What does it feel like to leave the city you've lived in for sixteen years?
If it were a voluntary departure, a chance to see the wider world, that would be one thing. But in truth, she was driven out.
The scheme devised by the K.G.C.C. was cruel but effective. In today's Kazimierz, "the Infected" are an unspeakable subject. By branding Margaret with that label, they ensured that—even if she wasn't one—people would treat her as though she were.
When an entire city, an entire class, turns against you, there's nothing you can do.
In the days that followed, Felix busied himself with the aftermath, cleaning up the wreckage and tallying the losses. Under the assault of the Armorless Union and the bounty hunters, many key members of the knights' orders were killed or maimed. At best, he managed to rescue a small handful of their families. The rest? The K.G.C.C. tossed them out of the city like garbage.
These survivors banded together and left this place of grief behind.
The players, meanwhile, profited handsomely from this "story event." They gained rewards, experience, and, more importantly, a clearer understanding that siding with the Pioneers meant they could feast. For the past few days, whenever there was even a hint of activity in the faction quests, they swarmed Felix with flattery.
Some players even deepened their ties with NPCs. For example, MagicZX had now made it a routine to wait outside the Młynar's Company after work, bringing warm food and drinks. To players, this wasn't unusual behavior—but to others, it was still a bit much.
This trip to Kazimierz had paid off. Felix had recruited two skilled knights, signed a "monthly contract" with a Sargon assassin, and now sat across from a silver-haired girl sipping her drink listlessly—someone he might soon poach as well.
Kazimierz had originally been a fertile ground for Rhodes Island recruitment. Yet with just two visits, Felix had practically stripped it bare.
Well… maybe he could come back in four years and enjoy another round of the Major?
"My demands… aren't much. I just want things to be like a normal company," the girl before him—Platinum, as he still called her—spoke haltingly. She wore light makeup, but it did nothing to hide her exhaustion. Clearly, she'd spent the night fighting and killing again.
What a waste. Someone so young, yet living a life harsher than any middle-aged office worker. At least the Młynar's Company didn't force employees to stay overnight without going home. The Armorless Union? Forget it. Overtime was the daily routine, no pay, and if you got hurt and asked for leave, they deducted your wages.
Still, the money she made was far better than most people.
But Platinum never cared much about money. All she wanted was to hug a pillow and sleep for a whole day, without interruption.
"I won't comment on what you did during your time with the Armorless Union," Felix said evenly. "But you should know this: even if you walk away from them, the sins of that period will stay with you forever. They won't wash away."
For an assassin, "retirement" usually meant being hunted by enemies.
Platinum had been a killer for the Union, earning blood-stained money. She had taken knights' lives with her bow—that was lesson number one when she joined, a process every recruit had to go through.
Platinum blinked slowly, then murmured, "I understand."
"Good. Then sign the contract."
For Felix, this was only a precaution. He already knew from his past life how Rhodes Island operated: over a thousand operators, many with grudges rooted in their homelands or former allegiances. Yet, once under Rhodes Island's banner, they followed the unspoken rule—look the other way, don't dig up old wounds. That was the best way forward.
"By the way," Felix said as Platinum was halfway through signing her name, "I should tell you—Margaret will also be joining Tomorrow's Development."
"Eh?"
The pen slipped from Platinum's hand, clattering onto the table. Her eyes flew wide open—if looks alone could be judged, she could have debuted as an idol.
"Surprised?" Felix asked.
"I once tried to assassinate Margaret. I even fought her face to face."
"Heh. Then good luck."
"Ughhh…"
Platinum bit her lip, staring at the contract in front of her. To be honest, she was tempted. "007" had been her life until now—endless overtime, no breaks, no dignity. But Tomorrow's Development offered normal hours, five-day weeks, a proper nine-to-five, with snacks, a gym, even massage services at the office. For a girl who had gone straight from graduation into factory-like drudgery, it was unbearably tempting.
Yet what really pulled at her wasn't the perks—it was the ideals. Platinum genuinely agreed with what Tomorrow's Development stood for.
"…I'll sign."
Her decisiveness surprised Felix. He collected the contract, her name written as Centaurea, gave her a quick look, and handed her a communicator.
"Pack your things over the next few days. Wait for my instructions."
"Got it~"
"One more thing," he added. "That outfit—are you actually comfortable wearing it?"
"What do you mean?"
Platinum tilted her head as Felix's gaze swept her up and down, clearly examining her clothing. She wasn't sure what he was getting at.
"That uniform—standard issue from the Armorless Union, right? Do you actually like it? The cropped style?"
He tapped his chin, noticing her wary expression, then clarified, "All employees of Tomorrow's Development get custom gear. If you like this style, I can arrange something similar."
"You could've just said that from the start… It's fine, I guess. I'm used to it. It's light and easy to move in. But in winter? Absolutely not—I hate wearing this when it's cold."
It was true. Winter had already come; December had begun, though Kazimierz's first snow had yet to fall—perhaps delayed by the lingering fervor of the Major.
Felix nodded. "I'll have someone record your measurements."
As he left, Platinum felt a sudden wave of relief wash over her. Finally, she was free of the Armorless Union's endless overtime. At last, she could sleep as much as she wanted.
Her departure from the Union hadn't been easy. As the designated successor to the "Platinum" title, the leadership had initially refused to let her retire. Only after Roy, the holder of the Lazurite seat, spoke on her behalf—and only after she paid a steep penalty fee—was she released.
Of course, that left her nearly broke. But Platinum didn't care much about money. She had never been greedy. All she wanted now was a stretch of lazy, carefree days: eat, sleep, repeat.
Besides, this new Sankta boss of hers was handsome, wealthy, and had even picked up her bill earlier. Maybe it was worth getting to know him better…
---
When Margaret left the Kawalerielki, the only people seeing her off—aside from members of the Nearl family—were Felix and a few close kin.
Present that day were only Kirill, Maria, and Zofia. Some of them didn't knew she would later join the Tomorrow's Development. They only believed she was setting out on a solitary journey of her own.
Her aunt Zofia, though always trusting of her niece, still felt reluctant to let go. A pang of sorrow welled up as she watched her depart.
Oh, and Uncle Młynar wasn't there—he was at work, unable to take time off lest his boss scold him.
Little sister Maria, eyes brimming with tears, clung to Margaret's hand, unable to hide her sadness.
Margaret gave a final embrace, saying goodbye to Zofia and Maria through their reluctant tears, then stepped toward Kirill, who sat waiting in his wheelchair.
"As a person—and as a knight—you must go out and see the world for yourself. Only then will your sword, your lance, and your ideals be tested and refined."
Kirill's gaze lingered on his granddaughter, tall and resolute before him. For a fleeting moment, he seemed to see Margaret's parents standing there instead. There was no sorrow in his eyes. Though she had been driven out of Kazimierz unjustly, he felt nothing but pride.
"Go. See this land with your own eyes. Discover what your chivalry truly means."
"…I understand, Grandfather."
Margaret's voice was steady. She stepped closer and clasped his hand, sharing her warmth with the elder's chilled fingers.
Both knew this might be the last time they ever met.
Margaret and Felix exchanged a brief glance. He smiled and nodded. She said nothing more, only adjusted her pack and strode out through the gates. Beyond the walls, a long-distance bus waited to take her toward the border. Tourists filled the seats inside. Margaret pulled up her hood.
At this moment, she was no champion—only a traveler leaving Kazimierz behind.
Kirill watched her go, a faint smile on his lips. His eyes shifted toward Felix. "Felix, I'll entrust Margaret to you from here on."
"I'll take good care of her, sir."
"It's my duty," Felix added.
"Heh. What a curious bond we've formed. Teacher and student, yet speaking as equals… is this what they call a friendship across generations?"
Kirill chuckled and gestured for the servant to wheel him away.
"In Kazimierz, what does it truly mean to be a knight?" he mused aloud. By now, the opinions of the K.G.C.C. meant little to him. Age had stripped away such concerns. "The Nearl family's creed is: Unafraid of hardship and darkness. I give these words to you now, Felix. May you become one who lights the way for others—who lights the whole land."
"Thank you for your parting gift," Felix replied with a smile and a bow.
[You have inherited the Talent: Unafraid of Darkness and Hardship]
[Effect: Grants an additional 5% boost to all attributes during combat checks.]
Felix's smile twitched. He quickly smoothed over his awkward expression, bade farewell to Zofia and Maria, then walked toward the city gates.
Once outside, he finally let out the grin he had been holding back. His efforts had not been wasted. He had gained mastery over both sword and lance, won Kirill's recognition, and inherited his master's talent—a flat 5% bonus across all attributes in combat. No wonder the entire Nearl family was so formidable.
As for what came next… the true performance was about to begin. And this time, Felix wouldn't be a mere spectator—he would be a player in the Armorless Union's deadly chase.
He reached the outer roads, where cars jammed in long lines. There, he spotted the off-road vehicle he had rented that morning. Someone opened the door for him. Sitting in the passenger seat was Rosebloom, while two masked Sargon assassins occupied the back.
"Boss, the Armorless Union has already departed."
"You weren't spotted, were you?"
"No."
The truth was, the K.G.C.C. had long suspected that a third party was meddling in the 22nd Major. They had unleashed bounty hunters and the Armorless Union to sweep through the Kawalerielki, scouring its black and gray markets. All they turned up were a few hidden Infected—nothing more.
Sargon assassins were ghosts. Their concealment left no trace for the K.G.C.C. to follow.
"Then let's move."
Felix started the engine and merged into the outbound highway. The road was thick with traffic. Most were leaving the city, though some tourists chose to stay and spend the New Year inside the city. He drove silently, eyes scanning ahead, until he spotted them—the Armorless Union, making no effort to hide.
A group of black-clad riders on motorcycles, crossbows slung across their backs, helmets glinting under the lights. They closed in on the tour bus Margaret had boarded and, without hesitation, pulled their triggers at its tires.
The roar of an explosion tore through the air. Chaos erupted as vehicles collided in a chain reaction. Furious drivers leapt out, shouting and cursing at one another as they inspected the damage.
Inside the bus, panic spread. Children toppled from their seats, wailing. The sweating driver pulled over and rushed out to assess the damage. Margaret, who had only just boarded minutes ago, froze—her instincts screamed.
That killing intent. The same as that rainy night.
Her grip tightened on her pack. She rose to her feet. She couldn't stay—her presence put these civilians in danger.
She regretted it immediately. Leaving the bus meant dragging innocents into this mess. She had thought it was over—that by leaving Kazimierz as required, the pursuit would end. But she had underestimated the depths to which the K.G.C.C. and the Armorless Union would sink.
Her jaw clenched. She broke into a run. Remaining in the crowd would only draw more blood.
The nearest gas station was still some distance away. She gritted her teeth, intent on finding a vehicle to escape alone. And if the assassins appeared… then she would fight.
Not long after she disappeared into the distance, the roar of engines thundered down the road. Hundreds of motorcycles surged past like a black tide.