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Chapter 1115: An Epochal Missile Test

A week later — the valley of the Impassable Mountain Range

The Misty Forest fire had brought too many people to the northwest reaches of the city. You couldn’t clear a suburban field for a weapons test anymore without an audience of curious onlookers forming before the first crate was unpacked. The valley was better — close to the North Slope laboratory, far from foot traffic. And given the direction the weapons program was heading, it made sense to move the test site now rather than later, when the gap between what Roland was building and what the current site could contain would become embarrassing.

Today: the anti-demon RPG.

Five days from workbench to field test — the shortest development cycle yet. Partly the engineering was simpler than the napalm work. Partly Neverwinter’s industrial base had reached the point where Roland could think through a basic design and the facilities would build it. In his previous world, the worst-equipped insurgents on earth managed functional rocket-propelled grenades out of gas cans and hosepipes. Neverwinter had considerably better materials to work with.

Alethea held the launcher in her main tentacle and studied it with the focused interest of someone who had spent a long career thinking about how to kill things.

“I just aim the missile head at the target and pull the trigger?”

Roland looked at the launcher — at the tentacle holding the launcher — at the other tentacles clustered around it with what appeared to be professional interest. He had seen a lot of things in this world. A blob monster cradling an RPG still required a moment.

Horror films, he noted, always went wrong on the details. Tentacle monsters were supposed to deploy suction, body fluids, fatal stares. Not shoulder weapons.

He deployed safety concerns. “Just make sure you aren’t pointing that at yourself. Or anyone else.” He gestured toward the target. “Go ahead.”

Alethea gave her tentacle a tap — acknowledgment — and pulled the trigger.

The muzzle flash was brief and bright. The projectile arced across the 100 meters in a flat trajectory and struck the lower section of the iron case target with a crash that sounded far too modest for what it was. The case rolled. Stopped. Lay there, intact.

No roaring flames. No column of earth thrown skyward. No drama.

The silence stretched.

Pasha and the others exchanged glances.

“Go retrieve it,” Roland said, still smiling. “Take a look.”

Two God’s Punishment Witches brought the case back. At the point of impact: a scorched white mark, clean at the center, a dent three fingers wide and deep.

“Did it penetrate?” Pasha leaned in. “Slower than a rifle round, but — I don’t think a Mark I HMG could do that. This casing is a replica of the stone pillar the Spider Demons throw. Steel plate as thick as a finger.”

“There’s a tester inside,” Alethea said, already working the lid with two tentacles. The heavy cover swung back.

The chickens Roland had strung from the ceiling on iron wire — standing in for demons packed inside stone pillars — were pulp. A few blackened feathers. Mostly unrecognizable.

“It appears to be working,” Roland said.

The satisfaction was real, but the detail that interested him most was Alethea’s first-shot accuracy. He had estimated five or six attempts before a reliable hit. She had done it once. The demons, he reminded himself, would have the ability to move.

He explained the engineering to them: the missile was undersized on purpose, 40 millimeters, caliber matched to barrel — the cone-shaped head reduced air drag, the charge prioritized penetration over spectacle. Low reaction energy meant low velocity, which meant no impressive explosion, which was exactly the point. The shaped-charge principle needed focus, not volume.

The results were cleaner than napalm and more controllable. Almost as powerful as a demon-thrown stone pillar.

“Could this defeat a Senior Demon?” he asked.

Alethea considered it seriously. “Depends on the Demon. There are strong and weak — Extraordinaries and Transcendents. A swift one, or a Magic Slayer — they’d dodge while the round was still traveling.” She paused, then her voice sharpened. “But, Your Majesty — this is an epochal weapon. It closes the gap between demons and common soldiers. It gives ordinary people a chance to hurt something that was previously untouchable. If Lady Natalia had possessed these in the Taquila age, she would have wept for joy.”

“And I’ve just thought of a way to increase the accuracy significantly,” Alethea continued, tentacle swaying.

“Tell me.”

“Issue one to every God’s Punishment Witch.” The excitement in her voice was controlled but unmistakable. “Only Extraordinaries can match Senior Demons in combat. If the demon takes a direct hit to the face, it dies — doesn’t matter how strong.”

“Everyone gets one,” Roland confirmed. “God’s Punishment Witches included.”

Next steps: increase penetrating power while maintaining velocity and cost. Develop a larger-caliber variant for Spider Demons, which were slower and would appear in urban terrain — alleys, streets, doorways — when they reached the demons’ city. The Spider Demon problem would require different geometry. He filed it.

He was still working through the caliber specs when his guard appeared at the edge of the test ground.

“Your Majesty. Sir Sean and his rescue team have returned from the Kingdom of Wolfheart. They’ve reached the dock by the inner river.”

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