Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

But even with arrows that had their heads snapped off and were wrapped in cotton, accidents still occurred frequently. A larger problem was that spellcasters themselves found it hard to discern whether their arrows had gone awry or had been deflected by a spell.

Using a spell itself is akin to 'feeling' one's way in archery; the process of practicing spells is about deepening that feel. If archers don't know whether their shots hit the target each time, how can they find their feel?

Major Moritz's method of training was particularly ingenious:

Objects tied to a rope wouldn't swing back higher than their original height, so the trainees, positioned in an absolutely safe spot, wouldn't experience any additional psychological pressure;

As the swinging object on the rope moved closer to its original position, its speed decreased, making spellcasting less difficult and allowing practice to progress step by step;

The most brilliant aspect was that spellcasters could clearly know whether they had successfully used the Deflection Spell. If the pendulum deviated from its trajectory, it was a success. Otherwise, it was a failure;

They only needed to improve their success rate; once they remembered the feel of the spell, they could then switch to practicing with a bow and arrow, which was much easier than starting directly with archery.

"Genius? More like inherently flawed, it's just some tricks," Major Moritz waved Winters over. "Try it yourself."

This time, when the dinner knife flew towards the tip of Winters's nose, he suppressed his fear and didn't dodge. As expected, the knife did not touch Winters; it reached its limit very close to him and swung back out again.

When the dinner knife swung back towards him, Winters attempted to cast the Arrow Flying Spell sideways at it. However, the fast-moving knife in the air and the stationary awl in his hand were not of the same difficulty level, and he failed several times in a row.

"Know what's happening, go back and practice more, it's not that easy to master the trick," Moritz stopped Winters. "Better to stick with drinking!"

He patted Colonel Field, who was slumped on the table without any response. "Has one gone down already?"

Winters quickly propped up the already asleep Field onto the couch. Concerned that the colonel might choke on his vomit, he adjusted him into a side-lying position.

Watching Winters adjust Field's sleeping position, Major Moritz chuckled, "You're considerate."

After speaking, he lay back in the wobbly lounge chair, stared at the ceiling, and said with a breezy tenor, "You're a good lad, but be sure not to end up like me... ha ha, nor like Field here."

The statement was a bit too weighty, and Winters didn't know what to say for a moment.

After a long silence, Winters asked a question he had always wanted to ask but never did out of politeness, "I don't understand, a powerful spellcaster like you, why would you turn to drinking... You're the most powerful spellcaster I've ever seen, bar none... Why? Have you forgotten what Antoine-Laurent said?"

"Any substance that causes addiction is poison to a spellcaster, I remember well," Moritz sniffed, clutching a bottle of alcohol, his eyes glistening. "But Winters, you still don't understand, the only thing that can keep a rational soul from falling into the abyss is a bad habit. Answer me, do you believe in God?"

"No, spellcasters should be atheists."

"Neither do I. I've visited miracles, studied scriptures, sought proof of the existence of gods. But the more I understood about various religions, the less I could bring myself to believe in the existence of deities. Winters, one more question for you, have you ever lost someone close to you?"

"No," Parents he had never met obviously didn't count as close.

"This is a good thing. Have you ever thought about where people go after they die?"

"...No."

"Normans believe that after death they can feast with the gods; Catholics think they will go to paradise; Selika people believe in entering a cyclic system after death, becoming newly born animals. Do you know why all these religions paint pictures of the afterlife?"

"...I don't know.

"Because people are afraid of death, because humans hope that their death is not a true 'death', hoping their souls can continue to exist. But for us spellcasters, us atheists, us rationalists, death is a total dissolution of consciousness, and whatever happens in the world afterward has nothing to do with you, you won't feel it... no, death means even the feeling itself is gone. Whether the world spits on you, mourns you, commemorates you, it's all meaningless to you... even the meaning itself is gone. When you die, there is nothing left... do you understand?"

Overwhelmed with too much information, Winters had some trouble grasping it.

Moritz murmured, "One day you'll understand, everyone dies, and one day you too will lose someone important to you, and you won't be able to help but wonder where they've gone? In the end, you get a cruel answer, they haven't gone anywhere, they just cease to exist, gone..."

Winters sorted out his thoughts and asked back, "Aren't those who believe in God the same when they die? Haven't believers been deceived?"

"Of course, they've been deceived," Moritz replied softly. "But what does it matter to someone whose consciousness no longer exists? They won't be angry, regretful, or unwilling. Since everything dissolves completely after death, it's better to be deceived and have peace while you're alive."

"Then why are you still an atheist?"

"Me?" Moritz curled up on the chaise longue and said with a laugh, "There's no point in pretending to believe when you don't, one cannot deceive oneself. I am too rational to be fooled by religion, but not brave enough to accept death. I live now just to live, without any meaning. But I don't want to die, so I just muddle through. You still have someone very important which means your life still has meaning. Take good care of them, don't end up like me..."

Major Moritz's voice grew fainter and then he started to snore lightly, having fallen asleep.

Winters took the bottle of wine from Major Moritz's hand and found a thin blanket to cover him. After confirming that Colonel Field and Major Moritz were both asleep, he went into Moritz's bedroom.

Opening the backpack he had brought, Winters took out a beautifully crafted revolver. After confirming that the flint could spark, Winters began to load the ammunition efficiently.

Among the gifts from Earl Narzio were a pair of finely crafted, lavishly decorated revolvers. The inside of the barrels was polished as smooth as a bronze mirror, ensuring accuracy within thirty steps.

Antonio had given Winters one, and Winters was now loading it.

After loading the bullets, Winters quickly changed into a set of tight-fitting black clothes; he had deliberately chosen not to wear army boots today, opting instead for a pair of soft leather shoes.

He slipped the revolver into the holster on his right leg and strapped a long dagger to his left leg, finally slinging a belt studded with steel spikes diagonally over his shoulder.

Having confirmed once more that the two other officers in the living room had passed out drunk, Winters opened the window of Moritz's bedroom and climbed onto the roof.

He hadn't fully understood what Major Moritz was saying, but he knew, without needing the major to tell him, that he would protect the people he cared about at all costs.

[Winters Montagne's alignment has changed from Lawful Good to Neutral Good]