Chapter 13: The Irrigation Canal Plan

The magicians’ tower was shrouded in an oppressive silence the likes of which it had never known.

Head magician Oldas and his apprentices returned to their study without a single word spoken. Arcane tomes lay scattered on the floor; complex magic circles were drawn on the walls. All of it had once been the source of their pride and authority—now it looked like a heap of junk.

“…A fuel-inefficient, outdated mana engine, huh.”

Oldas murmured the words as if squeezing them from his chest. Zenon’s cutting remark had seared into his mind like a humiliating brand. The mysteries they had spent their lives pursuing had been dismantled and redefined by that boy as if rearranging a child’s blocks into a more beautiful form.

“Will we be dismissed?” 

One of the apprentices asked in a trembling voice.

“I don’t know…” 

Oldas replied hollowly. 

“But that young master is serious. If we can’t produce ‘results’ within a month, we will have no tomorrow.”

Fear crept slowly into their hearts.

For years they had enjoyed comfortable patronage under House Arkwright and devoted themselves to research. Those peaceful days were now on the brink of ending. Pride, or livelihood—there was little time to choose.

The next day, the three magicians were summoned to Zenon’s study once more, looking as if they had been condemned. Seated with them were Marc, recently promoted to Assistant Magistrate, and a burly middle-aged man who claimed his family had handled civil engineering projects for generations.

“All present. Let’s get to the point.”

Without preamble, Zenon pointed to the large map of the Arkwright domain spread across the table.

“Today’s agenda is the permanent solution to our water problem.”

At those words, tension passed over Marc and the others. Water had always been the greatest issue for agriculture in these lands.

“Until now, we have relied on the weather—an uncertain factor—to supply water. From a management perspective, that is nothing but gambling. The risk is intolerable.”

Zenon traced the map with his finger.

“Fortunately, a great river runs through our territory. We will build a system to distribute that water reliably to every corner of the territory. In short: a large-scale irrigation canal.”

“An—irrigation canal!?” 

The civil engineer blurted in surprise.

“But that will require enormous labor and time. From where to where do you intend to divert the water?”

“The route is already decided.”

Casually, Zenon dipped his pen in ink and drew a single line across the map.

The line branched off from the river’s upper reaches and snaked across the plains—precisely traversing the areas that had been denied the river’s benefits.

“This route is the most efficient. Using elevation differences, with a minimal gradient we can irrigate the maximum area.”

“Impossible! When did you perform such precise surveying!?”

The engineer was speechless. Determining the elevation changes across a vast territory and plotting an optimal route would take years with this world’s technology.

“A simple calculation. It would’ve been faster with satellite imagery, though.” 

Zenon muttered—words no one understood—and then turned to the bewildered magicians.

“And the keystone of this plan is you three.”

“Us… doing civil engineering?” 

Oldas scowled as if insulted.

“Yes. But I don’t mean you should pick up hoes and dig. I won’t make you do such inefficient labor.”

Zenon pointed to a spot on the map.

“First, Oldas. Your task is surveying. Use wind magic to extend invisible, ultra-fine threads of air for tens of kilometers. By measuring the tilt of those threads we can gauge elevation differences to the millimeter—no excuses for error.”

“Measuring with wind threads…? I’ve never heard of such a use…”

“If you don’t know it, learn it now. Next, the two of you.”

Zenon indicated the two apprentices.

“You will use earth magic to carve the canal. Not by blind digging, but by manipulating soil particles directly with mana—‘cutting out’ earth to precise widths, depths, and angles. Harden the sides to prevent seepage. It’s far more accurate and faster than blasting with explosives.”

The magicians listened to Zenon’s words in stunned silence.

Surveying with wind? Excavating with earth?

These were concepts completely alien to the magical framework they had studied all their lives.

Their magic had always been vague and uncertain—something that relied on rituals and incantations to ask nature to act.

But the kind of magic Zenon spoke of was different: it was an absolute technology that directly controlled natural phenomena, as precise as a finely tuned machine.

“C-Can such a thing truly be done…?”

One of the apprentices asked hesitantly.

“It can,” 

Zenon replied. 

“The problem is simply how wastefully you’ve used your mana until now. You pride yourselves on your sensitivity to magic energy, don’t you? Then sensing the properties of each grain of soil and commanding it to move as you wish should be trivial.”

His words were sharp, even scathing—but at the same time, they hinted at a new horizon for their craft.

Could their immense power—once used only for destruction and intimidation—truly be turned toward something so constructive and productive?

Oldas recalled the moment Zenon had effortlessly neutralized his lightning sphere with nothing more than a speck of light.

That had been the ultimate form of mana control.

This boy understood the true nature of magic far more deeply than they ever had.

Humiliation—and a flicker of intellectual curiosity.

Something within Oldas began to change.

“…Let us try it,” 

He said at last, his voice strained after a long silence.

“However, we cannot manage it alone. I ask permission to gather young men in the territory who show magic potential and take them as our apprentices.”

It was both a desperate plea for survival and a researcher’s instinctive desire to master this new magic technology.

Zenon gave a small nod.

“Approved. But I will handle the selection myself. I won’t allow you to fill the ranks with personal connections.”

And so began an unprecedented enterprise upon which the future of the Arkwright domain would rest.

It was a project to bring life-giving water to barren lands—
but also the dawn of a grand experiment, one that would strip magic of its ancient mysticism and rebirth it under the scalpel of rationality.

Watching quietly from the corner of the room, Gray trembled with emotion.

(Zenon-sama is trying to create a river of stars upon the earth…! And he seeks to turn magic—once a weapon of war—into a power to sustain the people! Such mercy, such a magnificent vision!)

His loyal misunderstanding had now become unstoppable.