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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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Clendor Kingdom.
The island nation of Clendor had achieved a decisive victory against the Empire in the Great War seven years prior.
Their own territory remained untouched, while the Empire, plagued by Clendor’s relentless guerilla tactics, had been forced to sign a truce.
What was the secret to Clendor’s success?
It was their very lack of resources.
Denied access to the vast lands controlled by the Empire, they had been forced to develop their naval capabilities to establish new trade routes.
While the Empire controlled the land routes, Clendor became the heart of maritime trade.
They developed the lateen sail, allowing them to navigate against the wind, opening up countless sea routes and accumulating vast nautical knowledge.
This expertise allowed them to reach every corner of the continent.
As a result, the Empire’s ships were no match for Clendor’s.
The Empire was stuck with galleys, while Clendor had reached the pinnacle of wooden shipbuilding technology: the ship of the line.
They were the undisputed masters of naval warfare.
Furthermore, the Empire was woefully ignorant about sea monsters, having never ventured into monster-infested waters.
They lacked the necessary weapons and defense systems.
‘But Clendor is different.’
Clendor was well-prepared.
Their ships were crewed by expert monster hunters, who not only protected the vessels but also profited from their hunts.
Their navigators and sailors were seasoned veterans.
Clendor’s advantage wasn’t just technological; it was their human resources that truly set them apart.
‘This explains why they didn’t ask for my help.’
Mere technology had its limitations.
The Princess likely reasoned that even if Ed could build ships as advanced as Clendor’s, the lack of experienced navigators and sailors would render them useless.
Navigating the Magentani Strait, where the Sea Wall was located, required skilled professionals.
“Well, none of that matters if I build this.”
Ed was looking at it—a 3D holographic projection of it—a dreadnought-class battleship.
‘A true game-changer in naval history.’
The dreadnought, a revolutionary warship that had become the standard in the early 20th century, had rendered all previous battleships obsolete with its superior speed and firepower.
It was the quintessential image of a battleship.
“If I can build this…”
Clendor’s ships of the line, their unique navigation techniques, their monster hunting expertise… all of it would become irrelevant.
Ed’s dreadnought would be largely unaffected by wind and waves.
A steam-powered, high-speed warship was simply in a different league compared to wind-powered sailing ships.
‘Is the technological gap between this world and mine also a product of scarcity?’
His own world lacked mana and Formulas, leading to the development of natural sciences and engineering, culminating in the advanced civilization he knew.
The technology of this world, however, was… peculiar.
Mana-powered carriages instead of cars, Formulas replacing oars… it was a strange mix of medieval and modern.
The architecture and social customs were medieval, yet some technologies rivaled his own time, while others, like digital-age Japan clinging to analog, were strangely isolated.
“Anyway…”
The important thing was that this world’s lack of scientific advancement gave him a distinct advantage.
How would Clendor’s prized warships fare against his dreadnought?
“Well, that’s putting the cart before the horse.”
He had the blueprints, but that wasn’t enough.
He needed the infrastructure to build it.
He needed a shipyard capable of constructing such a massive vessel.
‘And I don’t have the manpower.’
He needed skilled workers who understood their tasks.
Training them from scratch would be costly and time-consuming.
Building the shipyard itself would be a monumental undertaking.
Even in the early 20th century, building a few dreadnoughts could bankrupt a nation.
It required astronomical resources.
“If I… invest my entire fortune?”
Money wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle.
He was already one of the wealthiest individuals in the Empire, thanks to his air conditioner subscriptions and mosquito net sales.
“And if I enlist the help of the dwarves?”
He was a hero of the Dwarven Allied Kingdom, the Blacksmith of Salvation.
If he could borrow their skilled engineers, capable of building advanced underground cities, constructing a shipyard would be within reach.
“And if I put the SIBALSAEGI members to work?”
He had the SIBALSAEGI members to oversee the construction.
They were now studying mechanical engineering in addition to physics and could understand blueprints.
With enough cramming—say, three hours of sleep a day—they could manage the workforce.
“Wait, I can get the workers for free!”
How could he have forgotten?
He was a Count, with the right to conscript the people living on his land, which he hadn’t yet chosen from the three offered.
He had land and people at his disposal.
He considered all these factors, reassessing the feasibility of building a dreadnought.
“No, it’s still not viable.”
The supporting industries were too underdeveloped.
The dreadnought had been a product of incremental technological advancements: steamships, ironclads, pre-dreadnoughts… a gradual progression.
‘And it would take too long.’
Time was money.
The longer it took, the more astronomical the costs would become.
He would need hundreds, if not thousands, of workers, and paying their wages for months would strain even his vast resources.
“The cost would outweigh the benefits.”
More importantly, it would consume too much of his time and energy.
He was already busy with suit development.
His priority was preparing for the demon invasion, not unraveling the mysteries of this world.
“I have the technology, but not the resources.”
He could request Imperial funding.
Given his contributions to the Empire, they would likely agree, even if it meant coercing the nobles.
But he didn’t want that.
Accepting their support would mean sharing ownership, and he valued his independence.
“Forget it. I’ll scrap the idea.”
The Princess and Elena hadn’t involved him in their plans anyway.
The Empire might have to make concessions to Clendor, but it wasn’t his responsibility to fix their problems.
His focus was on strengthening himself and his NPC allies for the impending demon invasion.
Everything else was secondary.
He would shelve the warship project.
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The next day, the second selection matches began.
This time, the B-rank students challenged the A-rank students.
Ed chose Lucas again, to test his upgraded suit.
“You’re ruthless. Trying to eliminate me, Ed.”
“You said you wanted a rematch. Don’t worry, the evaluation is about the process, not just the result.”
“Go easy on me, then.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
“I’ll buy you Macbeth pork.”
“Deal.”
They had become friends since their last duel, casually addressing each other by name, sharing a beer now and then.
Lucas had shed his princely facade, the compulsion to appear perfect.
He was more… human now, having accepted his imperfections.
After their brief exchange, however, Ed’s thoughts drifted back to the dreadnought.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.
Was there a way to make it work?
If exploring the three great magical anomaly zones was a key event in the game, he needed to be prepared.
He continued to ponder this as he walked across the academy grounds, lost in thought.
Whoosh!
The sound of a blade cutting through the air snapped him out of his reverie.
It was Enya, practicing relentlessly, oblivious to his presence.
Her swordsmanship was beautiful, her blade flowing gracefully under the setting sun.
But her expression was clouded, almost desperate.
‘It’s understandable.’
He knew why.
Her crushing defeat in the first selection match had shaken her.
She had been completely outclassed, defeated by an opponent she had previously been evenly matched with.
It meant the gap between their skills had widened significantly.
‘She’s still developing her Quickdraw.’
Her new technique was still incomplete, putting her at a disadvantage.
Whoosh!
Her movements became more frantic, her frustration, anger, and desperation seeping into her swordsmanship. Finally—
“Damn it!”
She slammed her sword into the ground.
Each swing was a reminder of her defeat, fueling her frustration.
Having played through Enya’s route multiple times in the early days of the game, Ed understood her feelings.
Their eyes met.
She looked away, clenching her fists, then offered a sad smile.
“I look pathetic, don’t I?”
“Want to talk?”
Ed himself was feeling restless.
He led her to his lab and offered her a drink.
After a sip of cold water, Enya spoke.
“Honestly, I’m not sure if this is the right path for me anymore.”
Her words were direct, her doubts about Quickdraw evident.
“Everyone says I’m chasing a pipe dream, Ed. That I’m stagnating, making no progress. That I’ll end up a mediocre swordsman. Everyone, even my family.”
Their advice was sound, for now.
Ed’s faith in her Quickdraw stemmed from his knowledge of the future.
“…What do you think, Ed? Do you still think I should continue? I just don’t know anymore.”
Her eyes flickered with uncertainty.
What could he do for her?
He couldn’t tell her about the future, nor could he reveal the secrets of her training.
Her current struggles and setbacks were essential for her eventual success.
His role was to support her, not to offer shortcuts.
Quickdraw wouldn’t reach its full potential if she skipped the arduous process of trial and error, of failure and despair.
As he considered this, the words tumbled out.
“…Maybe… you’re about to make a quantum leap.”
A science joke, out of nowhere.
Enya looked at him in confusion.
“Q-Quantum leap? What does that mean?”
Why had quantum physics popped into his head?
He decided to roll with it.
“Well… there’s this thing called quantum mechanics. It’s the study of the microscopic world…”
He gave her a brief overview of quantum mechanics.
“…How did you figure all that out? That everything in the world is made of atoms?”
“Right?”
“Me too? My body is made up of countless atoms?”
“Yes.”
“So… what does that have to do with a quantum leap?”
A quantum leap, also known as a quantum jump, referred to the discontinuous movement of electrons between energy levels.
Instead of moving smoothly between orbits, they disappeared from one and reappeared in another.
He explained the principle of discontinuous energy transfer.
“So, an electron… doesn’t move continuously but jumps to the next orbit.”
“Yes.”
She had grasped the concept surprisingly well.
He explained the analogy.
“You’re preparing for a leap. A quantum leap requires a certain amount of energy input.”
“Many people give up at this stage. Because it’s not a continuous process, the results aren’t immediately visible. But the quantum leap will happen. If you keep putting in the energy, without giving up.”
Life was like that.
You put in the effort, but sometimes it felt like you were making no progress.
But if you persisted, you eventually reached a new level.
Enya’s Quickdraw simply required more energy, more time.
“I guarantee it. You’ll succeed. Don’t be discouraged by setbacks or what others say. The quantum leap is an immutable law.”
Enya looked at him, her demeanor shifting, the doubt and frustration fading from her face.
“Thank you. You’ve never been wrong. I’ll trust in your belief in me.”
She smiled, the worry gone from her eyes.
“There. That’s the Enya I know.”
Relieved, they shared a beer and chatted casually.
Ed mentioned his own concerns about the dreadnought project, not expecting a solution, but just to vent.
“Saving time, huh… You’ve got a lot on your plate. I wish your workers could quantum leap too.”
Enya’s words hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Why hadn’t he thought of that?
He could… quantum leap his workers.
“Enya, you’re a genius.”
He would modify his workers.
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