I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

She was not kept waiting long.

As the last ray of sunlight sank beyond the horizon, the war between the two sides erupted.

Under Mitia’s watchful gaze from afar, Ovinia’s military formation continuously absorbed the fire element from the heavens and earth around them.

A giant bird of flame rapidly took shape in the sky.

Then, under the guidance of the Ovinia Mage Corps, it fiercely crashed into the defensive line prepared at Harlin City.

The searing heat of over a thousand degrees melted every barbed wire within range, blasting open a massive gap.

“Target sighted, cannons ready!”

Behind Mitia, the artillery regiment’s soldiers moved quickly.

One by one, the burlap covers around them were yanked away.

Groups of six, aided by warhorses straining with all their might, dragged the massive weapons concealed in the shadows.

The teeth-grinding screech of metal against earth echoed, until the gigantic weapons finally emerged into the moonlight.

“Coordinates confirmed, bearing: 1-7-3-0, range: 0-4-7-5.”

“Bearing: 1-7-3-0, confirmed.”

“Range: 4-7-5-0, confirmed.”

“Aim—fire!”

Tens of thousands of Ovinia infantry, along with auxiliaries carrying planks and sandbags, surged frantically toward the gap left after the flames subsided, intent on paving the way for the heavy cavalry behind them.

“Boom! Boom!!”

A series of violent explosions and sharp whistling sounds made some soldiers instinctively lift their heads.

“What is that?”

In the pitch-black night, they could not see clearly what was making the shrill noise overhead.

Before their doubts cleared, the rear suddenly blazed bright.

“Rumble!”

A dense string of blasts shook the ground violently, forcing most soldiers to drop flat instinctively.

Some who looked back saw their camp already engulfed in flames.

They rose to their feet slowly, trembling with fear:

“Goddess have mercy, what is that thing! Is it the magic of the enemy’s mages?”

“I don’t know! But thank the heavens we weren’t there…”

“Bang bang bang…”

Before he could finish, clusters of tiny firebursts erupted ahead, shattering the silence.

The dense rain of fire dropped swathes of soldiers to the ground.

From Mitia’s vantage point, the location from which the enemy had just fired magic now erupted in seas of flame.

“4-2, reduce distance by 50.”

“Reduce 50, reload and prepare…”

Three minutes later, the second volley of shells crashed into Ovinia’s ranks.

This time most landed precisely in the target zone, and Mitia finally exhaled in relief.

In three minutes, those mages would not have gotten far.

Some would be killed at least, and for a short while they surely would not dare to expose themselves again.

With this thought, she could not help but turn to look at the massive monster at her side.

A 150mm heavy rifled cannon.

A total combat weight of 22 tons, with a barrel 7.3 meters long weighing 10 tons, and a carriage weighing 12 tons.

It was the largest caliber artillery Mitia could currently produce.

With a range of 15 km, its cradle and elevation mechanism allowed the barrel to tilt between 0° and +45°.

A single high-explosive shell weighed nearly 150 jin.

A whole team could barely manage to rotate it—dragging it was out of the question.

It was essentially a fixed city-defense cannon.

Even with steam locomotives available, it had taken over a month to bring just six of them here.

The railway existed, but land routes were still dirt roads, so not much could be transported.

At this moment, Niparmo was utterly bewildered.

Ovinia’s Mage Corps had just suffered devastating losses—nearly half had not escaped.

Because the shells bore no magical fluctuations, they had no way of defending against them.

Some even thought mages from the rear were ambushing them, wasting time defending the wrong direction, and thus evacuating too late.

Meanwhile, the ten thousand men Niparmo had sent forward as scouts were soon routed by the musket units, leaving thousands of corpses and wounded behind.

The fleeing soldiers crashed into Niparmo’s main formation, creating chaos.

It was only after the execution squad cut down a number of deserters that order was barely restored.

Watching from a distance, Mitia felt regret.

Her strategy had been conservative; she had not thought to order a counter-charge.

Thus, she missed the chance to completely break Niparmo’s camp.

Niparmo’s formation remained chaotic for quite some time, only quieting down by the latter half of the night.

He launched no further attacks, likely wary of Astal’s strange weapons.

Meanwhile, under Mitia’s command, some engineers quietly rebuilt two lines of barbed-wire defenses before dawn, while also giving a clean end to any wounded enemy soldiers left behind.

The night passed quickly.

At daybreak, Niparmo organized another assault.

This time, he did not risk his Mage Corps but sent in the heavy infantry.

Over five thousand men clad in full plate armor, carrying tower shields, led the way, forming a solid wall for the tens of thousands of auxiliaries and archers behind them.

The shield wall advanced, auxiliaries dismantling barbed wire and filling pits, while the archers showered the battlefield with arrows to suppress counterattacks.

To this, Mitia merely smiled faintly: “Artillery regiment, prepare!”

“Cannons ready, reference coordinates 4-8-7-6-7-6, over.”

“Received, 4-8-7-6-7-6 confirmed.”

“Boom! Boom! Boom…”

Everyone shuddered at the now-familiar sound.

From afar, Niparmo floated in the void, eyes wide as he looked toward the incoming roar.

This time, he finally saw clearly the culprits that had only released magical fluctuations at the moment of impact the previous night—annihilating half his Mage Corps.

This time, however, they were not targeting his mages.

Instead, they unleashed hell directly upon his charging infantry.

The magical high-explosive shells had a destructive radius of over twelve meters.

Within six meters, anything struck turned into pulp.

Within twelve meters, the combined shockwaves of magic and air burst shattered internal organs, leaving all living beings writhing in agony until death.

Even the heavy infantry in front could not escape such devastation.

Before the stunned soldiers could recover, dense volleys of bullets began reaping lives.

The piercing, terrifying sounds of detonation rhythmically tore across the battlefield, far faster than any mage corps could ever cast spells.

Ahead lay bullets and bombs; behind loomed execution squads with blades in hand.

Forward or backward—it all meant death.

Soon, soldiers began to break down mentally.

“Demons! They’re all demons!”

“Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot me!”

“I want to go home!”

Mass desertion erupted.

Even the execution squads could not suppress the collapse.

In truth, Ovinia’s casualties on the front line were not that severe—around twenty percent.

After all, Mitia had only six cannons, and against tens of thousands, their damage was limited.

But traditional feudal armies could not bear such losses.

Without execution squads cutting down deserters like melons, they would have retreated once losses reached ten percent.

Niparmo gnashed his teeth as he looked at the distant, flame-spitting monsters—but he was powerless.

They were too far away.

The Mage Corps’ spells could not reach.

Unless he himself cast instant spells at close range, it was impossible.

But no matter how skilled or daring he was, he could not possibly cross the battlefield to the enemy’s base to do it.

He had no choice but to swallow his anger and retreat.

This battle could no longer be fought.

He first had to uncover the truth behind Astal’s strange weapons!