Countless "War Strongmen"—in any place, any war, they'd unleash unparalleled power. This world never lacked slaves or serfs. Brainwash them through religion, then activate the War God's miracle at the cost of burning through their life force, making them incredibly strong. Sure, most of them would die within three months, many within just one month, but that one month would be the highlight of their entire lives.

They were nothing but the lowest serfs, slaves anyone could trample on. Even the better-off ones were just peasants bullied by knights and nobles. But in this moment, they were strongmen—supernatural-level strongmen who could match knights that talented upper-class people trained three to five years to become, knights that ordinary people might never reach in their entire lives! Warriors!

The Church of War bishop watching from a distance thought exactly this. In his mind, this was a blessing from the Church of War.

Their steps were chaotic, but as they charged, the very ground trembled beneath them. All the warriors rushed forward madly. Actually, from the moment they received the baptism, they were already dead—just puppets who only knew how to follow orders and advance.

But the bishops controlling them could connect with them through some special method, giving them a hint of joy. In a daze, they imagined that the nobles who once persecuted them were right ahead. Finally, they could get revenge. Tear them apart, and they could vent all the suffering they'd endured over the years!

However, they soon discovered that even the illusory pleasure they'd traded everything for would never come.

Strange whistling sounds and constant booming from the distance filled the air. Countless unknown metal chunks came hurtling toward them at terrifying speeds. Even the bishop, a high-ranking cleric, felt his heart tremble at the sight. He had a feeling that even if he activated War divine arts, he wouldn't be able to block them.

But hey, they were just metal chunks—how much damage could they really do?

Even if each one killed three to five Knight Order soldiers, so what?

People were the one thing they had plenty of.

Then, when those metal chunks hit the ground, the bishop finally remembered—they were facing the Kingdom of Dawn! The nation where the God of Technology's teachings flowed most freely, where probably eight or nine out of every ten magic bombs were produced.

In a place like that, how could they possibly use ordinary metal chunks to attack?!

Even if those chunks were thousands of times more powerful than traditional catapults, they couldn't be that simple.

The massive shells came whistling through the air with incredible destructive force. Even high-ranking supernatural beings would take huge damage from a hit like that. What's more, this was just the first wave. Right after, several flame vortexes erupted, waves of fire sweeping across everything nearby!

That's right—several at once!

The shells themselves were huge. After carving spell models for Reduce Weight and Assault Gale to make them fly farther and hit harder, there was still plenty of surface area left. So they crammed in as many offensive spell models as possible.

With magic bombs having paved the way, whether it was magicians from Roster territory or various associations and societies in the capital, everyone was totally comfortable carving these spell models. Naturally, they could carve even more.

Black shells after black shell tore through the sky, crashing into the ground and creating deep craters while releasing massive amounts of fire that swept across the surroundings, igniting countless War Strongmen.

He didn't know if it was his imagination, but the War bishop felt like the enemy's situation was just like his side—each shell landed in exactly the right spot to ignite dozens of War Strongmen. But obviously, that was just an illusion.

With shells filling the sky like that, who needed to aim?!

The Black Knight Caius thought to himself—he'd never fought such a well-funded battle before!

In the past, every single war required him to lead his knights in constant charges, with countless knight squires waiting behind them. But now, he just needed ordinary soldiers—the most ordinary soldiers possible—to point the cannons at the enemy, load the shells, press the button, and countless shells would fly out, annihilating the enemy!

As for shell consumption? Roster territory's daily shell production was enough to completely blanket an entire county. In this situation, why would he, a knight, need to conserve anything?!

His mission was to win the war, complete the objective, and bring as many soldiers back as possible. Everything else? He didn't even think about it.

Even if it drained the kingdom's treasury completely, it didn't matter. That wasn't his problem to worry about.

"Charge! Don't stop!" The bishop watched the shells rain down like droplets, watched the flames covering the ground, his expression twisted. But he still immediately reinforced his command, making the War Strongmen continue their charge!

At the same time, he activated War divine arts, adding a layer of protection to the War Strongmen's bodies.

But what good was that protection?!

Under the bombardment of countless shells, those warriors only lasted two seconds longer.

For the first time, the War bishop truly felt the cruelty of war.

No matter what kind of power you had, you could still get caught off guard and completely annihilated by your opponent—just like right now.

But he still refused to accept it, kept giving orders, kept urging them on, kept making the War Strongmen charge forward. He kept casting War divine arts. He seemed to have fallen into madness.

He had indeed fallen into madness.

Every time he activated War divine arts, his eyes seemed to grow a shade redder.

Something was corrupting his body.

In the distance.

The Lava General watched all this, his body trembling uncontrollably. "What is this? Black Knight, what kind of weapons are these? Magic Conductor weapons have developed this far?"

Countless magic railguns and those tractor-style tanks kept bombarding the distance. Those soldiers who looked as ordinary as they come just needed to load shells and press a button to create this kind of effect.

Those fierce warriors—those strongmen enhanced by the War God—had no way to get close under this kind of attack. They'd never be able to get close. Those War divine arts being freely cast on the warriors' bodies without regard for cost wouldn't affect the battle situation in the slightest. It was just... it was just...

This former general, this former War archbishop, didn't even know what to say!

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