Chapter 311: You Call This an Ordinary Man?
The arrival of the Silverlance Pegasi stirred no alarm in Steven. On the contrary, he welcomed their charge. For him, every knight was welcome to challenge his spire—especially a unit spoken of in Kazimierz like living legend.
He watched with quiet satisfaction as the silver knights steadily carved through the ranks of iron golems below. Hidden in the folds of shadow, already having laid out the monsters of the third floor, Steven allowed himself a faint smile.
He had never intended to turn this into some absurd death trap—no ninety-nine layers of madness, no unbeatable gauntlet. After arranging the third floor, he had placed no further obstacles.
The iron golems alone were already pushing these knights to their limits. To add more, to unleash creatures born from the more vicious mods in his arsenal, would have been a massacre.
And Steven did not truly wish to destroy Kazimierz. This was not conquest, but theater. A stage, upon which he sought one thing: an answer. If necessary, he would even cheat in their favor—subtly guiding the chosen ones toward that moment of revelation, until the answer could be delivered not to him, but to every soul in this land.
In that sense, the Pegasi had done him a favor. Their arrival accelerated the play. They were the ones who could push the others forward, toward the higher floor where the real confrontation awaited.
Even so, a hundred iron golems were no trivial wall. The Pegasi could not simply sweep them aside. Their lances gleamed, their formation crushed and repelled—but still, they were only holding the line. To slay them all within the short window of two hours? Impossible.
Fortunately, it wasn't only Steven who realized this. The Pegasi themselves, Margaret, and Dikaiopolis—they too saw the truth.
"We'll open the way. The third floor… is yours."
With nothing more than a glance exchanged, the Pegasi's captain moved to the side of Margaret and Dikaiopolis, their silver lances locked against the storm of golem strikes.
The goal here was not victory against the second-floor monsters. It was ascent—someone had to reach the source of the black hole above. That meant someone had to break the stalemate, to carve a path through.
"But to face him—the Pegasi is the better choice. Shouldn't we be the ones to hold them back while you advance?"
Margaret frowned, meeting the Blood Knight's gaze. The logic was simple: the Pegasi were stronger as a force. To challenge the architect of this nightmare, surely they should go forward.
But the captain only shook his head. His voice was calm, almost weary.
"The Pegasi are strong together. But apart? Each of us is only one knight. Split us, and our strength wanes. To advance the whole unit is impossible under this pressure. Better that we hold the wall, and you push forward."
It was a truth long whispered, but seldom spoken aloud. Individually, the Pegasi were not exceptional. Their strength came from unity, from cohesion, from the phalanx. In the brutal climb of the spire, where small teams and single champions had to shoulder impossible weight, the lone fighters shone brighter.
"We believe in you. You won't let us down. You are the future of Kazimierz. Let us, the old guard, open your road forward."
The captain's gauntleted hand fell heavy on Margaret's shoulder.
And only then—only in that single heartbeat—did Margaret hear it. The timbre of his voice. The familiarity hidden behind the steel.
It was the voice of one who had once been her elder.
The words had barely left Margaret's lips when the Silverlance Pegasi moved as one.
In an instant, they gathered, their formation snapping into place like the very image of a cavalry charge. They rode no steeds, and yet the momentum they radiated was no less than that of a thundering battalion. A single silver lance—sharp, unyielding—piercing forward.
With a resounding cry, the living spear drove itself deep into the wall of iron golems. Metal shrieked and sparks scattered as the blockade was torn open.
Margaret and Dikaiopolis hesitated no longer. They surged forward into the breach, following the silver knights in their furious drive toward the stairway leading to the third floor.
And they were not alone. The remaining knights, as if guided by unspoken understanding, drew together, throwing their strength into the Pegasi's charge. Blades crossed, shields locked—they fought not for glory, but for the single chance that remained.
All of them knew that if the Black Hole Knight was not stopped here, the fate awaiting Kazimierz was beyond imagination. This was no longer a tournament, no longer rivalry. This was the edge of ruin.
In this hour, there were no "Infected knights" and "ordinary knights." No feuds, no jealous rivals. Only comrades-in-arms, entrusting their backs to one another without hesitation.
Theirs was no longer a struggle for honor. It was a fight for tomorrow.
Humanity—fickle, divided—only ever seemed to find true unity in the face of despair. It was their greatest weakness… and their greatest strength.
And in this moment, the knights of Kazimierz showed the very qualities Steven had longed to see. The nobility, the resolve, the true spirit of knighthood.
It was, at last, a fragment of the answer he had sought since stepping foot into this land.
Now, everything would depend on those few who had broken through.
Only a handful could match the Pegasi's blistering pace. Margaret and Dikaiopolis, champions in their own right, and the Candle Knight, Viviana.
The Pinus Sylvestris girls were left behind, their blades locked in the press, shoulder to shoulder with the Pegasi as they held the iron tide at bay. Whatever their will, there was no longer any chance for them to advance.
"The rest… we entrust to you. Show him. Show that Kazimierz still has true knights—that knighthood has not vanished from our blood."
The Pegasi captain's gauntleted hand rested briefly on Margaret's and Dikaiopolis's shoulders before he turned away, his silver spear once again raised to meet the storm.
He believed. Believed that the Radiant Knight would shine forth and bring hope. That she would save Kazimierz in its hour of need.
Burdened with that heavy trust, Margaret met Dikaiopolis's eyes. She saw in him the same worry reflected in her own. Yet when her gaze turned to Viviana, the Candle Knight's expression was… utterly serene, as though the chaos around her was nothing more than a passing breeze.
The Blood Knight broke the silence first, his voice low but steady as the three ascended the stairwell, leaving the battlefield behind.
"Viviana. You've fought him once before, haven't you? Tell me—what sort of man is he, truly?"
Of the three who now ascended, only Viviana had ever crossed blades with the Black Hole Knight directly.
True, she had been defeated. But defeat still meant contact—a glimpse, however fleeting, into the man they were about to face. And any sliver of insight was worth something now.
Besides, her demeanor alone was striking. Where Margaret's features were drawn tight with the weight of expectation, Viviana's face wore the same calm brightness one might show on a leisurely stroll. The contrast could not have been sharper.
"His personality, hm? I can't say I truly understand it."
Her voice was gentle, almost amused, as though she were recalling an old acquaintance rather than an enemy.
"But if I had to put it into words… after facing him, he struck me as someone not so different from myself. An ordinary man who's simply searching for an answer."
The smile that touched her lips was graceful, polite—her usual mask. Yet when she spoke his name, that mask faltered. For a fleeting instant, the smile on her face became something warmer, more honest.
If she possessed such strength, Viviana wondered, would she not have done the same? Would she not also have sought her answer through force, carving open a path until the world was compelled to reply?
Even now, even standing on these steps with the others, she doubted she could answer the Black Hole Knight's question about what it meant to be a knight. That was not why she had come here.
She had come for the same reason as him. To hear it herself—from the mouths of Kazimierz. To listen for the answer.
That was why her steps were light, why her eyes remained bright. She bore no burden to "save the Grand Knight Territory." That was their crusade, not hers.
There was, in fact, one thought she had never voiced aloud.
Even if Kazimierz failed to provide an answer. Even if they faltered here and never reached him.
The Grand Knight Territory would not be destroyed.
Something in her instincts told her so. That strange knight clad in outdated armor… he was no demon king. At least, not the kind to burn cities for amusement.
He had never once said he intended to destroy this land, had he?
"If you could call that kind of man an 'ordinary person'—then I think you've completely misunderstood the meaning of the word."
The Blood Knight's tone carried a peculiar edge as he glanced sidelong at Viviana.
A man who could conjure disaster as easily as drawing breath. A man who could, with bare hands, build a tower like this and populate it with horrors fit to be called calamities.
If such a being was to be called "ordinary," then perhaps this world had no ordinary people left at all.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
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