"Y–You mean… work for you?"
Foam Knight froze, his mouth half-open, not knowing how to respond.
Compared to him, Verdant Knight—who already knew about Felix's identity as the Pioneer—was much calmer. She traced a finger across her lips, smiling with the practiced ease of a mature woman.
"Pioneer, are you… a knight collector?"
"I just happen to like the traditional kind of knight," Felix said simply. He clapped his hands once, then cut straight to the point. "This championship has nothing more to do with either of you. If you want to prove yourselves again in Kazimierz, it won't be until four years from now. And even then, who knows if a new dark horse will rise? Winning a championship takes more than strength—it takes luck."
He wasn't wrong. If Margaret hadn't burst onto the scene this year, the trophy would already belong to the K.G.C.C.
And as for these two… the truth wasn't flattering. Foam Knight's dismal performance had already disappointed the Organization to the point of abandonment. Verdant Knight still had some commercial value, but the Organization would never pour its prime resources into her. She might be valued, but she would never be the centerpiece.
For someone as proud as her, always being cast as someone else's backdrop was suffocating.
But under the Organization's shadow, resistance was unthinkable. She was still bound to the Kazimierz, where the K.G.C.C. ruled with absolute authority. Even the slightest defiance would have the Armorless Union knocking on her door with crossbows the very next day.
That was why Felix's offer struck a chord. Perhaps every knight dreamed, deep down, of carving out new lands and pledging loyalty not to an institution, but to a sovereign worthy of their blade.
"But… my family is still here in the Kawalerielki City. They're under constant surveillance." Foam Knight's voice was bitter. That was the curse of having loved ones—unlike Verdant Knight, who lived unburdened and alone.
"That's the easy part."
Felix snapped his fingers. "I'll have them brought out safely. Then you'll all board a transport plane back to Lungmen together."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table.
"Here—my business card."
The two knights took it and glanced at the print.
"Tomorrow's Development… this is your company?"
"Mm. Headquarters is in Lungmen. We're short on capable people—especially at the leadership level." Felix crossed his arms, painting the picture with practiced ease. "Tomorrow's Development is less than a year old. Everything's still in its infancy. Every department needs talent. If you join us, you won't just be filling a seat—you'll be shaping the entire foundation."
Verdant Knight studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "I understand, Boss. From today onward, allow me to serve you."
"You've already decided? Just like that?" Foam Knight blurted out, wide-eyed. Even Felix raised his brows. A decision about one's future made so casually… but then, she had no family weighing her down. Perhaps it made sense.
"I trust the man the Black Knight chose to follow wouldn't be someone unworthy," Verdant Knight said lightly, leaning back against the sofa. A spark of excitement lit her eyes. "Besides, it's been far too long since I fought her without restrictions, without orders, without pressure. This time, I'll be free."
Another battle maniac, Felix thought to himself.
His gaze shifted to Foam Knight. "And you? What's your decision?"
Foam Knight lowered his head, voice steady despite the weight in it.
"…If you can save my family, sir, then I will follow you for the rest of my life."
"Not a big issue," Felix said lightly. "Better to get it done while the Armorless Union is tied up. Where's your home address?"
"Huh?"
The Foam Knight blinked in confusion, then hastily scribbled down his address.
Felix pulled out his terminal. "Rosebloom, head to the address I mentioned. Look for a woman and a young girl. Bring plenty of people—there might be leftover scouts from the Organization nearby."
He turned back to the Foam Knight. "Leave a message for your wife and daughter. Convince them. I don't want my people running into resistance from our own side during the operation."
The Foam Knight immediately understood. He stepped forward and, through the comms, spoke words only his family would recognize: the place of his first date with his wife, and the gift he had given his daughter for her last birthday.
Once the line was cut, Felix crossed one leg over the other, settling back into his chair. "Now we just wait for good news. Of course, if you're itching for action, you could always lend a hand at one of the five outposts."
"Boss, you're joking. If the K.G.C.C. caught wind of that, forget us—you'd be the one dragged into the mess."
The Verdant Knight shook her head. "What we need is your guidance for the day of the finals. Tell us how you want us to act. If there's anything I can do for you, give the order."
"For now, nothing," Felix replied. "Sending knights like you to skulk in the dark would be an insult to your strength. Just wait. The stage is already built. All that's left is for the actors to step into the light."
He turned his gaze to the rain-soaked city outside. The Fourth Calamity players were still having the time of their lives. Margaret was racing toward the battlefield, while according to Rosebloom's intel, the Union's high-ranker, Lazurite, was locked in combat with Młynar.
A shame, Felix thought. He couldn't be there in person to cheer his uncle on.
Meanwhile, Margaret had never felt the neon lights of the Kawalerielki City cut so harshly through the night. Beneath their glare, she and the Mysterious Knight had no way to hide. The assassins dogging them had grown wiser—no more reckless charges, just a steady pursuit from the shadows.
Margaret had taken another arrow, though it was only a graze. The Mysterious Knight was wounded too, his blood hot against the chill rain. Pain and cold both pressed in, but so too did the vivid, undeniable reminder that they were alive.
Her faith burned hotter than her wounds. Margaret forgot the cold, forgot the pain. What weighed on her heart instead was the truth—the sheer, crushing weakness of standing against true power. Could merely becoming a knight change Kazimierz's fate?
Kazimierz's chivalry… what did it mean, truly? What did it mean to be a knight?
"There!"
The Mysterious Knight's hoarse shout snapped her back. Margaret raised her eyes and saw it: a bounty hunter band clustered ahead, attacking a knight order's stronghold. Flames licked at the outpost's walls, though the rain smothered much of their effect.
"Kill!"
The Mysterious Knight became a blur, a sword of living steel cleaving through the downpour as he hurled himself into the fray. His sudden charge ripped through the bounty hunters' rear line, leaving screams, broken bodies, and corpses in his wake.
This was the battlefield.
Margaret stared as he cut them down without hesitation, each stroke stealing a life.
Again, this was the battlefield.
Here, death was not tragedy—it was law.
She remembered the old knight novels she used to adore. Their heroes were all legendary figures, knights of unmatched valor and cunning, warriors whose feats and victories were sung for generations. They were brilliant, unique in their own ways, yet united by one simple truth:
On the battlefield, they killed their enemies.
But the popular knight stories of recent years were nothing like that. Their heroes no longer fought in war, but strolled through cities, surrounded by adoring heroines, every one of them beautiful, each competing for the knight's affection.
Margaret understood well: on the battlefield, the greatest respect you could show an enemy was to defeat them — to cut them down without hesitation. That was the true essence of knightly honor.
She had imagined doing it countless times. But she was only sixteen.
Could a girl her age — still of high-school years — truly kill with her own hands?
"I'll clear a path for you!"
The mysterious knight, as if sensing her hesitation, suddenly bellowed in a hoarse voice:
"You break through and help the wounded inside the outpost. Leave these bounty hunters to me!"
"..."
"…Understood."
Margaret's tone firmed. This was not the first outpost she had to reach, nor would it be the last. And in truth — what could two knights alone accomplish? All they could do was buy a little more time for those inside. Just hold on until morning. As long as sunlight returned to the lands of the Kazimierz, all these creatures of shadow and greed would be burned away without a trace.
And then — the bounty hunters saw the light.
As he watched Margaret break away, the hidden face beneath the mysterious knight's helm curved into a relieved smile.
These foes weren't worthy of staining a true knight's blade. As her opponent, as the one who could someday break this corrupt city's chains — she must not falter here.
In Margaret, the knight glimpsed a shining future. If, in time, more knights like her were to rise… could Kazimierz itself be changed?
He would never live to see that dawn. A pity.
With a roar, the mysterious knight raised his sword, unleashing a battle cry of defiance. The bounty hunters, howling back, charged as one.
Meanwhile, Margaret broke through the enemy's line. To her surprise, the outpost was not the blazing inferno she had feared. True, many wounded knights slumped exhausted against the outer walls, armor bent and bodies battered. But within, she saw something else — mercenaries, medics, and people of all manner of races bustling about.
"You are… Lady Margaret?"
A squad of Undead on patrol spotted her. At first they approached warily, but then their eyes lit up as if fans had just met their idol.
Margaret forced a small smile. She knew how ragged it must look — strained, far from the flawless image of a knight told in stories. But she did not realize: to these Undead, she already looked radiant.
A battered knightess, grim yet unyielding, smiling through her exhaustion — more than a few male players had already decided they'd found a "new wife." Some were practically reaching for their inventory to start showering her with gifts.
"How bad are the knights' injuries?"
"…Not good."
Yanfei stepped forward, coughing lightly. The rest of the players immediately straightened, shoving away their silly grins and adopting heavy, serious expressions.
"Lady Margaret, this way."
Margaret followed close behind her. Along the way, she passed knights still in armor, sitting in mud, silent with fatigue. Inside the building, the space had already been transformed into a makeshift field hospital. Undead doctors hurried from patient to patient, tending wounds and changing bandages.
"There are still civilians inside the outpost too… Those bastards picked the exact moment when everyone was heading home from work to spring their trap."
Yanfei's voice shook with anger. "This place is right near the city edge. Miss one bus, and you wait half an hour for the next. The bounty hunters cut off the transit system completely, trapping ordinary people here too."
"…That's unforgivable."
Margaret dropped to one knee before a pale-faced woman trembling on a cot.
The moment the woman saw her, her eyes lit up. She reached out with shaking hands toward Margaret, hope flickering where only fear had been.
Margaret grasped it—the gentle, radiant light gathered in her palm, flowing into the woman and granting her strength.
The woman's breathing steadied, and soon she drifted into peaceful sleep.
Margaret exhaled in relief and rose to her feet. "Thank you… but, who exactly are you? What faction do you belong to?"
"We're adventurers, under Tomorrow's Development. Our leader is the Pioneer."
At that name, Margaret froze. She thought she had misheard, but clung tightly to those last words. "...The Pioneer?"
"Yes, Lady Margaret. Do you know him too?"
For a moment, her mind wandered back to her past meetings with the Pioneer—those conversations, those negotiations. Back then, he had seemed unwilling to be entangled in this mess… and yet, here he was, quietly working behind the scenes. If she hadn't come here in person, she might never have known.
So it's true. The Pioneer is still the same Pioneer.
Margaret cleared her throat and forced herself back to focus. "Adventurers, is there anything you need from me?"
"Actually, yes."
Yanfei led Margaret to the operations room—the only office without wounded inside. Several adventurers were there, some dozing off, others busy repairing their gear.
"The bounty hunters split into five legions, each attacking a different knight stronghold. We've already repelled the first and second waves here. The rest are just stuck outside glaring at us… but we need to move fast and reinforce the other fronts."
On the desk before Margaret lay a massive map, covered in pinned markers. She had only ever seen something like this in dramas about knightly wars.
"This base has forty adventurers total. We plan to send thirty to aid the other strongholds. But before that, we must crush the bounty hunters still encircling us."
"Lady Margaret, would you fight alongside us?"
The surrounding players perked up instantly—their eyes gleaming. Another high-level NPC joining the party? Their loot rewards were practically calling to them!
"I'll support your operation," Margaret nodded. "But my companion carved the path for me to reach here. He's still outside, fighting the bounty hunters."
"What!"
Yanfei slammed the alarm bell without hesitation and rushed to the main hall. The moment she entered, every adventurer and knight inside turned their gaze toward her.
"The wounded—lie down! The rest of you—on your feet! Brothers and sisters, grab your weapons… it's time we counterattacked!"