Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

"The entire sword is 115 centimeters long, with the blade accounting for 95 centimeters. It weighs only 1.2 kilograms, about the same weight as the military water bottles you carry with you."

"The sword's center of gravity is precisely controlled 8 centimeters in front of the guard. It looks slender and fragile, but it is actually extremely maneuverable. Even if you thrust continuously for a minute, it will not make your wrist lose strength."

"Some might ask, why do Federal Army officers not use traditional knight's swords, half-swords, or even weapons like axes, hammers, spears, and forks? Is it because they're not good enough?"

Captain Lyman's gaze swept over each trainee present. "Of course not. Every weapon has its own advantages and disadvantages, but on the battlefield, you have no choice. You use whatever is at hand. As officers, you are role models for the entire army. You must be proficient in all weapons and masters of all weapons."

"Alright, enough of the chit-chat. As you all know, today is the final sword-fighting assessment. The results will directly affect your graduation evaluation. Listen to the rules: two people per team, wearing standard three-quarter armor, fighting in a best-of-three format, three minutes per round, with a one-minute break between rounds."

Captain Lyman tapped the armor rack beside him with his sword. Several sets of steel armor, worn and punctured, were neatly arranged on it. "The only valid scoring points are the breastplate seams, armpits, throat guard seams, and the joints between the shoulder and arm armors. Any other hits are invalid. Attacking the observation seams on the face mask is strictly prohibited; a single violation results in immediate disqualification. Understand?"

"clear!"

The unified response echoed through the training hall, carrying with it the barely suppressed tension and excitement of the young men.

"Now, find your own battle partner, register at the teaching assistant's office, and the assessment will begin in three minutes. Those who cannot find a partner will be assigned one at the end."

As soon as Captain Lyman finished speaking, a commotion broke out in the ranks, and familiar trainees immediately called out to each other and gathered together.

After all, everyone wants to find a partner they know well and who is at a similar level. They don't want to be dragged down by someone with a poor skill level, nor do they want to encounter someone with a high skill level, lest they be beaten without any chance to fight back.

Just as Nozer turned his head, about to speak to Lucas whom he had arranged to meet earlier, Captain Lyman's gaze was precisely locked onto Lucas. "Lucas Hunter, step forward."

The noise subsided slightly, and everyone's eyes turned to look at them.

Lucas stepped forward, stood at attention, and answered loudly, "Here!"

"Your basic movements have been excellent in every training session this semester, and your sparring has consistently ranked among the top in the class. Fighting against ordinary students is meaningless for you; it would be considered bullying."

Captain Lyman tossed him a training swift sword. "You don't need to participate in the assessment. Fight me at the end."

The people around were already used to it, after all, no one wanted to run into Lucas and get beaten up and lose the game.

Lucas caught the sword, turned around and winked at Noze, then said in a low voice quickly, "Brother, as expected. You'd better find a reliable partner quickly, or the captain will randomly assign you a weak person who will affect your evaluation."

"Okay, good luck to you."

Noze waved to him, watching Lucas follow Captain Lyman's adjutant into the inner field, most likely because the instructor wanted to give him some instructions.

Although Nozer had anticipated this situation, he still found it somewhat troublesome.

He glanced around the training hall and saw that in less than half a minute, most of the students had already found partners. Only a few students whose swordsmanship was at the bottom and who had no one willing to partner with them were standing awkwardly waiting to be assigned partners.

Nozer's gaze swept around the room before finally settling on a corner against the wall.

Andrew Hart was standing there.

He held a standard training swift sword in his hand, his fingertips lightly stroking the guard, deliberately standing at the edge of everyone's sight.

He neither approached anyone to strike up a conversation nor acted flustered like other lone trainees. He simply stood quietly, as if he had long been accustomed to being excluded, waiting for the instructor to randomly assign him a partner.

Even if the students around him were a few steps away, they would subconsciously look away.

No one would even glance in his direction, let alone extend an invitation.

Everyone knew how solid Andrew's swordsmanship was, but no one wanted to get involved with him in a final exam, a time when grades mattered, let alone become his face-to-face sparring partner.

What if the instructor has some prejudice against the Kurts? What if this Kurt might resort to underhanded tactics to improve the score?

Once this baseless suspicion begins, it will repeat endlessly and spread, causing even the most sympathetic person to carefully consider whether it is worth it.

Looking at his lonely figure, Norze walked towards that corner without hesitation.

Many students who were putting on their armor noticed his movements, and their whispers immediately subsided. All eyes, filled with the anticipation of a spectacle, followed his footsteps and fell upon Andrew.

Andrew also heard footsteps.

He looked up and, when he saw that the person walking towards him was Norze, he instinctively took a half-step to the side, assuming that Norze was just passing by.

Konoze stood firmly in front of him.

"Andrew."

Nozer spoke, his tone frank and natural, without any deliberate sympathy or cautious probing, "Lucas was called away by the captain for a solo assessment, and I'm currently lacking a sparring partner. If you haven't arranged a partner yet, would you like to team up with me?"

Andrew was completely stunned.

He seemed unable to believe his ears, and even subconsciously looked back at the wall behind him to confirm that Norze was talking to him.

A few seconds later, he looked away, his voice hesitant: "You... want to be paired with me for the assessment?"

"Otherwise what? Besides you, who else here hasn't found a partner?"

Noze smiled, deliberately making his tone light, before adding seriously, "Besides, your swordsmanship is very solid. I've seen you train before. Sparring with you during assessments is much better than being randomly assigned a partner by the captain who can't even stand still. We're mutually benefiting, right?"

He deliberately avoided topics about prejudice and isolation, portraying the invitation as an equal and mutually beneficial choice, rather than a condescending act of charity.

He knew Andrew's inherent sensitivity and pride; what he needed more than the pitying care of others was unconditional respect.

Andrew's lips moved slightly, his gaze falling on Noze's open eyes, then quickly sweeping over the disapproving stares around them.

He leaned closer to Norze and whispered, "Aren't you afraid... people will talk about you because of me?"

Here, getting close to someone like him always inevitably leads to gossip and judgment, and even he himself has accepted this outcome.

Even now, Andrew is still thinking of Norzer and not himself. I don't know whether to call him kind or foolish.