Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

A sinister voice came from behind Winters, "We noticed you guys the moment you entered and kept heading further inside; do you no longer wish to live?"

From the narrow passage behind, seven or eight masked thugs wielding short knives and wooden clubs studded with iron spikes had emerged, eyeing Winters and his two companions with ill intent.

Behind that human-like bear, several secret doors were pushed open, and another four or five thugs emerged.

Field, Moritz, and Winters also drew their weapons. Winters counted quickly in his mind and estimated that there were around fourteen people in total. They were at a severe disadvantage in numbers, but in the confined space, the enemy might not be able to fully exploit their advantage. The most challenging to deal with was the muscular man; a war hammer like his would render even a full suit of plate armor useless.

"There's no need to risk your lives for those rich people in the senate," the malevolent voice spoke again, and this time Winters could see clearly that it came from someone wearing a jester's mask behind him, "Throw your weapons on the ground, and I'll let you go back the way you came, sparing your lives. Otherwise..."

The thugs juggled their weapons, closing in with malicious laughter, attempting to put psychological pressure on Winters and his companions.

Lieutenant Colonel Field nodded at Major Moritz, who sighed and plunged his sword into the ground.
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"That's more like it, see how clever your companion is..." The man with the jester's mask abruptly stopped speaking as his eyes sprayed out a mist of blood and he fell backwards to the ground, dead.

It was then that Winters understood why Antonio had said, "Even a hundred men wouldn't be enough for Moritz van Nassau to kill."

An archer needs to draw a bow to shoot an arrow, a musketeer needs to load his gun to fire, but Major Moritz didn't need any preparatory actions to cast the Arrow Flying Spell.

Not only did he not require any preparation, but his method was also extraordinarily covert. There was no sound of bowstrings or gunfire, only the whistling of the arrow cutting through the air. And unlike bows or firearms, he didn't need to aim holding the weapon—Winters didn't see Moritz lift a finger towards any enemy.

With his hand casually at his side, silver coin after silver coin shot out from Moritz's right hand, his posture reminiscent of a child playing marbles. Yet every silver coin he fired resulted in an enemy falling to the ground with a bloody hole in their head.

Silver is not a very hard metal, but when Moritz accelerated the silver coins with magic to speeds close to that of a musket ball, even the blunt coins could easily slice through skin, tissue, and bone, turning the soft brain into mush.

This was the simplest and most efficient killing spell Field had talked about; it required no fancy techniques, no complex variations: only to accelerate a silver coin to two hundred meters per second and then aim it at the enemy's head—that was all it took.

In the brief span of six seconds, most of the enemies in the tunnel had already been taken down by Major Moritz.

That included the man holding the war hammer; a silver coin struck him right between the eyebrows, and the bear-like strong man fell flat onto the ground, motionless.

A few thugs, seeing the turn of events and trying to run, were hit accurately in the back of the head.

"Leave one alive!" Colonel Field advanced with his sword drawn.

With a thought, the Major hit the last enemy's knee; the escaping thug's legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground.

"Is this all Dusa has to offer with his men?" Colonel Field sounded genuinely regretful, and as he spoke, he planted his sword in the neck of each thug, whether motionless or still twitching, then asked without looking back, "The youngest of you gentlemen, could you take care of the few back there?"

The Colonel didn't call Winters by name nor did he specify what he wanted Winters to do, but anyone with sense would understand his meaning.

Winters was no longer that fledgling who had just left the Ivory Tower, his last bit of naivety had disappeared after that ambush battle, or to be more precise, when he plunged his dagger into the neck of that unfortunate oarsman.

Bearing a slight sensation of discomfort, he began to use his Dusack to finish off each of the thugs from Sneak Alley one by one.