Trenches, Guns, and Magic

To Paulus's question, Morin answered without hesitation.

Initially, he hadn't thought of using a "silver sword," but rather wondered if they could make specialized "silver bullets" to deal with vampires.

"I also thought about using metallic silver directly to make bullets, either silver-plating them or making solid silver bullets..."

Morin sighed, leaned back in his chair, and threw his hands up.

"Think about how convenient that would be. Issue a hundred rounds to each soldier in the main assault force, and just spray down those monstrosities in the city. But there's a huge problem with that..."

The three men in the tent looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

In their eyes, Colonel Morin, whose knowledge seemed abnormally extensive compared to his former "playboy" persona, always managed to provide explanations from unexpected angles that sounded bizarre at first but made perfect sense upon reflection.

Sometimes, the three even suspected Morin used this bizarre knowledge to hit on girls.

"You guys have dealt with pure silver to some extent. You must know this metal is actually quite soft, and its melting point is terribly low, around 960 degrees Celsius..."

As Morin spoke, he picked up a pen and paper and began sketching: "Take the MP14 submachine gun we have the most of right now. When the propellant burns in the chamber, the instantaneous temperature far exceeds that number."

Hearing this, Kleist chimed in: "So the bullet will melt inside the barrel?"

"Melting would be the best-case scenario."

Morin shook his head and continued: "The bullet is pushed from a standstill by gunpowder, accelerating instantly to hundreds of meters per second. It also has to be squeezed by the rifling in the barrel to spin. The friction and pressure are terrifying."

"So whether it's a solid silver bullet or a silver-plated bullet, the instant it squeezes into the rifling, the surface silver layer will immediately soften or even melt entirely."

As he finished his sketches, Morin showed them to the three men, looking like he was giving a physics lesson to three senior officers.

And this knowledge wasn't something he came up with himself. When he considered "silver bullets" earlier, the system's [Research] interface stubbornly refused to generate blueprints, and ultimately provided some simple "simulation results."

"What happens to the melted silver? Under immense pressure, it gets scraped off like butter and smears onto the inner wall of the barrel."

"When that happens, the mass of the bullet itself changes, and the air seal in the barrel is ruined! The velocity of the bullet leaving the muzzle will be severely compromised. It's debatable whether it could even hit a person at a slightly longer distance..."

Morin put the pencil down, looking at the thoughtful expressions on the three men's faces, and added the most critical point.

"What's more serious is that after you fire one round, a pile of silver slag is left in the barrel... When the next bullet is chambered and slams directly into this silver slag, what will happen?"

"Chamber explosion," Manstein blurted out almost instantly.

"Exactly, a chamber explosion." Morin snapped his fingers. "So the 'silver bullet' plan is very difficult to realize before we have dedicated firearms experts and suitable materials..."

Morin did indeed feel it was a great pity. At this moment, he finally thought of Helga, far away in Dresden.

If that equally "super-sized" genius firearm designer girl were here, she could definitely think of some solutions.

Unfortunately, although the Kampfgruppe's logistics section currently had "gunsmiths" specifically assigned to assist with weapon maintenance, they were clearly better at maintenance than modification.

Therefore, under these circumstances, considering the equipment in the industrial city of Ploiești and the surrounding blacksmith shops, making "silver cold weapons" and "prefabricated silver shrapnel" was clearly much more viable.

The tent fell silent.

Kleist, Manstein, and Paulus were all digesting this information.

They indeed hadn't thought there were so many technicalities involved. They simply thought that since silver countered vampires, making bullets out of it was the logical next step.

"What a pity," Kleist shook his head. "If we could solve this problem, we'd be much more confident dealing with those things."

"So, we have no choice but to use the dumb method."

Morin sat up straight again and continued: "Make some silver cold weapons, or simply turn the metallic silver into prefabricated shrapnel, stuff it into explosive satchels, and deliver it to them using directional blasts... Although it sounds a bit crude, it's much more viable than making silver bullets."

Speaking to this point, Morin also shared his "speculation" with the group.

"I suspect right now that behind those Blood Thralls in the city, there must be a High-Tier Vampire acting as a leader... And as I said before, it's highly likely to be King Ferdinand I of Romania himself."

This speculation made the atmosphere in the tent even heavier. The monarch of a nation being a vampire leader himself... this level of fantasy was on par with the undead scourge the Gauls unleashed.

"According to some ancient vampire legends, perhaps as long as we can take out this 'leader,' we can fundamentally resolve this crisis."

Morin's gaze swept over the three as he revealed his core plan.

"So my idea is, wait until our large reinforcement force arrives. While officially launching a general offensive on Bucharest, I will personally lead an elite assault unit, under the cover of the main force's attack, straight into the city to attempt a decapitation strike on this 'leader'."

"Colonel! Although we've said this many times... this is still too risky!"

Kleist voiced his opposition almost immediately: "You are the commander of the entire Kampfgruppe! It was one thing to personally conduct combat reconnaissance, but you've finally sat safely in the rear for a while, why do you want to charge in again... Besides, the situation in the city is unclear. We still haven't fully grasped the numbers and strength of those Blood Thralls."

Morin looked at Kleist, knowing the other party spoke out of concern and duty as his deputy.

"Ewald... I understand your concerns."

Morin smiled, but his tone was firm. Just as he had repeatedly persuaded the three before, he said: "But think about it, in the entire Kampfgruppe, who else besides me can fight those Blood Thralls head-on?"

This sentence silenced Kleist.

Indeed, based on Morin's description from last night, the combat capabilities of those Blood Thralls far exceeded normal humans. Ordinary soldiers had almost no ability to fight back against them.

And Morin was currently the only "monster" in the Kampfgruppe who had undergone potion enhancement and possessed spellcasting abilities.

"Of course, I'm not saying we just blindly charge in right now."

Morin waved his hand, signaling Kleist and the other two not to be so tense.

"I will definitely wait until our reinforcements arrive. We'll use artillery and the armored airship's bombs to plow Bucharest a few times first, letting those vampires get a good taste of the baptism of steel and gunpowder."

"When they're blown dizzy and the city defenses are a chaotic mess, then I'll lead the team in.."

Hearing Morin say this, Kleist's expression finally softened a bit.

Using the Kampfgruppe's superior firepower to conduct saturation strikes could indeed maximally weaken the enemy's effective strength and create opportunities for the assault squad.

Of course, Morin didn't voice another thought in his head:

That was to wait until Klaus and the batch of "super soldiers" who had also undergone modification arrived at the front line, or even until more enhanced soldiers appeared in the future...

This tactic of concentrating supernatural units into spearhead forces to conduct focused breakthroughs on high-value enemy targets under the covering fire of conventional forces would very likely become a standard operational model.

An era belonging to enhanced soldiers might just be inaugurated with this battle against the vampires.

After sharing his thoughts, Morin shifted the topic to the immediate preparations at hand. He looked at Manstein.

"Erich, how is the liaison work with the locals going? Have there been any problems? Especially regarding discipline."

Aside from combat, this was the issue Morin cared about the most.

After all, to the civilians of the Kingdom of Romania, these Saxon troops were undeniable "invaders."

Perhaps, given the significant impact of the vampire crisis in Bucharest, the Kampfgruppe might gain some "righteousness," but at least for now, their relationship with the civilians remained delicate.

Actually, shortly after transmigrating to this world, Morin was somewhat uncomfortable with the Saxon Empire's various interventions in other countries' affairs.

However, thinking back to the actions of a certain superpower in the world before his transmigration, Morin quickly made peace with it.

"If those 'freedom nation' can do it, why can't I?"

Meanwhile, hearing Morin's question, Manstein, who was responsible for this area, immediately answered: "Rest assured, Colonel. The soldiers I sent to Ploiești to communicate with the locals are all from the instruction unit. Their discipline is absolutely impeccable. They wouldn't dare embarrass you or the Kampfgruppe."

He paused, then continued reporting.

Initially, the local Romanians were indeed unwilling to help, being both fearful and suspicious.

However, the instruction unit soldiers quickly noticed that the civilians remaining in the city were generally lacking food and supplies.

Upon learning this, Manstein had them change their strategy, using canned goods, grain, and some valuables in exchange for their labor.

Morin nodded, very satisfied with this handling method; at least it counted as bartering. What he worried about most was his soldiers running amok in the occupied area. If an incident occurred where they had to execute their own men for disciplinary issues, that would be the biggest headache.

"As long as there are no disciplinary problems, that's good."

Morin pondered for a moment, then asked: "However, do we have enough supplies for ourselves? To exchange food for labor, we must first ensure the supply for our own soldiers."

Hearing this question, a bizarre smile suddenly appeared on Manstein's face, and even Kleist and Paulus beside him couldn't help but chuckle.

"Colonel, we aren't using the supplies brought by our Kampfgruppe."

"Huh?" Morin was stunned for a moment, not quite catching on.

Manstein cleared his throat and explained: "I also initially planned to use the Kampfgruppe's reserve rations to trade... Later, chatting with the locals, I learned that the main reason for the severe shortage of supplies and skyrocketing prices in Ploiești was that a few major landowners and merchants who hadn't evacuated were hoarding massive amounts of grain and goods..."

"And then?" Morin became interested; he had even guessed the subsequent development of events.

"And then I personally led some men to 'negotiate'."

Manstein's tone was flat, but Morin could tell there was a story behind it.

"As a result, I don't know where the other side got their confidence. Perhaps because the 'discipline' displayed by the instruction unit soldiers made them feel we didn't dare do anything to them... they actually demanded an astronomical price, wanting us to spend money to buy their hoarded goods."

"I was so angry I laughed..."

Manstein threw his hands up, his facial expression quite colorful: "Since talking nicely didn't work, I had no choice but to communicate in a way they found easier to understand."

"I simply had the combat engineers blow open the doors of those large warehouses and 'requisitioned' everything usable inside—cornmeal, cheese, dried meat, coffee beans..."

"Hahahaha!" The four men in the command tent couldn't help but laugh out loud.

After the four finally stopped laughing and restored their seriousness, Morin looked at Kleist again.

"Ewald, when is our next radio transmission window?"

Kleist glanced at his watch: "Colonel, the next communication window with the rear is in two hours."

"Excellent."

Morin nodded. "Draft a telegram to the rear yourself, specifically targeting the armored airship field maintenance base in the Austro-Hungarian Empire... Tell them we are in urgent need of large quantities of silver here, and tell them to figure out a way to bring several more tons when they depart."

"Several tons?" Kleist was somewhat surprised, but still immediately complied, "Yes, Colonel! I will handle it immediately."

"Mhm. I trust Lieutenant Colonel Andreas will definitely find a way~"

With that, Morin turned his gaze to Paulus.

"Friedrich, the leaflets I asked you to prepare for the civilians and defenders in Bucharest, how is the printing going?"

Paulus immediately pulled a document from a folder and handed it to Morin: "Colonel, the field map printing office attached to the Kampfgruppe worked through the night and completed the master plate early this morning... We have pretty much entered the mass printing process now."

"Based on the efficiency of the manual lever-driven lithographic press equipped at the field map printing office, we can print about four to five hundred copies an hour... So by tomorrow morning, we will have a sufficient quantity of leaflets for the aviation corps to drop."

Morin nodded upon hearing this.

Ever since returning from Bucharest, he had been thinking about whether there was a way to break the defenders' will to resist without using force.

Exposing the vampires in the city via leaflets was clearly a way to incite rebellion among civilians and even shake the morale of the garrison.

However, initially, he was worried that by the time the rear printed the leaflets and sent them over, it would be too late.

Unexpectedly, Paulus later reminded him that the Kampfgruppe brought its own field map printing office.

The "lithography" technique used by the field map printing office was invented by an Austrian at the end of the 18th century.

It roughly involved using a type of limestone special to Saxony, drawing the content in reverse with oil-based ink, and then applying an acidic solution to corrode the blank areas without graphics, leaving the graphic parts slightly raised. This created a simple printing plate.

This technology was originally used to rapidly print combat maps and order documents for field units. Now, using it to print surrender leaflets was simply perfect.

After receiving Paulus's affirmative reply, Morin quickly calculated the current situation in his mind.

The production of silver weapons to deal with the vampires was being rushed. The surrender leaflets to shake enemy morale would fill the sky tomorrow. The "super-sized cup" of reinforcements was already on the way.

The overall situation could be said to be completely under the Kampfgruppe's control.

The only variable was whether Ferdinand I in Bucharest, and the "Bloodstone" secret society mentioned in the [Intelligence], still had any other trump cards hidden.

"Please, just don't pull any more crazy stunts..."

Morin rubbed his temples, silently muttering in his heart.

"Just these vampires are already enough of a headache..."

At the same time, in a traditional blacksmith shop in Ploiești, some strange weapons were gradually taking shape under the glow of the forge fire.

Although Ploiești was a city famous for radiant crystal mining and industry, many traditional artisanal workshops still remained among the towering smokestacks and roaring factories.

Among them, some blacksmith shops passed down through generations were quite famous for handcrafting exquisite swords and ornaments for the dignitaries and nobles of the Kingdom of Romania.

Costea's blacksmith shop was one of them.

At this moment, the forge fire in the shop was blazing, the bellows emitting a rhythmic whooshing sound.

The old craftsman Costea, past fifty, was focused and busy, his weather-beaten face flushed red by the firelight.

His two apprentices, his nephew Mihail and the neighbor's kid Andrei, were assisting nearby.

Because one was too old and the other two weren't yet adults, they had luckily avoided the Romanian Army's forced mobilization.

"Uncle... err, Master... these Saxons sure are generous."

Nephew Mihail held an oil lamp, leaning close to the vise, watching Costea's handiwork with curiosity.

"Just to have us stick a layer of silver flakes onto these bayonets, they gave so many Lei (Romanian currency), and even delivered cornmeal, milk, and even fresh beef!"

Costea didn't even look up. Using a small triangular file, he carefully filed the original blood groove deeper and wider along the spine of a Saxon M1898/05 bayonet.

"What do you mean 'stick silver flakes'? My craft is called 'gold welding'... passed down from my grandfather, remember that!"

The old craftsman scolded gruffly, then picked up a rag and carefully wiped the iron filings off the blade.

"Back when my grandfather repaired sacred vessels for the monastery in the city, a pure silver candlestick broke off its copper base. He used this craft to weld it back on with gold wire... Over thirty years later, it's still standing firmly there."

Mihail stuck his tongue out, not daring to speak further, merely watching curiously.

He saw Costea use fine-nosed pliers to pick up several strands of gold wire, carefully bend them into a U-shape, and fit them perfectly into the newly deepened groove.

Then, he picked up a pre-cut silver flake and covered the gold wire.

"These bayonets are good stuff. Made of fine high-carbon steel, and the quenching process is authentic too."

Costea operated while sighing uncontrollably: "And now they want me to wrap it in a layer of soft silver... Tsk! These Saxons are really wasting good material..."

Although he said so, his hands moved with meticulous precision.

"Watch closely. Pure silver cannot weld to steel... so there must be a layer of gold in between."

He seemed to be teaching, yet also talking to himself: "Gold has an affinity for both steel and silver. With it acting as a 'peacemaker' in the middle, the three materials can truly fuse together, stronger than if fastened with rivets."

While speaking, he sprinkled a pinch of white borax powder with a small spoon, then carefully pushed the entire blade blank into the forge.

As he slowly pushed and pulled the bellows, the flames in the forge turned from red to white, emitting a roaring sound.

"Tsk... Vampires."

The young apprentice Andrei, who was tending the charcoal stove on the other side, couldn't help but laugh after hearing their conversation.

"Those Saxons said they are going to use these blades to fight vampires... Isn't that a story old women use to scare disobedient brats? I can't believe they actually believe it."

"First of all, you're a 15-year-old brat too..."

Mihail heard this, leaned over, and retorted softly: "Besides, I don't think it's fake... Those Saxon soldiers don't look stupid. They wouldn't invent trouble for nothing. Eight or nine times out of ten, something unclean really has appeared in Bucharest... Are there a shortage of vampire legends in our area?"

Andrei shrugged, shaking his head with a look of disapproval.

"Who knows... I'm just curious, where did these Saxons get so much money and food?"

"Heh, I actually heard about this from people on the street..."

Mihail lowered his voice and said mysteriously: "These Saxons, it seems they pried open the granaries and vaults of several major landowners' estates on the city outskirts last night... They are using the food and money they robbed... oh wait, 'requisitioned,' to hire our Ploiești blacksmiths and factories to work for them."

"Really?" Andrei's eyes went wide.

"Would I lie? Where do you think the meat you ate for lunch today came from?"

The two young men's discussion did not affect the focused Costea.

He stared intently at the forge, judging the heat based on years of experience.

The instant the silver flake on the blade began to turn slightly red, merging into one with the gold wire and steel body, he decisively used long-handled iron tongs to pull the blade blank out and rapidly plunged it into the cooling water nearby.

"Sizzle—"

A cloud of white steam violently billowed up, accompanied by the sound of metal cooling, permeating the small blacksmith shop.

When Costea pulled the bayonet from the water, the originally unremarkable blade now sported an extra layer of shining silver edge.

"The job at the other blacksmith shop is even weirder."

Costea set the finished product aside, picked up the second bayonet, and continued repeating the process: "I heard the Saxons asked them to re-forge a single-handed sword out of pure silver. The deposit alone was huge... I wonder which big official is going to use it."

With that, Costea shook his head, thinking no more of it.

To him, no matter who was going to use it, or what they used it for, it didn't matter.

What mattered was that the money and food the Saxons provided were real, allowing his family and apprentices to have full meals in these chaotic times.

That was enough.