Divine power and dark magic are the most extreme opposites.

If dark magic is fire, divine power is water.

And now, holy water was pouring down from the factory ceiling like rain.

"This isn't... this isn't just ordinary holy water!"

"The defensive spells aren't holding...!"

"Ugh!"

"No... the shield... the shield is breaking!"

"Aaaaah!"

"It's... it's burning!"

Whatever had been done to the holy water, it was more than enough to overwhelm them.

The dark shields cast by the sorcerers were melted away in an instant, and soon, their very bodies began to burn.

The stench of flesh and bone melting filled the air, nauseating and pervasive.

Slash—

Groan!

Thrust—

Guhh!

As rain made of holy water poured down, Astra, eyes tightly shut, could only sense his subordinates being slashed and stabbed by the knights of the North.

"Argh!"

"Haaah!"

Clang! Clang!

Some of the subordinates, utilizing heightened senses from doping, attempted to fight with their eyes closed.

But even under normal circumstances, the Northern knights were not opponents to be taken lightly.

There was no chance of victory.

"For honor!"

Crack!

The Sigma agents, desperate to avoid capture, bit down on their teeth, choosing to end their own lives.

"So this is how I end up using sprinklers. Quite amusing."

At that moment, the mastermind behind this carnage revealed himself.

"You... you!"

The flash of light had faded, but Astra's sight would take a few more seconds to fully recover.

He couldn't wait that long.

"Over there! He's over there!"

Using only his hearing, Astra gauged Arad's location.

"Die!"

Capture was no longer an option.

Whoosh—

He threw his sword with all his strength toward where Arad stood.

"Gasp!"

"Ahhh!"

The Northern knights, engrossed in cutting down Sigma agents, let out genuinely startled cries.

Hearing their reactions, Astra felt a thrill of triumph.

Soon, with a dull thud, despairing silence would dominate this space.

Clang!

But the sound that echoed was far from what he had envisioned.

"!!"

Astra opened his eyes wide in shock.

Despite his still-impaired vision, he squinted to focus on the blurry figure ahead.

"…!"

He stood stunned as the one who had intercepted his last strike revealed herself.

A striking woman with white hair and deep gray eyes stood holding a sword, positioned protectively in front of Arad.

Exhale—

A short pipe hung from her lips.

"Ah... it broke."

Mary glanced at her broken sword with a hint of regret, having used it to deflect Astra's throw.

"Could it be...?"

Astra instinctively realized the truth.

That woman! She was none other than Mary, known as Arad's assistant and lover.

And she was the Northern Grand Duchess!

"Ha ha ha ha! So, it's her!"

A voice echoed beside Astra—another dark sorcerer.

This one was the sole survivor of the holy water rain, his body melted and unrecognizable, kept alive only by sheer willpower.

"Die, the final link of vengeance!"

A sixth-circle dark sorcerer unleashed a spell with all his remaining strength, aiming it directly at Arina.

[Black Inferno...]

Bang!

But the sorcerer's desperate attack failed.

Exhale—

This time, it was Arad who acted.

Standing beside Arina, he raised an unfamiliar weapon in his right hand and fired, shattering the sorcerer's head.

***

Exhale—

I blew softly over the barrel of the magical firearm, a revolver modeled after a Magnum.

Though there was no gunpowder smoke, thanks to the use of magical bullets, I couldn’t resist the gesture.

Exhale—

Mary, standing right beside me and puffing on her mana cigarette, was the main reason I felt compelled to do it.

Click, clack

I carefully examined the Magnum I had just used properly for the first time.

It had cost an exorbitant amount of money and effort to create. Every shot fired with it made me nervous.

"Considering that reloading it once requires replacing a mid-tier mana stone… geez…"

Each shot fired with the magical bullets had a cost comparable to launching a Patriot missile back on Earth.

"What is that thing?"

Mary asked, her eyes fixed on the Magnum in my hand.

"This? It’s called a magical gun."

One of the primary weapons of the Arcane Punk era: the magical gun and its ammunition.

With our current infrastructure, manufacturing these was extremely difficult.

But difficult didn’t mean impossible.

"Are you planning to mass-produce those magical guns? With just one of these, it seems like you could wipe out all the monsters in the North," Mary said, her eyes sparkling.

She seemed to have completely forgotten that she had nearly died moments earlier.

"They’re expensive."

"How expensive?"

"About the price of twenty mana potions. And that’s not even counting the cost of the bullets."

"Gasp!"

"Every few shots, you have to replace a mana stone of mid-tier or higher quality."

Even though she was shocked by the cost, Mary still looked at my Magnum with gleaming curiosity.

"More importantly, right now, I’m the only one who can make them."

"Couldn’t you train others to make them?"

"Well, yes. But even if we manufacture them, not everyone will be able to use them. You need at least first-circle mana sensitivity to operate one."

In Silver Age I, magical guns were primarily used by mid-tier adventurers or low-level mages with basic mana perception.

"Why is it that only those with mana abilities can use magical guns if they’re considered magical tools?"

"In simple terms, a magical weapon is like a mage’s staff."

"Ah…"

Mary immediately showed she understood with that brief explanation.

Mana was deeply influenced by a person’s will and concentration.

For this reason, magical weapons like guns or mage’s staffs required precise focus and intent to operate safely.

Essentially, the user themselves served as the safety mechanism.

"Still, one day, you’ll be able to mass-produce them, right?"

"Of course."

"Then that’s fine. There are plenty of people in the North who can sense mana to some extent."

Despite the high cost and the limited usability, Mary didn’t seem ready to give up.

"While mass-producing magical guns might be challenging, creating crossbows that fire mana bullets is feasible right now."

"Is that so?"

At my remark, her face lit up with a radiant smile, as if she had never been disheartened in the first place.

‘Mary… her swordsmanship isn’t ordinary, is it?’

Watching her, I felt a growing sense of unease.

I had assumed she primarily trained in magic and learned swordsmanship as a secondary skill. But that was clearly not the case. It was the opposite.

Earlier, without even using sword energy, she had deflected Astra’s thrown blade.

‘She’s at the level of a high-ranking knight.’

Her skill wasn’t something to be underestimated.

‘I’ve noticed strange things about her before.’

Come to think of it, Mary’s behavior and demeanor resembled those of a knight more than a witch or adventurer.

‘What is it?’

There were two possibilities. Either the Mary standing before me wasn’t the Grand Witch of the Snowfields I thought I knew, or I had fundamentally misunderstood her role in the original history.

‘Hmm… For now, let’s focus on the present.’

Pushing aside my questions about Mary, I turned my attention to the intruders.

The dark sorcerers were dead, their bodies mangled and melted as if they had been doused with acid rain.

The Empire’s Sigma agents had either perished at the hands of our knights or taken their own lives.

"Mmmpf! Mmmph!"

All except for one—a Sigma agent who had failed to commit suicide and had been subdued.

"He looks like a mid-level officer at least, doesn’t he?"

I walked toward the middle-aged Sigma agent.

‘Hmm?’

But then, I stopped in my tracks.

‘That guy…?’

I could see he was preparing something, even in his restrained state.

"Hrrrrk… Hrrrrk…"

The middle-aged Sigma agent glared at me, drooling and tearing up, his eyes practically shouting, Why aren’t you coming closer?

"I’m so tired of this."

It was clear he intended to blow himself up the moment I got close.

"Everyone, fall back! Now!"

I shouted, pointing the Magnum at him.

As the knights hurriedly released him,

"Hrrrrrrah!"

The tenacious Sigma agent crawled toward me, his limbs bound.

Flash, flash, flash

From his chest, something began to emit a bright light as he crawled.

‘A magical explosive!’

It was a grenade-like device developed by the Tower of Magic.

Bang!

I fired my Magnum, unleashing its second magical bullet.

Crackle, sizzle

While the first bullet had condensed light energy, this one was imbued with an electric attribute.

"Graaaargh!"

The unnamed middle-aged Sigma agent was electrocuted and burned to death.

The powerful electric charge from the bullet caused the magical bomb he was carrying to deactivate.

***

Everything had come to an end.

The plague of dark magic that had swept through the North was eradicated.

The invasion of the High Citadel by the Dark Hollow and the Empire’s Sigma agents was thwarted.

And most importantly—

"What...? Wh-what’s happening?"

"The curse... Haran’s curse is...?"

The curse that had bound the witches disappeared.

"Yes! Yes! Academy! Academy!"

Amid the stunned witches, I let out a cheer.

Now, there were no restrictions. I could push the witches to their limits.

With their help, I could train a generation of magical engineers on a massive scale.

"Are you that happy?"

At that moment, someone spoke to me in a gentle tone from behind.

"Ah! Lady Isabel, are you alright?"

"Thanks to you, I am."

Isabel, the Grand Witch of Spring, appeared, a smoking pipe perched casually between her lips.

Despite the curse being lifted, the witches’ love for their mana cigarettes remained unchanged.

"What did you do with Haran’s remains?"

"I cremated them. To ensure they’d never be used again. I scattered the ashes over the old greenhouse farm."

For the first time in a long while, Isabel wore a bright and serene smile.

"But... how did you survive?"

Unable to hold back, I asked her a rather direct, albeit somewhat impolite, question.

"My teacher told me to come back a little later. She said there was still much I had to do."

A single tear rolled down the cheek of the elderly witch.

"In any case, I’m glad you’re safe. The Grand Witch of Spring and the witches of the North, free from the curse—it’s truly a joyous occasion. Hahaha!"

I couldn’t have been in better spirits.

Especially since the annoying restrictions placed on the witches were now gone.

I could now freely… no, efficiently expand business operations.

"Sir Arad, for the record, I’m no longer the Grand Witch of Spring," Isabel said, her gaze turning serious.

"The witches of the North are no longer witches, either."

"What? Then...?"

"Isabel, the Arcane Mage of Spring."

"...?!"

"And the witches have become the Mages of the North. The Witches' Assembly is reborn as the Renslet Mage Assembly."

The wind blew.

A true wind of change swept through the North.

The trials that had plagued the North had ended, ushering in winter.

With it, three years had passed since I came to this world.

***

The skies of the continent were transitioning from winter to spring.

However, the North and the weather at the High Citadel remained as cold as ever.

Still, it was better than the harsh, bone-chilling cold of midwinter.

In this brisk season, the Northerners were so busy catching up on tasks they had postponed during the worst of the winter that they hardly noticed the chill.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

At the newly established Renslet Academy, long-delayed projects were finally setting sail.

"Alright then, take a good rest, and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow."

Classes were in session—or rather, had just ended. The sound of the academy bell signaling the end of class had just reached the classroom.

Exhale—

Mana cigarette smoke, wafting like woodsmoke from the teacher’s desk, drifted lazily through the classroom.

Inside, forty children sat closely packed, all wearing the academy uniform: light blue tops and black bottoms.

"Oh! One more thing—I’ll assign some homework!"

The teacher, who had been about to leave the desk, stopped abruptly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

"Memorize the runic symbols we learned today by Monday."

"All... all of them?"

The children’s faces froze at her words.

For the record, they weren’t just learning magic in this class.

They were also taught writing, math, and history by another teacher with a background in administration. This meant they already had other homework.

"Yes, all of them."

"But there are 100 symbols!"

"Armin runic symbols are relatively simple and few in number. You can’t start complaining already," the female mage said with a laugh, exhaling puffs from her mana cigarette as she looked at the children.

"And this is me going easy on you. When I was your age, I had to memorize all of these in half a day."

When magic was taught through the traditional master-and-apprentice method, the pace was neither this slow nor this accommodating.

Only exceptionally gifted children were accepted as apprentices in the first place.

But things were different now.

The witches of old, striving to become more “ordinary” mages, had to conform to the curriculum of the Renslet Mage Assembly and Renslet Academy.

"Of course, you don’t have to memorize them. Homework isn’t mandatory."

"Really?"

"Yay!"

The children’s expressions brightened immediately at the teacher’s follow-up comment.

"However," she continued, "your grades might not turn out so well. All lessons this semester will be conducted in Armin runes. If your grades drop, won’t your parents be disappointed?"

Naturally, the magic teacher didn’t expect every student in the class to keep up with the material.

She’d be satisfied if just four of them managed to follow along.

"And if your grades are poor, you won’t be able to become a mage or a magical engineer. Oh! Maybe you could still be a knight or a priest, though? They don’t really use runic symbols in those fields."

The goal of this class was to produce four highly skilled mages and a dozen or so magical engineers at the first- or second-circle level.

The rest of the students were expected to become reliable office workers or low-level bureaucrats.

This had been the founding vision of the academy, established by Arad and Arina: to provide practical education for a range of useful roles.