I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

“Nice words? Perhaps.”

Sherria tilted her little head, her twin ponytails swaying.

Mitia, watching from the side, felt her hands itch, wanting to grab one and see how it felt.

Sensing something, the other girl shifted her head away with a wary look: “You can’t tie it, can you? Why do you keep thinking about mine all the time?”

Mitia: “...”

“Actually, what we find most strange is your way of doing things. It seems you’ve made something rather incredible here.”

Sherria looked at the ordinary people in plain factory work clothes walking by from time to time.

Although their faces showed exhaustion, their eyes still shone.

In their hands they either carried ingredients or held food, chatting and laughing loudly in small groups.

They were of different races, men and women, with diverse appearances.

Gathered together, they looked a bit odd, but the atmosphere was unexpectedly harmonious.

Posters reading 【Equal pay for equal work, racial equality.】 were everywhere.

Nobles and commoners walked the same road without conflict, and no one saluted the nobles.

In Sherria’s view, all this was completely at odds with the world she had known for years.

If she had to use a word to describe it, she thought of vitality.

Mitia tilted her head just like her: “Strange? Maybe it’s because you’ve gotten too used to seeing what’s wrong as normal, so you’re not used to how the world is supposed to be.”

”The way the world is supposed to be? Shouldn’t the world develop according to its own course, without too much interference? The capable rise, the weak fall—that’s nature.’

”Like us. Stop always worrying if I’m some old crone! According to our witches’ own reckoning, strictly speaking, I’m still in the juvenile stage!’

Saying this, Sherria pouted angrily, but still continued:

”So I don’t understand why you care about their lives and deaths. They’re just insignificant passersby in your life.”

”Dynasties rise and fall, races flourish and perish, yet this world remains the same. Nothing really changes.”

Sherria spoke in a flat tone, as if she had already grown used to such things.

“I don’t know why either. Maybe I just want to bring a little bit of change to this world~”

After saying that, Mitia’s eyes rolled mischievously, and she suddenly grabbed one of the ponytails: “I think you’ve been talking a bit too much. You didn’t come here just to see a strange person like me, did you?”

”Eh?! Let go! I’ll tell you, okay?”

Sherria, caught off guard while nibbling on a candied hawthorn, hurriedly begged for mercy after Mitia seized the chance.

Once she freed herself, she glared with flushed cheeks and said crossly:

”It’s nothing much. They just sent me to keep you alive. Orligovich is going to make a move against you.”

“Orligovich? The Pontiff? Going against me? Keeping me alive?”

Mitia was utterly confused by her words:

“I’ve only got this tiny bit of territory, and he wants to kill me? Not to brag, but I honestly don’t think he can do anything to me.”

It wasn’t that she underestimated the forces the Pontiff could mobilize.

She simply looked down on this world’s military power.

Last time, hundreds of thousands of allied kingdom troops had been mowed down by her.

Now, the Astal Family was far stronger than before.

Defeating her with faith-driven charges? What a joke!

Sherria didn’t refute her—instead, she nodded in agreement, pointing toward the quadruple Maxim anti-aircraft machine guns mounted on the rooftops:

“You’re relying on that, right? Then indeed, Orligovich alone can’t touch you. But behind him is the Church. Losing isn’t a problem, but winning most likely means you’ll have to face it directly.”

Mitia said speechlessly: “If I fight him head-on, aren’t I already fighting the Church? What difference does it make?”

Sherria rolled her eyes: “A huge difference! If the local branch of the Church can’t handle you, then the Mitria Diocese of the main continent’s theocracy will step in.”

“They aren’t afraid of your weapons. The Church Knights’ magical power armor can’t be hit by these weapons of yours.”

“Magical power armor?! What’s that?”

Mitia had never heard of this term before, but her instincts told her it was nothing good.

“It’s a type of goblin-powered armor controlled by magical knight members. About... hmm, as tall as that cannon of yours!”

Hearing this, Mitia wore the expression of a baffled Black man meme.

Power armor three meters tall?

Wasn’t that basically a Gundam?! And how the hell did they solve the energy issue? With that kind of power, why build a Gundam instead of something else?!

The Maxim machine guns might not even be able to handle it—it didn’t sound like it belonged to the same era at all...

Before she could digest it, Sherria continued:

“But there aren’t too many of these in the diocese. They’d probably only send a squad. Still, even that, I doubt you could stop. After all, with your magic level... tsk~ their magic resistance is extremely high. Even for me, facing one squad would be very troublesome.”

Mitia steadied her mind and asked the intel she most wanted to know: “This... magical armor you speak of—if my machine guns hit it, can they break it?”

Sherria thought for a moment: “If it’s sustained fire for more than ten seconds, yes! And I’ve also seen images of your cannons. If they hit directly from the front, they could also shatter it. But you can’t hit them!”

“Your weapons are powerful, but they can’t move, and turning them is difficult. That’s a huge flaw. If you can’t keep up and can’t land a hit, then no matter how strong they are, it’s meaningless.”

Mitia, now recovered from her shock, sneered: “I’m not afraid of missing. I’m only afraid if they can tank the shots! As long as they can be broken, that’s all that matters.”

She realized now that this so-called magical armor was likely developed specifically against mages—magic-immune, fast, low defense, high offense.

Charging into a group of mages would be a slaughter.

But what did that matter to her? She was a mage, yes, but she didn’t need to fight herself.

Industrial weapons might mostly run on magic power, but what they really delivered was kinetic and explosive damage.

Couldn’t she just switch to armor-piercing rounds? Shockwaves weren’t magical damage either!

And thinking that their power cores could drive such hulking junk around made Mitia burn with excitement.

Obviously, those cores were treasures.

She wanted to seize a few, take them apart, and study them carefully!

As for missing? That only meant her fire coverage wasn’t wide enough!

But this intel was indeed crucial.

At the very least, it prevented her from falling victim to a beheading strike due to ignorance.

And besides, this girl had come specifically to protect her.

Thinking this, Mitia sincerely bowed her head in gratitude to Sherria.

The sight actually made Sherria uncomfortable.

Her small hands pushed against her and refused:

“Oh, what are you doing~”

“Because you’re younger. Our kind is so few to begin with, and most are asleep all the time. Meeting someone like you is rare—I can’t let you be bullied.”

Mitia, ”deeply moved,’ promptly hugged her: “Little Sherria, you’re so good to me!”

Sherria froze for a few seconds before realizing, then shoved at Mitia’s chest with all her strength: “Pervert! Let go of me! And stop giving me weird nicknames! I’m your elder!”

Mitia protested: “If you’re juvenile and I’m juvenile, then why are you my elder?”

Sherria: “?”