Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

Noze managed a weak, lifeless smile, but he wasn't at ease inside.

Andrew is not someone who will be defeated by a single setback; he possesses an exceptional ability to learn, adjust, and adapt.

The most formidable opponents are the most resilient, and the Kuts are naturally like that, with Andrew being the most Kut among the Kuts.

The one-minute break passed quickly, and the referee signaled for the two players to take their positions again.

Noze fastened his mask and gripped his Swift Sword tightly, but as soon as he got into position, he noticed that Andrew on the other side had changed his tactics.

Instead of using the previous mid-stance, he lowered his sword to his side, adopting a low-sword-suspended stance with the tip pointing diagonally downwards towards the ground. His center of gravity was lowered, and his body was more compact. The original aggressive and oppressive feeling disappeared, replaced by an impenetrable calmness.

Beneath his calm exterior lies a venomous ruthlessness and cunning, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike and kill.

He stopped pushing forward and simply stood still, waiting for Noze to make the first move.

"Second round, ready—go!"

As the whistle blew, Norzem still tried to use the same tactics as in the first round, making a feint to trick Andrew into raising his hand. But this time, no matter how he shook the tip of his sword, how he pretended to stab the throat, or how he pretended to strike the shoulder, Andrew did not budge.

Sometimes he wouldn't even raise his sword, but would constantly adjust his position slightly with his feet, so that his breastplate was directly facing the tip of Nozer's sword.

Nozer's several feints resulted in the sword tip striking Andrew's breastplate directly with a "clinking" sound, without even touching the edge of the effective area.

He instantly realized that Andrew had figured out his tricks and wasn't falling for them at all.

When fighting in armor, as long as the gaps in the armor are protected, all other thrusts are ineffective. Andrew doesn't need to raise his hand to block, so he won't expose the vulnerability under his armpit.

They can even strike back and wear down Nozer's stamina.

The feint tactic had completely failed, and Norze could no longer rely on deception to find weaknesses. His physical shortcomings also began to show, with his arms becoming increasingly sore and his sliding pace slowing down.

If this drags on, he'll be the one who suffers.

Noze gritted his teeth and decided to stop probing and take the initiative to attack.

He took a deep breath, took two quick sliding steps to shorten the distance, and flicked his wrist. He first feinted at Andrew's waist with the tip of his sword, then pulled it back sharply, using the momentum of his lunge to stab straight at the gap below Andrew's throat guard.

He had calculated the angle of this sword strike precisely. Even if Andrew blocked it with his breastplate, he could immediately change direction and find the seam in the breastplate.

But what Andrew was waiting for was for him to take the initiative and draw his sword.

Just as Noze was fully lunging forward, the tip of his sword about to reach his throat, Andrew suddenly moved.

Instead of retreating, he suddenly took half a step inward, squeezing his body directly into the inner circle of Noze's attack. At the same time, he raised his swift sword, the strong blade precisely meeting the weak blade behind Noze's sword tip. With a sudden twist of his wrist, he executed a clean and neat sword wrap, locking Noze's sword firmly in place.

Noze felt a tremendous force on his wrist, as if the sword in his hand was being clamped by iron clamps. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull the tip of the sword back to the center line.

Entangling swords have always been Norzer's weakness, and it seems Andrew Hart is well aware of this.

Even more critically, as Andrew lunged forward, the shoulder armor on his left shoulder slammed into his sword-wielding arm. Even through the arm armor, the impact still made his entire arm go numb, and his center of gravity shifted instantly. In the instant he turned to the side, the side seam between his breastplate and backplate was completely exposed.

Without hesitation, Andrew pressed down with his sword while simultaneously flicking his wrist, sending the tip of the sword sliding along the curve of the blade and precisely piercing the side crevice with a clear, muffled thud.

"Target hit! Andrew Hart, 1 point!"

Noze stumbled back to create some distance, cold sweat instantly breaking out on his back.

He finally realized the absolute difference in basic skills. Faced with Andrew's perfect sword-binding suppression, his clever tricks had no chance to be used.

Andrew, who scored the first point, completely regained his rhythm. He stopped playing passively and began to press forward steadily. Every time he swung his sword, he forced Norze to block. As soon as Norze raised his arm, the tip of his sword would immediately change direction.

This was a simple yet effective tactic that forced Norze into a frantic state, while also draining his energy.

He would sometimes even deliberately use his breastplate to block Nozer's probing thrusts, saving himself the effort of parrying and focusing all his attention on finding Nozer's weaknesses.

Noze's physical condition deteriorated, his breathing became heavier, his blocking movements began to malfunction, his footwork slowed down, and he began to create more and more openings in his movements.

Just over a minute and a half into the second round, Andrew seized the moment when Norze raised his hand to block, lowered his sword tip, and precisely pierced the gap under Norze's armpit as he raised his arm, scoring another point.

Immediately afterwards, due to exhaustion and loss of balance, Norze failed to retract his sword in time after his lunge thrust. Andrew immediately stepped back to deflect the tip of his sword, and at the same time, with a backhand thrust, the tip of his sword firmly pressed against the seam of Norze's throat guard, scoring the third point.

The noise from the sidelines gradually subsided, and everyone could see that Andrew had completely controlled the game, and Norze had been thoroughly suppressed.

Noze gritted his teeth, wanting to use the same risky move as before to counterattack, but Andrew didn't give him a chance at all. As soon as he showed any intention to turn to the side, Andrew's sword tip would immediately sweep over, forcing him to defend.

"Beep—Time's up for the second round!"

The referee blew his whistle, "Second frame, Andrew Hart wins with 3 valid hits, Nordszt Stella with 0 valid hits, the score is tied 1-1!"

The moment the mask was lifted, Norze almost collapsed against the railing behind him, his arms shaking so badly he could barely hold his sword.

He was panting heavily, looking at Andrew across from him who was also panting. He felt no resentment whatsoever. In terms of hard skills like swordsmanship and physical fitness, he was indeed far inferior to Andrew after more than half a month of intensive training.

Andrew also took off his mask, his golden hair sticking wetly to his skin, his pale face flushed from the intense exercise. He looked at Norze, his eyes not showing the smugness of victory, but only the relief of finally letting out a sigh of relief, and a sense of mutual respect.

He nodded slightly to Nozer.

Noze nodded and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The referee walked over with the score sheet, stood in the middle of the court, and looked at the two players, saying, "The first two games are tied 1-1. We'll have a two-minute break, then proceed to the third and decisive game. Any questions?"

"No problem."

The two responded in unison, and when their eyes met again, an even stronger fighting spirit ignited in their eyes beneath their masks.

Noze leaned against the railing, took the water bottle Lucas handed him, and was panting heavily after only two gulps.

His legs felt as heavy as lead, and his right hand, gripping the sword, trembled uncontrollably. The intense competition of the first two rounds had almost drained his already limited stamina, and the old injury under his ribs was also starting to ache due to the frequent changes in direction and exertion.

Lucas patted him on the shoulder, his voice full of excitement, yet he couldn't help but remind him, "Don't hold back on your tricks and magic in the third game! This is the deciding game!"