"The Armorless Union's reckless move has brought us nothing but trouble. Nearly a hundred of their elite assassins were mobilized… only to be wiped out."
The middle-aged man in black leaned back on his sofa, expression unreadable as he listened to his secretary's report. Narrowing his eyes, he asked calmly:
"And the Darksteels who led the mission?"
"Dead, sir."
"…Heh."
He crossed one leg over the other, shifting into a more comfortable posture. "So, the Armorless Union begged us for the job, took the payment to eliminate the Radiant Knight Margaret, and now not only failed, but lost the Darksteels as well."
The secretary stood silently to the side, careful not to interrupt his employer's train of thought.
"Losing one Darksteels is acceptable. What about the Radiant Knight—any news of her movements?"
"Eyewitnesses saw her heading alone into the northern forests at the edge of Kazimierz's territory. After that, she disappeared."
"Most likely left Kazimierz," the man muttered. "Someone like her wouldn't be foolish enough to linger… unlike those idiots who got themselves killed."
His tone sharpened. "Have we confirmed how the Darksteels died?"
The words carried weight, pressing down on the secretary. The Organization's analysts already suspected that a third-party force—one hidden within the Major—was responsible.
"Yes, sir." The secretary quickly flipped through the dossier. "The wounds were primarily from bladed weapons, but his body also showed clear signs of searing—burn marks consistent with fire or high heat. Parts of his armor and clothing were scorched."
The man fell silent, thoughtful. Wounds like those… plausible enough. The Radiant Knight did wield a wide array of weapons, and the Nearl family's reputation was unquestionable. She was known to command radiant Arts akin to fire or sunlight—those scorch marks could very well have been left in such a battle.
But the Radiant Knight defeating the Darksteels? Unlikely. Unless she had help.
The man's gaze sharpened. "What of the Pioneer's movements?"
He remembered well the friendly ties between the Pioneer and the Nearl family. The timing of the Darksteels's death wasn't an exact match, but with access to a transport aircraft, the Pioneer could easily have bridged that gap. His involvement couldn't be ignored.
"Mr. Pioneer left the Kawalerielki's territory three days ago. Since then, we've lost track of him."
"…"
The man rubbed at his temples. It couldn't be helped. Once someone left the orbit of a mobile city, finding them became near impossible—like fishing in an endless sea.
As for the Pioneer's culpability… he had his suspicions. He would report it to the Organization for deliberation. They would decide how far to let this incident spread, and what direction it should take.
As for the Darksteels—good riddance. The Armorless Union had been fracturing for some time, its declining mission success rate souring the Organization's trust in them. The death of an Darksteels and over a hundred assassins would cripple their strength further. For the Organization, that was a boon, not a loss.
And the Pioneer? Without solid proof, there was nothing to be done. The Organization had no intention of antagonizing a patron who brought them money.
Still, the man had a feeling. Perhaps the next time they crossed paths with the Pioneer would be four years from now—when the Major returned.
---
The players celebrated long into the night, setting up a makeshift camp near the village to rest before moving on the next day.
Felix took the time to check in on Margaret. In yesterday's brutal fight with the Darksteels, she had been injured. She hadn't shown it then, but once the tension broke, the exhaustion and wounds caught up to her. She slept deeply for hours, only waking in the latter half of the night.
Margaret lay on a simple field cot, already awake. When she saw Felix enter, she greeted him with a faint smile.
"How's your recovery?" he asked.
"Not bad. I should be able to walk again today. It's all thanks to Shining—her healing was very effective."
"…I see."
At that, Felix turned his gaze to the Sarkaz woman seated quietly nearby. Shining met his eyes calmly, neither hostile nor evasive. Their gazes held for a moment.
Margaret shifted uncomfortably. Sarkaz and Sankta relations were anything but warm. They weren't at the level of drawing blades on sight, but when one encountered the other, it was customary to act as though the meeting had never happened.
Yet here she was—caught between the man who felt like an older brother, and the gentle Sarkaz friend she had just made. Words knotted in her throat.
"…I hadn't expected there to be such a skilled medic at Princess Theresa's side." Felix's tone was even. "How fares the civil war?"
"…The fighting is at a stalemate," Shining replied softly. "Every victory looks like progress, but it's built on endless bloodshed. Kazdel's soil is drenched in Sarkaz blood."
Her eyes flicked back to Felix. "I have heard Theresa speak of a certain remarkable Sankta before… was she referring to you?"
"She knows of me, then… but never mind. That's not important." Felix waved a hand dismissively. "No one predicted the war would last this long. But it will end, within a few years at most. When that day comes, where will the Sarkaz go? What will be their home? Tell me, Shining—do you have an answer?"
Shining fell silent. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
The Sarkaz could no longer imagine a life after war. They had fought and bled for so long that peace had become a forgotten myth. Even if some individuals wanted to stop, the ageless elders still lived—ancient creatures bound by grudges that time could never wash away. How could such hatred ever allow the war to end?
The Sarkaz royal court… was full of monsters.
"I will go to Kazdel," Felix said, his tone firm. "I intend to meet the Princess at Babel Tower myself. If you get the chance, please deliver this message to her."
"…I understand."
"One more thing."
Shining paused mid-step as Felix spoke again.
"Your companion still needs time and care. If you find yourself with nowhere to go, you can come to Lungmen. Look for me."
"…Very well."
Shining returned to Margaret's side, brushing a hand gently over the girl's hair, her expression softening. "I'll come visit you often."
"Mm. And when the time comes… let's travel together."
"…All right."
With that, Shining bowed once more to Felix before slipping quietly out of the tent. Both he and Margaret knew—she and Liz were truly gone now, off to fulfill their own duties.
Felix sat at Margaret's bedside. She lowered her gaze, eyes lingering on him so close by. "Thank you, Brother Felix."
"There's no need," he replied with a small smile. "Your grandfather and Uncle entrusted you to me. It's my responsibility."
Seeing the girl's shy embarrassment, he lightly tapped the back of her hand. "We'll move out this afternoon. Rest a bit more this morning."
"…Mm. Thank you, Brother Felix."
When Felix stepped out of the tent, Senomi approached him.
"The Light Knight is awake."
"I'll go check on him."
Beneath the helmet, the Light Knight's face was just as the posters depicted—handsome, clean-cut. Though he was nearing thirty, he looked more like a fresh university graduate. Right now, however, his wary eyes were fixed not on Felix, but on the woman standing beside him—Platinum.
Inside Tomorrow's Development, Centaurea had kept her codename as "Platinum." At this moment, she was no "Platinum of Armorless Union," just Platinum.
She wasn't wearing the uniform of the Armorless Union. Felix had promised her official attire as part of his staff, but that would have to wait until they returned to Lungmen. For now, she was dressed only in simple casual clothes.
Yet even like this, the Light Knight recognized her instantly. He remembered all too vividly the rain-soaked nights when she had drawn her bow on him without hesitation.
"How are you holding up?" Felix asked casually.
His tone toward the Light Knight was markedly different—nonchalant, almost indifferent. To him, this man would always be a former dog of the K.G.C.C. That stain could never be erased. Even if he had finally awakened to the truth in the end, his past deeds remained.
This wasn't a storybook world where someone could simply "wash away" their sins.
"…Thank you for saving me," the Light Knight replied, his expression calm, almost detached. Having already "died" once, he looked like a man who had shed every worldly attachment—someone who would meet death again without regret.
"What do you see for your future?" Felix asked.
"…On my way here, I never once thought about the future."
His words were slow, but sincere. He had come ready to die. The others who had marched alongside him—their families slaughtered by the Armorless Union—were prepared to die as well. Yet in the end, only a handful survived.
And among them, the one who least deserved to live was him.
"Do you think that after years of standing by, complicit in their crimes, dying now makes everything right?"
"…"
"You allowed the K.G.C.C's atrocities to happen, year after year. Do you believe that death alone can atone for that?"
The Light Knight lowered his head, silent for a long moment. At last, he drew in a steady breath. "…What should I do?"
"It's simple. In whatever life you have left—repay your sins."
"…And how do I do that?"
"That's for you to decide."
"…I understand. Thank you."
The conversation ended there. Felix rose to his feet. His work in Kazimierz was done.
By afternoon, the crew and the players had boarded the transport plane, bound for Lungmen.
The Light Knight remained behind, watching the aircraft disappear into the sky. His gaze drifted to the half-ruined village nearby. Slowly, his eyes hardened with resolve. He knew that both the Foam Knight and the Verdant Knight had joined Felix's ranks. He also knew what Tomorrow's Development stood for. Joining them might bring him some measure of comfort… but that wasn't what he wanted.
"Well, well… what a surprise. I didn't think you'd actually stay behind."
The Light Knight's hand slid to his sword hilt as he turned. A man leaned casually against a tree trunk, his voice oily with false cheer.
"…Who are you?"
"Me? Just a nameless bounty hunter."
The man carried two swords strapped to his back. His hair looked greasy—whether from neglect or simply his natural texture was unclear. His face was dirtied with ash, but his armor gleamed, carefully maintained. He was no common sellsword.
"Your name," the knight demanded.
The man chuckled. "…You can call me Toland. So—since we both have a bone to pick with Kazimierz's twisted order… care to talk?"
---
Winter in Lungmen was the same as ever. Looking back on the year 1091, the biggest change was the explosive growth of Tomorrow's Development. Not only had its population swelled, but the number of cadre-level members had also multiplied.
The newly recruited Foam Knight and Verdant Knight quickly took on the role of instructors, training both players and the armed recruits drawn by Felix's reputation. Though their strength fell far short of Margaret or Degenbrecher, they were still top-tier Kazimierz tournament knights—Tier 1 by anyone's measure.
But the day they entered the training hall and saw Degenbrecher standing there in full gear, they realized that their "orientation" was going to be very different from what they had imagined.
By the end of the day, the training ground was in ruins, Foam and Verdant were carried to the infirmary, and Loughshinny was on the line again with the repair company. After so many visits, Tomorrow's Development had become a VIP client. At least the bills now came with a thirty-percent discount.
Margaret's first meeting with Platinum was… tense. Platinum looked like she expected Margaret to draw her blade at any moment, while Margaret studied her with a puzzled gaze. Eventually, Margaret broke the silence with a few questions, and Platinum, nervous but obedient, explained herself. At least Margaret came to understand her reasons for defecting.
No fight broke out, but neither was the air entirely at ease. Platinum still shrank a little in Margaret's presence, and Margaret, with a touch of helplessness, couldn't understand why. She wasn't some wild berserker who cut down anyone she saw.
Platinum and Plume officially joined the organization as part of its security forces, also taking on intelligence work.
Margaret, still not yet of age, was deemed by Degenbrecher to have enormous untapped potential. Every day, Degenbrecher dragged her into sparring matches, insisting that she had the makings of a true King of Knights—a natural leader of those who bore the light.
Senomi begged to spend the New Year in Lungmen with her "big brother" Felix, and he simply let her have her way.
The last days of 1091 passed in unusual peace. Aside from the chaos stirred up by the players within Lungmen itself, Felix kept to himself in his workshop—hammering iron and working steel.
At this point, he didn't even need a forge. His Arts alone could spark flame and temper metal. Truly, he had become a natural-born smith—an innate blacksmith's body.