The Knight Who Sacrifices Life for Righteousness

"Have you made up your mind?"

After another moment, Steel Cutlass couldn't help but ask again.

His tone this time was noticeably gentler.

Garen silently glanced at his system interface—his HP was just a sliver away from being fully restored.

Such abundant health should be more than enough to meet the demands of the flashy moves he planned to pull off later.

But Garen, with a touch of perfectionism, decided to wait another two seconds for the health bar to completely fill, so he didn't respond.

Yet in the prolonged silence of the standoff, Steel Cutlass had already worn away all his own killing intent.

To the point that Garen's brief silence made him start to waver with unease:

Was it because his sky-high demands were too harsh, that the other party didn't even want to talk and was about to just start swinging?

Thus, Steel Cutlass, who should have been a menacing kidnapper, immediately turned conciliatory:

"Brother, I was just joking earlier."

But before Steel Cutlass could even finish that sentence, Garen suddenly spoke up:

"I've made up my mind."

Steel Cutlass's placating words came to an abrupt halt, and everyone's gaze shifted over.

Somehow, at this critical moment of life and death.

Nami, who had already resigned herself to her fate, felt a faint, unrealistic glimmer of hope for Garen out of nowhere.

Then, that fragile hope quickly dissolved into nothing—

As Garen gently planted his greatsword into the ground and let out a soft laugh:

"You've got it wrong. She's not my wife."

Steel Cutlass's expression froze, while the underlings' legs trembled in fear at those words.

"Like that reporter, she's just a passerby I met by chance."

Garen's eyes were dead serious, and his words were delivered in a strangely convincing, declarative tone:

"And besides, I'm not the legendary Knight of Justice."

Nami's eyes dimmed instantly.

And the young reporter had long since prepared himself to offer his neck for the blade.

But then, the scene took a sharp turn—

"I'm not the Knight of Justice, because I'm not yet worthy of that title!"

Garen's voice suddenly swelled with righteousness, his expression as devout as a Five-Bar Captain:

"Protecting the weak and helpless—that is what a true knight does."

"Huh?"

No one had time to react.

Garen gripped the sword hilt tightly, dropped to one knee with an imposing air, and spoke to Steel Cutlass in a calm yet forceful voice:

"I accept your terms."

"But you must guarantee that you'll let the two of them go!"

"Of course."

Steel Cutlass replied instinctively, then slowly came to his senses and asked in disbelief:

"What did you say? You accept?"

"That's right."

Garen picked up the Flintlock Pistol from the ground with his other hand and aimed the muzzle at his own chest: "I accept."

"Garen?!"

Nami cried out his name in shock.

Her deadened heart suddenly jolted.

Not long ago, Nami had thought that name was just a passing stranger in her life; but at this very moment, it was etched into her bones.

"Knight!"

The reporter's voice was also filled with shock and emotion.

In that instant, Garen's rugged, resolute face became the embodiment of justice's light in his heart.

Garen gave a carefree smile:

"Don't worry about me."

"If I die here, it will be a worthy death."

Nami had never paid attention to the image of the opposite sex, but she instinctively felt that—

Such a Knight of Justice was foolish, but also magnificent.

"Wait!"

Nami couldn't suppress the sting in her heart and shouted at Garen, almost hysterically.

Garen smiled faintly, saying nothing.

In the end, the gun still fired.

This Flintlock Pistol was a high-grade item carried by the Steel Blade Captain himself, packing a serious punch.

As the flash of gunfire burst forth, everyone could see the merciless bullet sink into Garen's heart and punch straight through his back, exiting his chest.

Garen's armor was already drenched in the enemy's blood, so it was hard for anyone to notice the bleeding effect from this shot.

But a man taking a bullet through the heart—

That was absolutely a death sentence.

Garen, living up to expectations, twisted his face in pain, clutched tightly at his chest, and then—

Collapsed completely to the ground, devoid of any sound or breath.

"Dead?"

The Steel Blade stared, utterly bewildered.

A few seconds later.

"Really dead?"

The Steel Blade still felt this plot was too surreal.

His grip loosened, and the broadsword he had pressed against Nami's neck could no longer be held steady.

Besides, there was no need to hold it anymore.

The Knight of Justice had given his life to protect the weak, and everything the Steel Blade feared vanished with Garen's death like smoke in the wind.

The two pirate underlings were also caught up in the sudden shift of events; the immense shock left them dazed, and they loosened their hold on Nami's restraints.

But Nami didn't take the chance to escape.

Her eyes, usually as brilliant as cat's-eye gems, were now filled with gloom. Nami collapsed to the ground like a deflated balloon, weak and lifeless.

In her world, there was nothing left but Garen's corpse, stained crimson with blood.

"Why?"

Nami murmured to herself.

"Why save me like this? I'm just..."

This scene made Nami think of Bell-mère once more—

She had been saved by someone like this again.

The same plot, but this knight was even more "foolish," foolish enough to break one's heart.

The Steel Blade slowly walked over, carefully examining Garen's corpse.

Then, he lightly prodded Garen with his broadsword.

The blade cut directly into the most vulnerable part of a human—the neck—severing the main artery carrying the highest blood pressure. Garen didn't even twitch, and no blood flowed out.

That was a reaction no living person could fake.

"Hahaha—"

The Steel Blade suddenly burst into mad, unrestrained laughter, his ugly face twisting uncontrollably:

"He actually killed himself? Killed himself!"

"How could there be such a fool on this sea?!"

The Steel Blade laughed until tears he hadn't shed since he first became a pirate rolled down his face:

"How could this be?!"

He roared wildly.

Then, driven by some inexplicable, complex emotion, he couldn't help but stomp on Garen's corpse once more:

"How could there be such a fool?!!"

Garen's "corpse" trembled slightly from the kick.

"Bastard!"

"Stop it!"

Two shouts rang out in unison.

It was the young reporter, trembling violently all over, and Nami, whose face was already streaked with tears.

"Shut up!"

One of the pirate underlings screamed hysterically.

"That fool's already a corpse! Neither of you are getting out of here alive either!"

The thug's arrogance was on full display, his ugly, merciless face practically dripping with malice.

But neither the seemingly refined reporter nor the outwardly frail Nami showed the slightest hint of fear toward this lackey who was throwing his weight around.

They glared at him with bloodshot eyes, their piercing gazes forcing the thug to shrink back in fright.

A flush of shame crept across the thug's face as his cowardice showed, and he lashed out in fury:

"What are you looking at! Believe me, one slash and I'll—"

"You shut the hell up!"

Steel Cutlass suddenly erupted in a roar at the thug, startling the blustering lackey into a violent shudder.

Steel Cutlass then spun around and brought his blade down in a savage chop, shattering a large swath of the solid floor tiles into rubble:

"I'm not so damn pathetic yet—"

"—that I'd break a promise I made to a fool like him!"

Not a single thug dared to speak.

The scene fell into a silence utterly different from the atmosphere before.

"Well, well, well—"

A calm, measured voice suddenly rang out beside Steel Cutlass:

"You rob, kill, destroy, kidnap—you've done every evil under the sun—and yet you're still a man of your word."

Steel Cutlass's weathered face flushed red at the remark.

"What did you say—"

He started to fall back on his usual bluster to mask his inner weakness, but his voice cut off abruptly.

A greatsword pierced through his back, driving straight through his chest.

Blood gushed forth, flesh and bone mangled.

The broad cross-section of the greatsword left a wound that would bring even a sea bandit of Steel Cutlass's caliber—worth tens of millions—to the brink of death in an instant.

"Sorry about that,"

Garen said, gripping the hilt tightly, his tone flat as he added:

"I'm a man of my word too."