Chapter 628: The Birth of the Most Terrifying Weapon
The training grounds had descended into complete chaos.
Not battlefield chaos.
Not monster invasion chaos.
Not military chaos.
A far more dangerous kind.
Innovation chaos.
And unfortunately for everyone involved...
Kel Rosenfeld had become interested.
Which was usually how impossible things were born.
The snow continued drifting gently from the heavens.
Cold winds swept through Frostbound Coast.
The knights remained gathered around the pavilion.
Nobody had left.
Because every time someone asked a question...
Something ridiculous happened.
Earlier it was Blood Swords.
Before that it was Elemental Swords.
Before that it was Shape-Shifting Aura Swords.
At this point.
Nobody knew what would happen next.
And that uncertainty was somehow exciting.
"My Lord."
A knight cautiously raised his hand.
Kel looked up from his tea.
"Yes?"
The knight hesitated.
Then asked.
"Can Aura Swords do paperwork?"
Silence.
The crowd immediately became interested.
Several knights nodded.
A valid question.
An extremely valid question.
Especially after seeing Kel casually create weapons from almost anything.
Kel stared.
Then blinked.
Then stared again.
The Count genuinely considered the question.
Meanwhile.
The knights became excited.
Gareth immediately sensed danger.
The veteran captain knew that expression.
That wasn't the face of someone hearing a question.
That was the face of someone receiving inspiration.
A terrible difference.
"My Lord."
Gareth immediately intervened.
"Please don't."
Kel looked confused.
"Don't what?"
The captain pointed.
"Whatever you're currently thinking."
The younger knights nodded.
Very reasonable advice.
Unfortunately.
Kel had already stopped listening.
Because his eyes slowly drifted toward the mountain of paperwork resting beside him.
Reports.
Requests.
Budgets.
Contracts.
Military records.
Construction schedules.
Thousands of documents.
A never-ending war.
Perhaps the only enemy Frostbound Coast had that couldn't be solved with swords.
Paperwork.
The Count stared.
Then slowly murmured.
"In theory..."
The surrounding knights immediately became nervous.
Because every disaster in history began with those two words.
"In theory."
Kel leaned back.
Thinking.
"An Aura Sword can execute commands."
The knights listened.
"It can follow instructions."
More listening.
"It can move independently."
Even more listening.
Then Kel paused.
"No."
The knights sighed in relief.
Thank the heavens.
Logic had won.
Then Kel continued.
"Using Aura Swords would be inefficient."
The relief instantly vanished.
Because that wasn't rejection.
That was optimization.
A completely different thing.
Kel stood.
The crowd became silent.
The Count extended his hand.
A faint glow appeared around his fingertips.
Then another.
Then another.
The mana surrounding him shifted.
Compressed.
Condensed.
Refined.
Unlike swords.
Unlike weapons.
Unlike shields.
Something entirely different began forming.
Even Lyra became curious.
The serpent woman leaned forward.
"What is he making now?"
Nobody knew.
Not even Gareth.
The light slowly stretched.
Lengthened.
Refined further.
Then...
Two elegant pens appeared.
Silence.
Everyone stared.
"..."
"..."
"..."
One knight finally spoke.
"Those are pens."
Another nodded.
"Definitely pens."
A third added.
"Very expensive-looking pens."
Kel ignored them.
The two glowing objects floated beside him.
Made entirely from Aura.
Refined beyond anything most knights could achieve.
Their bodies appeared silver-blue.
Their tips glowed faintly.
Tiny runes drifted across their surfaces.
They looked beautiful.
Which somehow made the situation even stranger.
The Count slowly sat before a desk.
Placed several reports before himself.
Then pointed.
The two Aura Pens descended.
The knights held their breath.
The pens touched paper.
And began writing.
Everyone froze.
The scratching sounds echoed throughout the pavilion.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
The pens moved smoothly.
Signing documents.
Marking approvals.
Writing notes.
The training grounds collectively stopped functioning.
One knight's jaw dropped.
Another forgot how breathing worked.
A third sat down immediately.
Because reality clearly no longer mattered.
Meanwhile.
Kel watched carefully.
Observing.
Calculating.
Testing.
The pens continued writing.
One processed military reports.
The other reviewed construction requests.
For several seconds.
Everything worked perfectly.
Then...
The Count frowned.
The pens slowed.
Their glow weakened slightly.
Kel immediately noticed.
"Too inefficient."
The crowd stared.
TOO INEFFICIENT?
The pens were literally doing paperwork by themselves.
How was that inefficient?
Kel tapped the desk thoughtfully.
"The mana consumption is excessive."
One knight looked ready to cry.
Another whispered.
"Of course that's the problem."
Meanwhile.
Lyra observed carefully.
Unlike the others.
She could feel the mana.
And what she sensed surprised her.
The pens weren't simple constructs.
They continuously required calculations.
Thousands.
Millions.
Every letter.
Every stroke.
Every signature.
The pens weren't merely writing.
They were interpreting instructions.
Understanding language.
Following intent.
The amount of mental processing required was absurd.
Even for Kel.
The serpent woman narrowed her eyes.
Then finally spoke.
"You're controlling them manually."
Kel nodded.
"Partially."
The answer shocked everyone.
Partially?
PARTIALLY?
The knights looked horrified.
If this was only partial control...
What did full control look like?
Meanwhile.
Deep beneath Scarder Lake.
Seiren laughed.
"You actually did it."
Kel remained focused.
"It works."
"Barely."
"True."
The Guardian smiled.
"Only you would hear a joke and create autonomous paperwork tools."
Kel thought for a moment.
"It wasn't a joke."
Seiren immediately laughed harder.
Back on the training grounds.
The knights continued watching.
The two Aura Pens finished several reports.
Then suddenly.
POOF.
One disappeared.
The crowd jumped.
Kel sighed.
"Mana efficiency remains problematic."
The remaining pen continued writing.
For another minute.
Then it also vanished.
Silence followed.
The Count stared at the paperwork.
Then nodded slowly.
"It requires improvement."
The knights wanted to scream.
IMPROVEMENT?
IT ALREADY WROTE REPORTS BY ITSELF!
Meanwhile.
Gareth slowly approached.
The veteran captain looked exhausted.
"My Lord."
"Yes?"
"Please don't create anything else today."
Kel blinked.
"Why?"
The captain pointed toward the knights.
Several appeared mentally damaged.
One stared into the distance.
Another was writing notes.
A third had begun questioning reality.
Gareth sighed.
"You've already broken them."
The Count looked around.
Then honestly replied.
"I don't understand."
The captain covered his face.
Of course he didn't.
Meanwhile.
A young knight suddenly stood.
His eyes shone.
"My Lord!"
Kel looked up.
"Yes?"
The knight pointed dramatically.
"If Aura Pens are possible..."
A dangerous pause followed.
Then came the question.
"Can Aura Clerks be created?"
The entire training grounds froze.
Absolute silence.
Gareth closed his eyes.
The veteran captain no longer wished to participate in reality.
Meanwhile.
Kel's eyes slowly widened.
Not in horror.
Not in confusion.
In inspiration.
The worst possible outcome.
The crowd immediately realized their mistake.
Too late.
Far too late.
Kel slowly looked toward the administrative building visible in the distance.
Then toward the mountain of paperwork.
Then toward the vanished pens.
Then back toward the knight.
A faint smile appeared.
The knight instantly regretted existing.
Because that smile meant one thing.
The idea had been accepted.
Deep beneath Scarder Lake.
Seiren started laughing uncontrollably.
"No."
Kel ignored her.
"Kel."
Ignored.
"KEL."
Still ignored.
The Guardian sighed dramatically.
Because she knew exactly what would happen next.
Within a few weeks.
Frostbound Coast would somehow possess magical administrative assistants.
And nobody would understand how.
Meanwhile.
Lyra watched Kel quietly.
Then slowly rubbed her forehead.
Because she finally understood something.
The most dangerous weapon in Frostbound Coast wasn't Kel's Aura Swords.
Not his magic.
Not his authority.
Not even his intelligence.
It was curiosity.
Because every time Kel became curious...
The world changed.
And looking at the mountain of paperwork.
Looking at the vanished Aura Pens.
Looking at the inspired expression on his face.
The serpent woman suddenly felt sorry for every future report that would ever exist.
Because somewhere inside Kel's mind...
The birth of something terrifying had already begun.
Not a weapon.
Not a spell.
Not a monster.
Something far worse.
An employee that never slept.
An employee that never complained.
An employee that never asked for vacation.
An administrative nightmare.
Or perhaps.
An administrative miracle.
Depending on who was asked.