Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

"Storm?! Storm of Orentia?"

Lucas's eyes lit up instantly, and he nudged Nozer on the shoulder. "Did you hear that! Nozer, from the province of Storm! He's from Orentia! We're practically from the same region!"

He turned excitedly to Andrew, "Both my family and the Norzer family are in Storm. My family is in the north of the province, and the Norzer family is in the provincial capital, Monsoon City. His family even has a great general!"

This sudden revelation of being a "fellow villager" clearly stunned Andrew.

"Really? That's quite a coincidence."

"What a coincidence!"

Lucas, brimming with enthusiasm as if he'd discovered a new continent, nudged closer to Andrew. "Hey, Andrew, what's it like over in Kurt? We've only heard the grasslands are huge, are there any particularly delicious foods or fun activities? When's the best time to visit?"

When Kurt was mentioned, Andrew's gaze seemed to drift into the distance. "As for food... there are many dairy products, fresh milk skin, milk curds made with yogurt, and dried milk strips. The main meats are beef and mutton, and we also eat tea imported from the Seris Empire."

He thought for a moment, "As for the scenery... winter is actually not very beautiful. It's windy, and the landscape is grayish-yellow, which is quite bleak. The best time to see it is during the transition from spring to summer."

He paused, as if picturing the scene in his mind, and his tone softened, "Once the snow melts and the spring rain soaks through, the grass will sprout up overnight."

"Not the short grass here, but a deep meadow that reaches above your calves, even thighs, a vibrant green that ripples like ocean waves when the wind blows. Back then, we rode horses through it..."

He squinted slightly, seemingly truly immersed in the moment. "...The blades of grass would brush against my boots, rustling softly, and I felt as if I were being lifted up by this greenery, completely hidden away. That was Kurt's most beautiful side."

Nozer and Lucas listened intently, as if they could also see that vast, boundless, and vibrant green ocean.

Nozer noticed the longing and sense of belonging that flashed in Andrew's eyes as he described it—an expression that only appeared when "home" was mentioned, even though his "home" was burdened with the heavy shadow of history and the suffering of war.

But he still loves it deeply.

"It can be supported by grass..."

Lucas pondered this intriguing metaphor, his face filled with longing. "I definitely have to go see it if I ever have the chance!"

The atmosphere among the three became more harmonious and natural than ever before, thanks to their shared connection to Storm and their shared appreciation for the local culture.

Just as the three were chatting enthusiastically and paying no attention to what was happening on the field, the infantry's swift sword combat training had already been completed.

The noise in the venue gradually subsided as the last group of trainees finished their duel, and the referee's whistle sounded one after another until the end, marking the conclusion of the assessment for all infantry science trainees.

Besides Lucas Hunter, he will have a final showdown.

The people gathered around the field did not disperse; instead, they all squeezed towards the inner field, their eyes fixed on the center of the field with anticipation and excitement.

There, Captain Lyman was methodically putting on his three-quarters armor with the help of his adjutant.

Beside the armor rack on the sidelines, Lucas sat casually on a wooden bench, swinging his training swift sword. His face showed no tension, but rather a hint of eager excitement.

Noze knelt down in front of him and helped him tighten the straps of his knee brace, adjusting the tightness with his fingertips so that it wouldn't slip off during movement or make his knee stiff.

Andrew stood behind Lucas, his hands firmly supporting the sides of the breastplate, helping to tighten the straps on his back little by little.

For a moment, Lucas felt as if he were a noble knight about to set out from the central army camp, being dressed in armor by two attendants.

"You two are acting like you're sending me to war."

Lucas looked down at Noze, who was squatting in front of him, and couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, no matter how powerful the captain is, he won't tear me apart."

Noze raised his hand and patted his knee pads. "If the captain beats you to the ground later, we won't be able to help you."

"Don't say that. Don't you know healing magic? Heal me then."

After Andrew finished tying the last knot, he reached out and gently patted Lucas's shoulder armor, whispering, "Warm yourself up, how does it feel?"

Lucas stretched his shoulders, which felt great, then turned around and grinned at him, revealing a set of white teeth. "Thanks, Andrew."

As they spoke, Norze had already fastened the buckles on his shoulder and arm armor, and then reached out to adjust the buckles on his mask.

The two men, one on the left and one on the right, resembled ancient squires serving knights on their campaigns, taking care of every detail meticulously.

Lucas stood up, stretched his body, and the steel armor clanged softly against each other.

He reached out and patted Norze and Andrew on the shoulder respectively, his eyes brimming with undisguised confidence. "Just wait and see, let's see if 'Master' can earn us some face back."

As soon as he finished speaking, he picked up the Swift Sword leaning against the armor rack and turned to walk towards the arena.

The training hall suddenly fell silent, and everyone's eyes followed his footsteps.

Everyone knows that this is the most exciting showdown of the entire final assessment, with one side being the recognized swordsmanship genius of the military academy and the other being a seasoned instructor who has been through countless battles and is known for his strictness.

Captain Lyman was already dressed and waiting for him on the other side of the field.

Three-quarters of his armor was intact and well-maintained. It was the armor he had worn on the battlefield. After retiring from the military, he had it repaired by a blacksmith. It looked thicker than the cadets' armor, but it did not affect his upright posture at all.

The oppressive atmosphere left by years of fighting can be clearly felt even from several meters away.

Seeing Lucas approach, he weighed the swift sword in his hand and his booming voice echoed throughout the training hall, "Lucas Hunter, ready?"

"Ready, Captain!"

Lucas stopped opposite him and answered loudly.

"We're not going to do the best-of-three format, we'll decide the winner in one round."

Captain Lyman's gaze swept over him, with the frankness unique to soldiers. "At your age, your muscles haven't fully developed yet. Trying to outlast me is pointless. Even if I win, it will be an unfair victory for me. Let's have one round. Whoever lands a valid hit first wins."

Upon hearing this, a chorus of low gasps rose from the sidelines.

A single round decides the outcome, leaving no room for trial and error. For the young Lucas, this actually reduces his physical disadvantage and gives him a better chance to fight for victory.

Lucas's smile vanished. He sheathed his sword, bowed deeply to Captain Lyman, his posture precise and solemn, his voice full of respect, "Please enlighten me, Captain."

The referee was already standing in the center of the field, raising his flag and shouting, "Both sides, get ready!"

Lucas straightened up, raised his hand to fasten the mask, the cold steel surface covering his face, leaving only a slit for observation.

"start!"