Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

A steel die stained with blood and white tissue rolled out from the back of the royal sorcerer's head, circled the stone pavement a few times, and finally came to a stop.

Slow footsteps echoed from the alley entrance.

Noze turned his head sharply and looked towards the alley entrance.

A tall, thin figure slowly appeared there, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips, his hands casually in his pockets, as he walked over step by step.

He walked to the corpse, glanced at it as if it were a piece of insignificant trash, then raised his foot and kicked the corpse's arm with the tip of his shoe to confirm that the body was truly dead.

"You're lucky. If I had arrived a few seconds later, the brains of the three of you would have exploded into rotten watermelons."

The other person's voice was as flat as if they were just saying the weather was nice today.

"That idiot in the Empire, doesn't he know that using magic will cause magical fluctuations? He really underestimates the Federation's magicians."

He crouched down, picked up the blood-stained die, wiped it clean with the hem of the corpse's clothes, and put it back in his pocket.

Then he walked up to Norze, squatted down, took a deep drag of his cigarette, and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke at Norze.

Instead of the pungent and acrid smell of ordinary tobacco, there was a mild and cool aroma, which miraculously alleviated the excruciating pain in Nozer's brain.

Taking advantage of this brief moment of clarity, Noze was finally able to see the other person's face and clothing.

Why does this look so familiar?

"I am Monet von Schönfeld."

Monet exhaled another puff of smoke, looked at Nozer, and said calmly, "Trust me... Get a good night's sleep, you're safe."

Noze felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, as if he had been hypnotized by a magical force, and completely lost consciousness.

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A violent jolt jolted Noze out of his restless sleep.

He was violently thrown off the narrow bed, his head slamming heavily against the cold wooden floor with a dull thud.

The excruciating pain, combined with the lingering psychological trauma from the disintegration technique, caused him to instantly curl up on the floor, his muscles tensing uncontrollably, his teeth grinding together, unable to even utter a complete groan.

Each rocking motion of the boat sent him tumbling and crashing onto the floor, his internal organs churning and his muscles being repeatedly pounded like beef balls, leaving him utterly powerless.

After an unknown amount of time, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows, slowly raising his upper body, his vision blurring in waves.

"Luke...Andrew?"

Noze called out twice in a hoarse voice, his voice dry and rough, like sandpaper rubbing against each other, due to lack of water.

Apart from the empty echo in the room, the only sound was the muffled thud of the waves crashing against the ship's planks, coming from all directions without any response.

The dim kerosene lamp swayed incessantly on the hook overhead, its cord swinging from side to side with the hull of the ship, casting distorted and swaying shadows on the mottled bulkhead.

Only then did he realize his surroundings: a cramped little cabin of less than six square meters, with a narrow wooden bed against the wall, the bedding carrying a faint scent of soap and sea breeze.

His abrasions had been properly treated, but the persistent dull pain in his head kept reminding him that the life-or-death battle with such a disparate strength was not a nightmare.

The ship rocked violently again, and Noze quickly grabbed the edge of the bed to keep his balance.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of sailors on the deck outside the door, as well as rough shouts in the Commonwealth's common language, with the distinctive accent of the Orentia.

Nozer quickly sorted out the current situation in his mind.

He was now undoubtedly on a ship at sea, but the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Monet's serene face in the narrow alley of the harbor.

Where are Lucas and Andrew? Did they escape? And where is Monet?

Adhering to the principle that doing is worse than thinking, Norzer decided to go up on deck to find out the truth.

He leaned against the wall, slowly moved to the cabin door, and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

Outside the door was a narrow wooden corridor with closed cabin doors on both sides. Every now and then, sailors dressed in coarse cloth and short jackets would hurry by, carrying ropes and supply barrels.

When the sailors saw him, they would pause for a moment, then quickly nod in greeting before disappearing at the end of the corridor.

The air was filled with the distinctive smells of civilian merchant ships: dried salted fish, tar, ale, and the fermenting odor of damp wooden planks.

He leaned against the rough wooden wall and slowly made his way towards the stairwell.

With each step he took, the swaying deck beneath his feet intensified the dizziness in his head, but he couldn't care less about that; all he wanted was to quickly figure out where he was and confirm the safety of his companions.

The stairs leading to the deck were steep solid wood stairs, and Nozer gripped the handrails on both sides, climbing up little by little.

The higher you go, the clearer the sounds of the wind, the waves, and the sailors' shouts become.

Finally, he reached the top of the stairs and braced his hands against the heavy, waterproof hatch.

Noze used all his strength to push the door open.

The salty, icy sea breeze rushed in instantly, carrying fine spray that slammed against his face.

The midday sun shone down, so bright it was dazzling. Noze, who had been in the darkness for too long, subconsciously squinted and raised his hand to shield his forehead.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light and he could see the scene before him clearly, Norze was completely stunned.

Outside the gate, there was no hellish scene of smoke and fire in Herbert City, no burning houses and scattered limbs, and no chaotic flow of fleeing people.

Before him stretched an endless expanse of deep blue sea and a clear sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.

The surging waves, like moving blue hills, crashed against the ship, splashing white spray several meters high. The foam was swept up by the sea breeze, washing the wide deck, where shirtless sailors busied themselves.

The pale blue sky and the sea merge into one in the distance, with no land outline in sight. Only the sunlight shines on the sea, breaking into dazzling, shimmering waves.

The two-masted merchant ship, with its two huge white sails hoisted, was steadily cutting through the waves with the help of the sea breeze.

On the sides of the ship, hastily reinforced wooden planks still remain, bearing the marks of being scraped by the ship, silently telling the story of the chaos that occurred not long ago.

This feeling of surviving a disaster instantly overwhelmed Noze.

"Nozer! You're finally awake!"

A loud shout abruptly pulled him back to reality.

Lucas was running quickly from the ship's side, his right hand still wrapped in thick gauze, but his face was filled with undisguised surprise.

The injury on his back made his running posture a little awkward, but it did not slow him down at all.

"Do you know how long you've been asleep? Andrew and I have been checking on you every half hour. If you don't wake up soon, we're going to have a sailor throw you overboard to feed the fish!"

Andrew followed closely behind, looking rather unwell, clearly also suffering from the aftereffects of the lysis surgery.