Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

The curfew whistle blew, and all the candles in the dormitories were extinguished.

The moon had risen high in the sky, and its cool light shone through the window, falling on the open notebook and on the boy's focused profile.

Noze munched on his bread, looking through his notes page by page, completely losing track of time, not even noticing when Lucas had fallen asleep.

The notebook's title page contains Admiral Panier's speech at the Fifth Expanded Meeting of the Magic Strategy Bureau.

"...Some people ask me why, after making breakthroughs in elemental magic, I turned to the 'thankless' field of healing? My answer is: because the ultimate goal of establishing a standardized system has never been to create more efficient killing tools, but to truly benefit every citizen of the Federation with the mysterious power of magic, which was once monopolized by a few."

"Today, if a farmer's son loses a finger to a sickle, he can only rely on the village doctor's crude stitching, and may end up disabled and unable to move freely. But what if we could train enough healing mages, so that every town has a physician skilled in 'tissue regeneration'? What if we could extend the power of magic from the battlefield to the relief efforts in mine disasters, fires, and plagues?"

"This path will be ten times more difficult than developing new attack spells. It requires us to analyze the human body with the precision of a microscope, design spells with the patience of a watchmaker, and cultivate successors with the enthusiasm of a missionary."

"But this is precisely the historical mission of the standardized magical system: to take power down from its pedestal and put it in the hands of those who need it to heal, build, and create."

"We must believe that peace will eventually come, and that will be a new era where everyone is equal, everyone loves each other, there is no war, no hunger, and no fear. And magic is the accelerator that will take us to this new world!"

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In the early hours of the morning, only the sound of even breathing could be heard in the dormitory. Lucas had long been fast asleep, clutching his blanket, occasionally turning over and uttering a few indistinct murmurs in his sleep.

Noze was completely unaware of the passage of time.

The candle had long since burned out, and he used the moonlight streaming in from the window to slowly pore over the thick notebook, page by page.

Father Cisse's handwriting was as neat as printed text, and his hand-drawn anatomical diagrams were more accurate than many textbook illustrations he had seen in his previous life. From the sutures of the skull to the capillaries of the finger joints, from the distribution of the thoracic organs to the direction of the spine, everything was clearly marked.

What shocked him even more were the annotations in the notes that perfectly combined human anatomy with magical manipulation.

For example, how to use extremely fine magic threads to penetrate the skin without damaging the epidermis and muscle fibers, and precisely reach ruptured blood vessels and deeper internal organs.

For example, what is the appropriate threshold for the [Burning] spell's magic output to achieve hemostasis without burning the internal organs, depending on the location of the tissue?

For example, when faced with a large-scale penetrating wound, how can we quickly locate the bleeding points when we cannot see them directly, and which bleeding points should be sealed first, so as to save the patient's life and leave room for subsequent repair?

Nozer's decent foundation in biology made it easier for him to understand these concepts than for most people in the world.

It is said that the best teaching method is to combine 80% familiar content with 20% unfamiliar content, which will maximize students' interest in learning.

Although Nozer wasn't sure if he was familiar with 80% of the contents of the notebook, he was certainly intrigued by the wonderful and novel knowledge.

By the time he finished reading the introduction and the skeletal section of the notebook, the moonlight outside the window had faded, and a very faint pale light appeared on the horizon.

On the stone-paved road outside the barracks, the sound of the orderly footsteps of the duty instructors could be heard, along with the commands of the early training teams coming from the distant parade ground.

Noze rubbed his stiff shoulders and looked up to find that it was already daylight outside the glass window.

After a night of rest, the bruise under his ribs had lessened considerably, and he only felt a slight soreness when he made large movements.

Even after staying up all night, my head still felt heavy, my eyelids felt like they were glued together, and they were extremely dry.

Just then, a sharp and urgent wake-up whistle abruptly shattered the tranquility of the early morning, followed by a cacophony of wake-up calls throughout the dormitory building.

The creaking of the bed, the clanging of military boots, and the muttering of complaints mingled together, instantly shattering the tranquility of the morning.

The shouts and whistles outside the building were terrifying, almost like a disturbance to the residents.

Actually, there were residents around the military academy initially. The instructors and Principal Field repeatedly advised them that there might be dangers around the academy and that the academy's emergency assembly might disturb their rest.

But the surrounding residents, whether out of curiosity about the group of young soldiers or dissatisfaction with the compensation, simply refused to move.

There was no other way; the school had to continue operating. The only solution was to raise the walls of the firing range and reduce the amount of propellant in the artillery to minimize harm to residents and their property.

Just when even the artillerymen were tired of cursing and everyone thought that life would just continue like this, the residents who originally refused to move gradually signed the agreement and left.

Later they learned that this group of people were not afraid of being hit by artillery fire, nor were they affected by the occasional emergency drills; they were simply driven to despair by the young men's schedule of getting up earlier than chickens and going to bed later than dogs.

It's hard to imagine whether the trainees should cry or laugh when they hear this news.

However, the artillerymen are probably laughing, because they can finally use the standard charge.

Lucas jolted out of bed, groggily grabbing his training clothes draped at the foot of the bed and muttering as he pulled them over his head, "Damn morning exercises..."

He had barely finished speaking when he turned his head and saw Noze sitting at the table, and he was instantly stunned.

Noze was still wearing yesterday's uniform, the collar loose, with dark circles under his eyes and obvious bloodshot veins. In front of him lay a thick notebook, and the wax in the candlestick had long since solidified into a hard lump.

"Nozer?"

The clothes in his hands almost fell off. He took a few steps closer to Noze, reached out and touched his forehead, seemingly wanting to see if his friend was still normal. "You didn't sleep all night? Just to look at this stupid notebook?"

"I didn't notice the time."

Noze chuckled hoarsely, closed his notebook, stood up, stretched, and his bones cracked softly. "The contents are so detailed, it's already dawn before I know it."

"Can you handle it? I don't think you can manage."

"We have to hold on, even if we can't."

Nozer grabbed his training clothes and headed to the restroom.

The cold water splashed on my face barely managed to suppress the overwhelming drowsiness.

After getting ready and fastening their belts, the two walked out of the dormitory building to the sound of the morning exercise whistle.

The road leading to the main training ground was filled with trainees in their training uniforms, hurrying along in twos and threes, each with a black bread they had just snatched from the cafeteria in their mouths, munching on it as they walked.

"We can sneak into the mess hall and steal some food from the soldiers on duty, otherwise you'll definitely pass out after morning exercises."

Lucas pulled him toward the side door of the cafeteria, his practiced manner suggesting this was definitely not the first time he'd done something like this.

Just as I turned the corner, I bumped into a figure with half a loaf of bread in his mouth, muttering something under his breath.