Ten days had passed since the main structure of the new royal city was completed.
Castles, streets, city walls, residential zones, industrial sectors, administrative districts—each area had a distinct function and clear boundaries.
In just half a month, a colossal fortress, ten times the size of the old Camelot, had risen: a gleaming white city that looked nothing short of a miracle.
"This in itself is a miracle—the miracle city of Camelot," Arthur sighed sincerely, standing atop the tallest watchtower of the new castle, gazing down at the sprawling city below. Though houses were yet to be built, the outline of the spectacular future was already clear.
Behind him stood ministers and knights alike.
Though the original three-day construction timeline had stretched to half a month, Arthur deemed every extra day worth it for the grandeur now before him.
More importantly, Arthur only inquired about progress occasionally and never pressured Morgan and the others, trusting them completely—a faith that had been rewarded by this magnificent outcome.
"By the way, Manaka, didn't you say this could be done in three days? Did you encounter any difficulties?" Arthur asked.
"For me, nothing's a problem when it's for the prince," Manaka replied with a gentle smile.
Truth be told, building such a city in three days wasn't impossible for the trio of Manaka, Morgan, and Merlin. The delay came from their constant disagreements over details.
Arthur had provided a rough blueprint, but many specifics were left vague, and he emphasized the importance of water supply and drainage systems. Each of the three had their own vision.
Merlin dreamed of a city of eternal spring, full of flowers and romance.
Manaka wanted a modern, functional city that aligned with Arthur's vision and the demands of the future.
Morgan aimed to build an impregnable fortress, one that could protect Arthur at all costs.
The biggest challenge wasn't architecture but the crystallization of faith and divinity—concepts Arthur had entrusted them to study.
These phenomena did not belong to the Type-Moon world. Even Manaka, who was connected to the Root, struggled to fully analyze them.
Fortunately, the infinite knowledge base of the Source, combined with Morgan and Merlin's expertise, allowed them to complete preliminary analysis and simulations of faith crystallization and godhead.
To magicians, these objects were utterly extraordinary.
"We've simulated technology to absorb faith and crystallize energy from the faith crystals," Manaka explained. "With these, we can enhance the prince's and knights' powers—and, importantly, solve the problem of ordinary people being unable to operate magic equipment."
"Really?!" Arthur was momentarily speechless.
The first point was less critical to him; his own power mattered little.
What thrilled him was the second: enabling everyone to wield magic suits.
Magic's convenience was obvious—an ideal technology to rapidly strengthen Camelot's national power.
But the downside was severe: magicians were too few.
In this era, magicians embodied both mystery and technology.
Even in war, magical turrets and other massive weapons existed, but only magicians could operate them. Ordinary people—even knights with magic aptitude—would likely destroy the equipment if they mishandled it.
Consequently, there were only a handful of turrets—no more than twenty.
Once located, they became prime targets for elite knights to destroy.
But if everyone could control them and deploy them on battlefields?
Invincibility.
As long as reserves held, wave after wave of magic artillery could shatter any enemy strategy or force.
What was Rome's might then? Even if all Roman legions gathered, they'd be helpless before a thousand magic batteries.
Defeating Vortigern would be like a child's game. The white dragon? A mere gecko.
Would anyone dare oppose such power?
Arthur's imagination eased his long-standing fear of insufficient firepower—a dread that had plagued him like a terminal illness.
Build! Anything could be built!
"I'll start with tens of thousands along the city walls, then rows at the borders—let's see who dares say a bad word about me."
Forbearance, development, economic warfare?
Forget that. When you have absolute strength, who even argues?
Still, Arthur knew such a day was years away. Honest development and steady growth were the path forward.
"Manaka, tell me more about the magic crystallization technology and its output," Arthur said, calming his excitement.
"Yes, Your Highness," Manaka began, pleased to see Arthur's enthusiasm. "In this era, the true ether concentration in the air is considerable. As long as magic is arranged above spirit veins and maintained, three high-level crystals can be extracted daily. Each crystal equals five times the magic power of a court magician."
Normally, activating a magic turret requires five magicians working together, and only twice each.
One magic crystal could trigger two bombardments. With a daily output of three crystals, that's 730 crystals a year, or 1,460 bombardments annually.
"That means—"
"A good magician specializing in this magic can perform at least seven spells simultaneously," Manaka added quickly.
Accounting for losses, one magician could produce nearly 10,000 bombardments yearly.
If half the court magicians focused on crystal production, that would mean a million bombardments annually.
Enough to obliterate Rome?
Absolutely. Camelot is invincible!
Arthur's excitement soon settled.
According to Manaka, magic crystals are like batteries.
The Age of Gods would wane, the true ether concentration in Britain's air would decline, and magicians couldn't produce crystals year-round.
Plus, technological advancements required crystal consumption.
Spread out, the output wasn't as overwhelming as it sounded.
"You've done well, Manaka. Next, let's train more magicians skilled in crystal production," Arthur said with calm determination.
Manaka didn't fully understand but nodded.
She glanced toward the castle's peak, quietly spreading a magical halo that blanketed the city—and smiled mysteriously.
Some surprises, she thought, were best kept for the prince.