Chapter 191 Upgrading And Producing Holy Artifacts

Alaric leaned back against the makeshift table, a thoughtful expression on his face as he listened to Tabitha, a commoner with an uncanny knack for intricate mechanisms, explain her idea for refining the focusing lens of the ‘Celestial Fire Projector’. Her blonde hair, usually tied back in a practical bun, had come loose in her enthusiasm, framing her delicate features.

“If we were to introduce a series of minute, oscillating runes along the inner circumference,” Tabitha suggested, her green eyes sparkling with excitement, “it might create a more concentrated and stable beam of holy fire, Master Steele. Less dissipation over longer distances.”

“Oscillating runes… interesting,” Alaric mused, stroking his chin. “What kind of frequency are you thinking, Tabitha?”

Clotilda Schulte, a noble heiress with a sharp intellect and a penchant for theoretical applications of magic, chimed in, her dark eyes gleaming. “Perhaps we could also incorporate a self-regulating mana conduit? That way, the projector wouldn’t draw too heavily from the wielder’s reserves all at once.”

“A mana conduit… excellent idea, Clotilda,” Alaric said, nodding approvingly. “Mette, what are your thoughts on the material composition? We’ve been using a standard silver alloy, but could we perhaps introduce some mithril for better stability under high temperatures?” Mette Sorg, a quiet but incredibly skilled artisan from a family of wealthy merchants, pondered for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Mithril would certainly improve its resilience, Master Steele,” Mette replied thoughtfully. “It’s also a better conductor of magical energy. However, the cost…”

“Don’t worry about the cost, Mette,” Alaric waved his hand dismissively. “King Thaleon has given us carte blanche. If it improves the artifacts, we use it.” This statement earned him a chorus of impressed murmurs from the women.

Soon, the tent was abuzz with activity. Schematics were being redrawn, calculations were being made, and small-scale prototypes were being hastily constructed and tested. Alaric moved among them, offering guidance, answering questions, and subtly steering their efforts.

‘This is going quite well,’ Alaric thought, a satisfied smirk hidden beneath his thoughtful facade. ‘They are genuinely talented, and their enthusiasm is… infectious.’ He made sure to offer individual praise and attention to each of the thirty women, complimenting their ideas, their skills, and even their appearance in a casual, non-offensive way that made them blush and feel appreciated.

“That’s a brilliant insight, Rebekka,” he might say to Rebekka Stein, a woman with fiery red hair and an innovative approach to enchantment, as she suggested a modification to the ‘Divine Ward Amulet’. “I hadn’t considered that particular application of protective runes.”

‘They truly believe I chose them solely for their skills,’ Alaric mused, a hint of amusement in his thoughts. ‘Well, their skills are certainly a bonus.’ He knew that his efforts here served a dual purpose. Firstly, he genuinely wanted to enhance the holy artifacts to give the Eloriath Kingdom a better chance against the demonic forces. The memory of the massacre within Bartolmew’s labyrinth was still fresh and disturbing.

‘I won’t let my creations be rendered useless,’ he thought fiercely. ‘Not if I can help it.’ This was the reason he voiced to the women, further solidifying their positive impression of him.

But his second, and perhaps more significant, reason was to cultivate favorability with these beautiful and talented women. He knew that having allies, especially allies who were skilled and influential, could be invaluable in the future. And then there was Saintess Ceanna. Alaric was keenly aware that her duty as a Saintess might compel her to eliminate him due to his heretical system. He hoped that his actions here, his apparent selflessness in sharing his knowledge and working tirelessly to aid the kingdom, would sway her opinion.

‘If she still intends to come after me after all this,’ Alaric thought, a cold glint entering his ruby eyes, ‘then I won’t hesitate to use every trick I have learned. She won’t see it coming.’

The entire night and the following day blurred into a flurry of activity. Alaric moved tirelessly, fueled by a potent mix of coffee beans he had cultivated in his dimensional space and his own innate magical energy. He brainstormed with the women, their discussions often punctuated by laughter and playful banter. He flirted subtly, offering compliments and making them feel relaxed and valued.

The thirty beautiful artificers were increasingly amazed by Alaric’s ‘work’. They watched in awe as he took their theoretical ideas and rapidly translated them into tangible modifications. His speed in crafting, his precise control over his mana, his ability to manipulate multiple materials simultaneously with seemingly effortless grace, and his unwavering focus were truly extraordinary.

“Did you see the way he infused the mithril into the projector’s casing?” Tabitha whispered to Clotilda, her eyes wide with admiration. “He did it in a single fluid motion! It was like watching magic itself take shape.”

“And his control over the enchantment runes is unbelievable,” Clotilda replied, equally impressed. “He layered those oscillating runes onto the lens with such precision. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mette and Rebekka exchanged similar awestruck glances. “It makes sense that he was the one who invented the ‘Phone’,” Mette commented, shaking her head in disbelief. “To think of such a revolutionary device…”

“And he’s quite handsome too, isn’t he?” Rebekka added with a playful smile, nudging Mette. “Especially when he’s concentrating like that. It makes him look even more… intense.” A few other women nearby giggled in agreement.

By the time the second night began to fall, Alaric and his team had made significant progress. They had successfully enhanced the ‘Celestial Fire Projector’, incorporating Tabitha’s oscillating runes for a more focused beam and Clotilda’s mana conduit for better energy regulation. They had also made substantial improvements to the ‘Sanctified Barrier Generator’, reinforcing its structure with a layer of refined demon bone (sourced from the battlefield) and adding a series of interlocking holy wards, based on Rebekka’s suggestions, that would strengthen its resilience against demonic magic.

The ‘Holy Energy Amplifier’ and the ‘Divine Ward Amulet’ still required further refinement, but Alaric had a clear vision of how he wanted to upgrade them, and he was confident that it wouldn’t take much longer.

As the night deepened, Alaric, along with the thirty beautiful artificers, returned to their respective tents, a sense of accomplishment hanging in the air. Back in his own tent, Alaric pulled out his ‘Phone’.

His thoughts turned to Saintess Ceanna.

He activated the ‘Whispering Eye’ function on his ‘Phone’, linking it to the four holy artifacts that were still within Saintess Ceanna’s tent.

He watched as Saintess Ceanna sat at a small table, reviewing reports from the day’s battle. Her expression was serious, her brow furrowed in thought.

Alaric waited patiently, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. He wanted to know her reaction when she inevitably heard the news of his actions, of him sharing the secrets of his holy artifacts with so many others.

Would she see it as a selfless act for the good of the kingdom, or would her unwavering devotion to her duties as a Saintess still compel her to view him as a heretic to be eliminated? The answer to that question would determine his next course of action, and Alaric was prepared for either outcome.

Alaric watched intently through the ‘Whispering Eye’ as Saintess Ceanna sighed, running a hand through her golden hair. Her brow was furrowed, her expression a mixture of contemplation and something akin to… sadness?

“I never anticipated… Alaric Steele,” she murmured, her voice barely audible even through the amplified sound, “to possess such… profound genius. He has achieved more in these few days than many artificers accomplish in a lifetime.” She paused, her gaze drifting towards the holy artifacts resting on a nearby table. “And he is going to such lengths… dedicating himself so completely to aiding the Eloriath Kingdom in this war. Sacrificing his own secrets… for the greater good.”

Ceanna rose and walked slowly to the window of her tent, gazing out at the encampment bathed in the soft glow of the night. “It feels… wrong,” she whispered, her voice filled with a troubled tone, “to judge him solely based on the… Heretical System within him. He is still human. And that burden… it was likely not his choice to bear. To punish him for something he might not have even willed… it feels unjust.”

Alaric’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected this. A flicker of hope ignited within him.

However, his hope was quickly dashed as Saintess Ceanna’s expression hardened, her jaw clenching. “But it is too late,” she gritted her teeth, her voice now laced with a grim determination. “I have already informed the Radiant God. He will be expecting updates. He will be waiting for me to fulfill my duty.”

Ceanna turned away from the window, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I do not want to do this,” she whispered, her voice filled with a genuine anguish that surprised Alaric. “But if I do not… He will take over. He will use my own hands to… to end him.”

Alaric felt a chill run down his spine. So, it wasn’t just about her duty; it was about her own autonomy. The Radiant God held that much power over her. His gaze hardened. ‘So, that’s it then,’ he thought grimly. ‘To survive, I don’t just need to avoid her; I need to sever that connection.’

But a new resolve also formed within him. Saintess Ceanna wasn’t some cold, heartless zealot. She was conflicted, torn between her duty and her conscience. She recognized his efforts, his contributions. ‘She deserves a chance,’ Alaric decided.

And for that, he knew what he had to do. He had to make her see him not as a heretic, but as a man. A desirable man. A man she couldn’t bring herself to harm. ‘Pity the Harem God System doesn’t work on her,’ he thought with a wry smile. ‘Looks like I’ll have to rely on my own natural charm this time.’

A thrill coursed through him. This was a challenge, a real one. And Alaric had always relished a good challenge. Besides, Saintess Ceanna was undeniably beautiful. Her golden hair, her serene features… and the thought of her untouched body sent a spark of anticipation through him. ‘That virgin pussy of hers,’ he mused, a predatory glint in his eyes, ‘I have a feeling it will be quite… enlightening.’

The next day dawned, and Alaric, his mind now firmly set on his new objective, returned to the task of enhancing the remaining two holy artifacts. The thirty beautiful artificers were already waiting for him, their eyes filled with a mixture of eagerness and admiration.

“Good morning, everyone,” Alaric said, his voice cheerful and energetic, belying the serious thoughts that had occupied him the night before. “Ready to continue our work?”

Mareike Krause, a stunning woman with long, flowing black hair and an air of quiet confidence, stepped forward. “We’ve already begun preparing the materials for the ‘Holy Energy Amplifier’ based on our discussions from yesterday, Master Steele.”

“Excellent, Mareike,” Alaric replied, offering her a warm smile. “Let’s see if we can’t make this amplifier even more potent.”

As they worked on the ‘Holy Energy Amplifier’, the women who had contributed to the enhancements of the ‘Celestial Fire Projector’ and the ‘Sanctified Barrier Generator’ the previous day eagerly joined in, wanting to showcase their skills and impress Alaric further. They offered suggestions, meticulously worked on the intricate components, and constantly sought his approval.

While Alaric offered guidance and praise, his attention was often drawn to their movements, the way their bodies shifted as they bent over their worktables, the subtle sway of their hips, the gentle bounce of their breasts beneath their tunics. He would often walk over to “help” one of them, his hand lingering a little too long on her shoulder, his fingers brushing against her arm as he pointed out a detail.

He approached a particularly curvaceous woman named Gisela, who was carefully etching runes onto a component of the ‘Divine Ward Amulet’. “Are you sure you’re holding the etching tool correctly, Gisela?” he asked, his voice soft as he reached behind her, his hands gently guiding hers, his chest pressing lightly against her back. Gisela gasped softly, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

“Y-yes, Master Steele,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Alaric lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the feel of her soft body against his. “Just a little more pressure here,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. He then moved on to another woman, a petite blonde named Ingrid, who was struggling with a particularly stubborn piece of metal.

“Having some trouble, Ingrid?” Alaric asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He reached for the metal, his hand deliberately brushing against hers. As he took the piece from her, he allowed his fingers to slide across her palm, sending a visible shiver through her.

“I… it’s just a bit stiff, Master Steele,” Ingrid replied, her gaze fixed on the workbench, her blush spreading down her neck.

Alaric continued his rounds, offering “help” to each of the thirty women, his touches becoming increasingly bold and suggestive.

He would casually place his hand on a woman’s hip as he leaned in to examine her work, or he would gently squeeze her shoulder as he offered words of encouragement. Each touch was deliberate, each lingering gaze a silent invitation.

The women, initially perhaps surprised by his forwardness, found themselves increasingly flustered and… intrigued.

Their favorability towards Alaric, already high due to his shared knowledge and apparent selflessness, soared with each stolen touch and lingering gaze.

They blushed, they stammered, but none of them pulled away. In fact, some even seemed to lean into his touch, their eyes meeting his with a newfound boldness.

The air in the workshop tent crackled with a palpable, unspoken tension, a silent acknowledgment of the desires that were beginning to stir within the beautiful artificers. Alaric knew he was playing a dangerous game, but the rewards, he suspected, would be well worth the risk.

The final touches on the ‘Holy Energy Amplifier’ were completed with a satisfying click as Tabitha secured the last oscillating rune in place. Alaric examined the intricate device, now humming faintly with contained power.

“Excellent work, Tabitha,” Alaric praised, offering her a genuine smile. “The resonance frequency seems perfectly calibrated.”

Tabitha beamed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thank you, Master Steele. It was your guidance that made it possible.”

Next, they moved onto the ‘Divine Ward Amulet’. Rebekka, with her keen understanding of protective enchantments, had suggested layering multiple wards, each attuned to a different type of demonic energy. Alaric had refined her idea, incorporating a self-repairing mechanism that would slowly mend any damage sustained by the amulets.

“The self-repairing enchantment is quite ingenious, Master Steele,” Clotilda commented, her eyes wide with admiration as she examined a finished amulet. “It will significantly increase their longevity.”

“Indeed,” Alaric replied, pleased with their progress. “Now, these four upgraded holy artifacts not only contain a greater reservoir of holy divine energy, but they can also passively recharge themselves through the prayers of the priests back at the encampment. The specialized versions for the commanders will allow them to tap into the resonance energy of the artifacts in their vicinity, enabling them to unleash a powerful coordinated attack or erect a formidable barrier, depending on the tactical situation.”

He demonstrated the commander’s function with a prototype, channeling mana into it and showing how it could draw energy from nearby (imaginary) artifacts to create a shimmering shield of holy light.

“This is… incredible, Master Steele!” Mareike exclaimed, her dark eyes shining with excitement. “King Thaleon will be overjoyed!”

“The soldiers and mages will be too,” Alaric said, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He was confident that these upgrades would significantly improve their chances against the demonic forces.

Just then, a deep rumble shook the ground beneath their feet. The tent swayed, and the various tools and materials on the worktables rattled. Alaric’s eyes narrowed, turning cold as he instinctively sensed a tremendous demonic aura emanating from outside the encampment.

“Everyone, stay here,” Alaric commanded, his voice firm. Without waiting for a response, he immediately rushed out of the tent, his senses on high alert. He knew Lyra and Cassandra would have felt it too.

He sprinted towards their tent, his heart pounding with a sudden surge of adrenaline. He found them already outside, their expressions mirroring his own – a mixture of concern and readiness. Lyra’s silver hair seemed to shimmer with a faint magical aura, and Cassandra’s purple eyes glowed with barely contained power.

“Mother, Aunt Cassandra,” Alaric said, his voice urgent. He took their hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “Did you feel that?”

“Yes, Alaric,” Lyra replied, her grip tightening on his hand. “A strong demonic presence… much stronger than the skirmishes we’ve faced so far.”

“Keep your Battle Aura on standby,” Alaric instructed them. “Be ready to fight if necessary.”

Both women nodded, their expressions determined. They had faced dangers alongside Alaric before, and they wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.

Alaric then moved swiftly towards the center of the encampment, towards King Thaleon’s tent. He spotted Commander Wilhelm Baumann, his face etched with a mixture of alertness and mild annoyance, standing near the entrance.

“Commander Baumann,” Alaric called out, approaching him quickly. “What’s happening? I felt a significant tremor.”

Wilhelm Baumann turned, his expression relaxing slightly as he recognized Alaric. “Ah, Master Steele. Yes, we felt it too. It seems our demonic neighbors have decided to pay us a little nighttime visit.”

“An attack?” Alaric asked, his eyes scanning the outer perimeter of the encampment, where he could see flickering lights and hear distant roars.

“More of a… nuisance, to be honest,” Baumann replied, a hint of disdain in his voice. “They’re only hitting the outer regions of the encampment. Mostly their lowest-ranked grunts, with a few of their more arrogant commanders leading the charge.”

“Why now? In the middle of the night?” Alaric inquired, his mind trying to piece together the demons’ strategy.

Baumann shrugged. “Revenge, most likely. Taking out their frustrations after the drubbing they received two days ago. They probably thought they could catch us off guard in the darkness.”

“But… it seems foolish,” Alaric observed, considering the likely defenses of the encampment’s outer perimeter.

“Precisely!” Baumann exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Considering the size and power of their force for this little ambush, it’s clearly not a planned attack sanctioned by their main leader. This reeks of a few hot-headed commanders taking matters into their own claws without thinking things through. They’re throwing their lives away for nothing. This kind of attack is strategically useless. All they’re doing is causing some minor damage to the outer defenses and getting themselves killed without any real chance of success. Those arrogant devils truly believe they’re inherently superior to humans, even when faced with overwhelming odds.”

As Alaric absorbed this information, a wave of relief washed over him. It wasn’t a full-scale assault by the main demonic forces. It was just a petty act of revenge by some overconfident commanders. He turned to Lyra and Cassandra, who had followed him.

“It seems it’s just a minor incursion,” Alaric told them, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. “Some demons trying to vent their frustration. Nothing for us to worry about.”

Lyra and Cassandra both sighed in relief, the tension leaving their bodies. “Well, that’s a relief,” Lyra said, shaking her head. “Those tremors felt quite alarming.”

“Indeed,” Cassandra agreed. “It seems their arrogance truly is their downfall.” Alaric couldn’t help but agree. These demons, in their blind belief in their own superiority, were making foolish mistakes. And the Eloriath Kingdom, with its resilient defenses and the newly upgraded holy artifacts, was more than ready to meet their petty attempts at revenge.