By the time Caedrion returned to Baelius, the man already had another battery cell resting on the workbench.
This one was much smaller than the last, roughly the size of a .410 shotgun shell from Caedrion’s past life.
Baelius looked up as Caedrion entered, then casually tossed him the shell, explaining while he worked.
"When you first asked me to combine my dim fire to power your creations, I thought you were mad. But... I must admit if this thing works the way you claim it will, it’ll usher in a new era."
Caedrion caught the shell midair. It was a culmination, like the earlier battery; this too was born of Architect magic merged with the Crucible’s flame.
But unlike the first device, which was more akin to a lithium-ion cell...
This one was far more devious.
He twirled the cartridge between his fingers, inspecting it.
Then peered down through its narrow, open throat, something the earlier batteries didn’t feature.
Inside, he saw flame, tightly constrained around a blackened iron bolt, etched with glowing rustlight runes.
So light. So stable. So damn dangerous in the wrong hands.
Before he could speak, Baelius sighed and handed over the prototype.
"Frankly speaking, I still think you’re absolutely mad for this. I mean... are you even sure this contraption is going to work?"
Caedrion took it with reverence.
A rifle, breech-loading in design.
For the past month, ever since Baelius had arrived at his home, he and Caedrion had together read through every scroll within the Castle’s library.
It was over these dusty old tomes that they theorized magic, spellcraft, and the design of many devices that had the potential to change the world as they knew it.
This one in particular was labored after constructing a workshop capable of building the many contraptions they theorized about day in and day out.
It was modeled loosely on the Remington rolling block from Caedrion’s former life. The barrel? Smoothbore. Rifling wasn’t needed, not for what these shells fired.
Its materials had been sourced from both Dawnhaven and the volcanic domains of House Ignarion.
The barrel, bolt, breech, and trigger group were forged from Pyroclastic Iron.
A volatile volcanic alloy mined from ashlands and spellforged using Architect magic.
Functionally superior to even the high-grade steels Caedrion remembered from his previous world.
The receiver housing, by contrast, was cast from Etherbrass, a lustrous golden alloy, better suited for rune circuits, arc coils, and potentially even future spell circuitry.
The stock had been crafted from ebonized local timber. Not just for aesthetics, but for its natural durability and mana-damping properties.
Caedrion ran his hand over the weapon’s frame with quiet satisfaction.
This was his design. His craftsmanship. Forged into existence with Baelius’s flame, and his memories from a past life in a different world.
He thumbed open the breech, slotted the shell into the chamber, then left it open.
He patted Baelius on the shoulder.
"It’s wonderful, isn’t it?"
Baelius had come to recognize that smug grin over the last month of living as House Ferrondel’s guest. It never meant something good was about to happen.
"Please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you’re going to do..."
Caedrion ignored the concern entirely.
He strode toward the door, rifle in hand.
"Like I said, Baelius... it’s a wonderful day. House Ignarion has brought us so many test subjects. Let’s just pray this doesn’t blow up horribly in my face."
He shut the door behind him.
Baelius stared after him, then muttered:
His gaze drifted back to the workbench. Several more batteries and shell casings were cooling, arranged in neat rows.
Only he knew the thoughts stirring in that moment.
And only he could feel the tremor of history shifting beneath his fingers.
Valerius stood frozen before Dawnhaven’s new barrier.
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.
In all the thousands of years of recorded history, buried deep in his family’s archives, never had there been mention of a barrier that could do this.
And yet, here it stood... expanded, seamless, glowing with power that no vessel should have been able to sustain.
Was it a hidden spell matrix? A mana bloom? A secondary ley siphon?!
He turned sharply to his officers, who were equally stunned, and barked:
"WELL? What are you waiting for? BREAK the damn thing already!"
No one dared sigh... though many wanted to.
The barrier’s current output was absurd.
Their best scholars had estimated that Dawnhaven’s shield, even if powered by ancient Eidolon artifacts, would only last ten years under continuous use.
Not ten days. Not ten minutes.
And certainly not , rejuvenated, expanded, and unbreaking.
But no one challenged him.
They couldn’t. Not yet.
So they began assembling the ritual formation, dragging out the effigy, a grim, rune-choked statue designed to channel vessel energy and produce focused magical bombardments.
Dozens of vessels were brought forward. Crystals infused with stored mana, gifted by Magi.
They were embedded in the effigy and siege engines.
As Valerius turned to berate the soldiers for dragging their heels, a sound split the valley like thunder.
Every bird in the region scattered.
Valerius scanned the ridgeline, and then saw it.
The old man standing beside him, his family’s elder war advisor, armored in a magically enhanced breastplate, collapsed from his steed.
A sharp, hissing hole was punched through his chest.
Straight through the plate.
The blood leaked out in slow pulses.
His eyes blinked wide, confused... the look of a man seeing something he had never even imagined.
Only one word escaped him before he died:
Far away, standing atop the outermost ramparts of his city’s wall, Caedrion frowned, ejecting the spent case from the rifle.
He caught it in his hand.
Then at the weapon still gripped in his other.
"I really should’ve properly zeroed this thing... I’m not getting another chance like that again."
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he pocketed the spent casing.