Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The whistle blew! Another impressive display, this round lasting less than two seconds, Winters\' opponent easily landed a hit on Winters\' torso, scoring two points as scattered applause once again filled the training room.

Winters pointed at the spot on his practice armor where he was hit, impatiently running back to the waiting area. The score was now 17:17. The main referee and Winters\' opponent exchanged glances. The student serving as the referee shook his head helplessly; they could all tell that Winters\' mental state had crumbled.

Still, the competition had to go on. As both returned to their starting positions, Winters\' opponent began to seriously ponder a question, "Should I just throw the match this time and let him win?"

Another round began, and this time when Winters entered the field, he adopted the "fury stance." The fury stance is a posture for accumulating energy, drawing the hilt up to the shoulder. Just as pulling back a fist allows for a more powerful punch, the same applies to swordsmanship. The fury stance delivers a powerful chop with a long reach, but the drawback is that the intention and direction of the attack are all too obvious.

At this moment, one thought dominated Winters\' mind: "I definitely can\'t match him in raw strength, but I have one more point to score, and my chance to win is to launch a surprise attack and take three points out of nowhere," this was the broken mindset Winters used to convince himself, and it did hold a sliver of reason.

When everyone thinks someone has lost their mind, that person often has their own twisted logic to persuade themselves, and it might actually be quite convincing.

There\'s nothing wrong with the idea of a sneak attack, but what Winters was failing to realize now was: his intention to attack was so blatant it couldn\'t be ignored, and there was no possibility of scoring three points by surprise, so the so-called scoring tactic was just self-deception.

But when Winters saw his opponent also adopting the fury stance the next second, he immediately recognized the intention: the fury stance was a posture they had both practiced when they first met at the military preparatory school, and they had always started with several routines of fury stance in their six years of swordsmanship classes.

He could opt for a straight thrust to score three points, as thrusts are always faster than powerful chops. His friend and opponent obviously wanted him to win this time. But now Winters didn\'t even want to win – it\'s not like he was mad. He realized that his attitude from before had been that of a sore loser.

This was their final contest in swordsmanship class, and perhaps their last bout ever. After all, graduation meant accepting the possibility that the friends who had been together day and night might never meet again. Winning or losing didn\'t matter anymore, and Winters had come to terms with it.

So this round, neither put on any tricks, and this time, Winters\' opponent used his superior strength to forcibly open the center line and landed a straight thrust, scoring a hit.

It was an expected outcome, and Winters consoled himself silently, "The guy is taller than you, stronger than you, and has practiced more than you. Wouldn\'t it be against all reason if he didn\'t win? Isn\'t it normal to lose? Scoring 17 points is still something to brag about."

After being struck, Winters walked towards his opponent, sword in hand. The whistle blew, and Winters suddenly realized something was amiss. It should have been 2 points, his opponent hadn\'t aimed for the head – the hit was to the chest. The score was now 17:19; his opponent needed one more point to end the match.

Winters felt a surge of anger welling up in his throat, as he had intended to end the match with a gracious hug. Now he found himself facing another round, his level of embarrassment comparable to wailing at a funeral next door.

Luckily, he hadn\'t gone in for the hug yet, or he would have lost face. He felt like he had wasted all his emotion, just when he was in the right mindset – continuing for another round would just ruin the mood.

So Winters, muttering under his breath at a volume only he could hear, shouldered his longsword and trudged back to the waiting area. Another new round began, both starting with the fury stance.

His opponent slashed diagonally, Winters blocked with his blade;

His opponent withdrew his sword to change sides, Winters changed direction to block;

His opponent withdrew his sword again to change sides, and Winters instinctively continued to block with his blade.

About a second passed in this lightning-fast exchange. Although Winters was fencing by instinct, he had begun to sense that something wasn\'t quite right.

Thus, when Winters realized that the distance between him and his opponent was rapidly closing, he fell into a state of great panic. He understood everything in an instant, swearing profusely, "You [nasty expletive]! You\'re going to … [even nastier expletive] … "

But it was too late, his personal attack didn\'t quite get through to his opponent. All his adversary could hear was the indistinct wails coming from inside his helmet.

Winters\' opponent switched to holding the sword with one hand, controlling Winters\' blade, while his other hand grabbed Winters\' shoulder. With a trip at his feet, a simple leg sweep combined with a mountain-flattening move, Winters, along with his armor, was slammed hard to the ground and pinned beneath his opponent, evoking thunderous applause from the training room.

Yes, if it was a bout of swordsmanship, punching obviously couldn\'t score points, wrestling even less so. But taking down the opponent and controlling them before inflicting damage with the sword, that\'s valid! One point scored.

Wrestling is part of swordsmanship, if you don\'t like it, don\'t play the game.

The whistle blew, and the referee announced loudly, "Winner, Axel of Orange!"

Lying on the ground, Winters had only one thought, "Not stabbing him with that sword just now, I really was a [expletive]."