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    “This version was a redesign I did after listening to your suggestion last time, Boss.”

    Helga picked up the prototype gun with the bottom-inserted magazine and handed it to Morin.

    “I thought carefully about the center of gravity shift issue you mentioned last time, and it definitely exists… so I made this new design. I wanted to see how the practical effect would be.”

    Morin took the gun, weighed it, and performed a few aiming drills.

    Helga truly inherited her family’s excellent talent; she was a genius in firearms design.

    This weapon—which was identical to the bottom-fed ‘modified MP18’ once manufactured by a certain mysterious Eastern power in the Qingdao and Dagu Arsenals—felt even better in his hands than he had imagined.

    The center of gravity was stable, and the human factors engineering… well, the latter point wasn’t a major concern in this era.

    “Let’s go, we need to test fire this.” Morin was impatient.

    The two took the two prototype guns and headed to the manor’s private shooting range.

    Morin first picked up the side-inserted magazine ‘original MP18’ and, aiming at a target 50 meters away, pulled the trigger.

    “Da-da-da-da-da…”

    A long string of crisp gunshots rang out. The muzzle spat fire, and bullets sprayed toward the distant target.

    Morin clearly felt a subtle shift in the gun’s center of gravity as the ammunition in the magazine rapidly depleted.

    This forced him to exert more effort to control the muzzle climb during sustained fire.

    He put down the gun after emptying one magazine and picked up the bottom-inserted magazine version.

    “Da-da-da-da-da…”

    He fired the entire magazine again in one burst.

    The shooting experience this time was noticeably better.

    Although the gun still vibrated, the entire firing process was very smooth, and the muzzle barely shifted horizontally.

    All the movement was concentrated vertically, making it easier to control.

    “We will use this bottom-inserted magazine version.”

    Morin made the final decision.

    “Helga, you did an excellent job… Although the side-insertion magazine design has its advantages in specific situations, from the perspective of universality and handling, the bottom-insertion magazine is the more mature and reliable solution.”

    Receiving Morin’s affirmation, Helga’s eyes curved like crescent moons in a broad smile.

    “However, there is still room for improvement with this magazine,” Morin pointed to the long, single-stack magazine, proposing a new requirement.

    “The current magazine is still too long and will be cumbersome for prone firing… Could you try designing a dual-stack feeding magazine?”

    “Dual-stack feeding?”

    “Yes, it would still have a 32-round capacity, but the length could be nearly halved.”

    “That structure would be much more complex, but… Boss, I can try!”

    Helga’s eyes sparkled with the eagerness to tackle a new technological challenge.

    Ah, what a purely kind and talented girl.

    “I believe you can do it.” Morin encouraged with a smile.

    With the prototype design finalized, the remaining steps were simple.

    It was the same familiar process.

    Morin returned to the garrison and, overnight, drafted a formal document requesting the procurement of the new individual automatic weapon for the Teaching Assault Battalion.

    This time, as he signed his name at the end of the report and filled in ‘Schmeisser Arms Manufacturing Co., Ltd.’ in the supplier column…

    He felt no trace of the previous embarrassment or blush. Instead, he felt a sense of righteous justification.

    I, Friedrich Morin, am procuring suitable, advanced weapons for the unit I command. Is there a problem with that?

    Perhaps due to the success of the MG14 light machine gun.

    This time, the War Office’s response was even faster than Morin had anticipated.

    Less than two days after the application was submitted, Falkenhayn and Crown Prince Georg returned to the Teaching Assault Battalion garrison on the outskirts of Dresden.

    The Empire’s Crown Prince was finally beginning to understand why his Father was so enthusiastic about advancing naval fleet construction…

    The process of personally witnessing a unit he helped establish grow stronger, piece by piece, was indeed something that brought an unspeakable sense of accomplishment and genuine fascination.

    It was like a grown boy finally getting the toy he had always dreamed of.

    Crown Prince Georg, in particular, almost leaped out of the car upon arriving at the garrison. The enthusiasm radiating from his face was brighter than the June sun in Dresden.

    “Captain Morin, I hear you have prepared another surprise for me?”

    The Crown Prince greeted the arriving Morin, familiarly clapping him on the shoulder, his voice full of warmth.

    “You always have something new up your sleeve.”

    “Your Highness, I dare not call it a surprise or a trick. It is merely a new addition to our unit that I wished to present for your and General Falkenhayn’s review.”

    Morin answered with a smile.

    The group skipped the formal pleasantries and headed directly to the familiar training ground.

    In the center of the field was the same long table draped with green velvet.

    On the table lay a single, compact, and formidable-looking submachine gun.

    And standing next to the table was the familiar figure—Helga Schmeisser.

    Compared to the last time, Helga was no longer as nervous or awkward.

    During the period the MG14 was delivered to the Teaching Assault Battalion, she had visited the camp every few days to communicate with the soldiers, record issues with the MG14 during training, and solicit their suggestions for improvement.

    The soldiers, for their part, held deep respect for the talented and unpretentious ‘Valkyrie,’ even affectionately giving her the unofficial nickname, ‘The Valkyrie.’

    These constant interactions had polished Helga’s somewhat shy personality, making her more capable and confident.

    Now, she wore a well-fitting blue overall and had her long hair neatly tied back.

    Standing there, she radiated an aura of confident capability.

    Seeing the Crown Prince and his entourage approach, she curtsied briefly and then began to introduce the new weapon on the table in a steady, clear voice.

    “Your Highness, honored officers, this is the latest individual automatic weapon developed by our Schmeisser Company, which Captain Morin calls the ‘submachine gun.’”

    “It fires the 9×19mm P08 pistol cartridge. It uses a blowback operating mechanism, has a rate of fire of 400 rounds per minute, and an effective range of 200–300 meters.”

    “The total mass of the gun is approximately 4.2kg. It is fed by a 32-round dual-stack, single-feed magazine.”

    “Excluding screws, the entire firearm consists of only 37 parts. Although it requires a certain level of manufacturing precision, it can be produced using ordinary machine tools, and the internal components allow for relatively large manufacturing tolerances…”

    Helga’s introduction was concise and full of substance.

    In summary: high firepower, universal ammunition, and although precise craftsmanship was required, it could be mass-produced.

    The Crown Prince, Falkenhayn, and the others listened to the data, their minds beginning to process the implications.

    The 4.2kg weight meant it could be easily carried by a single soldier.

    The 400 rounds per minute rate of fire, while not matching a heavy machine gun, was absolutely devastating in close-quarters combat.

    And the 32-round magazine ensured sustained fire capability.

    After the introduction, it was time for the live-fire demonstration.

    Everyone instinctively stepped back, leaving the center of the field for Helga.

    Helga picked up the submachine gun from the table and expertly inserted a fully loaded magazine with a sharp ‘click’ into the magazine well beneath the receiver.

    She pulled the bolt back, chambering a round.

    The entire action was seamless.

    Then, she did not run to a distant firing point to shoot prone, as she had done with the MG14.

    Instead, she stood still, braced the stock against her shoulder, and pulled the trigger, aiming at a row of humanoid targets a hundred meters away.

    “Putt-putt-putt-putt-putt…”

    A rapid, muffled burst of gunfire erupted. The muzzle spat short flames, and a stream of casings joyfully leaped from the ejection port.

    Wood splinters and dust flew from the distant targets.

    In just a few seconds, the entire 32-round magazine was emptied.

    The onlookers—all except Morin—were witnessing this kind of weapon being fired for the first time, and they let out suppressed gasps of astonishment.

    The firepower was clearly in a different league from the bolt-action rifles!

    However, this was just the appetizer.

    After emptying the magazine, Helga pressed the magazine release button with one hand, letting the empty magazine drop.

    Simultaneously, she picked up a new, fully loaded magazine from the table with her other hand and swiftly inserted it.

    The entire reloading process was fluid and dazzlingly fast.

    Then, she performed a movement that surprised everyone.

    She actually charged forward with the gun, running toward another set of targets fifty meters away!

    Pro-gamer Run-and-Gun.

    She fired in short bursts as she ran, suppressing the targets in her path.

    “Putt-putt! Putt-putt-putt!”

    Her running posture was not standard, even a bit awkward.

    But with every short burst from the submachine gun in her hands, a new hole was torn into a humanoid target.

    The stunned onlookers—especially the NCOs of the Teaching Assault Battalion—were completely awestruck.

    A clear image flashed through their minds:

    A horde of Saxon assault troopers, carrying this ‘submachine gun,’ suddenly bursting out of the dense woods by the roadside, spraying the enemy at close range…

    What a desperate slaughter that would be!

    The standardization and production of the submachine gun was approved without incident—it was officially named the MP14.

    The Imperial Firearms Manufacturing Committee initially suggested that before production, the new submachine gun should be adapted to use the drum magazines of the P08 Artillery Pistol.

    They even demanded that the angle between the barrel axis and the drum magazine feed axis be set at 55°, the same angle as the Luger pistol.

    But Morin flatly rejected the idea, stating that while the drum magazine was fine for the semi-automatic P08, it would be too cumbersome for a high-rate-of-fire submachine gun.

    It was clumsy to use, and reloading was excessively tedious—automatic weapons naturally consumed ammunition quickly, and using that drum magazine would make reloading a torture!

    Furthermore, since the drum magazine was complicated to manufacture and prone to jamming, Morin refused to agree to the modification.

    He preemptively informed Crown Prince Georg of the situation.

    And the advantage of having a strong patron was immediately apparent.

    The Crown Prince’s aide-de-camp personally delivered the Crown Prince’s handwritten opinion to the Imperial Firearms Manufacturing Committee…

    And no one raised the issue again.

    Time slipped by.

    It was now June 28, 1914.

    This morning, Morin woke up in his officer’s quarters in the camp as usual.

    He had not studied magic the previous night due to night training and had gone to sleep immediately upon returning.

    He had already learned all the spells available at his current level.

    He was approximately 10% experience short of reaching Level 4 Spellcaster status.

    He had slept comfortably until morning. Sunlight streamed through the window onto the floor. Everything seemed peaceful and calm.

    He stretched, got out of bed, washed up, and put on his crisp service uniform.

    Before heading out to the mess hall for breakfast, he habitually opened his system panel, looking for any new information.

    The 【Intelligence】 tab had an inconspicuous icon gently flashing.

    He casually clicked on it.

    A piece of pure informational intelligence, without any urgent or important markers, appeared before him.

    【Archduke Franz Ferdinand of the Austro-Hungarian Empire has arrived in Sarajevo.】

    (End of this Chapter)

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