Morin finally understood why the Saxon Empire’s mages took such an unconventional path, diving headfirst into magitech. It wasn’t just because they possessed a roster of “META” scientists; it was because their starting line for individual magical power lagged far behind everyone else’s.
It was as if the Holy Britannian Empire was born with ten-gigabit fiber-optic connections, while the Saxon Empire was still struggling with dial-up. How could they even compete?
“So our choice to take another path was born out of necessity.”
Master Röntgen poured himself another glass of wine. His tone carried a hint of self-deprecation, but it was overshadowed by an unyielding pride.
“Since we cannot compete in innate talent and individual ability, we use external tools to compensate.”
“Armored airships, armored trains, Gungnir… these are the answers we delivered.”
Master Röntgen’s words rang with conviction. In the old man’s eyes, Morin saw a unique fanaticism that belonged not to a mage, but to a scientific researcher.
These words resonated deeply with Morin, evoking an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
A weak foundation and a late start… they relied on an unyielding spirit and collective wisdom to forcibly carve a broad highway out of the thorns. Of course, this only applied to magical development. Other aspects were a different story… After all, the Saxon Empire remained, at its core, a feudal imperialist state.
“I understand.”
Morin nodded solemnly and raised his glass for another toast. The atmosphere in the tent grew even more harmonious. The two chatted deep into the night, feeling like kindred spirits who had met too late.
“By the way, Master Röntgen, have you considered applying your ‘Röntgen rays’ to fields other than medical diagnosis?” As the conversation peaked, Morin steered the topic toward the mage’s true area of expertise.
“Other fields?” Master Röntgen paused. “Such as?”
“The military sector,” Morin suggested. “For instance, using it to detect internal damage in metal components, or… inspecting the contents of sealed containers.”
Master Röntgen’s eyes lit up instantly.
All his previous research had focused on biological imaging; he had never considered this angle.
“Detecting internal metal fatigue and cracks…” Master Röntgen muttered, his mind racing.
“It’s theoretically feasible! Different metal densities attenuate the rays at different rates. If there are voids or cracks inside, the feedback signals will definitely show variations!”
Seeing Master Röntgen enter a state of excitement, Morin smiled and voiced another idea.
“If we can emit ‘Röntgen rays’ directionally, could we detect invisible units?”
Master Röntgen set down the glass he had just picked up.
“Invisible units… Are you referring to mages casting 【Invisibility】 or 【Greater Invisibility】?”
“Exactly.”
“Well… now that you mention it.”
Master Röntgen’s interest piqued. Every spellcaster grew more enthusiastic when discussing “PvP” scenarios. After a brief moment of thought, he realized this idea was highly actionable.
Analyzing the spell model of 【Invisibility】, the spell essentially shielded against visible light and interfered with the perception of surrounding observers, ultimately achieving optical invisibility.
However, the wavelength of “Röntgen rays” was extremely short and entirely different from visible light. Optical invisibility would be useless against it.
Röntgen rays could penetrate bodies and objects to create an image. Paired with special imaging crystals, they could reveal the skeleton or internal structure of an “invisible person.” Furthermore, because Röntgen ray imaging recorded physical existence directly rather than relying on the human eye, it bypassed cognitive interference.
Inspired, Master Röntgen immediately conceptualized a “portable ray irradiation device.” It could be mounted in key areas—such as entrances to vital facilities—to prevent invisible units from slipping through.
They discussed the topic at length, and Morin took the opportunity to ask numerous questions about magic.
Although Patricia’s theoretical foundation was solid—she could even deconstruct spell models using math and physics—she lacked a practical understanding of magic.
Master Röntgen, a true mage immersed in the field for decades, offered explanations that hit the nail on the head, clearing up many of Morin’s confusions.
“Speaking of which, I know a highly skilled researcher named Patricia von Seeckt.”
As they discussed popularizing magitech devices for ordinary people, Morin brought up his partner.
“She isn’t a spellcaster, but her understanding of spell models rivals any mage in the Imperial Academy of Magitech Research.”
“Miss Seeckt?”
Master Röntgen pondered the name for a moment before realization dawned on him.
“Oh! I remember now! The genius girl who proposed the concept of ‘mana waves’ and used pure mathematical formulas to derive the optimal model for 【Shield】?”
“So you know her?”
“More than just know her.”
Master Röntgen’s expression grew complex, a mix of admiration and regret.
“Several of her papers caused a massive stir within the Academy… Director Planck reviewed them personally and rated them highly.”
“Many people find it a great pity that someone like her isn’t a spellcaster.”
Following this thread, the two naturally drifted into the factional issues among the Saxon Empire’s mages.
“Broadly speaking, there are two factions: the ‘Traditionalists’ and us ‘Progressives’.” Master Röntgen held his glass, his expression turning serious. “Although we follow similar technical routes, there is a major divergence on one core issue—should magic, or magitech, be popularized?”
“The old stubborn fools in the Traditionalist faction believe magic is noble, a weapon meant for a select elite… They argue that since Saxony’s magic crystal ores are scarce, we should concentrate resources on major endeavors rather than wasting precious mana on popularization.”
“We Progressives, however, believe that only by allowing more people to access and understand the essence of magic can we spawn more innovative ideas. This, in turn, will drive the development of the entire magitech system.”
Master Röntgen’s tone carried a hint of agitation.
“Technological development… has never been achieved by locking a few geniuses in a laboratory!”
“What is the stance of the Imperial leadership and the Academy’s upper management?” Morin asked curiously.
“They play peacemaker, what else can they do…” Master Röntgen curled his lip, giving an answer that surprised Morin.
“Both His Majesty and Director Planck maintain a clear stance: as long as the dispute doesn’t affect the progress of various state-assigned research projects and missions, they won’t intervene.”
“Speaking of which, Director Planck actually has a tough job… He is a very progressive spellcaster himself, but as Director, he must maintain the Academy’s stability… To balance the two factions and prevent internal conflicts from affecting the work, he has to placate both sides and remain neutral.”
At the mention of Director Planck, Master Röntgen’s eyes lit up again.
“Honestly, Colonel Morin, you must return to Dresden after this mission and visit the Imperial Academy of Magitech Research.”
“Director Planck is incredibly curious about you, the ‘super soldier’. He’s mentioned wanting to meet you several times but has never been able to find the time.”
“It would be my honor,” Morin readily agreed.
He was highly curious to see how the titan who ushered in the new era of quantum mechanics in his past life fared in this world.
The night deepened. The two had talked to their hearts’ content, and Master Röntgen was growing tired.
Morin wanted to arrange for him to be sent to the more comfortable Hotel Sacher, but the old man waved it off.
“I’m not going. The hotel clearly isn’t as safe as your camp. The security over there is primarily focused on guarding His Highness.” Master Röntgen yawned. “I’ll just make do here for the night.”
Morin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn’t chase the man away, nor could he let a seventy-year-old national treasure sleep in a regular soldier’s tent.
Ultimately, he surrendered his command tent to Master Röntgen, grabbed his blankets, and squeezed into a tent with Manstein. This decision made him regret it all night.
“Colonel, I have some new ideas regarding the next phase of urban combat training. Take a look…”
“Colonel, I think we can further refine the organization of the engineer troops…”
“Colonel, are you asleep? I just thought of an optimization plan for crossfire deployment…”
Manstein, energetic as a bull, dragged Morin into a half-night work briefing. Morin didn’t manage to drift into a groggy sleep until the early hours of the morning.
The next morning, after handling routine regimental matters, Morin returned to his cot, intending to reclaim the sleep Manstein had stolen.
But he had barely dozed off when Adjutant Kleist’s booming voice rang in his ear.
“Colonel! Colonel! Wake up!”
Morin jolted upright, glaring at him irritably.
“What’s so urgent?”
“His Highness’s adjutant is here!” Kleist’s expression was grave. “The Crown Prince requests you head to the Hotel Sacher immediately. There are urgent matters to discuss!”
An emergency summons from the Crown Prince?
Morin’s drowsiness vanished instantly.
He knew Crown Prince Georg wasn’t the type to summon someone over nothing. A specific summons like this likely meant something major had happened.
With an orderly’s help, Morin donned his uniform, hastily splashed water on his face, and shaved. He then jumped into the adjutant’s vehicle and sped toward the Hotel Sacher in downtown Vienna.
Before long, Morin arrived at the Hotel Sacher.
Guided by the adjutant, he briskly ascended to the top floor and entered the luxury suite where Crown Prince Georg was staying.
In the suite’s living room, Crown Prince Georg stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out over the city with a solemn expression.
He wasn’t wearing his usual military uniform; instead, he wore a silk dressing gown and held a steaming cup of coffee.
“Your Highness.” Morin saluted.
“Lord Friedrich, you’re here.” Georg turned and gestured for him to sit.
After the adjutant brought Morin a cup of coffee, he quietly exited the room and closed the door.
“Your Highness, has something happened?” Morin asked directly.
Georg didn’t answer immediately. He set down his coffee, walked over to the sofa, and sat down. He looked up at Morin and spoke slowly.
“Just an hour ago, Field Marshal Conrad called me personally to announce a decision.”
“Vienna has run out of patience. They have decided to… take ‘coercive measures’ against Budapest.”
Morin’s hand, holding the coffee cup, paused slightly. The news surprised him somewhat.
Although he anticipated the two sides would eventually fall out—especially after confirming the old Emperor’s insanity and witnessing the escalating tensions between Vienna and Budapest—he hadn’t expected the day to arrive so quickly and suddenly.
“Coercive measures?” Morin looked at the Crown Prince, a premonition forming in his mind. “Do you mean… a military operation?”
“Not just an ordinary military operation… Field Marshal Conrad’s exact words were to mobilize armed forces loyal to the Empire, enter Hungary with the force of a thunderbolt, directly disarm the Kingdom of Hungary, and forcibly take over administrative power in Budapest.”
Morin sat bolt upright.
This was indeed no simple military operation. It was tantamount to Vienna unilaterally tearing up the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867, forcibly annexing Hungary, and reverting the Dual Monarchy back into a unitary empire.
“Forgive my impertinence, Your Highness… but is Vienna mad?” Morin couldn’t help but ask. “The frontline battles are intense, and they want to start a civil war in the rear?”
“No, they don’t consider it a civil war.”
Georg corrected Morin.
“In the eyes of Conrad and the Austrian leadership, this is a ‘counter-rebellion’ operation aimed at excising a tumor from the Empire to prevent greater turmoil.”
“Counter-rebellion?” Morin frowned. “What justification do they plan to use?”
“Wartime treason.” The Crown Prince’s voice was calm, but Morin detected an unusual undertone.
“Field Marshal Conrad claims he possesses ‘conclusive evidence’ that Count Tisza and members of the Hungarian Parliament have been in secret contact with the Britannians, attempting to secure the Kingdom of Hungary’s independence or even counter-control Vienna…”
“Do they actually have evidence?” Morin pressed.
Crown Prince Georg didn’t answer. He simply lifted his coffee cup and took a sip, his smile growing increasingly wry.
Morin understood instantly.
Evidence?
When they had already decided to strike, did it matter if evidence existed or not?
“Their core objective is to control the key Magyar noble figures, led by Count Tisza.”
Georg continued explaining the details, making Morin feel increasingly uneasy. This clearly wasn’t a situation he could stay out of.
“As long as these individuals are controlled, the domestic resistance in Hungary will be leaderless, allowing Conrad to rapidly stabilize the situation.”
Morin grasped their scheme immediately.
These Viennese military heads wanted to replicate the Bohemians’ recent playbook and stage a military coup of their own… or rather, a decapitation strike. Capturing the ringleader first was a timeless truth.
Once the core figures of Hungarian politics were taken out, the rest would be easy to manage.
“Lord Friedrich.”
Crown Prince Georg suddenly stood up, walked over to Morin, and stared intently into his eyes.
“The Austro-Hungarian Empire is our most important ally on the Europa continent right now. We cannot stand by and watch it collapse due to internal strife.”
“I’ve sent an encrypted telegram to Dresden clarifying my stance… I intend to agree to Field Marshal Conrad’s request and allow the Saxon Empire’s armed forces to intervene in this operation on a limited basis.”
“Intervene on a limited basis?” Morin’s heart sank, an ominous feeling washing over him.
“Correct.” Crown Prince Georg nodded, his expression remarkably grave.
“The most critical target of this operation—Hungarian Prime Minister Count István Tisza—I intend to…”
He paused, enunciating every word.
“…leave to you and your instruction unit to handle.”
Morin’s vision nearly went black. He exerted immense control over his facial muscles to prevent his astonishment from showing.
He had imagined many forms of “intervention”…
Providing intelligence support, establishing military deterrence along the borders, or even dispatching troops to lock down Vienna and stabilize the rear once the operation began.
But going to the capital of an allied nation to capture its Prime Minister?
This inevitably reminded Morin of the methods employed by that “City upon a Hill” from his past life.
He had just led his troops to “passively” interfere in Austro-Hungarian internal affairs, rescuing the Emperor and the Army’s top brass from coup plotters. Now, he was immediately expected to strike “proactively,” and the target was incredibly sensitive.
Given Morin’s identity before transmigrating, this was a mission he would never have encountered in a lifetime.
That powerful eastern nation had always adhered to the principles of peaceful coexistence and non-interference in internal affairs.
In this world, however, the Saxon Empire—as an established great power—clearly harbored no psychological burden about resolving diplomatic issues with force, or directly meddling in another nation’s internal affairs.
Seeing Morin remain silent, Crown Prince Georg seemed to guess his internal struggle.
“Lord Friedrich, I know the nature of this mission is highly unusual,” the Crown Prince’s tone softened. “But you must understand, this is to help our ally solidify their interior, allowing us to better win this war.”
“Once the Hungarian separatist forces succeed, the dilapidated high wall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire will come crashing down… When that happens, our Saxon Empire will face the Britannians and the surrounding nations entirely on our own. That would be the true disaster.”
“Therefore, we have unavoidable reasons to participate in this operation…”
Georg’s words were crystal clear. This was a choice that had to be made for the sake of the Saxon Empire’s national interests.
Morin took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing his untimely thoughts.
If someone is useful, work them to the bone—this scenario was all too common in any world, in any country.
Especially since the instruction unit had already demonstrated a natural advantage in such operations…
What could he do? Throw in the towel?
That was obviously impossible. He could only chalk it up to personally experiencing the “superiority” of imperialist powers in this regard.
From Morin’s perspective, this shoot-first-ask-questions-later approach was admittedly quite exhilarating…
As for the consequences, that wasn’t something an ordinary officer like him needed to consider.
“Your Highness, I understand.” Morin stood up. “I will gather the men and prepare.”
Seeing Morin adjust his mindset so quickly, a gratified smile appeared on Crown Prince Georg’s face.
“Lord Friedrich, I knew it. You are always the person most worthy of my trust.”
Late that night, Dresden’s reply telegram arrived in Vienna.
The content was concise but carried immense weight.
“Intervention approved… Inform Colonel Friedrich von Morin: success is mandatory.”
Morin’s mouth twitched when he read the telegram.
“Damn, ‘success is mandatory’…”
But regardless, the operation was set in stone.
Morin completely cut off any lingering hesitation, pouring all his energy into figuring out how to complete this unprecedented special mission.
The nature of this operation was vastly different from all the battles he had experienced since transmigrating.
It lacked the sweeping scale of field battles and the methodical, step-by-step approach of urban siege warfare.
Infiltrating another nation’s capital to extract a high-value target… this was clearly much closer to a pure special forces operation. Its core lay in stealth, speed, and precision.
In a sense, it was similar to the raid on the Liège Fortress command center, as both aimed at decapitation.
But Budapest wasn’t an isolated fortress; it was the capital of the Kingdom of Hungary, a metropolis.
The complex urban environment and the omnipresent civilians exponentially multiplied the difficulty of the mission.
Fortunately, Vienna also needed time to mobilize troops and shape public opinion to pave the way for their “counter-rebellion” operation.
This gave Morin a relatively ample preparation window.
The first thing he needed to ascertain was the operation’s clearance level.
“Your Highness, to what degree must our operation remain covert?”
Morin posed this question to Crown Prince Georg right after receiving the telegram confirming the action.
Crown Prince Georg’s reply was unprecedentedly solemn:
“I know this is incredibly cruel… but Lord Friedrich, the moment you and your troops enter Budapest, you will no longer be soldiers of the Saxon Empire.”
“You will change into Austro-Hungarian uniforms and use their weapons… The Saxon Imperial government will not acknowledge any details of this operation, nor will it even acknowledge its existence.”
Ah, a Black Ops mission.
If successful, the Austro-Hungarian Empire would reap the rewards publicly, while the Saxon Empire profited behind the scenes.
If it failed, they would just be a group of “unidentified armed personnel” in Austro-Hungarian uniforms. The Saxon Empire could disavow them at any time and even condemn this “despicable framing attempt.”
The personnel participating in the operation would be completely isolated and without support.
“There is only one mission objective. Before Field Marshal Conrad’s troops launch a large-scale armed operation, you must covertly infiltrate the city, locate and control Hungarian Prime Minister Count István Tisza, and extract him alive.”
Crown Prince Georg’s voice echoed in the room.
“Ask for anything you need. Field Marshal Conrad and I will do everything in our power to meet your demands.”
“Understood.”
Morin nodded. This was going to be a very standard special forces operation…
Except it was taking place in 1915.