Trenches, Guns, and Magic

In truth, the "Baron" had long realized the deployment rate for the Spell Jägers was simply too high.

A few days ago, not long after breaching the Rila Mountain defensive line and leading his team back to the temporary camp, the more Rowan Atkinson thought about it, the angrier he got. He let out all the resentment he had accumulated recently.

"No, we can't keep being at their beck and call like this..."

"Sir, you should have done this ages ago!"

The Spell Jäger codenamed "Old Man" took off his glove, revealing a freshly healed scar from shrapnel on the back of his hand.

While their regenerative abilities couldn't compare to super soldiers or certain supernatural units, spellcasters in this world experienced improvements in constitution and stamina as their spellcasting level grew.

At the very least, compared to ordinary people, spellcasters healed from wounds noticeably faster.

"During yesterday's support mission, Team Two was pinned down by multiple heavy machine guns. Helsing took a stray bullet to the neck after his 【Mage Armor】 failed. It almost hit his carotid artery... all because those Greeks couldn't even manage to draw enemy fire."

Rowan Atkinson looked outside the tent at the Spell Jägers who had followed him through life and death.

Initially, their relationship was strictly superior and subordinate, and he himself somewhat looked down upon these "misfits" of the Highland Mage Council.

But after so much time training, integrating, and fighting together, Rowan Atkinson had long since developed a sense of mutual sympathy for these previously unvalued Spell Jägers, viewing these secretly rather endearing soldiers as brothers.

Therefore, after being screwed over time and again by the Greeks, the normally exceptionally good-tempered "Baron" within the Highland Mage Council found his dissatisfaction reaching its limit.

Originally, the Spell Jägers were positioned as a "sharp knife"—an elite force used to tear open enemy defensive lines at critical moments.

But on the front lines of the Kingdom of Bulgaria, these meticulously trained hybrid warriors had practically become the "babysitters" of the Greek Expeditionary Force.

No, "babysitters" was an understatement... The Spell Jägers were practically fighting the war for the Greeks.

In recent assaults on fortified positions, the Spell Jägers undertook the entire breaching mission.

The only thing the Greek infantry did was send someone running over to plant the flag of the Kingdom of Greece after the position changed hands, acting as if they had taken it themselves.

Rowan Atkinson even witnessed a Greek officer posing for photos with war correspondents on a captured position, a smile full of "honor" plastered on his face.

"Did you take this position? What gives you the right to smile here?"

At that moment, if he hadn't wanted to stoop to the level of these Balkan country bumpkins, the "Baron" would have slapped the man's face with 【Mage Hand】...

What truly made up his mind was a small skirmish that occurred yesterday.

While helping Greek infantry clear a Bulgarian strongpoint, two Spell Jägers reacted a half-beat too slow due to exhaustion from two days of continuous, high-intensity combat.

One of them was hit by an explosive booby trap planted by the Bulgarians. Although the injury wasn't fatal, he temporarily lost his combat effectiveness.

Every single Spell Jäger was forged with massive amounts of money and time. Losing even one pained Rowan Atkinson immensely.

"From today on, I will only approve Jäger support for breaching core positions in the main direction of attack... All other support requests will be denied!"

Rowan Atkinson crossed out several points on the map.

"If the Greeks are unsatisfied, tell them to complain to London."

Things unfolded exactly as he predicted. When Rowan Atkinson began tightening approvals, the commanders of the Greek Expeditionary Force complained loudly.

Some tried to get close, patting their chests and saying things like "holy allies should share hardships."

Some put on bitter faces, recounting how disastrous the frontline casualties were and how low morale had sunk, hoping the noble spellcasters would lend a hand.

Rowan Atkinson's response was to have "Old Man" "invite" those Greek officers out.

They dragged on like this for a few more days.

Just as they broke through the Bulgarians' final Rila Mountain defensive line, with only twenty kilometers left to Sofia and the dawn of victory in sight...

The news of the fall of Bucharest and Belgrade arrived in quick succession. The entire Greek Expeditionary Force was left reeling by these two devastating pieces of news.

Immediately following, the Bulgarians capitalized on the momentum, gathering their last remaining forces to construct a new defensive line twenty kilometers from their capital.

The Greeks were halted once again.

By this time, Rowan Atkinson already had an answer in his heart.

He called several squad leaders among the Spell Jägers into his tent and spoke to them in a low voice.

"Things have come to this; prepare to retreat."

"Old Man" and the other Spell Jägers exchanged glances. Although no one voiced opposition, their expressions were complex.

After all, they had shed a lot of blood in the Kingdom of Bulgaria. Seeing they were so close to the enemy capital, pulling out just like that left them feeling somewhat unwilling.

"Don't give me those looks..."

Rowan Atkinson, having anticipated this reaction, picked up a coded telegram from his desk and waved it in front of them.

"This is from Colonel James this morning... The Empire's high command has determined the situation in the Balkans is irreversible and is preparing to halt further investment."

Tucking the telegram back into his pocket, Rowan Atkinson continued, "In other words, we've been abandoned... Cough, cough... No!"

"I should say, these Balkan allies have been abandoned. Our mission is to safely retreat back to the home islands before things get any worse."

However, plans rarely keep up with changes...

Just as Rowan Atkinson began arranging their retreat route, a third piece of bad news arrived.

The Mediterranean Fleet had suffered a disastrous defeat in a naval battle, with its remnants retreating to Malta Port.

The three-nation combined fleet subsequently blockaded the Strait of Otranto in the Adriatic Sea and the Antikythera Strait in the Aegean Sea, directly cutting off maritime transport to and from the Balkan Peninsula.

This directly nullified their original plan to evacuate by sea.

Let alone the "Baron"... even the high command of the Holy Britannia Empire Military Intelligence Department and the Highland Mage Council were torn.

They certainly knew the combat effectiveness the Spell Jägers had displayed recently, proving the value of this hybrid unit.

The problem was that the geographical location of the Balkan Peninsula became rather awkward once the Royal Navy lost control of the Mediterranean.

The high command began weighing a question: should they deploy more fleets to punch into the Mediterranean, or dispatch high-circle mages to assist the Spell Jägers' evacuation?

But the majority felt the value of the Spell Jägers might not be high enough for that. So, the result of their emergency discussion was to have the Spell Jägers find their own way back...

After reading this latest telegram, Rowan Atkinson sat frozen in his chair for over ten minutes.

Then he stood up, walked out of his tent, faced the direction of the Greek camp and London, and spent nearly an hour cursing the sky with an incredibly rich vocabulary.

From the high command of Military Intelligence and the Highland Mage Council to the commanders of the Mediterranean Fleet; from the Imperial government officials sipping afternoon tea in their London offices to every single commander in the Balkan allied forces...

He greeted everyone involved with a variety of highly creative profanities. The Spell Jägers gathered outside the tent, listening to the entire tirade.

After venting, Rowan Atkinson calmed down slightly.

"Fine..."

He took several deep breaths, returned to his tent, sat back down at his camp desk, and dragged his finger across the unrolled map.

If the sea route was blocked, only two choices remained.

First, retreat to the Mediterranean coastal areas of the Kingdom of Bulgaria or the Kingdom of Greece, then find a way to cross the entire Mediterranean to the Empire's colonies in North Africa.

Second, use 【Teleportation Circle】 to return directly to the Britannian home islands.

Of course, even Rowan Atkinson found the first plan unreliable...

Although the straight-line distance from Greece to the North African colonies wasn't far, it still required crossing a sea. Add the blockade by the three-nation combined fleet, and it was clearly not an easy feat...

That left only the second plan, which sounded relatively more reliable.

In fact, as a 6th-circle Conjuration mage, 【Teleportation Circle】 was one of Rowan Atkinson's signature skills.

But having the spellcasting ability didn't mean this plan was foolproof, because 【Teleportation Circle】 required material components.

Although the rare chalk and gem-infused ink required for this 5th-circle spell weren't exactly scarce consumables—they were bought wholesale by the pound within the Highland Mage Council—this was the Bulgarian war zone...

Within a radius of hundreds of miles, let alone a warehouse storing spell components, finding even ordinary chalk and ink wasn't guaranteed.

And the consumables carried by the Spell Jäger squad were universally for combat spells, as they were consumed in much larger quantities.

And everyone, including the "Baron," never expected the invincible Royal Navy to capsize in the Mediterranean...

"The most pressing matter now is figuring out how to get the materials."

Rowan Atkinson quickly issued new orders to the Spell Jägers.

"Put combat on hold for now. Whether we can successfully retreat depends entirely on whether we can find these critical spell components..."

"Yes, Sir!"

While the "Baron" led the Spell Jägers in "slacking off" to gather spell components for evacuation, the special task force that had picked up the Holy See's "apostate" Angelo off the coast of Naples was returning to the home islands without a moment's delay.

To deliver Angelo to London as quickly as possible, the fleet transferred Bishop Angelo to the Inflexible battlecruiser after exiting the Strait of Gibraltar into the Atlantic, allowing it to reach London first at maximum speed.

The speed advantage of such high-speed capital ships was fully demonstrated at this moment.

The Inflexible left the slower ships in the formation behind, maintaining an average speed of nearly 29 knots as it cleaved through the gray-blue swells of the Atlantic, sprinting north. (Battlecruisers were slightly faster than super-dreadnoughts.)

Bishop Angelo barely left the cabin housing the containment box during the entire voyage.

Wearing a heavy wool coat borrowed from a ship's officer, he sat on an iron chair beside the box, his hands clasped on his knees, his lips moving soundlessly.

Sometimes it seemed he was reciting prayers, sometimes not.

When the Inflexible passed through the Channel and arrived in Brighton, dawn had not yet broken.

Three mages from the Highland Mage Council flew in from the coastline and landed on the deck forward of the bridge.

The leading female mage wore the standard Councilor's robes of the Highland Mage Council, her hood blown back by the sea breeze. It was none other than the 9th-circle Conjuration Archmage, Anne Hathaway.

"Bishop Angelo?"

"I am."

Angelo emerged from the cabin, his hair slightly tousled by the sea breeze.

He looked warily at the three mages before him, especially the 9th-circle Archmage in the lead, who exuded intense oppressive pressure.

"First, welcome to Britannia~"

Anne Hathaway ignored his wariness, merely nodding before looking at the containment box he carried.

"Second, we need to inspect what you've brought."

Angelo hesitated but voiced no objection. A Highland Mage behind Anne Hathaway stepped up to the containment box, hovering his hands about two inches above the lid, his fingertips glowing with the pale blue light of a detection spell.

After about a dozen seconds, the Highland Mage withdrew his hands and turned to nod at Anne Hathaway.

"My Lady, confirmed correct. The seal is intact."

"Excellent~"

Once the Inflexible sailed into port and moored, Bishop Angelo and the containment box immediately descended the gangway under the escort of Anne Hathaway and her team.

In a heavily guarded room on the docks, a teleportation circle about three meters in diameter had already been drawn on the floor.

"Everyone, step inside."

They stepped into the circle's range.

A Highland Mage chanted the activation incantation. The circle's light surged, enveloping everyone.

Bishop Angelo felt his vision distort for a second, then he was covered by a bright light.

When the light faded, the sea breeze of the docks, the noise of the port, and the mixed smell of seawater and other substances were all gone.

Replaced by a massive underground space.

This was the permanent, large-scale teleportation circle at the lowest level of the Highland Mage Tower, serving as the anchor point for most of the Highland Mage Council's 【Teleportation Circle】 spells.

The stone walls surrounding the circle were inlaid with star-like magic crystals, emitting a soft glow that illuminated the entire underground space.

The circle on the ground was a thousand times more complex than the temporary one on the docks, with overlapping runes covering the entire circular platform.

Seven or eight people were already waiting on the perimeter of the circle.

The moment Bishop Angelo saw the person standing at the very front, his tensed shoulders finally relaxed.

Although it was his first time seeing him in reality, he recognized him instantly: the Chief Archmage of the Highland Mage Council and Speaker of the Council, Victor Blackwood.

Because that face hung at the very top inside the Vatican Inquisition, and Angelo had lost count of how many times he had seen it...

The 9th-circle Evocation Master wasn't wearing his Councilor's robes today, but a simple dark gray mage's robe, looking far too plain for someone standing at the apex of the Empire's magical hierarchy.

But the subtle fluctuations in the surrounding air, caused by the magic he possessed without even actively releasing it, silently displayed his true power.

Angelo walked quickly forward and stopped in front of Blackwood.

The young bishop took a deep breath, his voice carrying the lingering exhaustion of his long journey and the excitement he had suppressed for a long time.

"Lord Speaker, Angelo has fulfilled his mission..."

Blackwood, acting like a kindly elder, stepped forward and patted Angelo's shoulder.

"Bishop Angelo... No, perhaps you shouldn't be called 'Bishop' anymore."

Blackwood wore a gentle expression.

"Welcome to the land of freedom. The Empire, the State Church, and the Highland Mage Council will not forget what you did on that ignorant old continent..."

Hearing these words, Angelo's lips trembled as if he were finally meeting his idol offline, too overwhelmed to speak.

At this point, a person stepped out from behind Blackwood.

This 6th-circle mage, appearing in his early thirties, was slender, with short brown hair and sophisticated glasses, exuding the aura of a Britannian "scholar."

He walked up to Angelo and extended his hand.

"Angelo, it's been a long time."

Angelo froze for a moment upon seeing his face, then grasped his hand and shook it firmly twice.

If the occasion hadn't been so formal, Angelo would have even given this old friend a deep hug.

"Gareth... It really has been a long time!"

Gareth Campbell, a 6th-circle Conjuration mage subordinate to the Highland Mage Council.

Over a decade ago, at an international magical exchange event in Paris, Angelo, then just a young priest, stepped out of the Holy See's territory into the "secular world" for the first time.

It was also the first time the long-isolated Papal State had sent Church mages to participate in such a secular event, marking a tentative "opening up" posture.

Angelo met the equally young Gareth at that event.

The two engaged in a fierce argument during an academic discussion on "Unorthodox Mana Conversion Theory." Yet, it was precisely that argument that gave Angelo his first exposure to magical theories outside the Holy See's system.

Those studies defined as "heresy" by the Holy See surprisingly possessed complete theoretical frameworks and experimental data in Gareth's words.

The impact this had on Angelo was far more profound than any sermon.

In the ensuing years, to demonstrate its "openness," the Holy See frequently dispatched Church personnel to participate in various international academic and religious exchanges.

As an outstanding representative of the younger generation, Angelo received numerous opportunities to travel abroad.

Every time, he would secretly meet with Gareth.

From academic discussions to religious exchanges, from religious exchanges to deeper cooperation...

As his relationship with Master Gareth grew closer, Bishop Angelo completed his "awakening" step by step.

Ultimately, he secretly converted to the Imperial State Church and voluntarily became a sleeper agent planted inside the Holy See by the Highland Mage Council.

Over the years, the intelligence he provided helped the Highland Mage Council root out more than one Holy See spy infiltrating the Empire.

"Her Majesty will make time to see you in the coming days," Blackwood said.

Angelo nodded slightly.

"Until then, Gareth will arrange your accommodations and daily needs. Also..." Blackwood's gaze landed on the containment box.

"We will take over this item."

After the brief welcoming ceremony concluded, Blackwood and the Council members arrived at a laboratory deep beneath the Mage Tower.

When Blackwood reached the final doorframe, an almost transparent force field barrier materialized in the air. He reached out, pressed his palm against the barrier, and whispered an incantation known only to Council members.

Immediately, the barrier dissipated silently.

The laboratory interior was vast, the circular dome covered in dense spell circuits.

A massive, semi-permanent magic circle was drawn in the center of the floor, with three smaller auxiliary circles distributed in a triangle around its perimeter.

The shelves on the walls were packed with various magical apparatus and recording devices. While they appeared ancient, they showed no signs of dilapidated disrepair.

Once positioned, Blackwood raised his right hand and made a gesture.

The semi-permanent circle in the laboratory began to light up layer by layer, starting from the outermost foundational stabilization array and progressively activating multiple restrictions inwards.

When the final layer of restriction was activated, everyone in the laboratory could feel they were completely isolated from the outside world, accompanied by an invisible, oppressive magical pressure.

"Alright, open it."

Hearing Blackwood's words, Anne Hathaway stepped forward, hovering her hands over the lid and sequentially releasing the unsealing secret arts.

The intricate magical locks on the containment box snapped open one after another with faint metallic clicks.

When the final seal was lifted, the lid popped open slightly on its own. Blackwood didn't hesitate, throwing the lid open.

In the very center of the box lay a heart, resting quietly.

Vlad III's heart...

The immortal core of that legendary "Impaler," sealed by the Holy See four hundred and forty years ago.

But what presented itself to the Council members at this moment was not a fresh, pulsating, terrifying organ.

Nearly seventy percent of the heart's surface had turned into a charred, gray-black husk, dry and cracked, devoid of any vitality.

This was the result of the continuous burning from the purification ritual conducted by the Holy See members before Angelo took it away.

Only about thirty percent of the core area retained a dark red sheen, though this sheen was extremely faint and required close inspection to discern.

"The heart's vitality... is even lower than we estimated."

Master Hathaway leaned in half a step, frowning.

"Perhaps it is related to Ferdinand I's death."

Blackwood spoke up, "According to the intelligence provided by Angelo, Ferdinand I resonated with this heart through some vampire ritual, which is how the Vatican detected the anomaly..."

"And now that Ferdinand I is dead, it has stopped beating..."

Anne Hathaway nodded in understanding.

"The good news is, the tissue in the core area remains."

Master Norton of the Enchantment School, a man of few words, finally spoke.

At this moment, his hands rested on the edge of the magic circle, his entire upper body leaning over. His voice carried a rare emotional fluctuation... a reaction typical of a craftsman finding his final missing piece.

"The fact that the Holy See used so many purification methods yet failed to completely eradicate the core's vitality proves one thing."

He straightened up, smiling before his Council colleagues for the first time.

"The supernatural essence contained within this heart is far more stubborn than the Holy See believed!"

Master Graham, who had remained silent, pondered for a few seconds before asking, "Master Norton, are you certain this remaining thirty percent vitality is sufficient for the 'Griffin's Blood' experiment?"

"More than enough!"

Master Norton answered decisively.

"We don't need an intact vampire heart... In fact, we only need the supernatural factors within its core area that can establish compatibility with human physiology... These factors are all concentrated in the unpurified core area."

"The parts already burned to a crisp actually save us the step of 'impurity extraction' ourselves."

"From this perspective, the Holy See's purification ritual actually did us a huge favor~"

Hearing this last sentence, the Evocation Archmage sitting at the far end sneered.

"Four hundred and forty years of purification, and they ended up doing the prep work for us... I wonder what expression that old coot Finlake IV would have if he knew."

Master Hathaway didn't join in the dark humor, instead looking to Speaker Blackwood and asking the core question.

"Speaker... does this mean the final puzzle piece for 'Griffin's Blood' is now in place?"

Blackwood swept his gaze over the assembled Council members before nodding slowly.

"Correct, we have assembled all the puzzle pieces!"

He reached out and closed the containment box lid, his fingertips reactivating the seal locks.

"Portions of the data from the Gallic 'Sentinel Project' filled the theoretical framework. The Empire's own centuries of alchemy and enchantment technology provided the engineering foundation... And this heart will solve the final and most critical hurdle! We call it, the compatibility issue between supernatural factors and human recipients!"

"Starting today, 'Griffin's Blood' enters the full-speed implementation phase."

Blackwood lifted his hand from the lid and turned to face the group.

"Master Norton, the Enchantment and Necromancy Schools will take full charge of extracting and stabilizing the supernatural factors from the heart... Master Hathaway, the Conjuration School will assist in establishing the resonance model between the test subjects and the supernatural factors. Master Graham,"

"I know." Graham volunteered. "Political risk management, and coordinating liaison with the military."

Blackwood nodded.

"Furthermore... the screening of test subjects must begin concurrently. If the Spell Jägers successfully retreat from the Kingdom of Bulgaria, they will have proven their value and can be the first to participate in the experiment..."

He paused, continuing, "I believe, bolstered by the Highland Mage Council's world-leading magical foundation, the Gallic research results, and this heart... we will create the strongest super soldiers in the world."

"They will become the Empire's sharpest blade, allowing us to regain absolute supremacy in this war. Holy Britannia Empire, great again!"

After the brief meeting concluded, everyone departed with their respective orders.

Only Master Hathaway slowed her pace as she passed Blackwood.

"Speaker."

Blackwood turned his head.

"The Saxons' 'Mage Killer' grew to a level that put the entire Highland Mage Council on alert in less than a year."

"How much time do we have left... for our 'Griffin's Blood' to catch up?"

Blackwood fell silent for several seconds.

"That is why I said full-speed implementation, at all costs..."