"Right," said Karl with a sigh before his expression hardened. The easygoing grandfather vanished, replaced by the patriarch of the Sonneberg clan. Everyone present immediately straightened their backs. Even after all these years, Karl could still project authority when he wanted to.
"Lilly, I want you and two other elders to take the hundred or so family members who have already returned and immediately accelerate the extermination of that Secret Realm," Karl ordered. "It is called a realm, which means it should have limits, and I want those limits found." His eyes narrowed slightly. "At the same time, determine how much additional capacity you have before the situation becomes dangerous if we start rotating recruits through the operation."
Lilly simply nodded.
She had no intention of arguing.
If anything, she looked eager to get started.
"Bennie," Karl continued, turning toward the clan treasurer, "open the warehouse and get the recruits moving supplies. I want arrows loaded immediately and transported toward the front line." He crossed his arms while considering the situation. "We still do not know how effective our ammunition stockpiles will be in the long run."
"The standards regarding the degradation of non-human-made items are still far too vague," Karl continued. "I don't trust them, and I refuse to be caught unprepared." His military instincts were screaming at him that ammunition shortages were a disaster waiting to happen. Unfortunately, experience had taught him that those instincts were usually correct.
"Start buying arrow components again," he ordered. "Not complete arrows. I want partially assembled kits with enough human involvement to hopefully avoid degradation issues." He pointed toward several waiting recruits. "Use the recruits who have not yet signed contracts. Let them handle the assembly work."
"Understood."
Several voices answered simultaneously.
The people gathered around immediately began moving. None of them wanted to be standing around when Karl entered one of his command moods. The patriarch had become increasingly busy over the last few months, and everyone knew better than to waste his time.
"Good," Karl said. "Now let me message Herman. Hopefully he already has some answers regarding what works and what doesn't work anymore."
Pulling out his phone, Karl began typing.
Far away in Switzerland, Herman was not having a much better day.
In fact, things seemed to be getting worse by the hour.
Every new report brought fresh uncertainties. Every answer generated two new questions. He was beginning to suspect that the next few years would consist entirely of experts explaining why civilization was more fragile than anyone had realized.
Currently, he was listening to another analyst present theories based on scientific data.
The scientists themselves refused to speculate.
They only discussed what they had verified.
That left the analysts to connect the dots.
"Good day, sir, ladies, and gentlemen," said Marika Raud as she stood before the assembled officers. "Today I am presenting our projections regarding infrastructure beyond the cities humanity currently finds itself confined within." She activated several displays behind her. Charts immediately appeared across the room.
"Using data gathered over the last two and a half years regarding infrastructure degradation, we have identified several interesting patterns." Marika adjusted her glasses before continuing. "The first and most obvious observation is that hand-made items degrade significantly slower than mass-produced ones."
Several people nodded.
That much was already widely known.
"Furthermore," she continued, "items crafted by individuals possessing professions perform even better." More data appeared behind her. "The differences are substantial enough that we can no longer dismiss them as statistical anomalies."
Again, nobody objected.
The evidence was overwhelming.
"Now we arrive at the interesting part," Marika said. "While examining the data, we noticed that commonly used objects degrade at different rates than unused ones." She pointed toward several highlighted reports. "For example, faucets continue functioning perfectly fine in many locations, while abandoned buildings sometimes contain steel panels weak enough to punch through with a finger."
That got everyone's attention.
Several officers leaned forward.
They had not heard that comparison before.
"Our current theory is that interaction slows degradation," Marika explained. "The more people use an object, the longer it survives." She gestured toward another graph. "That would explain why items such as bows and swords often remain functional far longer than expected despite being exposed to the same conditions."
The room became thoughtful.
The theory actually fit a surprising amount of available data.
At least on the surface.
"That is all well and good," Herman interrupted, "but why do phones fall apart the moment people leave a protected area?" He folded his arms. "People use those constantly. By your logic they should be among the most resistant objects we have."
Marika nodded.
She had expected that question.
"That part is more complicated," she admitted. "We believe it has something to do with leaving the protection of humanity's collective presence." She pulled up another series of reports. "Population density appears to directly influence degradation rates."
The room fell silent.
Everyone knew where this was going.
"The larger the population, the slower objects degrade," Marika said. "The trend is consistent across nearly every dataset we have." She pointed toward several city comparisons. "Once people leave the safety of those population centers, the process accelerates."
"Complex systems appear to fail first," she continued. "Phones, computers, communication equipment, and electronics all degrade rapidly." Her expression became more serious. "Simple objects survive considerably longer."
"As for what happens further away from civilization, we simply do not know," Marika admitted. "The data does not exist yet." She took a small breath before delivering her conclusion. "However, our speculation is that anything not hand-made will eventually disintegrate if exposed long enough."
Finally, she stepped back.
A small bow indicated that she was finished.
Questions immediately followed.
"Right," sighed Jonathan Kelsen. "That means logistical support is becoming a nightmare again."
The logistics officer looked exhausted.
He had spent the last few years solving problems that should not have existed.
"Why?" asked Brecht Desramaux. "You performed exceptionally during the Trial. How is this situation different?" The former Grand Admiral was genuinely confused. Compared to most departments, logistics had adapted remarkably well.
Jonathan looked at him like he had asked why drowning was unpleasant.
"Because arrows don't normally fall apart while being transported," he replied. "Food doesn't normally degrade in supply wagons." He rubbed his forehead. "If this theory is correct, we might lose the ability to sustain operations beyond a hundred kilometers."
The room grew quiet.
That possibility was alarming.
"Without logistics, armies don't move," Jonathan continued. "Without food, soldiers don't fight." He spread his hands helplessly. "It doesn't matter how strong our troops become if we cannot keep them supplied."
"Now, now," said Barbara Blatter. "Perhaps things are not quite that bad yet." The former Air Force general began distributing several reports. "I have something interesting from the Ministry of Technology."
That immediately improved the mood.
Interesting reports were preferable to logistical disasters.
"The ministry recently funded a scientist investigating infrastructure updating," Barbara explained. "The preliminary findings are encouraging." She tapped one of the documents. "Additionally, Agriculture has successfully completed its first large-scale harvest of mana-infused crops."
Several people perked up.
That was significant news.
"It appears higher mana density actually improves crop growth," Barbara continued. "If that trend continues, feeding large populations may become easier rather than harder." She smiled slightly. "At least one problem appears to be solving itself."
"Good," said Jonathan. "Now how do we solve ammunition?"
"Simple," Herman finally said.
Everyone turned toward him.
For the last two minutes he had been staring at his phone while everyone else talked.
Nobody had dared interrupt him.
"We commissioned the same scientist to investigate the definition of hand-made production," Herman explained. "Specifically, whether machine-produced parts assembled by human hands qualify." He looked around the room. "If assembly is enough, we have options."
That immediately sparked discussion.
The implications were enormous.
"As for weapon effectiveness," Herman continued, "we do not currently have time to investigate it." He already knew certain factions within the military wanted a complete transition toward profession-crafted weapons and ammunition. Unfortunately, reality had other plans.
Hand-made weapons were undeniably superior.
The difference was often absurd.
The best comparison Herman had heard was between using a proper bread knife and attempting to cut bread with a slightly blunt steak knife. Both technically worked. One simply performed the task vastly better than the other.
Unfortunately, quality requires resources.
Resources required money.
And money was something nobody possessed in sufficient quantities.
The military simply did not have the budget to replace everything with professionally crafted equipment. More importantly, there were nowhere near enough craftsmen with relevant professions to meet demand. Until that changed, humanity would have to make do with what it had.