Chương 293: 293： The Mana Insulator and the Dawn of Forbidden Magic

"Fight to the death! We follow Lord Soren!" It was unclear who shouted it first, but immediately after, an earth-shattering roar erupted from the outer fringes of the Misty Swamp, soaring into the sky. The grueling, thousand-mile journey had long since weeded out the weak. Those who remained were true iron-willed warriors, fully prepared to lay down their lives. Meanwhile, standing atop a wooden watchtower a short distance from the recruitment site, Soren quietly overlooked the scene.

With his [Eagle Eye Perception] active, he carefully swept his gaze across every corner of the crowd while staying alert for any warnings from the system. His mind was crystal clear.

'Out of these five hundred people, we'll undoubtedly root out dozens of spies and individuals with hidden physical ailments. But as long as we can secure three hundred capable fighters, Greywater Village's military strength will receive a much-needed injection of fresh blood.' Just as Soren was mentally calculating his troop distributions... Ding! A crisp electronic chime suddenly echoed deep within his mind.

[System High-Level Alert: High-Potential Talent in a Specialized Field Discovered] [Target Locked within a One-Kilometer Radius] [Name: Horace] [Class: Magical Theory Scholar] [Talent Panel]: 1. [Eye of Truth]: Innate acute perception and analytical ability toward all magical runes and energy nodes. 2. [Mana Insulator]: Unable to store any mana within the body, but as a result, immune to the bewitchment and backlash of most mental-type magics.

Able to deconstruct dangerous Forbidden-tier spells from an objective standpoint. Reading the lines of text appearing on the system panel, Soren's heart skipped a beat, his breathing hitching for a brief moment.

'A Magical Theory Scholar?' Soren immediately began scanning the clamoring crowd below. A mere few seconds later, aided by his [Eagle Eye Perception], he locked onto a young man dressed in tattered silk scholar's robes, clutching an ancient parchment tome tightly to his chest.

'A physically frail scholar?' Soren was momentarily stunned, but the strategic acumen he had honed as a special forces commander in his previous life instantly made him realize the young man's staggering value.

'A prodigy with a background in cutting-edge magical theory, someone capable of perceiving magical energy nodes... if I treated him like an ordinary soldier, handed him a spear, and sent him into melee combat against the orcs... that would be a crime against human civilization! An absolute waste of a priceless asset!' Soren paced back and forth across the watchtower, his mind racing as a grand strategic blueprint began to take shape in his head.

'Although Victor is a Silver-tier Mage with [Omni-Element Mastery], he is fundamentally just a practitioner of magic. When trying to reverse-engineer those five [Meteor Shower Magic Scrolls], Victor has been constantly blocked by the underlying logic of the Forbidden-tier runes. He hasn't dared to rashly dismantle them.' Soren's eyes gleamed with calculation.

'But what if... what if I bring in Horace? A scholar who is a master of theory and immune to magical backlash?'

'Horace could provide the theoretical deconstruction and node calculations, while Victor provides the mana supply and handles the physical inscription of the magic arrays...'

'It would be the perfect pairing—a top-tier physicist working alongside a master engineer!' Soren's fists clenched tightly.

'I don't just want a handful of single-use scrolls. I want to decipher the very principles of Forbidden magic! I want to turn [Meteor Shower] into a spell that we can mass-produce!'

'Once Greywater Village masters this weapon of mass destruction, let alone thirty thousand orcs—even if a hundred thousand came, I would reduce them all to ash in a sea of hellfire!' At this thought, Soren could no longer contain his excitement. He immediately beckoned to a nearby messenger, lowering his voice into a stern, commanding tone.

"Go. Deliver a secret order to Kyle immediately. Do you see that young man down there in the scholar's robes?"

"After his registration and assessment are complete, regardless of the results—even if the man can't lift a rusted iron sword—he is absolutely not to be assigned to a combat unit! Have Meyer's men secretly escort him straight to my stilted longhouse. I will speak with him personally."

"Understood, My Lord!" The messenger saluted and immediately dashed off to carry out the order. Driven by the ongoing influence of The Gazette, the outskirts of Greywater Village were exceptionally busy that day. Since the early afternoon, scattered bands of exiles, seasoned veterans, and even bankrupt merchants had been continuously arriving in groups at the fringes of the swamp. The intense screening and registration of the new recruits continued at a grueling pace.

Dozens of iron braziers had been lit, casting a bright, flickering glow over the entire outer defensive perimeter. Meyer's intelligence squad worked around the clock. Employing brutal cross-examinations and meticulous background checks, they forcefully rooted out seven or eight orc spies and scouts sent by corrupt human nobles who had tried to slip through the cracks. Their heads were severed on the spot and displayed for all to see.

The gory trophies, hung high on the wooden barricades, served as a grim deterrent to any other would-be infiltrators. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The chaotic bustle continued deep into the night. It wasn't until scattered snowflakes began drifting down upon the biting, freezing wind that the gates to the registration post finally creaked shut. Inside the Lord's longhouse, Fina Hawthorne, massaging her aching wrists, placed a thick ledger onto Soren's desk.

"My Lord, today's recruitment and vetting operations have concluded," Fina reported, her voice laced with a mixture of exhaustion and undeniable excitement.

"After weeding out the unqualified, the spies, and those who voluntarily withdrew... as of tonight, Greywater Village has officially absorbed a net total of three hundred and sixty-two new recruits in a single day!" Soren looked down at the ledger, his eyes scanning the dense columns of names, each accompanied by a red thumbprint. He took a deep breath. Over three hundred men in a single day!

Moreover, these were all able-bodied, prime recruits who had survived a grueling trek and proven their unbreakable will to fight under Meyer's draconian scrutiny! Driven by the sweeping, continent-wide propaganda effect of The Gazette, Greywater Village was finally experiencing an unprecedented wave of rapid military expansion—the likes of which it hadn't seen since its founding. Combined with their original forces, Greywater Village's pool of deployable troops was swelling at a breakneck pace.

"My Lord, it's certainly a reason to celebrate, but the logistical pressure behind this surge is downright terrifying," Kyle interjected from the sidelines, his expression grave. As the man in charge of the territory's logistics, he understood the crushing weight behind those numbers better than anyone. Pointing toward the howling blizzard beyond the window, Kyle didn't mince words.

"Three hundred and sixty-two extra mouths to feed. That means we'll be burning through nearly a thousand extra pounds of grain every single day! These three hundred and sixty-two men require three hundred and sixty-two sets of winter clothing, three hundred and sixty-two weapons capable of slaying our enemies, and barracks to sleep in!" Kyle took a sharp intake of breath, a lingering sense of dread in his voice.

"If an ordinary border garrison experienced a sudden population explosion like this, never mind fighting a war—the catastrophic logistical bottlenecks and severe supply shortages alone would be enough to trigger a camp-wide mutiny and completely paralyze their supply chain!"

"You're absolutely right, Kyle. When a war drags on, it ultimately becomes a battle of logistics." Soren stood up and approached the charcoal brazier. The ruddy, flickering flames cast a warm glow over his resolute, unfazed features. He was acutely aware of the pitfalls of rapid military expansion.

However, his instincts and training as a modern special forces tactical commander meant that half a month ago—right after he had trapped and slaughtered the Oracle Envoy—he had already begun laying the groundwork for this very day.

"But we are not one of those rotting, corrupt armies that only know how to plunder the wealth of the common folk." Soren spun around abruptly, his voice radiating supreme confidence.

"Distribute all the [Padded Cotton Armor] our tailors have been working day and night to produce! They might be new recruits, but I won't allow a single one of my men to freeze in the snowstorm!"

"Requisition that batch of captured [Repeating Hand Crossbows] and issue them out! Tell these men that here in Greywater Village, I don't expect them to charge at orcs with broken pitchforks in a contest of brute strength. When they step onto the battlefield, their job is to pull the trigger and riddle the enemy with a thousand bolts!"

"And finally!" Soren punctuated each word with heavy emphasis.

"Open the cellars! We have mountains of [Swamp Tubers] stockpiled down there! We have dehydrated fine sorghum! We have massive reserves of cured Wyvern meat! Go. Have the mess hall set up twenty massive iron cauldrons. Tonight, the entire army eats meat and drinks rum!"

"I want every single brother who has marched here to pledge their lives to me to understand one unshakeable truth on their very first day in camp. Under my banner, every man gets armor to wear! Every man gets a crossbow to wield! And every man eats his fill of meat!" Kyle and Fina felt their blood boil with excitement. They both straightened their spines and snapped crisp salutes, their voices ringing out in unison: "Understood, My Lord!"

Just as Kyle pushed open the heavy wooden door to carry out his orders, Soren called out to stop him.

"Ah, one more thing, Kyle," Soren asked.

"That scholar, Horace. Has he been taken to the secret chamber?"

"Yes, My Lord. Everything has been arranged. Meyer escorted him personally; he is currently waiting for you in the underground chamber."

"Excellent." Soren adjusted his heavy black cloak, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders before striding out into the freezing wind.

"Come. Let us go meet the man who might just be the key to cracking the secrets of Forbidden magic."