Mage? Magic Engineer!

While preparing to take over the occupied territories, Bayern began adjusting its production in coordination with the Empire.

"From this day forward, all production lines will exclusively produce logistics transport vehicles. The passenger car division is temporarily suspended, and its personnel will be reassigned to the logistics division."

The Vox Automobile Factory received new orders. The production line for private passenger cars was halted. Now, the factory was focused entirely on producing a single type of vehicle—one with a large cargo bed that could transport both supplies and personnel.

The Transmutation Dust Collectors were gathered and consolidated. Dozens of refineries were built in Bayern and behind the Empire’s defense lines. In its highest-density solid form, the dust was used to fill Forbidden Magic Devices. When combined with Alchemy Potions, it produced a solvent that was then transported in barrels as fuel for the Air Car transports.

These vehicles, along with trains, hauled truckloads of guns and ammunition out of Bayern and brought back raw materials. They also crisscrossed the Empire’s territory, transporting soldiers.

On the streets of the Empire’s cities, any loitering youths were seized by conscription squads. Many of them would be the first Empire People to experience "Bayern-made" transport.

"Sir, I only know how to paint, I don’t know how to fight!" Olaf said, showing his slender, paint-stained hands. ’If I’d known the conscription squads were out on the streets, I wouldn’t have set up my stall. Then again, there was hardly any business anyway. But no business means no bread, and that Elf who runs the bakery is a real...’

"So, you’re not in school, and you don’t work in a factory?"

A slight blush appeared on Olaf’s pale face. "That’s right, sir, but I earn my own keep. As a painter, I can do portraits, but landscapes are my specialty. Would you like a postcard...?"

"This junk can’t be eaten, and it can’t kill the enemy!" The military policeman kicked over Olaf’s art supplies and shoved him into the truck. "Go to the barracks and learn a real skill!"

"Sir, I can’t join the army... I love the Empire, but I have flat feet..."

"We don’t care about that anymore!" The military policeman locked the truck’s tailgate as if penning up livestock, a shameless grin on his face. "Besides, wars these days aren’t won by who runs the fastest. And your feet will just rot in the trenches soon enough anyway."

Youths like Olaf, who were "voluntarily" conscripted, were fortunate enough to receive the Empire’s "warm hospitality." Not only were they gifted uniforms and other items, but they were also treated to their first-ever rides on a truck and a train.

Olaf was startled by the train’s departure whistle. The comrade next to him was more worldly. "When the train whistles, it’s about to leave... See, we’re already moving." He shared some trivia with Olaf: if it belches black smoke then white smoke and is loud, it’s an Empire-made train; if it only lets out white smoke and is quiet and fast, it’s from Bayern...

After some basic training, these greenhorns were dispatched to the eastern sector of the Helmut Defense Line.

The Empire’s solid and reliable cluster of fortresses was just a few kilometers behind them. The Empire hadn’t completely abandoned the territory in front of the line; a few lines of trenches reinforced with barbed wire served as a buffer. Unfortunately, Olaf and his fellow soldiers were part of that buffer.

Olaf had originally thought the trenches were just a few ditches, but once he arrived, he realized they were far more complex than he could have imagined. They contained all sorts of facilities, including the essential kitchens and medical stations, and even a recreation room where they could play cards to pass the time when not on duty.

But not today. On a day when the cold autumn wind howled across the surface, Olaf had expected to stand guard as usual, then continue to rot on standby in the trench. But the alarm suddenly blared.

The officer gave a passionate pre-battle speech. "Loyal, brave, and resolute soldiers! I know you’ve been stuck in these muddy ditches long enough! Now is the time to fight for the glory of the Empire, and for yourselves!"

Olaf listened to the battle plan in a daze. Apparently, the main force of the Empire Army, deep in northeastern Valois, had successfully surrounded the National Guard. Now, about thirty thousand enemy soldiers had been driven toward their defensive line.

Based on intelligence gathered from Airships and an analysis of the enemy’s movements, Command had determined that these thirty thousand men would soon be forced into contact with the buffer zone where Olaf’s line was positioned.

The National Guard arrived right on cue, but Olaf saw no sign that they were fleeing in disarray. On the contrary, through the barbed wire, he could see their spirited charge.

The defenders fired in volleys, felling row after row of attackers. The men on the other side seemed endless. Olaf was sincerely grateful for the gun in his hands—he’d already noticed that his side’s rifles could fire five shots in a row, while the enemy’s "fire pokers" could only manage one shot per reload.

Combined with the obstacle of the barbed wire, the thirty-thousand-man breakout attempt was a failure. According to their officer, Olaf and the others just had to wait for the main Empire Army force to arrive from the enemy’s rear to form a pincer movement and annihilate them.

However, just as he thought this, an unforgettable scene unfolded:

The enemy abandoned their charge. One by one, tin-plated cans were thrown over, though they didn’t look like food cans. Soon, their nozzles began to spew a thick green fog that threatened to fill the entire trench.

"Damn it, they’re playing that game!" Olaf heard a familiar voice—it was the comrade who knew so much about trains. The fog had now enveloped them, and they could no longer see each other. Just as Olaf was about to ask what was happening, a sharp, stinging pain assaulted his mouth, eyes, and nose.

The entire world turned a strange, toxic, yellowish-green.

’No, I’m going to die...’ Just as Olaf’s consciousness began to fade, the green fog was suddenly pushed aside by an invisible force. A transparent bubble formed, shielding his head from the poison gas.

"Sorry, I’m only an Apprentice. Casting an Air Filter Bubble takes time..." The knowledgeable comrade was a Caster. Olaf stared, stunned, as he got a clear look at the other soldier. His steel helmet had fallen off, revealing pointed ears that were red from being confined. It was an Elf—the very kind Olaf often cursed.

The sounds of gunfire and cannons didn’t stop. Olaf clutched his rifle, tears streaming down his face. Even if the Final Empire was victorious in this battle of annihilation, he felt no glory or joy.

...

Although the Empire Army’s operations on the eastern front achieved their intended objectives, wiping out a large number of the Valois people’s effective forces, the threat to the Imperial Capital grew with each passing day.

This was because the Lowland Duchy, the Empire’s coastal gateway, had surrendered to the Wa-I Alliance Army.

As the greatest hero of the campaign, General Paul was the first to speak at the strategy meeting. "We should abandon the tactic of concentrating our forces and charging at all costs! The Empire’s defensive measures are now sufficient to stop a human wave. Especially since when we concentrate our superior numbers, the enemy can just as easily concentrate their own forces to defend against us."

The other generals disagreed with Paul. "What else can we do? Go back to relying on cavalry?"

"Of course, cavalry must be used effectively, but the focus isn’t on the branch of service." Paul looked at these old generals as if they were idiots, but he still had to patiently explain the new tactics he had devised.

"Next, we will be facing the Empire Army’s homeland defense. They’re accustomed to deploying along long fronts and building fortifications. Relying on their powerful logistics and transport capabilities, as well as their air units and familiarity with the terrain, they will undoubtedly be able to concentrate their forces faster than we can.

"In other words, unless we have an absolute numerical advantage, the old human wave tactics are doomed to fail.

"If that’s the case, then let’s make it so the enemy can’t identify our main point of effort! We should operate in corps, using giant war machines as a vanguard to launch simultaneous, separate breakthroughs all along the enemy’s defensive line.

"The breakthrough units will hold the gap open. Cavalry will rapidly advance through it into the enemy’s rear to seize their artillery positions and supply depots. Support troops will also pour into the breach. One part will push laterally to shatter the enemy’s resistance, while the other pushes deep to link up with the cavalry."

Compared to the human wave charge, which was like a "great battering ram against a wall," Paul believed it was better to increase the army’s "sharpness." This meant abandoning the idea of collapsing the enemy’s entire line at once. Instead, they should attempt multiple breakthroughs, with fast-moving units prioritizing rear-echelon targets while follow-up forces struck at the openings.

There was no shortage of generals present with higher ranks than him. Some fiercely objected and others scoffed, but most fell into silent contemplation, ultimately giving their approval to the decorated young man.