I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Patras

The city at night appeared exceptionally quiet.

Only a few guards patrolled the city walls, occasionally passing by with torches in hand.

As the coastal city farthest from the political heart of the kingdom — the Royal Capital — it held almost no sense of presence. Yet life here was rather comfortable.

Unfortunately, precisely because it was so far from the Royal Capital, it had caught Tina’s attention.

Under the cover of night, hundreds of people crept quietly to a distance of about three hundred meters from the city wall. They lay flat on the ground and began to dig silently.

Not long after, dozens of shallow and deep pits were dug.

Behind them, many soldiers rushed forward carrying iron and wooden barrels crafted by carpenters and blacksmiths.

By now, they no longer cared about stealth.

Even if the enemy discovered them immediately, it would be too late to stop what they were about to do.

One of the iron barrels was tilted and placed into a pit.

A man poured a pre-measured amount of black powder from a cloth bag into the barrel, then took out a thick round wooden board from his back and pressed it in tightly to compact the powder.

He then moved behind the barrel, drew out a fuse from his belt, and, feeling his way through the dark, inserted it through the pre-drilled hole.

Another man carrying a circular explosive pack shoved his charge into the same barrel.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Mm!”

Tina stood among the gathered crowd, waiting. Soon, the Sergeant Major ran up to her and nodded. “Preparation is almost complete.”

Tina nodded in return. “Good. Pass the order — attack begins in ten minutes. Fire the shells at my whistle.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Her eyes gleamed as she gazed toward the massive silhouette of the city in the dark. Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to Marlon, who was doing the same thing far away in Vedrados.

【May the Empress bless you and me until the day we meet again...】

A piercing whistle split the night.

“Light it!!”

‘Boom!’

A succession of muffled yet thunderous explosions followed, echoing together as one.

The two sentries dozing off atop the city gate tower were instantly startled awake.

Before they could even react, deafening blasts erupted all around them.

‘Boom—boom...’

The chaotic and dense explosions shook the ground within and beyond the city walls.

Just as the two guards realized it was an attack, a thrown explosive pack landed ten meters away.

Before they could move, a blinding flash burst forth from it — followed by an ear-splitting roar.

Their bodies convulsed once before collapsing limply to the ground, blood slowly seeping from their eyes, ears, and lips.

Tina drew her longsword from her waist and shouted loudly, “Brothers! For the People! For the Empress! Charge with me! Long live the Empress!!!”

The soldiers behind her roared in unison:

“Long live the Empress!!”

To the sound of the charging horn, Tina and the Sergeant Major took the lead, sprinting toward the city two hundred meters ahead.

Behind them, thousands of soldiers — their caps gleaming with the Seris Army insignia — charged forward without hesitation.

Within minutes, the Thunder Mortars were reloaded, launching another round of volleys.

Most explosive packs landed near the city walls, though a few unfortunately fell among their own troops, causing some casualties.

The Thunder Mortar resembled a crude heavy mortar — though its accuracy was notoriously dreadful.

But sometimes, poor accuracy wasn’t such a bad thing. If even the gunners didn’t know where the shells would land, how could the defenders possibly predict it?

Still, there were frequent cases where sloppy loading caused the barrels to burst — which made Tina too afraid to go near them. No one could guarantee that a misfire wouldn’t send her straight to the afterlife along with the shell.

Yet despite that, the Thunder Mortars were remarkably effective — the best fire-support weapons available to them in their current lack of heavy-manufacturing capability.

Most of the city gate guards had been blown sky-high by the explosive packs. The Ovinia Army soldiers who rushed forward stacked several explosive packs by the gate, blasting open a hole large enough for a person to pass through.

“My lord, it’s bad! The rioters have breached the gates!”

The Lord of Patras, still half-asleep, was hurriedly dragged from his bed by anxious attendants.

“Mm? What?!”

His drowsiness vanished instantly.

“Hurry! Go and fetch Mage Langus!”

“Lord Langus has already fled... The Knight Order is heading toward the rioters to buy time for your retreat...”

Yes — time to escape.

In recent months, the rebel forces all across the Kingdom of Ovinia — except for those rabble already crushed — had left a deep impression on the nobles of Ovinia.

At the front of Tina’s formation, a fully armed enemy army blocked the road ahead.

At the very front stood a line of heavily armored knights, helmets on, wielding tower shields reinforced with iron and wood.

Behind them were rows of longbowmen and musketeers.

Having long studied the enemy’s troop composition, Tina blew her whistle rhythmically. Her soldiers stopped two hundred meters away and gathered in formation.

“Toot—”

“Toot toot!”

The sharp whistle replaced spoken commands.

The front rank of musketeers raised their guns and fired.

After firing, they half-kneeled, and the soldiers behind them fired in turn at the next whistle.

The muskets, with pre-measured paper cartridges, allowed for consistent reloading speed.

The four ranks fired rhythmically in waves to the sound of the whistle.

In the darkness, accuracy was limited — but still far superior to the enemy longbows.

Only a few were struck by stray arrows, while the heavily armored enemy vanguard was methodically wiped out.

At two hundred meters, musket power was diminished, yet the Patras muskets were even older — at that distance, their bullets might as well have vanished into thin air.

“Hyah!”

A small unit of cavalry appeared in both armies’ lines of sight, charging at Tina’s flank with muskets and small explosive packs in hand.

“Beckett!”

Tina’s face remained calm as she shouted.

“I see them!”

The Sergeant shouted back, leading nearby soldiers to form a spear line in front of the dozen incoming horsemen.

The long guns in their hands were slightly different from those used by the other firing lines.

‘Bang...’

A flash of fire erupted — a stream of small pellets burst from their muzzles, sweeping toward the cavalry. In an instant, the front riders dropped en masse, their mounts tumbling and tripping those behind them.

They were using fixed buckshot cartridges, each containing over a dozen small steel balls. Coordinated volleys from teammates could blanket nearly the entire forward area — at close range, enough to grant most cavalrymen the eternal sleep of a baby.

The enemy riders, lightly armored for speed to throw their explosives, were utterly defenseless against the buckshot.

As they faltered in panic, the second rank fired another volley — ending the fight.

Cavalry were best suited for open fields. Charging a line of smoothbore shotguns in narrow streets was sheer suicide — no room to dodge, no chance to live.

No carbon-based creature could remain standing before a wall of buckshot.