I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

A massive, illusory human face condensed within the white canopy of the sky. The Magic Goddess Ivdien cast a wary glance at the witches hovering in midair: “This is merely a grievance between nations. Are you really going to violate the continental agreement and intervene?”

“Why not?”

One of the witches replied in a teasing tone. Her small hand slowly transformed into a fluffy claw, and she instinctively stuck out her pink tongue to lick it.

Although it appeared that Mitia’s side had fewer people than the Goddess of Light, their overall strength was actually superior. Each witch possessed a unique innate ability, making them extremely difficult to guard against.

Moreover, because Ivdien’s projected power was dispersed, she could not accurately judge what level Miwei—fully supported by Mitia from behind—was capable of reaching, leaving her uncertain whether to act.

Indeed, just as Mitia had said, whether the Dmitria Church was worth such a cost had become a question of weighing pros and cons when both sides were evenly matched in a stalemate.

Was the Church important to her? It once had been. But now, it was no longer that important.

It was universally acknowledged across the continent that Ivdien was the Goddess of Light. Ordinary general believers usually placed a bit of faith in all the major gods—that was her fundamental base.

However, the once-intense atmosphere of faith in the Goddess of Light within the Church State had collapsed due to a wave of economic crisis. From unwavering belief, doubt and wavering had emerged, ultimately causing her realm to decline.

After all, the essence of believing in a god was still to live a better life. Yet the Church’s people had followed its lies and ended up losing their assets. What normal person would be willing to pay such a price?

Never in history had a so-called god dug such a massive pit for their own believers. Once attitudes underwent a complete reversal, it was nearly impossible to turn them back again.

Previously, she had hoped to ignite a war to consume this group of people and rebuild the atmosphere of faith from scratch—a strategy commonly referred to as “betting on the future.”

However, Mitia had no intention of giving her that opportunity. By launching an attack while the Church State had become something of a tasteless burden—neither worth keeping nor discarding for Ivdien—she was effectively forcing her into making a choice.

Moreover, Mitia actually hoped Ivdien would lose her restraint. As long as she dared to strike first, Mitia would dare to send her true body over and completely dismantle whatever foundation she had left.

With that thought, Mitia’s voice echoed across the sea:

“Fight, or get lost.”

“You… good! Very good!”

Ivdien let out a cold laugh. “I hereby declare that Dmitria will formally withdraw from the Continental Peace Accord, lifting all restrictions that forbid those above the Ninth Rank from intervening in war without reason.”

To ensure the normal reproduction and development of life across the continent, highly destructive top-tier powerhouses at the Saint level and above were, in principle, not allowed to act freely. Even when they did, they were forbidden from using large-scale techniques capable of permanently altering regional ecology.

Now her meaning was simple: from this moment onward, the Church would no longer abide by these principles. All restraints would be cast aside—whatever methods they had, they would use them.

Mitia fell silent for a moment, then realized she had never even joined that agreement in the first place.

“Idiot. Attack!”

The nine witches, already poised for action, vanished from their positions in an instant upon hearing her command. Thunderous explosions echoed across the sky like rolling thunder.

The golden dome above the fleet shimmered with light, dense runes spreading across the entire shield. Everyone felt their spirits surge as fatigue vanished, their bodies seemingly filled with strength.

The battle above the heavens was extremely intense. Even the leaking aftershocks alone caused waves several meters—even over ten meters—high to surge across the sea, accompanied by torrential rain under the bombardment of various magic attacks.

Yet these disasters, which could normally annihilate an entire fleet with ease, were instantly neutralized upon touching the shield, leaving the fleet within completely unaffected.

“Long live the Empress!!!”

A shout rang out from somewhere, and soon the fleet erupted into thunderous cheers like a roaring ocean.

Amid the fervent cries, Mitia’s calm voice clearly reached every Alliance soldier in the fleet:

“Continue the attack according to the established plan. Not a single one of the three fortresses is to remain today.”

The fleet’s supreme commander immediately shouted, “Adjust firing trajectories—continue the attack!”

As the main guns began recalibrating their angles, a composite light screen formed by magic arrays appeared before each warship.

The moment the high-explosive shells passed through these magic array screens, a layer of golden light enveloped them. Their speed surged dramatically as they streaked forward with piercing whistles toward the distance.

Within seconds, small mushroom clouds slowly rose in the distance, accompanied by powerful shockwaves.

Miwei, stationed with the fleet, looked on with resentment. ‘Plagiarist!’ This had clearly been her specialty, yet the Pontiff had learned it.

Mitia, however, nodded in satisfaction at the amplification effect. Ever since witnessing Miwei’s attack methods, her thinking had been completely broadened.

Gods were not meant to personally enter battle lightly. Not only was it necessary to maintain an air of mystery, but there were also underlying rules constraining them.

After all, once one deity personally entered combat, it almost inevitably signaled the beginning of an unrestricted divine war. Both sides would effectively be placed over a blazing fire—neither could afford to lose.

Thus, the individual combat strength of a god was not particularly meaningful. No matter how powerful, they could not surpass those who had reached god-level through personal cultivation.

It was far better to remain behind the scenes, specializing in support and amplification—enhancing the combat power of their subordinates to compensate for weaknesses.

Astar State Special Aircraft Experimental Base

“Miss Aisha, this test flight mission is extremely important. Please try to… um… use a bit less force this time. Try not to twist off the control stick again…”

The ground officer reminded the test pilot beside him.

Aisha, who had transformed into a 1.6-meter-tall dark-skinned girl wearing a black flight suit, looked somewhat embarrassed upon hearing this. Holding her flight helmet, she subconsciously tried to find something to touch, pretending to keep herself busy:

“Ahem… I guarantee it won’t happen next time.”

The great dragon girl Aisha had not visited Mitia for quite a while—because she owed the experimental base a tremendous amount of money…

Just the total value of the equipment she had accidentally destroyed with her immense strength would require at least ten years of unpaid labor to repay.

The group walked up to a metallic fighter aircraft surrounded by mechanics performing inspections. Aisha lovingly stroked its large air intake beneath the fuselage.

Its nose and wings were empty, while at the rear were two openings fitted with the latest jet engines.

These engines could be considered the crystallization of the Alliance’s cutting-edge technology—each producing 14 kN of thrust, with a theoretical maximum speed of 1300 km/h. However, they were still in the technical validation stage.

Theoretically, it could reach 1300 km/h, and wind tunnel tests had shown promising results—but that did not guarantee the same performance in reality. Professional test pilots were still required to verify all data through actual flight.

After some time, the mechanics began to withdraw in an orderly manner. With assistance from the ground crew, Aisha, now fully equipped, climbed into the cockpit via a ladder, sat in the pilot seat, and fastened her safety harness.

The staff conducted final checks nearby—such as confirming the status of the pilot seat. It was equipped with an experimental ejection mechanism, making it a true ejection seat.

There was also a dedicated oxygen mask for the pilot.

However, all of these systems were still in the testing phase. Whether malfunctions would occur—or what kind—remained to be determined through collected experimental data and subsequent improvements.