Galahad stood on the deck, watching the port draw closer, his mind surging with thoughts.

He had been on the ship for several days, constantly trying to talk to Connor about matters concerning Castel, but this old butler handled everything flawlessly. He had extracted almost no useful information.

He could only try questioning the Holy Guard on the ship.

Even now, Galahad’s understanding of Castel was no more than “highly industrialized.” Those Holy Guards even worried he didn’t understand what industrialization meant, and spent a long time explaining it to him.

Damn it, they actually thought he didn’t understand industry?

No one understood industry better than him—Galahad had run a factory in Rhine.

Hah, they just got lucky with a successful modification of the musket. Back in his factory, some workers had also successfully improved their equipment.

Though the Church later stopped it, Galahad didn’t think it was a big deal. It was simply that the consequences of failure were too terrifying—no one dared to try.

He was an Extraordinary Power user, and he knew better than anyone what results cognitive interference could bring.

Speaking of which, Castel didn’t seem to have any Extraordinary Powers.

That bolt-action rifle—the kind they called “栓动步枪”—couldn’t possibly be wielded to its full potential by ordinary people. Galahad had only used it a few times, but that was enough for him to judge: this was a weapon tailor-made for Extraordinary Powers.

According to the sacred texts of those Holy Guards, the rifle’s range was only 700 meters, but in the hands of someone like him, even 1,000 meters wasn’t much of a challenge.

At that distance, human eyesight couldn’t even aim properly. Honestly, even 700 meters was a stretch. Galahad found it odd why their sacred texts assumed the target would be as big as a three-story building.

Probably to exaggerate the shooting range.

In any case, the fact that Castel distributed such powerful weapons to ordinary people was a huge waste. Although Extraordinary Powers rarely entered the battlefield, Galahad stubbornly believed that only those with Extraordinary Power were true warriors.

This trip to Castel also served as a chance for them to witness the power of Extraordinary Powers, and to show them what these weapons could truly achieve.

Sigh, they probably had long wanted to gather data on Extraordinary Powers using bolt-action rifles. It was just that no Extraordinary Power would willingly set foot on these polluted seas. His arrival had surely allowed them to collect plenty of data—might as well treat it as a gift to them.

He would cooperate with their experiments when the time came. Castel had truly profited this time.

He still didn’t understand why His Highness placed such importance on this place.

At that thought, Galahad let out a silent sigh. His Highness still overestimated the role of bolt-action rifles. If one wanted to overthrow the Church, rifles alone would never be enough.

Galahad was an Extraordinary Power user, and because of that, he knew just how terrifying the Church truly was.

The Sea of Unawareness was filled with all manner of absurd, bizarre, yet powerful knowledge. But the Church had explored it for thousands of years—no one knew how many trump cards this colossal behemoth still had.

Galahad shook his head, pulling his scattered thoughts back together.

There weren’t many people at the dock. It looked a little desolate, but that was normal in the Storm Ocean.

The recent drying up of the sea had caused far-reaching effects. Many factions had abandoned maritime routes.

The ship Galahad was on slowly docked, but his attention was caught by something nearby.

Was that a black ship?

How should he describe it—rather than calling it a ship, it looked more like a pointed coffin. Its entire shape was squarish and blocky. It seemed to be trying to imitate the shape of a vessel but didn’t quite succeed.

Like the other steam-powered paddlewheel ships, it had no sails, but unlike them, it didn’t even have oars.

No oars—how did it move?

But it definitely seemed to move. A white wake trailed behind it, suggesting that something was stirring the water.

Galahad scratched his head, thinking Castel might truly have some tricks up its sleeve. No paddlewheel, no oars, and yet the ship moved—albeit at a speed as slow as a crawling turtle, but it did move.

Unfortunately, that admiration didn’t last long.

Amid a sudden screech of metal grinding, the ship suddenly disintegrated in the sea. Its hull—well, the coffin’s various panels—seemed to each have their own ideas and headed off in different directions. Only the steam engine surged forward with a splash for a short distance before sinking into the water.

Galahad looked puzzledly at the man in charge of reception on the dock.

It was a tall Northlander with pale golden hair slicked back. He had also seen what happened on the sea, and feeling Galahad’s confused gaze, the corner of his eye twitched.

“That thing is—”

"Ah, the researchers’ new ship—you know how it is, innovation often comes with... accidents."

"Ship? Isn’t Castel an island? How did they manage to build something like that?" Galahad’s expression grew even more bewildered.

The Clamorer that had fallen into the sea let out a string of unintelligible screeches, casting an awkward air between the two of them.

After a moment, the man finally made up his mind, as if he hadn’t seen what had just happened on the water. Forcing a smile, he said, "Mr. Galahad, welcome. I am Alexei, the Chief Secretary to Earl Hughes. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Galahad also smiled and shook hands warmly, as if greeting an old friend he hadn’t seen in years.

No matter what he thought of Castel, since His Highness had made the decision, he would obey it. He would even go all out to forge a friendship with Castel. This was Galahad’s principle.

Still, that ship was far too outrageous.

Galahad subconsciously glanced back at the spot where the ship had just fallen apart. There was, of course, nothing left now, only a few iron plates that had flown over during the disintegration and landed on the dock. One was lying right at his feet.

Galahad’s body suddenly froze.

Iron plate?

Steel?

Galahad abruptly recalled—the ship had been black. He had even wondered why the wood had been painted black.

Could it have been a ship made of steel?

Steel had always been a precious strategic resource. If a knight managed to save enough steel to forge a suit of armor, it could be passed down as a family heirloom.

Even after the appearance of muskets and the gradual decline of the knight class, steel still remained expensive.

In the factory Galahad had invested in, the most valuable parts were the steel-made machines. Those hulking steel beasts had completely emptied his fortune to acquire.

And what were these people in Castel doing? Building ships with steel? Replacing wood with steel to make ships? And not just any ships, but ones that looked completely unreliable—ones that could sink at any moment?

The steel used to make that one ship—if forged into weapons and armor—would be enough to arm at least three Port Guard squads in Blood Harbor. And yet just now, it had sunk into the sea right before his eyes?

Galahad’s pupils began to tremble.