Chapter 533 — The Angres Loom
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
In the spacious, brightly lit magical laboratory, researchers in standard-issue mage robes gathered around the experimental bench. Bright light from the mana crystals poured down from directly above, clearly illuminating the object on the bench—on a square sheet of purple copper, one foot to a side, arcane elemental runes and mana-conducting lines were arranged into an orderly magical array. The nodes between the arrays flickered like breathing, forming a complete mana circuit, and with every cycle of that circuit, it steadily discharged energy outward.
Cyclical, stable and sustained, efficient and concise.
The robed mages craned their necks, watching that metal sheet with delight and excitement, tinged with a hint of tension. Even the elder mages held their breath along with the young ones, as though afraid a single breath might disturb the mana circuit of those runes. In the silent laboratory, only one young black-haired mage was clearly calling out the numbers: "Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty..."
Gradually, some among the surrounding mages broke the silence, very quietly counting along with her: "Thirty-one, thirty-two..."
At the last few numbers, everyone could not help but speak aloud. In that vast laboratory, a crowd of the most brilliant minds chanted in unison like apprentices just learning to count: "Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one... forty-two!!"
The count stopped dead at forty-two. After a brief silence, almost everyone broke into cheers: "Forty-two! One cycle complete!" "Stable operation, no interference!" "We did it!"
Amid the jubilant Imperial mages, the young black-haired mage Mary clapped along with everyone else, somewhat reserved and awkward. She lifted her head and looked toward the only person present who was not cheering—the aged high mage standing by the experimental bench, still draped in that heavy, worn-out robe. While everyone was celebrating, his expression was as though carved from stone, like an outsider with no connection to the scene at all.
Only after everyone had cheered for half a minute did the old mage slightly raise his hand.
The crowd around the bench quickly fell silent. One by one they turned to look at the old man in the black robe, and in each of their gazes there gradually grew a measure of respect.
In the world of mages, only knowledge and power are capital worthy of respect, and this old man named Daniel possessed both.
At least in this moment, everyone in the laboratory no longer cared about the writhing artificial nerve cords behind Daniel, nor about this old mage's unpredictable temper and his caustic, cutting manner of speech.
"This is the Magic Net—the Typhons' own Magic Net," Daniel's sinister eyes swept across every face present. On his deeply wrinkled face there seemed to be squeezed out a trace of a smile; though he was smiling, that smile somehow carried a hint of mockery. But his eccentric temper was well known, so no one would doubt it. "Now we have cracked the Ansethians' secret, but this is only the first step."
The surrounding mages nodded one after another. Someone chimed in: "Yes, we still need to find a way to miniaturize it, and how to mass-produce it quickly..."
"The Ansethians' Magic Net units are said to be only palm-sized, yet their efficiency matches this big thing we've built," Daniel nodded. "So the next goal is how to shrink it. As for mass production... we have already trial-produced the repulsion-piston engine, and now we have a stable energy source. As long as the first stamping press starts running, the Magic Net and the machines will naturally be able to reproduce themselves."
"Using machines to produce machines..." said a white-haired mage with heartfelt admiration. "Master Daniel, you truly are a genius."