I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

“【Fire!】”

Marlon gave the firing order. The turret operator pressed the power switch, and the twin 210mm main guns thundered like muffled lightning. Four heavy armor-piercing shells roared out, followed a few seconds later by two more rounds fired from the single 210mm cannon at the stern.

Thick white smoke burst from the barrels and drifted backward over the battleship. The sight made Marlon frown slightly—the wind was against them, and the drifting powder smoke would hinder the rangefinder’s visibility.

A few seconds later, several water pillars erupted around the distant support fleet. The rangefinders and fire-control officers recalculated new firing coordinates based on the splash positions, while the gunners hurried to reload the cannons.

Several bullfolk and bearmen half-beasts carrying the main shells were snorting bursts of vapor from their nostrils—the high-intensity combat was clearly wearing them out.

Though there were reserve loaders available, the warship’s firing frequency inevitably began to drop. That was precisely why fleets disliked high-intensity encounters—loading shells was a deadly chore.

However, even as the firing rate fell, the accuracy did not. The support fleet’s V-shaped formation gave Marlon the perfect opportunity for a decapitation strike.

He ignored the advancing third-rate battleships on both flanks and concentrated all firepower at the base of the V, surrounding the flagship. The long range and high rate of fire of the Federation’s artillery were thus fully exploited.

Through alternating volleys from the cruisers, the trajectories were continuously refined and recalculated, becoming ever more precise. Finally, the eighteen cruisers delivered a simultaneous barrage—a saturation bombardment covering the sea around the flagship.

When the shells finally splashed into the sea, Marlon lowered his telescope.

At that moment, the area where the enemy flagship had once been was nothing but blazing wreckage and successive small explosions.

The sinking of the flagship threw the support fleet into chaos. For a moment, no one knew whether to continue charging, wait for reinforcements, or retreat.

Meanwhile, the Church’s main fleet within the bay had already reached its limit. Though more than half the cruisers had been redeployed, the remaining torpedo boats still managed to maintain a sufficient density of firepower.

The super-heavy flagship Light of the Goddess had been subjected to repeated bombardments by naval main guns and was now half-ruined.

The towering statue of the Goddess on the foredeck—arms extended as if embracing the sea—was struck by a lucky shell. The explosion blew off her entire upper body, leaving only a pair of long legs still standing upon the ship.

The vast sails had been consumed almost entirely by fire, leaving only bare wooden masts jutting into the air. The flagship had effectively lost all propulsion.

The support fleet fared no better. Realizing how fearsome the Federation Navy was, they turned to expose their broadsides, unleashing a storm of cannon fire at the Federal ships—but to little effect.

The combined pyrotechnics of their cannons and magitech guns were dazzling, but most of their shells splashed into the sea a full kilometer short of the targets. A few landed closer, but even those fell some eight hundred meters from the fleet’s course.

Spectacular visuals, utterly useless.

Marlon, unsurprised, continued to command his fleet with calm precision, reaping results one after another.

After all, any decent artillery piece could achieve indirect fire with proper modification. Even the 210mm main guns on the Federation cruisers were originally designed for direct fire—only later were they modified for high-arc, extended-range bombardment.

Yet this required two key conditions: first, superior propellant—the most direct way to increase both range and destructive power.

Second, rangefinding and fire control. If one wished to fire far, one must at least know where the shells would land. You needed to limit the radius of your impact spread—too much dispersion, and you’d be shooting for show.

And these two aspects were precisely what the Church, having only recently learned to use black powder and cast-iron cannons, had utterly neglected. In fact, they hadn’t even conceived of such concerns.

Their existing magitech-alchemical weapons—the medium and heavy magitech cannons—only had two firing modes: molten-lava shells and concentrated-energy beams, both direct-fire attacks.

Elemental energy scattered with distance—the farther the target, the weaker the strike. The molten shells were essentially magical projectiles, requiring mages to aim and cast.

Expecting a mage to precisely hit moving targets several or dozens of kilometers away was absurd. From the outset, they’d never considered indirect fire, nor had they developed the necessary technology.

Their bombardments were even less threatening than the mechanical bodies flying overhead to unleash magical attacks. At least those didn’t have to deal with complicated trajectory calculations.

“Boom!”

A tremendous secondary explosion shook the entire sea. Everyone turned toward the source—the Church’s flagship, the invincible Light of the Goddess, had split in two, the halves floating briefly before sinking rapidly into the depths.

Countless Church soldiers stood stunned as the sea swallowed the once-elegant, platinum-hulled giant ship. Through the broken statue’s two legs, one could almost glimpse the vessel’s former glory and splendor.

Now, all that remained were the shattered statue, the broken massive insignia of the Church, and the swirling whirlpools dragging down the screaming, drowning faithful.

This colossal warship, built at the peak of the Church’s power, had once symbolized its grandeur. To step upon her deck had been an honor for countless believers. Now, she would take her devout followers with her into the sea’s grave.

The remaining ships of the Church’s main fleet raised white flags. The support fleet, realizing disaster, tried to turn and flee, but Marlon’s detached squadron pursued them relentlessly, bombarding as they went.

The cruisers facing them head-on carried two main turrets and four 152mm rapid-fire guns—exposing one’s stern was pure suicide.

Indeed, the support fleet’s fate was even more tragic than that of the main fleet trapped in the harbor.

Of the more than two hundred warships, only a few small hundred-ton vessels and a handful of third-rate battleships hiding in the rear escaped. All first- and second-rate battleships were sunk into the boundless sea.

Marlon was a thorough hardliner. He had no interest in taking prisoners—and besides, these broken ships couldn’t be towed across the sea, nor did they hold any value to the Federation. It was far simpler to sink them outright—no rations required.

Admiral Doolittle of the main fleet adopted the same approach. However, instead of executing the Church’s sailors, he ordered the torpedo boat crews to guide them back to the ruined harbor, where they would await capture.

The ships, once stripped of their magitech guns, were towed into open waters and scuttled.

Mitia had long been deliberately expanding the shipyards. Even under immense logistical pressure from trade demands, she refused to purchase foreign vessels. Instead, she expanded domestic facilities and filled their order books.

Such boldness was only possible because the Seris Federation, with its mature and integrated industrial system, could drive industrial prices so low that competitors might well be tempted to jump from rooftops. There was no fear of losing contracts.

The returns were immense—experienced shipbuilders were among the Federation’s most valuable assets, an irreplaceable part of its “dumpling-making” shipbuilding pace.

Better, bigger, stronger machines could always be built—but skilled labor was not so easily raised.

With the Federation’s current shipbuilding capacity, they might not yet be mass-producing ten-thousand-ton vessels, but ships of three to five thousand tons could be launched in batches. As for those old wooden sailships—they were utterly useless, taking up space and nothing more.