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Lute stood on the ridge overlooking the valley of the demi-humans, the cold steel of his custom-built rifle a grounding weight against his shoulder. In this world, magic was the ultimate authority—fireballs and ice spears decided the fate of nations. But Lute, a reincarnated military enthusiast, knew better. He knew that physics, when applied through a rifled barrel, didn't care about mana capacity.

"In this world, you call it magic," Lute said, adjusting his sights for the final shot. "In mine, we just call it ballistics." Lute stood on the ridge overlooking the valley

The Orcs roared, a cacophony of iron and ego. Their shaman began a chant, the air shimmering with the heat of an impending firestorm. To any other village, this would be the end. "Open fire," Lute said. He knew that physics, when applied through a

"Hold," Lute commanded, his voice steady. He wasn't just a soldier; he was a leader of a specialized unit—his "Army Harem"—though he often found the name more embarrassing than the girls did. To them, he was the man who had given them the power to protect their homes without needing a drop of noble blood or rare magical talent. Their shaman began a chant, the air shimmering