Mage? Magic Engineer!

"Only these?" Gregory feigned surprise at the animals brought before him.

"Hmm?"

"Your Majesty, I mean that, to be safe, it would be best to test it on a human." Gregory was extremely confident. He first had a Guard stir the Potion a few times with a silver spoon, showing them its still-shining surface. "It hasn’t turned black."

Next, the monk instructed the Guard to pour three cups and feed them to a rabbit and a dog, respectively.

The rabbit looked bewildered and drank very little. The dog was forced to down an entire cup and began to bark madly.

There was still one cup left.

Gregory smiled and walked over to the Guard. He suddenly grabbed the man’s arm.

"AHHH—"

The scream pierced everyone’s eardrums. No one had expected this gaunt, alcoholic fellow to possess such immense strength, managing to break the poor Guard’s bone in an instant with his bare hands.

SWISH. Every gun barrel swiveled to point at the monk.

"I broke your right arm. If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life as a cripple, drink this." Gregory offered up the third cup of the Potion.

It was emerald green, almost indistinguishable from the first one he had presented. The Guard’s mind was at war. On one hand, he feared that if he refused this Potion, he would truly be left disabled. On the other, he had an instinctual aversion to this dangerous, sinister man. ’He’s a devil!’

"Drink," the Emperor commanded.

The Guard had no choice but to part his trembling lips and lean toward the cup. A look of delight appeared on Gregory’s face as he slowly poured the liquid into the Guard’s mouth. In that moment, he almost looked "benevolent."

’Strange, there’s no alcohol in it.’ The moment the Potion went down his throat, it felt like the strongest distilled liquor.

Then, the burning pain spread from his esophagus throughout his entire body, especially to the injured area. The drinker felt his shattered right arm burning, while his stomach and other parts of his body with old, lingering injuries were also in extreme agony.

From an onlooker’s perspective, beads of sweat quickly formed on the Guard’s forehead. His face contorted in extreme agony as he collapsed to the ground, curling up and beginning to writhe.

The Emperor’s brow furrowed.

Gregory pinned the Guard with his foot, his large, talon-like hand accurately grabbing the man’s right wrist and yanking him up. "Enough. You are now perfectly healthy. Please resume the decorum befitting your duties."

The Guard’s bones creaked as he was lifted, and then he was shocked to realize that all his pain was gone, including the pain from his previously shattered right arm.

"This... This is incredible!" The soldier couldn’t believe it and swung his arm a few more times.

The Emperor was also somewhat stunned. He immediately looked back—the Forbidden Magic Device was still running, emitting an annoying noise and an unsettling arc of light.

"Your Majesty, just as before, the decision to drink it is entirely in your hands." Gregory once again stated humbly, "However, there is more than enough of the Potion this time. You still only need to drink one cup’s worth—the same cup as before, or a precisely measured seventy-seven grams."

"The rest is also at your disposal. My suggestion is..." He lowered his body so no one else could see his eyes. "You could bestow it upon your loyal subjects."

"..." The Emperor’s voice also carried a faint tremor. He had already pulled his right hand from the Empress’s grasp and was now unconsciously pressing his mutilated left arm. "My condition... even the Mages of the Tower of Forest were powerless. They used many terms, something about aftereffects, nerves..."

"And I can. It is just as you see: their Mages, servants of false gods, cannot perform their deceptive tricks within your device. And yet, I can."

"It is not due to my own prowess, but because of the Divine Spirit I believe in. His love is so great that it can heal all things. Regrettably, not everyone can understand and bear this love."

"We won’t discuss that for now. You’ve done well. To accomplish this with the device active is beyond my expectations..." He suddenly thought of something and waved at someone in the crowd of onlookers.

William II was signaling to the imperial Caster: You may leave.

"It is my greatest honor, Your Majesty. However, I dare to offer you some suggestions, so that I may better serve you... and the Empire..."

Later, the range of the Forbidden Magic device in the Imperial Palace was expanded by a large margin. However, rumors said that the device in the Core Area had been removed, and that the Emperor often kept the palace gates tightly shut, supposedly to engage in some kind of Witchcraft.

Regarding such rumors, the upper echelons of the Empire initially thought them to be nonsense, as they knew this young Emperor detested Extraordinary Power above all else.

It wasn’t until more and more circumstantial evidence mounted that figures like the Empire Speaker, the New Prime Minister, and the Emperor’s friend—Marshal Helmuth, whose friendship was rapidly depreciating with the losing war effort—felt it necessary to investigate and subtly question His Majesty.

However, these individuals soon had nearly all their energy consumed by another major event:

Something even more terrible than the Valois people’s army at the gates of the Imperial Capital had occurred—a rebellion!

At first, there were sporadic mutinies among front-line soldiers. Unlike the coups attempted by low- and mid-ranking officers, they did not claim to be acting for the sake of the Empire’s survival. These soldiers’ demands were simple: they wanted a ceasefire.

If it were only that, even if the scale gradually expanded, the Empire was confident it could suppress them.

This was because the General Staff Headquarter judged that the Valois people weren’t acting out of kindness by leaving them some breathing room; rather, they were having major problems of their own. In addition to material shortages, the turmoil in Valuva had reached a new peak. There were even rumors that the Republic’s "First Citizen," His Excellency Maxim, had disappeared.

In other words, the Republic was also at a standstill. They posed no immediate threat, which would allow the Empire Army to deal with the mutineers at their leisure.

Unfortunately, the old masters in the Imperial Capital had misjudged. It wasn’t just the soldiers who had accumulated intense discontent. The farmers forced to surrender their grain, the petty townsfolk burdened with special war taxes and unstable lives, and the great merchants bankrupted by the crash of war bonds and the financial market... None of these people were living well. All of them had a fire in their hearts.

...

「In the capital of Pomerania, inside one of the ubiquitous beer halls.」

"Soldiers! Citizens! All citizens of the Empire! Look at our country! Is it still worthy of our pride? Can it still deliver on its promises to us?"

"The Valois people fought their way to the Oder River and have now voluntarily withdrawn. The pot-bellied generals think it’s their own achievement, but have we won even a single victory since the beginning of winter?"

"An Evil God has destroyed a major city of hundreds of thousands. The tragedy has drawn the world’s attention, yet the mouthpieces of the Empire are all silent! The entire nation remains indifferent! Must we wait for a similar disaster to befall our own homes?"

"The Empire has reached its most critical moment. Please, do not say anymore, ’I am of the Pomian people,’ ’I am of the Fortenburg People,’ ’I am of the Bayern people’... I ask you all to unite and save it! If the Valois people can save their own country, we can do even better!"

The speaker, Pavel Crook, waved his speech notes, rousing the agreement of many in the crowd. His face was flushed, his chest heaved, and he said to himself: ’Well done, Crook, you did it!’

Similar speeches suddenly erupted across the Empire—in front-line military camps, in various cities and ports... A great deal of propaganda material and copies of *Royal Palace Secrets* also spread rapidly through the same channels. The rebels’ appeals could even be seen on the final pages of pirated books.

In no time, the "National Salvation Alliance" became famous.

And its founders were all "Nth Emperors"—they had money and connections. They could not only recruit front-line soldiers but also influence many mid- and low-ranking officers. This fact had not yet been publicized by any media outlet.

As for the masses that these young masters were disconnected from... a mysterious figure provided technical support in certain areas. The route for this support ran from Valuva to Bayern. Some of the young masters who weren’t in the army received professional training and accompanying propaganda services, making up for this deficiency.

The "BIG BOSS" behind the mysterious Valon put down his newspaper. Recalling the list with the bloody handprints, he complained to Andre:

"What National Salvation Alliance? It’s clearly the ’Father’s Worry Alliance.’ The fathers of these little masters are still serving in high-ranking positions right beside His Majesty William."

"Are there any reports of high officials or Great Nobles in the Imperial Capital having heart attacks?"

Andre shook his head. "None."

Rorschach knocked on the table. "If not, then step it up. Send more funds and supplies to the Father’s Worry Alliance."