The powerful families in the United States desperately needed to stabilize their power base again. During the eight months since they had returned from the Trial, they had made countless strategic moves to secure their position. Now that nuclear weapons no longer served as an absolute deterrent, they understood that the strength of their own foundations would determine whether they survived the turbulent years ahead. If those foundations crumbled, they would never be able to withstand the economic and political storms that would inevitably arrive once global trade fully reopened.
To prepare for that future, they began calling in debts and enforcing contracts all over the world. Every coin they recovered was immediately invested in mana-infused metals, new factories, and the reconstruction of their industrial base. Unlike many countries in Eurasia, they simply did not possess the cultural or historical foundation required to transition toward armies centered around swords, spears, bows, and other traditional weapons. Their nation had been built upon firearms, artillery, and industrial warfare, so abandoning that heritage overnight was simply impossible.
The revelations of the Trial had only reinforced that conclusion. Luck had been proven to exist, and because of that they ordered scholars to study every myth, legend, cultivation story, fantasy novel, and ancient tome they could obtain. After months of research, the conclusions were surprisingly consistent. The nations of the Old World, especially those across the Eurasian continent, possessed martial traditions stretching back thousands of years, making it natural for them to combine cold weapons with modern technology. Such a transition would strengthen those civilizations, whereas attempting the same strategy in the United States would only weaken the country.
Because of that, they committed themselves completely to the development of improved firearms, artillery, missiles, and other ranged weapons powered by mana rather than conventional explosives whenever possible. Their engineers focused on adapting existing military doctrines instead of replacing them outright. It was an expensive approach, but one that fit the country's historical strengths far better than trying to imitate civilizations with entirely different military traditions. In their eyes, survival depended on building upon what already existed rather than chasing ideals that belonged to someone else's history.
At the same time, the powerful families quietly reshaped the nation's political landscape. Laws were rewritten, Supreme Court decisions were overturned or reinterpreted, and entire government departments were reorganized behind closed doors. They had learned an expensive lesson from allowing an unpredictable president too much freedom, so this time they ensured that the man occupying the highest office possessed only the authority they willingly granted him. Publicly he appeared to lead the country, but privately every important decision passed through the families that had placed him there.
Those political reforms also served another purpose. They increased the president's popularity while simultaneously allowing the government to deal with ambitious newcomers who had grown far too influential over the previous months. Several rising political figures, wealthy businessmen, and military leaders suddenly found themselves investigated, discredited, or quietly removed from positions of power. Stability mattered more than fairness, and the families had no intention of allowing another independent power bloc to emerge while the nation was already standing on unstable ground.
Ironically, the catastrophe in Europe suited their interests almost perfectly. Watching another nation pay the terrible price of allowing a Secret Realm to reach critical capacity served as a lesson they themselves no longer needed to learn firsthand. Europe had done the bleeding, while the United States gained invaluable information without sacrificing its own soldiers. Just as importantly, the international attention focused almost entirely on Europe, giving the American elite valuable breathing room while they continued restructuring the country.
Even so, they never allowed themselves to become complacent. They knew that powerful organizations across the world were carefully watching every major decision they made. Keeping secrets within the United States had always been notoriously difficult, as almost every secret eventually became a matter of money. Someone could nearly always be bribed, convinced, or blackmailed into talking if the price was high enough.
That reality made the newly acquired international contracts even more valuable despite their staggering cost. Through those agreements, they secured enormous quantities of mana-infused metals and rare resources before their rivals could react. The investments strained even their vast fortunes, yet they considered every coin well spent. Already, the first industrial machines constructed entirely from mana-infused metal had entered production, capable of operating almost anywhere regardless of the strange environmental changes affecting ordinary machinery.
Those early successes gave them a measure of confidence for the future. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but they also believed they had chosen the only strategy capable of preserving their nation. While Europe forged a future around enchanted blades and ancient martial traditions, America would stake everything on advancing its mastery of ranged warfare. Whether that gamble would ultimately save the country or doom it remained to be seen, but none of the powerful families believed they had another realistic choice."The good news is that we don't have to go out exploring anymore, but the fact that we're stuck making arrows all day is a little depressing," Arin said with a sigh. Sitting at a long workbench, he carefully glued and tied goose feathers to the ends of polished arrow shafts, making sure every fletching sat at exactly the same angle before handing the finished shafts to Tom. Tom immediately fitted finely crafted arrowheads onto them before placing the completed arrows into neat bundles. The work was repetitive, but none of them dared rush it now that craftsmanship had become a measurable part of the System.
"True, but I was already getting tired of patrolling the wilderness outside," Bill replied with obvious disgust. "There was hardly anything worth gathering out there anyway, and the really valuable herbs and resources all grow inside our forest." For the Sonnenbergs, venturing beyond their territory had never felt like an exciting adventure but rather another military patrol. Since they could now earn far more coins by producing high-quality bows and arrows than by wandering through the wilderness searching for herbs and minerals, remaining at home was simply the more profitable choice.
"Hey, don't complain. You understand perfectly well why the elders assigned us to this work, right?" Bertho asked while carefully shaving another shaft until it was perfectly round. His knife moved with practiced precision, removing only the thinnest curls of wood with every pass. Even a tiny imperfection could reduce an arrow's quality, something every craftsman had learned after months of experimenting with the System. It was slow work, but no one questioned its importance anymore.
"Of course we understand," Tom answered before Bill could respond. "That doesn't mean we have to enjoy it." He pressed another arrowhead firmly into place before checking that it lined up perfectly with the grain of the shaft. "Honestly, I think the elders would start worrying if we stopped complaining altogether."
Arin chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Tom's right, Bertho. Complaining is practically a family tradition by now." His smile quickly faded as another memory surfaced. "Still... you're right as well. If we'd had arrows like these during the Secret Realm battle, dealing with those Stage One beasts would have been much easier."
The workshop became noticeably quieter for a few moments. Every one of them remembered the tense dance at the Secret Realm and the terrifying strength of the corrupted creatures. Their current work suddenly felt far more meaningful than it had only minutes earlier. Every arrow they finished today might one day save someone's life.
"It still amazes me what craftsmanship actually means now," Bertho finally said, breaking the silence. He held up a freshly carved shaft, examining how perfectly straight it was before setting it aside. Tests had repeatedly shown that completely handmade arrows flew farther, struck harder, and remained much more stable in flight than arrows assembled by humans who only needed to fit the parts together. Compared to handcrafted arrows, there simply was no contest.
"The System really rewards perfection," Bill muttered while sorting finished arrows into crates. "Before the Trial, nobody would have believed that a handmade arrow could outperform something produced by precision machinery." He shook his head in disbelief. "Sometimes I still forget that we're no longer living in the old world."
"No, that's true," Arin agreed as he reached for another bundle of feathers. "Although I heard the Americans have decided to bet everything on making hot weapons work. It'll be interesting to see whether they succeed." He glanced toward Bertho with a faint grin. Everyone knew Bertho enjoyed discussing military strategy whenever the opportunity presented itself. They could almost see him preparing another long explanation.
"They don't really have another option," Bertho answered after only a brief pause. "Their country simply doesn't have the same historical foundation for fighting with cold weapons that Europe and the rest of the world have." He continued smoothing another shaft without even looking up from his work. "Centuries of swordsmanship, archery, and spear fighting can't be recreated in a few years, no matter how much money you spend."
He continued speaking almost absentmindedly as his thoughts wandered deeper into the subject. "Their entire military doctrine, industrial base, and national identity were built around firearms. Trying to replace all of that overnight would probably do more damage than good." His hands never stopped moving despite the increasingly distant expression on his face. "If I were making the decision, I'd probably choose the same path."
"Well... there he goes," Tom said with a grin as he fitted another arrowhead onto its shaft. "We've officially lost him." He nodded toward Bertho, who had already begun muttering quietly to himself while mentally reorganizing entire military industries. None of them had any intention of interrupting him once he entered one of those moods.
"Exactly what I expected," Arin laughed. "You mention military doctrine once, and suddenly he's planning campaigns in his head." Even Bill couldn't suppress a smile at the familiar sight. Bertho had always possessed the strange ability to disappear into his own thoughts while his hands continued working with flawless efficiency.
After another few minutes of comfortable silence, Bill carefully set aside a finished bundle of arrows before speaking again. "Have you heard? The elders decided to send a box of tea leaves to Commander Eloi." He hesitated briefly before continuing in a quieter voice. "They want him to pour one final cup for the soldiers who never came home."
No one answered immediately. Even Bill, who normally complained whenever expensive tea was used for anything other than drinking, found himself unable to object. Somehow, spending such a precious luxury on the fallen soldiers felt entirely appropriate. Compared to the lives that had been lost, even the finest tea in the world suddenly seemed insignificant.
"Yeah... I heard," Arin finally replied with a sad smile. "It's unfortunate that we're so far away. Otherwise, we probably could have gone to help them." He slowly attached another set of feathers to an arrow shaft while staring down at the workbench. Although he had never been particularly sociable and didn't personally know anyone from the legion, he still remembered faces from the Trial, brief conversations, and people he had passed in camp. Some of those faces would never be seen again, and somehow that thought made the workshop feel much quieter than before.