Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Winters took a deep breath and prepared to use a spell again. He planned to wait for the robed man to come closer before launching out to engage in close combat, then use the Hair Burning Spell once more at close range.

He comforted himself mentally, "Anyway, after my tricks, that bastard surely can't catch up with the elderly traveler. If worse comes to worst, I'll jump into the water."

The robed man strode to Winters's front, and Winters, bracing himself for action, waited until the man's sword tip was about to sweep over his head when, out of nowhere, a thunderous boom resounded on the pier.

The loudness of the blast was incomparable even to the strongest thunderclap. Winters felt as if he had placed his ear against the muzzle of a thirty-two-pound cannon when someone ignited the gunpowder within.

The thunderous roar left Winters dizzy and ringing in his ears, and the robed man involuntarily covered his ears as well.

A faint whizzing sound was followed by a crisp clink of metal from the robed man's body.

Turning towards the source of the thunder, Winters saw Major Moritz standing on a plank between the Bandit Gull and the jetty, with blood streaming from his ears, his arm pointing at the robed man.

Something in Major Moritz's hand reflected faintly as another whizzing sound was followed by another crisp metallic clash against the robed man's body, and something rebounded off him and onto the pier.

The robed man raised his musket and aimed at the Major, who waved his hand, a shot rang out, and the bullet hit the hull of the Bandit Gull, splintering the wood.

Deafening thunder, Major Moritz, silver coins, metallic clashes, bullets curving, strange sounds when the longsword struck the opponent... Winters understood, Winters figured it all out: Major Moritz was also a Spellcaster! He just didn't wear the badge! And this robed bastard was wearing a chain shirt under his cloak.

"Aim for his head, Major!" Winters shouted to alert the Major, "He's wearing a breastplate under his cloak!"

The Major, as if deaf to Winters's words, shot two more silver coins with the Arrow Flying Spell, hitting the robed man's armor with a clang but obviously unable to penetrate.

Seeing the Major disregard his advice, Winters felt an urgent frenzy. Desperate, he leaped out from behind cover and slammed his shoulder hard into the robed man.

He was not entirely reckless, for he had seen that the robed man's musket was empty, so he used both hands to snatch at the man's longsword.

The robed man had not expected this petty swordsman, who had been running away, to dare counterattack. He was struck solidly in the chest by Winters and, off-balance, fell to the ground.

Winters had learned this move from a female thief. If only he had brought a dagger, he could have taken the robed man's life with this blow.

The feel of his shoulder striking the robed man confirmed Winters's estimation; indeed, the man was wearing plate armor under his cloak.

Winters pinned the robed man down with his body, grasped the man's right hand and forearm, and used grappling techniques to twist his wrist, forcing him to release his grasp.

The robed man was tough, enduring the pain while holding firmly onto his single-handed sword. With his left hand, he reversed the musket and hammered down on Winters's back with the butt.

A reversed musket was like a warhammer. A dull thud resonated from Winters's back as if it were a drum, and he thought he could hear his own ribs cracking. No longer caring for decorum, he resorted to the most primal weapon known to animals—teeth—and bit down fiercely on the robed man's right wrist.

Humans have a bite force of nearly fifty kilograms, and with one bite, Winters tasted the metallic flavor of blood. The robed man, hurt by the bite, could no longer hold onto his longsword, and Winters wrested it away.

The robed man wore a breastplate, rendering attacks on his torso ineffective. Seeing the single-handed sword Winters had snatched had a blade at the base of the sword body as well, he directly wiped it across the robed man's neck. The robed man's reaction was extremely quick; he guarded his throat with the musket, blocking the blade.

The two men fought like farmwives in a muddy pond, using the most disgraceful methods to try to kill each other.

The robed man's single-handed sword was excessively long, putting him at a disadvantage in close combat. Winters got up, intending to regain his standing position.

The robed man also tried to get up and was immediately met by a vicious kick to the chin from Winters. The blow drained the robed man of his strength, and he fell back heavily to the ground.

Wielding the blade, Winters left a deep wound on the robed man's left arm, and the man's musket slipped from his left hand.

Now Winters had the upper hand. As he hesitated between killing the robed man outright or capturing him for interrogation, he heard Major Moritz's loud warning, "Be careful!"

Looking up, he saw the blade of a trembling sword aimed at him as two more robed men arrived.

Winters stepped back and parried the thrust. The robed men pushed him back but did not press their attack; one stood with a sword, facing him, while the other knelt down to check on his compatriot.

One down, two more to contend with.

Two against one, a dire situation.

Winters fiercely challenged, "Do you have a death wish? How dare you attack an officer!"

The robed man in front of him did not respond. His mask obscured his face, so Winters could not see his expression, only the eyes that stared intently at him.

The robed man who had been kicked hard in the head by Winters recovered consciousness and, with the help of another robed man, staggered to his feet.

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