Iron Powder and Spellcaster

Research by the Alliance Magic Combat Bureau shows that a spellcaster's spell talent is an indivisible whole. The three major types of spells are artificially divided. People with spell talents can use all types of magic.

To put it simply, human beings can only be divided into two categories: "with spell talent" and "without spell talent". There is no such thing as talent with only some spells.

For example, during the test, even if the subject can only show the fire-burning spell talent, the other two types of spell talents will not show up. But after a long period of training, he can also use sound spells and acceleration spells.

Like Winters, although he is good at fire spells, he can also use acceleration spells and sound spells. It's just that the progress of the latter two types of spells is slow, so he is more willing to invest time and energy into fire spells.

But this is not the case for Moritz Van Nassou. He is a special and isolated case among the more than a thousand spellcasters trained by the Magic Warfare Bureau over the years. He only has the talent of acceleration magic and can only use advanced acceleration spells.

As for sound magic and fire magic, even if he practiced hard for many years, he could only use the most basic spells and could not carry out more advanced applications.

When Moritz was taking spellcaster classes at military school, his instructors and classmates nicknamed the rare condition a birthright disability.

But these desperadoes lying in the underground passage may not agree with this statement.

After just a dozen breaths, the only people still standing in the tunnel were Lieutenant Colonel Field, Major Moritz and Warrant Officer Winters.

The smell of rust and earth mixed together stimulated Winters' sense of smell. The flickering torches illuminated the walls of the tunnel, with red and white splashes everywhere, as if this was not a tunnel located more than ten meters underground in Hailan City, but the backyard of a butcher with a prosperous business.

Field shook off the blood on his knife and took a few steps to catch up with the man he had asked the major to keep alive.

"Don't, don't kill me..." The masked man with his knees smashed was lying on the ground, digging into the dirt with both hands and crawling forward.

"Shh, don't make a sound." The lieutenant colonel squatted beside the masked man and asked kindly: "Where is the cripple?"

"In front, right in front." The masked man hurriedly pointed deeper into the tunnel. He suddenly lowered his head and kissed the lieutenant colonel's shoes: "Don't kill me, I'll take you there."

Field took a step back in disgust.

"I'll lead you." The masked man struggled to stand up, but couldn't maintain his balance at all. Just as he staggered half a step forward, he fell to the ground again. The wound was touched again, and the masked man bowed like a shrimp, wailing in pain.

"Okay, okay. Since we haven't changed places, I won't bother you to lead the way." Field approached the masked man with a sword in his backhand.

The masked man who was howling miserably on the ground suddenly stood up. He seemed to be arching up because of pain, but in fact he took the opportunity to take out the weapon from his arms. At this moment, he was holding a shiny short knife in his hand, and he thrust it straight into the The school's lower abdomen.

Phew, there was another high-pitched sound, and a ray of silver light accurately hit the back of the masked man's head. The masked man's entire body was carried forward by the strength contained in this silver coin, and he lay down in the dust, unable to breathe.

"It's interesting. I want to get someone to support me." Field sucked his teeth and inserted the sword into the back of the masked man's heart to ensure that the masked man would never die again.

Then he nonchalantly wiped the blood on the sword with the masked man's clothes, and asked Winters without raising his head: "Have you taken care of the rest?"

Winters found that although the lieutenant colonel looked rough, he was extremely cautious in some places. He tried to answer calmly: "The neck and chest were patched up twice each."

"It's interesting." There was a hint of surprise in Field's tone. He didn't expect that this little guy who came to be a trainee could work quite neatly. The lieutenant colonel slowly put the sword back into the scabbard: "Let's go."

The three of them only encountered this group of people blocking their way, and they continued to move forward without any obstruction.

Passing by a warehouse where wooden boxes and barrels were stacked, Field led Winters to push open a solid wooden door and enter a small room.

In Qianmin Street, where tombs and sewers are the main buildings, this small room can be called elegant. Not only did it have a bed and a table, but there were also stone slabs on the floor. The most conspicuous thing in the room are two large bookshelves, filled with volumes of documents. If it wasn't in the dark underground, Winters would have believed it to be the room of a certain scribe.

The flame of the torch swayed from side to side, and it seemed that there was a hidden vent or secret passage here.

"Where's the person? Did he run away?" Field sat on the bed in a dignified manner: "Cripple, if you don't come out, I will burn all the goods you have outside."

No one responded to him.

"My old friend is here, but you can't hide. Then I can only hand over your account book to the Public Security Committee to see how many respectable gentlemen have participated in your big business." Field continued to face the air. say.

He said he was looking for the account books, but Field didn't even look at the documents on the bookshelf. He stood up, took the piles of white paper on the desk in his hand, and shook it at Moritz and Winters: "Found it."

But what he was holding was clearly a blank piece of paper.

Field dipped his hand into a little water from the basin and explained to his two subordinates in a leisurely manner: "Some shady people will write shady content in an invisible way. This technique is called steganography." . In fact, you use alum water as ink. After it dries, it becomes white paper. It can only be revealed when you apply water."

He spread the water evenly on the white paper, but nothing appeared on the paper.

Major Moritz coughed slightly in embarrassment.

But Field didn't show any embarrassment at all. He said with interest: "Oh, the technology has been improved? It's interesting."

The lieutenant colonel raised a piece of paper, looked at it through the light, and said firmly: "Steganography is just a riddle. As long as the party who needs to read it knows the answer to the riddle, the process of obtaining the information should not be difficult. Commonly used methods are nothing more than water and fire. If it’s not water, then it’s fire?”

As he spoke, the lieutenant colonel picked up a piece of paper and put it close to the torch to bake. After more than ten seconds, lines of light yellow text appeared on the white paper.

"I thought it was some new thing, but it turned out to be an old trick like mixing lemon juice with ink." The lieutenant colonel's tone was quite disappointing, as if some fun toy was broken.

There was a creaking sound of the wooden shaft turning, and a secret door suddenly appeared on the wall.

Winters subconsciously drew his weapon. He didn't notice that there was a secret door in the wall.

The designer used the rugged surface of the earthen wall to cleverly cover up the gaps in the secret door. Under the dim lighting conditions underground, you would have to stick to the wall and search for it bit by bit to find it.

An indignant voice came out of the secret door: "That's not an account book, it's just a few statements. In addition to steganography, I also used encryption. You won't know what was written just by unlocking the steganography."

A bald man in gray robe limped out of the door. Winters originally thought that the leader of the thugs should also be a vicious person, but this man in gray robe looked like an ordinary person, even worse than ordinary people. Even thinner.

Probably because he was always out of the sun, his skin was a sickly white color. But he has straight teeth, which is not common among lower-class people. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed, and the fabric of his robe was not very good, but it was clean. Although it is underground, there is not a trace of mud between the nails.

Moreover, his bald head does not look like he is born with it, but rather like he was shaved into a Mediterranean shape on purpose.

The feeling that the man in gray robe gave Winters was consistent with Winters' perception of this room. If he met this man on the street, Winters would probably think he was a Catholic priest.

Field signaled Winters to take back his sword with his eyes, and waved the stack of paper in his hand at the man in gray robe: "Then do you want to try if I can decipher your code?"

The man in gray robe limped to Field's side, angrily took the pile of white papers from the colonel's hand and put it into his arms. He didn't seem to be at all aware that he had just killed a dozen of his men.

He dragged his legs back to sit on the bed and said impatiently: "If you have anything to ask, just send someone to deliver a message. Is it necessary to go to such trouble every time? Do you think I gathered such a group of people?" Is it easy to be a scumbag?”

"I sent someone here because I was afraid that the question would not be clear." Lieutenant Colonel Field replied with a smile.

"If you have anything to say, please ask immediately. After asking, leave immediately." The man in gray robe's grammar was honorific, but his tone was very impatient.

Lieutenant Colonel Field dragged a stool and sat in front of the man in gray robe: "Once the dock explodes, everyone in the city will know about it. Don't tell me you didn't hear anything about it."

"You came to me just to inquire about this?"

"right."

"I really don't know much about this matter." The man in gray robe frowned and said: "I only know that someone ordered a batch of spring guns from the north on the black market before, and they wanted short muskets that can be used with one hand. Spring guns But it’s a rare thing. As soon as I heard that someone wanted to buy a spring gun and a short blunderbuss, I knew that another big shot was going to die, so I left a little impression."

"Anyone wants to buy a spring wheel gun made by the Federation?"

"Yes, I asked for it to be made by craftsmen from the United Provinces. The time is very urgent and the price is very high."

"Can you find out who bought it?"

The man in gray robe grinned silently and said, "What do you think? Why do you think you want to come to the black market to buy this thing?"

"Who sold that?"

The man in gray robe snorted coldly: "Aren't you asking nonsense? Qianmin Street is not my backyard. I'm just managing a small business here. It's not my business anyway. It's useless to ask. This place, It’s also impossible for the seller to know who the buyer is.”

The man's tone was harsh, but the lieutenant colonel was not angry either. He propped his chin and asked, "Is there any other useful news?"

The man in gray robe lowered his head and thought for a while, then raised his head and replied: "It's nothing, at least I don't know."

Winters couldn't tell whether the man in gray was telling the truth or a lie, but Colonel Field didn't seem to doubt him.

"Then you can help me inquire more. If there is any trouble recently, please tell me in time." Field stood up, obviously about to leave.

"Please don't come here in person anymore, just send someone to send a message." The man in gray robe said with a wry smile.

…

An hour later, in the living room of Major Moritz's apartment.

Field came up from downstairs, holding three freshly washed wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

He placed the wine glass on the small table, poured half a glass for himself, and then poured half a glass each for Moritz and Winters.

The lieutenant colonel was still more concerned about the mental state of Winters, a fledgling rookie.

As he handed the wine glass to Winters, he said: "Don't feel guilty about what happened today. Half of the scum in the streets are carrying one murder case, and the other half are carrying more than one murder case. Killing them only saves the Senate money for the noose."

"You can't say that. After all, we didn't go through any trial procedures." Major Moritz took a sip of wine and sang the opposite tune slowly.

"They attack officers who are performing their duties, and there is no need for trial." The lieutenant colonel's tone was very unkind. He poured himself a drink and said: "It's a pity that these scum can never be killed. If you kill so many today, the cripple will be able to kill you tomorrow." Find more people, God knows how many rats are hidden in this Qianmin Street."

"Who is that bald man, and why does he have the hairstyle of a Catholic priest?" Winters asked, holding the wine glass.

"The Cripple... The Cripple is the less scum-like person among the scum in Qianmin Street. With him under his control, those beasts can do less dirty things." Lieutenant Colonel Field did not answer Winters directly. , he changed the subject in an evasive manner: "Warrant Officer Montagne, do you still want to learn practical spells? If you want, the person who can teach you is right in front of you."

After speaking, Field pointed at Major Moritz.

"I want to learn." Winters stood up excitedly.

Today, he was impressed by the extraordinary magical ability displayed by Major Moritz. On the dock that day, Moritz was suffering from a severe withdrawal reaction, which was not the true level of the major.

"What are you learning from me? I can't use anything except acceleration spells. Spellcasters like me are the deformed ones among spellcasters - congenitally disabled." The major said with a wry smile.

"Shit! The idea of ​​​​the Magic Warfare Bureau is completely wrong." Lieutenant Colonel Field slapped his thigh hard: "The Magic Warfare Bureau wants to let spellcasters master every spell, and teach us more than a dozen spells at once. I understood it too late. After I met Moritz, I realized that this line of thinking was completely wrong. For a spell caster, it is enough to master one spell throughout your life."

Although Moritz himself did not seem to be proud of his magical abilities, Winters was very determined to learn from the major.

He has always been troubled by the lack of lethality of fire spells. Finally, he had the opportunity to ask more skilled spellcasters for advice, so he naturally refused to give up easily.

Seeing that this junior student really wanted to learn, Moritz shrugged.

He walked into his bedroom, rummaged through his desk for a long time, and finally came out with a small leather bag.

"Go on." The major threw the small leather bag to Winters.

Winters untied the rope and found ten metal rods in the leather bag.

He took out one of them and judged from the luster and weight that the material should be steel or iron.

The metal rod has a uniform texture and a smooth surface, with one end pointed and the other end flat.

It is two circles thinner than the little finger and almost as long as the middle finger. It is neither light nor heavy in the hand.

"Is it iron?" Winters asked.

"It's steel, very good steel. This is a training equipment that I figured out myself." Major Moritz sat back on the recliner and explained slowly: "The way to practice acceleration in the military academy course is to accelerate heavy objects. The heavier the object being accelerated the better, but I feel like that exercise is pointless.

I believe that when practicing the flying arrow technique, you should ensure that the weight of the 'arrow' used is exactly the same every time, so that the feel can be developed over time. The ten steel cones here, five with blunt tips and five with pointed tips, are exactly the same in weight, adjusted using the most precise balance. "

Winters took out ten steel awls, five with curved blunt tips in front, and five with sharp spikes in front.

He took two of them and weighed them in his left and right hands respectively. He really couldn't tell which one was heavier.

"Ever played darts?" Moritz asked Winters.

"I've played it before, but it's not great."

Moritz entered the bedroom again, and this time he pulled out a round target plate from under the bed. A circle of straw rope was wrapped around the bottom of the wooden plate, and a silver coin was nailed in the middle of the target plate.

The major hung the target plate above the fireplace, turned back to Winters and said, "Take that blunt steel awl as the casting material for the flying arrow spell, and hit this silver coin."

Winters held the steel awl in his hand and aimed at the silver coin in the center of the target. He recalled the feeling of using the flying arrow technique and entered the spell-casting state.

He endured the intense stinging and burning sensation and used magic to speed up the steel awl in his hand.

The originally stationary steel cone magically accelerated in a short period of time and flew out of Winters' hand, leaving the reach of Winters' third hand.

But it hit the edge of the fireplace slowly, without even touching the edge of the target plate.

[The third hand and fifth limb both refer to spell abilities]

Winters' face felt hot, but there was no emotion on Major Moritz's face.

"Aim a little higher," the major said.

Winters nodded, adjusted his breathing, and fired the second steel cone.

This time the steel cone hit the target plate, but it hit the upper right corner, still some distance away from the silver coin in the bullseye.

"Are you still doing spell training every night?" the major asked.

"Yes," Winters replied. In the military academy, nightly spell training was a compulsory course for all spellcasting students.

Except for those few days on the ship when I was unable to practice spells due to phantom limb pain, Winters never stopped practicing spells every night even after returning home.

"Change all training items to this one. Don't practice other spells yet. Use the blunt ones for practice and the pointed ones for actual combat." Major Moritz explained while drinking: "You should understand the flying arrow technique as a magic weapon." The invisible third hand throws darts. The explosive power of the spell determines the power of the dart, and the feel of the spell determines the accuracy of the dart.

Both of these points can be improved through consistent practice. Practice this after you get home. Don’t stop as long as you can continue to use the Flying Arrow Technique. Practice until you experience phantom limb pain and can no longer enter the spell-casting state. If you can't sleep at night because of phantom limb pain, soak this in water and drink it. "

Major Moritz threw another paper bag to Winters, and Winters recognized it as something the major bought on the black market on Dimin Street. He opened the paper bag and took a look. It seemed to be some kind of herbal medicine.

"Drinking this stuff in water can help you enter a sleep state - just soak it a little at a time, don't soak it too much. Sleep allows you to repair yourself, and the phantom limb pain will disappear after a good sleep."

"But it took several days of rest while we were on the ship for the phantom limb pain to go away." Winters asked cautiously.

"I haven't seen the severe phantom limb pain you had when we were on the ship. The phantom limb pain won't be that severe after practicing like me. Don't worry." The major huddled back in the recliner and said doubtfully: "I have it too. I wonder how the people from the Federation made you look like that."

"Understood."

The major went from sipping wine bit by bit at the beginning to drinking it one sip at a time: “In the final analysis, long-term training is still needed.

The spellcaster's course ends when you leave the military academy, but the spellcaster's training never ends in this lifetime. When I first graduated, my level of flying arrows was slightly better than yours. Don't worry, I'll get there slowly with practice. "

Winters kept the major's words in mind carefully, but he still had a puzzling question: "Senior, since you have this kind of special steel cone, why do you still use silver coins?"

"It's so hard to have so much money, why else?" Field, who hadn't spoken for a long time, suddenly spoke.

The major laughed: "What do you think?"

"Uh... easy to carry?" This was the only reason Winters could think of, but using silver coins was still too luxurious and he couldn't bear to part with it.

"That's it." Moritz nodded approvingly: "Think about it, it's normal for you to bring a hundred silver coins when you go out, but it's very cumbersome to bring a hundred steel cones. And these steel cones are all specially made. Once If it's all out, the feel of the new 'arrows' will change drastically if you use them hastily, and you will lose your accuracy. So later I found that silver coins are better. Even if I go to the end of the world, I won't worry about running out of ammunition."

"Shit! The weight of silver coins is different. Do the coins made by the Oathbreakers weigh the same as the coins made by the Ocean Blue? I also know that many black-hearted ghosts scrape scraps from the silver coins. Every silver coin they handle must be scraped off. ." Lieutenant Colonel Field was obviously quite dissatisfied with Major Moritz's reasons.

[The oathbreaker is Henry III, Emperor of the Holy Mulu Empire]

The major still said lazily: "It's not much different. Besides, after practicing for a long time, it doesn't matter if the weight is a little different."

The lieutenant colonel was still debating with the major, but Winters had already decided to find someone to make hundreds of steel cones at once when he had time. He didn't think it was a burden to carry a hundred steel cones with him.

After all, turning the flying arrow technique into a "coin-throwing" technique seemed to Winters to be too much of a waste of money.

Thanks to book friend 20181013204343295 for the recommendation vote. grateful. [Sound boom is simply a large-scale amplification technique, not a more advanced application] (Thanks to the book friend Black Computer Accessories for pointing out the bug in the plot, I am here to debug)