Chương 145: Herald City

On the other side of the realm, after attacking Goblin-Run's cavalry unit, securing their firearms, and capturing thirty cavalrymen, the old mage Fortier led his contingent of mages back to Herald City to report on their mission. Herald City was the capital of the Mage Guild—a massive metropolis boasting a population of 800, 000! It was the largest city in the human world, the most densely populated, and the undisputed pinnacle of human technological advancement!

Among Herald City's 800, 000 residents, 100, 000 were registered mages, while the remainder consisted of their families and servants. If organized, these mages represented a force capable of shaking the entire human realm. Fortunately, rather than playing games of map-painting conquest, the esteemed mages were far more intrigued by the pursuit of Magicology.

Herald City housed thousands of mage towers, most of which served as research institutes and magic academies, while a small fraction were equipped with magic tide observation apparatuses. Though called a "small fraction," it still amounted to over a hundred towers. These devices formed a vast observational array, serving as a vital channel for humanity to study the flow and behavior of natural mana!

To support the research of so many non-productive mages, the Mage Guild controlled 120, 000 square kilometers of land, populated by 10 million subjects. These people were tasked with tilling the soil or manufacturing luxury goods to sustain the lavish, noble lifestyles of the mages. Yet the land occupied by the Mage Guild was far from fertile, yielding meager agricultural harvests.

People had long found it baffling: the lands of the Four Human Kingdoms were universally fertile, so why was this small pocket sandwiched in the middle a barren wasteland? Why had the mages chosen such infertile land to establish their Guild in the first place? To feed such a vast population and maintain the mages' extravagant standard of living, the Mage Guild exported precious magical items to the Four Human Kingdoms and introduced a advisor system.

Nobles and figures of power in need of aid would hire mages as advisors to handle matters beyond the reach of mundane, secular power—or treat them as walking medical kits, regularly receiving the cleansing grace of the Healing Spell. Such practices allowed the mages to build a formidable reputation across the Four Human Kingdoms. The four nations, whether voluntarily or out of necessity, aligned themselves with the Mage Guild, providing all manner of material support.

Over thousands of years, this gave rise to the somewhat distorted political entity that was the Mage Guild today. After decades of travel—or rather, a journey spanning dozens of days—Fortier led his convoy to Herald City, passing through the Sage's Gate. Herald City was protected by a wall 50 meters in height, with the Sage's Gate standing as its iconic landmark.

Flanking the gate in long rows were hundreds of life-sized statues, each depicting a mage who had made monumental contributions to magical research and earned the title of "Sage"—the ultimate objects of veneration for all spellcasters. Stepping through the gate into Herald City, what met the eye were immaculate marble pavings, pristine streets, and towering stone structures reaching seven to eight stories high. The sheer height of these buildings alone demonstrated the sheer sophistication of the Mage Guild.

In this era, mundane buildings rarely exceeded a single story, and even the residences of high nobility were capped at three or four stories due to architectural limitations. The old mage Fortier drew in a deep breath, feeling that the very air of Herald City smelled sweeter and distinctly more academic than the world outside. He turned to his subordinate mages and announced, "Everyone has worked hard on this journey. You are dismissed. Take a week's rest, then report back to your respective mage towers."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The mages instantly burst into joyous cheers. Finally, the damned mission was over, and they could thoroughly enjoy the pleasures of Herald City! With the party disbanded, Fortier proceeded alone toward a colossal mage tower. Guided by a servant, he ascended to the topmost floor and stood before an office door. Adjusting his robes, Fortier knocked lightly on the door, only pushing it open upon hearing a raspy "Come in."

Inside the office sat a mage so withered he seemed near his dying breath, reviewing documents on a sofa behind a massive desk. His face was deeply lined with wrinkles, looking well over eighty years old.

"Mentor Clement." Fortier bowed deeply before the mage, who was even older than himself, his posture reflecting genuine, heartfelt reverence. The mage named Clement let out a low murmur, setting aside his papers to take a puff from his pipe. He glanced at Fortier through cloudy eyes, a warm, affectionate glint hidden within.

"Ah, Fortier. You're back. Come, sit and speak." He gestured with his pipe toward the sofa opposite him, and Fortier immediately took a seat, stiff and disciplined.

"Ah... Fortier, my most brilliant student. I heard your mission ended in failure, and several members of your team even perished. What happened?"

"Teacher, I was just about to report the details to you." Fortier produced a pre-written report and handed it to Clement, slowly recounting the sequence of events as he did so. Clement listened to Fortier's narrative while flipping through the document, offering occasional grunts of acknowledgment. Clement read at a remarkable pace—clearly a seasoned administrator. Fortier had barely reached the part where he was manually defusing the mana bombs when Clement finished reviewing the report.

He interrupted Fortier's briefing, flipping the report back to the page detailing the goblins' unique weapons, his expression turning grave. He tapped the page with his pipe stem and asked, "What is this?" Fortier glanced at the content on the paper, his enthusiasm instantly reigniting.

"Teacher! That was the greatest discovery of my entire expedition! The goblins utilized an exceptionally potent weapon! I managed to launch an ambush and procure these weapons to conduct research, and the findings were simply mind-boggling! This weapon, completely devoid of magical involvement and utterly crude in design, can be produced in simple workshops—yet the explosive power it unleashes is staggering! Teacher, this is a monumental discovery! Secular weaponry capable of rivaling magic!

This might finally shift the mentors' deeply ingrained prejudice against Secular Kinematics! The developmental prospects of Secular Kinematics are undoubtedly far superior to..."" Cough! Cough! Cough!!" Clement burst into a fit of violent coughing, cutting Fortier off and glaring at him with a stern, warning gaze. Clement extended a withered finger, pointing it through the air toward Fortier.

"Fortier, you are my most outstanding student and my chosen heir. Before long, I shall shed this decaying mortal coil and allow my mana to return to the natural tides. You will inherit my mantle, my mage tower, and my life's knowledge. I do not wish to see you cut down prematurely over disputes regarding academic direction. Do you understand what I mean?" Fortier's eyelids twitched as he lowered his head.

He knew his words had touched upon the bitter struggle between Magicology and Secular Kinematics—an absolute taboo.

"My apologies, Teacher. I spoke out of turn." In recent years, magical development had hit a bottleneck, lacking any significant breakthroughs for decades. As mentors began to feel aimless, a few turned their attention to Secular Kinematics, hoping to find a breakthrough for Magicology within natural sciences. However, the mainstream body of mages was hardly foolish—wasn't such behavior akin to digging up the very foundation of magic itself?

Mages enjoyed their exalted status precisely because of their monopoly on spellcasting. If research fields like Secular Kinematics—which required no spellcasting whatsoever—were allowed to flourish, wouldn't the social standing of mages plummet? Consequently, Secular Kinematics faced collective, relentless suppression from the magi hierarchy. Should any mage attempt to study natural kinematics, they would be morally condemned as neglecting their duties to pursue crooked, improper paths.

And if one actually produced tangible results, the iron fist of the law would descend, slapping them with labels of "forbidden research"—suspending their projects at best, or throwing them into prison at worst. In short, the Mage Guild enforced its own brand of political correctness! If you dared to conduct research in Secular Kinematics, you were deemed "incorrect"—and anyone who was "incorrect" had to be corrected out of existence!

Seeing his beloved apprentice bow his head like this, Clement knew the young man hadn't truly taken the warning to heart, and let out a soft sigh.

"My child, pursuing knowledge is not wrong in itself, but people and societies operate on self-interest. If you encroach upon the interests of others, you must be prepared to face their onslaught. I do not wish to see you end up like that old fool West-Hayden. Sigh... West-Hayden, what a tragedy. The magi-prosthetics were on the verge of mass production, yet why did he insist on pursuing complete non-magicalization?

In the end, he turned the entire world into his enemy, and now no one even knows where he has fled to. Sigh..." He sighed repeatedly, tapping his pipe stem against the report on the desk.

"Rewrite the report. Omit all mention of the goblins' weapons. Didn't you mention in the report that you captured a few goblins? Hand them over to that lunatic who enjoys studying goblins, and let this matter end right here. Take a week's rest, then report back to me. I have a very fascinating research project underway recently, and we might just achieve a major breakthrough..."