Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

Andrew's movements were even more steady than Nozer had anticipated. He took almost silent, small, sliding steps, gradually closing the distance between himself and Nozer. The tip of his sword remained perfectly still, and even the sway of his shoulder armor was barely noticeable, giving Nozer no chance to exploit any openings in his movements.

This is why someone who has systematically studied cold weapon combat can tell the general level of their opponent at a glance without even engaging in combat.

"Steps! Steps! The most important thing is steps!"

This is what every swordsmanship instructor says most often.

Cold weapon combat is essentially a game of distance, angle, center of gravity, and timing, and all four of these core elements that determine victory or defeat must be achieved through footwork.

The techniques in your hands are merely the "finishing move" after your footwork is in place. If your footwork is wrong, even the most exquisite moves are castles in the air, your strength is useless, and your reaction is inevitable.

Therefore, General John Ness, a swordsmanship master of the Union Army, wrote the following in his book "The Essentials of Swordsmanship": "The premise of all sword techniques is that you are in the right place, and the only way to be in the right place is to pay attention to your feet."

Having undergone special training, Norze naturally understood the core of Swift Sword Armored Combat. Three-quarters of the armor protected the torso, upper arm, and forearm. The gaps where one could score were only a few palm-widths wide. Rather than wasting energy and exposing weaknesses by randomly striking, it was better to force the opponent to move first and find opportunities in their movements.

In terms of basic skills and physical fitness, he can't even come close to Andrew, who spends every day in training.

If you fight with standard moves and fair and square, he will only be forced into a corner little by little, and his defeat will be inevitable.

Instead of pressing forward in line with Andrew's rhythm, he took small, shuffling steps, moving little by little to the side, deliberately widening his position and moving the tip of his sword away from Andrew's center line, assuming a stance to avoid facing him head-on.

Andrew's footsteps adjusted in sync with his movements, his body always facing Nozer, the tip of his sword locked onto Nozer's chest without ever leaving his side.

Nozer made two probing thrusts in succession. Each time the sword tip was pushed forward, Andrew's strong sword immediately moved sideways. Instead of blocking rashly, Andrew steadily blocked the path to the gap in the armor, forcing Nozer to withdraw his sword.

After several attempts, Norzer couldn't even touch Andrew's nail.

Low murmurs could be heard from the sidelines, mostly expressing the belief that Andrew's defense was impenetrable and that Norze wouldn't last long.

As expected, seeing that Norze's several feints posed no threat, Andrew finally launched an attack.

He took a sudden step forward, the force of his back foot pushing off the ground transmitted through his armor, and with a smooth twist of his waist and hips, he unleashed a perfect lunge thrust that could be written into textbooks. The tip of his sword, carrying the wind, went straight for the seam between Noze's throat guard and the upper edge of his breastplate.

Noze's heart clenched, and he instinctively tried to raise his sword to block.

But as soon as his fingertips moved, Nozer, who had been taught by Master Lucas, forcefully suppressed this instinctive movement.

Raising his hand to block would inevitably lift his shoulder armor, instantly exposing the gap under his armpit. Given Andrew's sword control skills, his next strike would definitely follow the opening and pierce through.

In a flash, Norze made a move that no one expected. Instead of retreating or raising his sword, he suddenly turned to his left, shifting his weight down by half a foot, and almost pressed himself against the outside of Andrew's thrusting sword.

This move was almost a gamble; if he had been even a fraction of a second slower, the tip of Andrew's sword would have pierced the gap in his breastplate.

But this one sidestep completely avoided Andrew's thrusting path.

Andrew's sword tip grazed the edge of Norze's breastplate, striking the shoulder armor with a "clang," sending up a few tiny sparks of metal, completely missing its mark.

Andrew, in a full lunge stance, extended his sword-wielding hand forward, raising the shoulder armor on his left shoulder completely, exposing the narrow slit under his armpit entirely to Norze's sword.

Noze's wrist had already flipped, and using the force of his sideways movement, the tip of his sword flicked upwards at an angle.

Andrew realized this too, and quickly turned to the side, trying to use the steel edge of his armor to block the attack.

Just as the sword tip was about to be blocked by the armor, he subtly moved the extremely fine magic threads swirling around his fingertips, precisely adjusting the angle of the sword tip so that it just avoided the steel edge extending downwards from the shoulder armor. With a "thud," the blunt tip of the training sword firmly pressed against the coarse linen lining under the opponent's armpit.

"Successful! Noze Stella, 1 point!" The referee's whistle blew immediately and decisively.

Andrew abruptly sheathed his sword and retreated, his breathing becoming somewhat erratic beneath his mask.

He never expected that Norze would retaliate in such a suicidal way, nor did he expect that his opponent would dare to completely abandon blocking, gambling on this minute moment of opportunity.

Of course, he could also sense the flow of magic on Nozer's body.

An uproar erupted on the sidelines. No one expected that the first to score would be Noze, whose swordsmanship had been consistently at the bottom.

Norze also sheathed his sword and returned to his stance. Cold sweat had soaked through his armor. He had won his gamble just now, but he also knew that he couldn't use such a risky move a second time. Andrew would never suffer the same loss again.

Sure enough, in the ensuing exchanges, Andrew's attacks became much more restrained, no longer making rash lunges, but he still firmly controlled the rhythm of the game.

He forced Noze to keep moving and keep drawing his sword, trying to exhaust Noze's already limited stamina.

Konoze, however, refused to take the bait. He maximized the precision of his magic, making feints that were half real and half fake.

Sometimes she would feign a sudden thrust to the throat, tricking Andrew into slightly raising his arm to protect it, then with a flick of her wrist, she would change direction and stab at the seam between the shoulder and arm armor. Other times she would feign a retreat, revealing an opening, and just as Andrew pressed forward, she would suddenly step forward and steal the spot, the tip of her sword grazing the seam between Andrew's waist armor.

In the three-minute match, Andrew played hesitantly, completely unsure of how to respond.

He was used to textbook offense and defense, but Noze's fighting style completely broke the mold, targeting the moment when his nail gaps were exposed during his movements. No matter how tricky the angle, Noze could always hit him accurately.

Even though his blocking was incredibly fast, Norze still managed to seize two more opportunities.

Andrew only managed to capitalize on one of Norzer's slip-and-fall mistakes, striking through his shoulder armor and scoring a paltry 1 point.

In Nozer's words, this is what they call "a novice beating a master".

"Beep—Time's up for the first round!"

The referee's whistle blew again, "First frame, Norther Stella wins with 3 valid hits, Andrew Hart with 1 valid hit. The score is 1-0, Norther Stella leads."

The moment the whistle fell, Norze immediately raised his hand and lifted his mask, panting heavily.

The intense concentration he had just maintained for three minutes was more tiring than his entire afternoon of physical training. His hand gripping the sword hilt was slightly sore, and his legs were starting to feel heavy from the frequent changes of direction and sliding steps.

To make matters worse, Norze discovered that his mana reserves were running low and that recovery would take time, which was exactly what he needed most right now, as the break between matches was only a short one minute.

Andrew across from him also took off his mask. His pale face was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his light golden hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead.

He showed neither anger nor arrogance, but simply kept his head down, wiping the hilt of his sword with a cloth.

No one knew better than him how thoroughly he lost the first round. It wasn't because of his swordsmanship, but because his thinking was completely outmaneuvered by Norze.

He was too fixated on standard offense and defense, and ended up being led by the nose by Norzer's unorthodox methods.

"Great job! Well done, Norzer!"

Lucas, standing on the sidelines, yelled encouragement at him, "Keep playing like this, beat him in the second set!"