Chapter 146: The Black Armor Set, Nolan’s Ambition, and the Empire’s Advance

When the weight of armor became a problem, instead of debating whether to alter the armor’s properties through physical methods or magic, why not attack the concept of “weight” itself?

After extensive discussion, everyone unanimously agreed that the Levitation Rune, capable of reducing the overall load, was the optimal choice.

As for inscription effects, the best results would naturally come from stacking multiple inscriptions onto the same piece of equipment.

If the Hurricane Enchantment and the Levitation Rune could coexist on the black armor, the final weight reduction would amount to 40% from the Hurricane Enchantment plus another 20% from the Levitation Rune, producing a total reduction of 60%.

However, the black armor did not actually require such an extreme effect.

Lighter was not always better. What mattered was finding the most cost-effective balance.

According to Leus’ extensive prior testing, the ideal point was roughly a 50% reduction in weight.

If they added a cloak to the existing black armor and engraved the Levitation Rune onto the cloak, the resulting reduction would stack multiplicatively, producing a final effect of 48%.

Forty-eight percent was already extremely close to the optimal balance while remaining highly practical.

“More importantly,” Nolan said, looking around at everyone with a serious expression, “separating the inscriptions keeps the success rate above eighty percent, and the cost stays manageable. That’s the real key to fully equipping the entire Black Armored Legion.”

Even the usually composed Hank could no longer hide the excitement in his eyes. This was no longer just a technical problem. It would determine the birth of an army.

Only Anna, who managed the accounts, let out a quiet sigh. Military expenses were about to rise again, and part of that burden would fall onto her shoulders.

Rehanna looked at Nolan, her beautiful eyes gleaming. No matter how desperate the situation became, this man always managed to find a way forward. The sense of security she felt when standing beside him was unmatched.

The reason they chose to add a cloak rather than some other accessory to form a “set” was simple: cloaks had a large surface area while remaining extremely light. They were convenient for inscription work and would not undermine the weight reduction effect with excessive weight of their own.

Of course, Nolan also had a tiny selfish reason of his own.

“Because cloaks are cool! What man could resist wearing a cape over his armor?!”

Rehanna and Anna exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

Even Ailindel smiled.

Capable yet never arrogant, and so genuine in the way he lived. Perhaps that was why Nolan always drew everyone’s attention so naturally.

The proposal passed unanimously and was immediately put into action.

With a clear direction established, Leus worked at astonishing speed. Before long, he had crafted a prototype cloak from magically conductive rune-spider silk, black on the outside and crimson within, perfectly matching the armor’s style.

The inscription process also went exceptionally smoothly.

Under Ailindel’s guidance, the final stroke of the Levitation Rune was completed, and a gentle silver magical glow spread across the cloak, echoing the cyan Hurricane Enchantment on the black armor without interfering with it.

“Come on, Rehanna. Final test!” Nolan’s voice brimmed with anticipation.

Rehanna once again donned the complete suit of black armor, while the smiths helped fasten the brand-new cloak behind her.

The moment she straightened up, everyone could feel the difference.

She casually took a few steps and stretched her limbs, surprise immediately appearing on her face. “It feels… completely different. The weight is just right. It doesn’t hinder my movement at all!”

“Activate the inscriptions and try it!”

Rehanna nodded. With a thought, the inscriptions on both the cloak and armor lit up simultaneously.

She burst forward once more, transforming into a black blur.

But this time, everything was different.

Her movements were swift yet stable. Sprinting, changing direction, stopping abruptly—every motion flowed seamlessly, without the slightest sluggishness. When she came to a halt at the far end of the workshop, the black cloak behind her was still fluttering sharply in the air.

They had succeeded.

The eruption of cheers inside the workshop startled the golden retriever, An’an, awake.

Hank slapped Barton on the shoulder, and the blacksmith’s eyes had already begun to redden.

This victory belonged to all of them.

Watching the celebrating crowd, Nolan felt equally exhilarated, though he remained calm. “Alright, don’t celebrate too early. This solution fixes the excessive weight problem, but it still isn’t perfect.” He pointed toward the cloak behind Rehanna. “Remember this well: the cloak will become the part you must protect the most. If this soft piece of equipment is heavily damaged in battle, the Levitation Rune will fail. And when that sudden increase in weight hits, it could very well become the final straw that crushes you.”

“We can carry spare ones. Veteran soldiers like doing that anyway,” Hank said while stroking his chin.

“That works for now. But in the future, we still need to find a way to integrate every function perfectly into the armor itself, so the Black Armored Legion can truly shake the kingdom!”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Even if it might fail, it’s still better than starting out below peak condition,” Rehanna said as she removed her helmet, her fiery red hair sweeping through the air in a beautiful arc. She looked at Nolan with unwavering eyes. “At the very least, we’re already ahead of everyone else.”

Nolan relaxed.

That was right. It was only the autumn of the year 270 on the Continental Calendar. Most of the legendary armies and iconic equipment that would later earn everlasting fame on future battlefields had not yet even appeared. With the advantage of being first movers, the Black Armored Legion had already stepped onto the forefront of military innovation in this era.

Nolan’s gaze passed over the crowd and drifted toward the direction of Mandez City, the capital of Demonte, beyond the workshop window.

Now it was time to let those self-important fools witness the power of a new age.

***

At the same time, in the southern Shiva Empire.

The Rottenbone Wasteland, lair of the border lord known as the “Beast-Taming Corpse,” Rubor.

“One-Eyed” Tarton elegantly wiped his blade with a silk handkerchief while grumbling to the companion behind him, “My dear Augustus, we’ve been away from the Dark Capital for nearly half a year now, reorganizing the ‘Imperial Chosen’ for His Majesty. Yet not once has His Majesty even sent a messenger. Aren’t we being rather neglected?”

Behind him stood a vampire dressed in a black noble suit, his slicked-back hair immaculate.

Augustus Constantine, the strongest of the younger generation of the Constantine family and Tarton’s second-in-command, casually brushed bits of flesh from his shoulder. “We are only one of six envoy groups, and the weakest among them. Being ignored is inevitable,” he said coldly, as though he were speaking about someone else entirely.

Around them lay mountains of corpse hounds, giant batwolves, and terror beasts.

Or rather, corpses of corpses.

Tarton sheathed his sword with the grace of a nobleman attending a ballroom dance. His expression remained relaxed, as if what had just ended were negotiations rather than a battle.

“That’s what I like most about you, dear Augustus. You’re always so blunt.” He smiled faintly. “Of course, it’s also what I hate most.”

At last, Augustus turned around. His dark crimson eyes carried no emotion whatsoever. “If you truly want to earn His Majesty’s favor, then show some real capability.”

“Oh?” Tarton raised a brow. “The two of us alone have subdued twenty-six Chosen factions and annihilated thirteen rebellious border lords who refused to submit. Does that not count as capability?”

As he spoke, he slowly walked toward the corpse of the largest terror beast. Beneath it, a shriveled corpse lich whose body had been severed in half still writhed and cursed viciously.

It was the ruler of this territory himself, the “Beast-Taming Corpse” Rubor.

A flash of magical light swept across Tarton’s sword. The corpse lich’s head shot into the air, its immortal soul completely shredded.

“Correction.” Tarton shrugged at Augustus. “That makes fourteen.”

Augustus kicked aside the batwolf corpse near his feet, entirely unmoved by Tarton’s performance. “Still not enough.” His gaze turned toward the northern horizon. “Unless we add the Pale Knight, Crutel. It’s one of the strongest among all the northern border lords. I’ve heard His Majesty thinks highly of it.”

“Crutel…” Tarton rolled the name across his tongue. “Perfect. It just so happens to be our next destination. My informant recently sent word that this Pale Knight has been rather restless lately. It’s conducting some very interesting transactions with an archduke from the small kingdom to the north.”

Expressionless, Augustus glanced at him. “You have informants?”

“Of course.” Tarton spread his hands. A corpse hound lying beside his feet suddenly twitched before stiffly raising its head, its hollow eye sockets staring directly at him. “Corpses controlled through black magic threads can share their vision. Why shouldn’t they count as informants? A little trick I learned recently.”

Augustus’ hand once again drifted toward the hilt of his sword.

Laughing loudly, Tarton retreated to a distance beyond Augustus’s reach. He gazed northward, the smile on his face growing wider and wider. “Aren’t you curious about the contents of the deal, dear Augustus?”

“Speak.”

“Tsk, tsk. Converting an entire province’s living population into undead… It might become the largest biological conversion in history.” Tarton’s smile deepened. “If it were me, I’d be tempted too.”