MIR, the sentient Wyvern.

Victory without a fight.

Meanwhile, in 'Central', the capital, the soldiers were on high alert and the instructions were clear.

Zalar was in command this time and everyone was ready.

An army of 100,000 men was in the west, awaiting orders.

On the outer defence towers, grenade ballistas and on the small enclosure, men and goblins all madly trying out their new toy: rifles with gaggles. They resembled the mauser, the mechanism of which, well, I knew by heart. My father used to make me assemble and disassemble it, and he'd hit me with the metal cleaning rod when I wasn't going fast enough.

"It's to armour you for life".

Bad memories...

All around the low walls, mines... lots and lots of mines, activated by electric wires.

And on the towers, machine guns with electric firing pins that could wreak havoc.

They were protected by armoured armour resistant to fire, stone blocks and anything else that might attack us.

Behind the walls were mortars and our first field guns.

They could fire in front but also in the air.

We had FLAK ammunition, anti-aircraft with explosive shells made up of juxtaposed knife blades and shot-based ammunition to injure and immobilise, as well as incendiary ammunition and mustard shells.

The typical smell emanated and gave the battlefield a chemical odour.

The opposing generals were wary and just before charging, the enchantress gave the order for an emergency retreat.

They also had a vision of the manacom.

They were frightened when 50,000 soldiers disappeared, leaving nothing but an inferno in a city that was once so beautiful.

They were frightened when 50,000 soldiers disappeared, leaving nothing but an inferno in a city that was once so beautiful.

The enchantress scanned the capital and the report from her technicians and alchemists was not good.

The fact that there were smells meant another trap, another weapon certainly from me.

All our soldiers roared with joy in celebration of the Empire's victory.

In the annexes of the Magincia tower, the enchantress was running out of patience; she wanted something, or a way of parrying the weapons that had surprised her on the battlefield.

Morales, the chief alchemist, was analysing a prototype that had been copied by spies.

What I'm trying to tell you, Majesty, is that all the weapons are identical, as if a cloning spell had been used, but you know as well as I do that any cloned object loses its characteristics, and so on when you clone, clone and clone.

But you see these parts, they come from the arsenal and they're identical but not cloned. The manufacturing process is designed to build hundreds of them at a time. I don't know how this sorcery works, but there's a lot of study and calculation behind it. The parts are complex and are the result of many generations of progress.

It's the result of hundreds of years of evolution in weaponry.

Enchantress: "What about explosives?

My colleague Poudrè has managed to make a kind of magic sand made of explosive runes that we're going to put in the "rifle".

He inserted the cartridge, which seized up and jammed. Then he managed to push it into the barrel.

He aimed at a wooden doll some twenty metres away and demonstrated how the gun worked.

The enchantress was very interested.

Then he pulled the trigger and ... nothing.

He opened the chamber and removed the firing pin, which wasn't a firing pin at all. It was a copy, the equivalent of a decorative rifle that clicked.

And... the barrel exploded, sending a splinter cutting through the brow bone of the enchantress and the powdered dwarf had his skull scalped and Morales looked at his stomach. The breech and casing had ruptured and, like a cleaver, the casing had entered his liver, like a doum doum bullet, causing massive haemorrhaging and a hole through which his arm could pass.

He had just enough time to say "MUM!!"

A/N My cousin died like this at the Fabrique Nationale testing lady's mini pistols. The casing tore his liver open and there was nothing we could do.

She cast a minor healing spell on herself and turned to one of the generals who had just witnessed the carnage.

"General Ozo, (Elf race). What do you think of our defeats? What are our chances?"

He was looking at the map and had some scrolls with numbers and lists.

"Our strategy of depriving our opponents of time was an excellent choice, but the Empire was able to win the arms race. It knew in advance not only the type of weapon to use, but also the tactics to go with it. We're technologically out of date and the rational method of building and assembling these mechanical marvels has burnt through all the stages necessary for their creation and development. It's as if a mechanic from the future had all the plans in his head and already knew what needed to be done, even though preparing a military campaign takes time and logistics.

We need to rethink our strategy because we've hit a brick wall. I'm sure that if we'd gone ahead with the assault, at least half the men would have died.

Mir is not a demon lord like in the scriptures. He doesn't seek to entrench absolute evil, but he does want to keep the empire."

"And our spies in all this? I can see but if I or the system understand nothing, it is useless."

"Yes, Majesty, but what makes me cautious is the fact that there are all sorts of constructions. It's a science, a denial of magic, or a magic that uses the primary laws of the universe. A way out of the gods, out of the system and taboo art. His 'magic' is an insult to our gods, but they are not incensed by it. It's as if invisible rules were being obeyed".

"General Ozo, when he threatened to burn everything to the ground, do you think he's bluffing?"

"I'd like to, but given the rapid development, for example, look, a magic horseless rail cart.... Amazing speed and all that ore loaded at once. They go a hundred times faster to mine than our best dwarves."

"That leaves me with Alpha... We could swap Spark for his mother."

"MMM that's a choice for you but the troops are pouring in now that he's spread fear and terror.... He's rebuilding the empire and the nobles are lining up to pledge their allegiance to him. "

"Yes, General, but he's a demon Lord... and the infernal troops are piling up. and I don't know how citizens can live with ogres and werewolves."

The other kingdoms are afraid of the Demon Lord but spies report that there are 9 in total and a demon king among them.

If he makes an alliance with them or transfers his knowledge, it will be the end of humanity as we know it."

The general took his leave, convinced that a diplomatic solution was the best approach and that the witch's stubbornness would cost more lives than all the previous attacks by the other demon lords.