Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 30 Assassination
Winters had never seen such a nimble one-handed sword.

Compared to the common one-handed sword, the blade of the longsword is already considered slender.

The one-handed sword in the black-robed man's hand was even thinner than the longsword, and although it was a one-handed sword, its length was no shorter than the two-handed sword in Winters' hand.

How can something so long be so flexible? It's unbelievable.

Fortunately, this isn't a competition, so there's no scoring involved.

Winters once believed that swordsmanship relied on sparring, and that so-called swordsmanship insights were useless nonsense. But after experiencing boarding combat with pirates, he began to reconsider the teachings of his master, Richard Nal.

"Don't just rush forward like a pig; be flexible in your steps."

Seeing that his sword had missed its mark and that his opponent's sword had bypassed his path and was thrusting straight at him from below, Winters simply let go of the sword and flung it directly at his opponent.

"If this were a competition, I'd be disqualified immediately." Having probably experienced two real matches in a row, he was no longer so nervous, and even started to make fun of himself.

But whatever he was thinking, Winters didn't stop moving; he took two steps back to avoid his opponent's sword tip.

Venetia's assassins were particularly fond of using poison, and Winters had grown up hearing stories of poisoned daggers. So even if there was only a one percent chance, he didn't want to be scratched by his opponent's blade.

The opponent did not expect Winters to have a move that turned his longsword into a flying axe. He was unable to dodge in time and was hit solidly.

Winters heard a strange sound when his opponent was hit. Unfortunately, Winters' longsword was an unsharpened training sword, and the blow only caused his opponent to let out a muffled groan in pain, without causing any external injury that could render him incapacitated.

Winters' "flying sword technique" briefly slowed down the man in black robes. Enraged by the trick, the man in black robes ignored the traveler he was originally chasing and charged straight at Winters with his sword.

Winters hadn't expected his flying sword technique to have a taunting function. He sneered inwardly, and then... took off running.

He didn't know the black-robed man's swordsmanship level, but if this was a match to determine the winner, the opponent's move when he entangled his sword had already won.

Unfortunately, this is a dock, not a training ground; it's a life-or-death struggle, not a competition.

So, if I can't beat you, can't I at least outrun you?

However, Winters had nowhere else to go but the pier behind him, so he followed the same path as the passenger who had tumbled and crawled, and headed straight for the Skua.

The panicked pedestrians on the pier and the cargo unloaded by other merchant ships slowed down the three men. The man in the black robe saw Winters right in front of him, but after running ten or so steps, he still couldn't catch up.

Winters had just seen another man in black robes using a firearm that could fire instantly. Since the other man had one, there was no reason for the man in black robes who was chasing him not to carry such a weapon.

He was constantly on guard against this, so he didn't dare to run blindly and kept looking back at the man in black.

Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of the black-robed man raising his other hand, which was hidden inside his robe, and pointing it at him. In the black-robed man's hand was still that strange-looking gun.

Winters had taken precautions; the pier was piled with goods temporarily stored by porters, like low walls.

The moment the man in black raised his hand, Winters bent down and rushed behind a pile of goods that was half a person's height, shouting, "Use a gun? Shameless!"

The man in black robes was so angry he was about to vomit blood, and he retorted, "Weren't you running like a rabbit too?!"

However, the moment the man in black spoke, his facade crumbled, and his image as a cold, efficient, and silent assassin completely collapsed.

The black-robed man's retort made Winters realize that this guy was just an ordinary person with joys and angers, which emboldened him even more.

The man in black robes strode closer to Winters. Winters peeked through the gaps in the wooden crate and saw that the man in black robes was pointing a musket at him, so he dared not show his face.

But then a sudden inspiration struck him, and he remembered using Axel's Hair Burning spell once before. He immediately formed the hand gestures for casting a fire spell, recalling the feeling of setting the female thief's hair ablaze that night.

Although he couldn't see the hair under the black-robed man's cloak, he still pushed his magical abilities to the limit, pouring magic into the top of the black-robed man's head.

The familiar squeezing sensation and phantom limb pain made Winters tremble all over, but he gritted his teeth and tried his best to maintain the spellcasting state until the very last moment.

During his time on the ship, Winters' persistent and intense phantom limb pain in his third hand, caused by firefighting, gradually subsided.

However, just in case, the major had forbidden any spellcaster warrant officer from using any magical abilities until they were fully recovered, but now he obviously couldn't care less about that anymore.

Winters only lasted a short time. The intense torment from using his magical abilities made it impossible for him to concentrate any longer, and he left the spellcasting state, panting heavily.

A few wisps of smoke seemed to rise from the top of the black-robed man's head, but they did not burst into flames instantly like the female thief. The black-robed man kept moving, so the hair-burning spell did not seem to work.

Winters knew he was grasping at straws in his desperation; his spellcasting range was actually only about one meter. He could cast spells on objects within that range, but beyond that distance, his magical abilities became negligible. Making the black-robed man a few meters away have smoke rising from his head was already an overachievement.

Winters took a deep breath, preparing to cast the spell again. This time, he would wait until the black-robed man got closer before lunging out to engage him in hand-to-hand combat, using the Hair Burn spell at close range once more.

He comforted himself: Anyway, after all my fuss, that bastard has no chance of catching up with the older passenger. At worst, I'll just jump into the water.

The man in black robes strode up to Winters, who was poised to strike. Just as the tip of the man's sword was about to graze over Winters' head, a thunderclap suddenly rang out on the dock.

Even the loudest thunder could not compare to this deafening roar. Winters felt as if someone had ignited the gunpowder in the barrel of a 32-pound cannon when he had pressed his ear against it.

Winters was so shocked by the deafening thunder that he felt dizzy and his ears rang. The man in black robes also instinctively covered his ears.

A faint whooshing sound followed by a crisp metallic clang from the black-robed man.

Winters turned around following the sound of thunder and saw Major Moritz standing on the wooden plank between the Skuas and the pier, blood streaming from his ears, pointing his arm at the man in black.

The object in Major Moritz's hand emitted a faint reflection, followed by another soft whooshing sound. Then, a crisp metallic clang echoed from the man in black as something bounced off him and landed on the pier.

The man in black robes raised his musket and aimed it at the major. The major waved his hand, and the shot rang out. The lead bullet struck the hull of the Skua, making the sound of the planks cracking.

The deafening thunder, Major Moritz, silver coins, the clanging of metal, the turning of lead bullets, the strange sound of longswords hitting their opponents… Winters understood, Winters finally understood: Major Moritz was also a spellcaster! He just wasn't wearing his badge! And this black-robed bastard was wearing iron armor under his cloak.

"Shoot him on the head, Major!" Winters shouted, reminding the major, "He's wearing a breastplate under his cloak!"

The major ignored him and used his arrow-throwing technique to shoot two more silver coins, which struck the black-robed man's armor with two clanging sounds, but clearly failed to penetrate it.

Seeing that the major ignored his words, Winters was extremely anxious. He made a snap decision and leaped out from behind the cover, slamming his shoulder into the man in black.

He wasn't entirely reckless; he saw that the black-robed man's musket had missed its target, so he used both hands to snatch the black-robed man's sword. The black-robed man hadn't expected that this kid, whose swordsmanship was inferior to his own and who had run away, would dare to fight back. Winters rammed solidly into his chest, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Winters learned this trick from the female thief, but unfortunately he didn't bring a dagger, otherwise he could have killed the man in black with this move.

The sensation when Winters' shoulder bumped into the man in black confirmed his judgment: the man in black was indeed wearing plate armor under his cloak.

Winters pinned the man in black down with his body, grabbed the man's right hand and forearm with both hands, and used grappling techniques to twist the man's wrist and force him to let go.

The man in black was also a tough guy. Despite the excruciating pain, he still gripped his one-handed sword tightly, reversed his musket with his left hand, and used the butt of the musket to smash Winters' back hard.

The musket, reversed, became a warhammer. Winters' back thudded like a war drum as the hardwood butt struck him; he even thought he heard his ribs crack. Forgetting all decorum, he used the most primal weapon an animal could use—his teeth—and bit down hard on the black-robed man's right wrist.

Humans have a bite force of nearly fifty kilograms, and with one bite, Winters tasted the rust of blood. The man in black, in pain, could no longer hold his sword, which Winters seized from him.

The man in black was wearing a breastplate, rendering attacks on his torso ineffective. Winters, seeing that the one-handed sword he had seized also had a blade at the base, aimed directly at the man's neck. The man in black reacted with lightning speed, using his musket to protect his neck and parry the blade.

The two women were like peasant women fighting in a muddy swamp, using the most unseemly means to try and kill each other.

The black-robed man's one-handed sword had an extremely long blade, which put him at a great disadvantage in close combat. Winters stood up, wanting to return to his standing position.

The man in black robes tried to stand up, but Winters kicked him hard in the chin. The kick left him powerless, and he fell heavily back to the ground.

With a swing of his sword, Winters left another deep wound on the black-robed man's left arm, and the man's musket fell from his left hand.

Winters now had the upper hand. Just as he was hesitating whether to kill the man in black or capture him alive for interrogation, he heard the major's loud warning: "Watch out!"

He looked up and saw the slightly trembling sword tip piercing in front of him, and two more men in black robes appeared.

Winters stepped back, deflecting the thrust. The black-robed man forced him back and did not pursue. One black-robed man stood facing him with his sword, while the other squatted on the ground to check on his companion.

One is defeated, and two more appear.

One against two, that's not good.

Winters shouted sternly, "Do you have a death wish? How dare you attack an officer!"

The man in black robes in front of him did not answer. His face was covered by a mask, and Winters could not see his expression. He could only see that the man's eyes were staring intently at him.

The black-robed man, who had been kicked hard in the head by Winters, regained consciousness and struggled to his feet with the help of another black-robed man.

Winters cursed inwardly, wondering if this guy's chin was made of stone. He now deeply regretted not having a metal plate in the front of his boots.

The one-on-two situation turned into a one-on-three one, which was even worse. Winters pointed his sword at the man in black robes and slowly retreated to rejoin the major.

Winters's mind raced: the black-robed men's target was clearly the elderly passenger. He had been trying to stop them for so long, and the passenger had obviously already hidden in a safe place. Their plan had failed.

Without allowing them to achieve their goals, there is no need for me to force a fight against a numerically superior enemy to kill or capture them alive.
On the contrary, if the other side hesitates and does not want to retreat, then as long as he and the major can hold out for a while until the other students understand what is going on and come to their aid, then these men in black robes will be trapped like turtles in a jar, and they will not be able to escape even if they grow wings.
Therefore, the most urgent task is to delay as much time as possible.

Having figured this out, Winters began rambling on and on to distract the men in black robes: "Look back, both of your carriages have been stolen! And you're still standing here like idiots? You openly attacked an army officer, don't blame us for outnumbering you..."

Winters took a step back after each sentence, and the three men in black robes seemed unable to accept that the officer who had just been fighting them for his life was now talking so much nonsense. They were extremely annoyed.

But they were unwilling to give up their goal and leave, so for every step Winters took back, they took a step forward.

The major, sword in hand, strode up to Winters' side.

Winters saw two long streaks of blood extending from the major's ears down to his jaw.

One of the men in black robes could no longer tolerate Winters's meaningless verbal onslaught and launched the first attack, followed by the other man in black robes.

Winters and the Major, two men in black robes, began to fight each other with their swords. The other man's sword was now in Winters's hand, so he did not participate in the sword fight, but stood behind his companion reloading his musket.

This was Winters' first time using this type of one-handed sword. The center of gravity was at the guard, making it very agile. However, this also reduced the effectiveness of the slashing motion.

Winters was not used to this kind of sword and could only parry his opponent's attacks with difficulty.

On the other hand, although Winters thought the major's sword was just an ornament, he was in no way inferior when using it.

In unarmored sword fights, life and death can be decided in a single round. However, after two rounds, neither Winters, the Major, nor the two men in black robes were able to defeat their opponent, and the four of them returned to a stage of stalemate and probing.

But a scream drew everyone's attention.

Two men in black robes looked over Winters' shoulders and behind him.

Winters was curious, but he didn't dare to turn around easily. He and the major took a big step back to create distance between themselves and the other party before turning around to see what was going on.

The sight before them horrified them: on the pier, the elderly passenger who had escaped to safety had been stabbed in the heart by a dockworker with a short knife, the tip of which protruded from his back.

The dockworker calmly drew his dagger, and under everyone's watchful eyes, leisurely lit the gunpowder fuses on two box-like objects with his pipe, then turned and jumped into the sea.

At the same time, several dockworkers from other merchant ships moored on the pier threw several packages with gunpowder fuses onto the pier and then jumped into the sea.

One of them landed not far from Winters. When Winters turned around again, the men in black robes had already run away.

He and the major exchanged a glance. They didn't recognize what it was, but they immediately guessed its purpose.

Hand-thrown incendiary bombs were used by ancient empires a thousand years ago, and hand-thrown bombs with metal casings were not new in the sovereignty wars of thirty years ago.

The fuse was burning rapidly. There was no time to think. Winters and the major jumped into the sea. The shockwave from the violent explosion churned the water, pushing Winters into deeper water.

Winters only remembered something crucial when he choked on a mouthful of water: he couldn't swim.

Michael Hunter's book, "The Art of the New Swift Sword Techniques," records one hundred moves. The one hundredth move is as follows: The world is becoming dangerous, so please stop using daggers as a secondary weapon for the swift sword. Use guns instead.

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(End of this chapter)