Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

Andrew immediately noticed Noze's dry, chapped lips and quickly handed him a leather pouch filled with fresh water. "You slept for two whole days and nights. Commander Monet said you were injured by your 'phantom limb' and could only recover with sleep and his... special 'incense,' so we didn't wake you up."

Noze took the water pouch and gulped down a large mouthful of lukewarm water. His parched throat finally felt relieved, and he asked in a hoarse voice, "I'm glad you're all alright... How's the Herber Port?"

"I'm telling you, even in this terrible state, you're still thinking about other people's ports?"

That booming voice—it's definitely Major General Bill King.

Nozer looked up in the direction of the sound and saw a man in a Storm military officer's uniform standing by the mainmast. He was tall and straight, with a command sword at his waist and his left arm wrapped in bandages and hanging in front of his chest. It was Major General Bilkin Sand.

Standing beside him, besides Monet, was the ship's captain, Evan Knight.

"What else can we do? Burn it down, burn it all down, and burn the commercial port to the ground too."

Bilkin curled his lip, his tone utterly indifferent. "It's just a run-down port. Let it burn. It's not like it's our Orentia territory. What does it matter to us if it's all burned to the ground?"

"I must say, you bunch of lads are really bold. You dared to go head-to-head with the royal sorcerers of Valencia for someone else's port. If it weren't for Monet... hmph, Admiral Leopold would probably have been skinned alive by me."

"Learn from this: even if we burned the entire city of Herb to the ground, let alone the First Fleet, it wouldn't be worth us Orentia fighting for them. Do you understand?"

Bilkin painstakingly imparted to Nozer a "philosophy of survival" that was clearly detrimental to the unity of the Federation.

"In the future, learn from me when you encounter problems... and Monet too. When you realize something's wrong, quickly find a way out. If the warships are gone, go find merchant ships. See? I managed to rescue all of you great lads unharmed!"

At the same time, Monet raised his chin, gesturing for Nose to look at the view on the deck.

Noze then noticed that on the spacious deck of the merchant ship, there were more than twenty officers in the uniforms of the garrison of the Storm Province standing in twos and threes. Some of them were bandaged, but most of them were unharmed. They were all comrades who had desperately evacuated from the fighting in the port.

Some of them leaned against the ship's railing, gazing at the sea and feeling the waves wash over them, while others huddled together on the deck, talking in hushed tones.

Everyone's face bore the weariness of escaping death, and a longing to return home.

Monet began slowly, the dice twirling between his fingers in a series of patterns. "Bilkin and I forcibly requisitioned this merchant ship, which was originally used for coastal freight. We called it the 'Golden Ship'."

He paused, then raised his hand and pointed southwest, where the merchant ship was sailing. The sea breeze ruffled his black hair. "We're heading towards the capital of Storm now..."

"Reporting, sirs! At this rate, we should reach Monsoon City Port in four or five days!"

Captain Evan immediately chimed in, his tone full of obsequiousness, his face plastered with a fawning smile, his back almost bent over, "Rest assured, this ship may not be large, but it's incredibly sturdy. The sailors are all seasoned veterans with over a decade of experience at sea; they'll absolutely ensure your safe return to Monsoon City!"

No sooner had Captain Evan finished speaking than Bilkin impatiently waved his hand, dismissing him like a fly to keep an eye on the voyage.

From the moment the ship left port, the captain wore the words "please the superiors" on his face. He not only gave up his captain's cabin, but also wanted to personally serve Bilkin and Monet their meals.

The main character is a wise and discerning person.

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The Goldship had been sailing at sea for two days and two nights, getting further and further away from the fallen Herber Port and closer and closer to Monsoon City to the southwest.

Compared to the intense life at the military academy, life on the ship suddenly slowed down, as slow as the slowly spreading wake left by the stern.

Life on the ship was very monotonous. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but the sea, and even the occasional seabirds that passed by were a rare sight.

A group of energetic young officers, pinned to this small deck, gradually figured out how to pass the time, and their nerves, which had been tense for too long in the military academy, began to relax little by little.

The most important thing every morning is always changing the dressings for the wounded.

Previously, Monet had been in charge, but now that Noze has woken up, he, who appears to be the least injured, has taken over the task of changing the dressings.

Changing dressings is a tedious task, but fortunately the wounded are not seriously injured, only with superficial wounds. As long as we pay attention to changing the gauze frequently and preventing infection, it will be fine.

After the wound dressing was changed, everyone spent their daytime in their own way.

Lucas was the most restless one. Since he couldn't practice swordsmanship because of his injured right hand, he spent all his time among the sailors, arm wrestling and betting on beer.

At first, he pretended to use his left hand, but after losing two rounds, he got impatient, forgot about the injury on his hand, and insisted on using his right hand to compete. He was in so much pain that he was grimacing, but he still wanted to continue. In the end, Norze forcibly stopped him.

Having lost the fun of arm wrestling, he set his sights on the fishing rods along the ship's side, spending his days with Bilkin, betting with the sailors on the number of fish they could catch. The result was always the same: returning empty-handed and suffering crushing defeats. Yet, he persisted, never tiring of the game.

Andrew, on the other hand, was much quieter. He spent most of his time huddled in a sheltered corner of the deck, fiddling with the alchemy materials in his pouch.

Most of the bottles containing the materials were broken during the battle, and the rest were mixed together. He used the sunlight to purify and separate them little by little.

Some materials needed to be dried, so after driving through the rain-affected areas, he would lay the materials in small boxes and put them out in the sun to dry.

Norze, on the other hand, spent his time chasing after Commander Monet, constantly asking him about the practical combat experience between mages.

After all, he had witnessed Monet's power firsthand; with just one die, he instantly killed that arrogant royal sorcerer.

But Monet always had that nonchalant attitude.

He leaned against the leeward side of the mainmast, twirling the steel die engraved with numbers between his fingers, listening to Nozer ask a long string of questions without nodding or shaking his head.

He simply took the dice from his pocket, placed them on the wooden box between them, and slowly said, "Why ask so many useless questions? Why don't we sit down and play a couple of rounds, comparing sizes? If you win, I'll answer one question for you. If you lose, you owe me a small copper coin, doubling it each time, how about it?"

At first, Norze thought it was just a joke, that it was just a matter of rolling dice and comparing the size, a matter of luck, and that he couldn't possibly lose every time.

But he never expected that this seemingly luck-based gamble was actually a complete trap from the very beginning.

In the first round, Noze casually threw out a four. Monet flicked the die with her fingertip, and it spun around on the wooden box a few times before coming to a steady stop, with six red dots facing up neatly—a six.

In the second round, Nozer threw a five with all his might, while Monet casually tossed the dice again. The dice hit the edge of the wooden box, wobbled, and landed a six.