They can’t possibly let this go. They will most likely use military force against the Kingdom of Serbia.”
“If that happens, it is our opportunity!”
Another hawkish official slamd his hand on the table.
“As long as Vienna makes a move, the Saxons will honor their alliance… then we can seize the opportunity to reclaim Alsace and Lorraine!”
Poincaré remained silent. He tightly knitted his brows, rapidly contemplating the situation in his mind.
Holy Britannian Empire, London.
The news was also delivered to Buckingham Palace with the utmost speed.
Pri Minister H. H. Asquith and Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey imdiately rushed to Buckingham Palace to report the matter to Queen Victoria.
“Assassinated by a Mage? This is truly… unheard of.”
‘Eternal Queen’ Victoria’s face revealed a look of grave concern after hearing the report.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Foreign Secretary Grey’s expression was solemn.
“According to the ssage from our embassy in Vienna, the Austro-Hungarian side has tentatively confird that the assassin was a spellcaster… this makes the nature of the entire incident extraordinarily complex and dangerous.”
“Monitor the movents in Vienna and Belgrade closely.”
The ‘Eternal Queen’ pondered for a mont, then issued instructions.
“I have a premonition that this sumr will not be a peaceful one.”
(End of this Chapter)
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