The Principle of the Path of Transcendence

The layout of the White Shoes Club today is slightly different from usual.

All the tables on the first floor had been pushed into a corner, and the front desk where Arun and the bartender had been sitting was now empty. The chairs were arranged in three groups, neatly placed in front of the stage and on both sides.

Several groups of reporters huddled together in the gaps between San San three sets of chairs, whispering amongst themselves, while a few flashlights stood nearby. The largest camera was nearly as tall as a person, standing on the ground like a giant accordion; there were also smaller cameras that could be held in the hand and mounted on tripods.

There weren't many guests seated. In the very center, at the very front row, sat a fully armed Silver Armor Knight, helmet and all. He was alone; all the chairs around him were empty. Even so, he sat perfectly upright, motionless.

The knight occupied two seats by himself. On the seat to his right, a silver-white Two-Handed Sword lay askew. Its hilt was very long, more than a third of its length, and the blade was long and narrow, but quite thick. The blade was not a flat line, but rather a thin hexagon—more like a sharpened lance than a "sword."

This weapon emphasizes thrusting over slashing. It is clearly unsuitable for use in cities... It is one of the most commonly used weapons by Sky Knight who fight on griffins.

It was sheathed in a heavy, hard leather scabbard, its surface plated with a silvery-gray sheath and inlaid with numerous tiny diamonds spelling out the word "Honor" in cursive script. It gleamed under the light.

This is the "Sword of Honor," temporarily awarded only to retired Sky Knight who participated in wars and achieved at least three major victories. The word "Honor" on it was personally designed and written by Queen Sophia, and the diamond fragments were meticulously embedded into it by royal artisans.

This sword, personally bestowed by the Queen, possesses immense authoritative power. If its descendants do not become Sky Knight, it will be reclaimed after seventy years; if a descendant wishes to join the army, he can directly carry this sword into the Avalon Royal Air Force Academy —meaning an honor passed down through generations.

Although his face wasn't visible from behind, the sword clearly identified him as the Silver Armor Knight. He was none other than Director Gordon had just been transferred.

At Iver's signal, Lily slowly pushed Iver's wheelchair over.

Iver simply watched Gordon from a distance— Gordon noticed his gaze and turned around before he even got close.

Noticing that the gaze was directed at Iver, the Old Knight slowly nodded. It seemed to be a gesture of friendliness, or perhaps an expression of approval.

But then he noticed Princess Isabel beside Iver. The Old Knight immediately stood up, removed his helmet, and knelt down with a clang.

"The Silver Crowned Dragon above greets you, Your Highness."

Gordon's aged and deep voice rang out, unusually clear even in the noisy club.

Those who hadn't noticed Iver immediately due to the crowds and noise were also drawn to Gordon's voice.

Upon realizing that Iver had arrived, the reporters instinctively wanted to take pictures.

But before they could even set up their cameras, they noticed Princess Isabel, who was following closely behind Iver, and were immediately startled.

Taking photos of Iver without permission is nothing, even though he was an adopted son of the Moriarty Family, he ultimately did not inherit the family's armor.

In Avalon, armor itself is a symbol of authority—those who wear armor are respected, but even a knight who can enter the Round Table Hall is considered an ordinary person if he goes out without armor. He can be photographed or drawn, his body can be touched, and he is not required to bow or greet others or give way to anyone he meets.

But Isabel's situation is different.

Although Isabel, who abandoned the sacred traditions of Avalon and embarked on the Path of Beauty, was not as well-regarded as her brothers, she was still a true princess.

If they were to secretly photograph Isabel, it probably wouldn't be until tomorrow... Tonight, someone in a black suit and White Gloves would be knocking on the door.

Those present either knelt and placed their hands on their chests in a knightly salute, or bowed deeply to Isabel. The greetings, though not uniform and varied, rang out one after another.

In the past, Isabel would have been so nervous that her brain would have shut down.

But now she could only muster her courage and take a light breath.

He gave the crowd a gentle smile that mimicked Iver's, and waved reservedly to those around him. "Good afternoon, everyone, please rise. May the Silver Crowned Dragon bless you."

"You may take photos once the ceremony begins."

Isabel's clear and melodious voice rang out, and the people stopped bowing.

A strange thought popped into their minds.

It seems... this Princess, who rarely goes out, isn't as shy and inarticulate as rumored? Isn't she quite proper?

At that moment, Aiden, who was close behind Iver, ran over under everyone's gaze, straightened his back and head held high, and took away the chair to the left of the Old Knight Gordon.

Lily pushed Iver's wheelchair, gracefully reversing to a stop in an empty space. Isabel then sat to Iver's left. This deterred anyone who had initially wanted to sit down and make an impression.

As a result, the middle row of seats, from Isabel to the left, was completely empty.

So Iver took the initiative to arrange for his classmates to sit there. Even so, the seat to Isabel's left was still empty; Angela was next.

As Iver took his seat, the people who had been quietly chatting in various corners of the club found their seats and sat down. One seat away from Gordon, to his right, sat a middle-aged man in a white suit with neat short blond hair.

Wearing a white suit means he graduated from the First Faculty and works in the legal field. He's either a judge in casual clothes or a lawyer.

He extended his hand to shake Gordon's, exchanged a few quiet words, and then sat down.

From his right, the area became much more mixed, with people dressed in all sorts of clothes. Edward Iver's older brother, sat in the group on the left, nodding to Iver from afar without specifically coming over to greet Iver.

Gordon placed his helmet on the chair next to the sword.

He turned his head somewhat hesitantly and greeted him softly, "Mr. Iver."

"Chief Gordon."

Iver nodded at him and chuckled softly, "Or should I now address you as Gordon Superintendent?"

"Either is fine. It's just a job."

The Old Knight was clearly unimpressed by his promotion. "Inspectors have their own duties, and so do supervisors. We're both here to protect Avalon, just with slightly different job responsibilities."

"I have a question, Mr. Iver. I hope you can answer it for me. What is the relationship between Princess Isabel and you...?"

"Ah, a friend."

Iver replied with a smile.

After he finished speaking, he turned and exchanged a glance with Isabel.

Isabel, having also heard the topic, leaned over and emphasized, "We are very good friends, Mr. Gordon."

Iver gently patted her arm, gesturing for Isabel to sit back down.

For some reason, Isabel seemed to be in a very good mood. Not only was she bolder than usual, but she even looked somewhat excited—if there weren't so many people around, she might have started humming a song.

"Yes, Your Highness, I understand."

The old man with dark blue eyes answered without hesitation.

He looked at Isabel, who had placed her hand on Iver's wheelchair, her resolute yet weathered face filled with unspoken words.

But in the end, he remained silent and swallowed his words, lowering his head and pretending he hadn't seen anything.

The club, which had been lively and even noisy, quickly quieted down after Iver —or rather, Princess Isabel— appeared. In less than ten minutes, everyone was seated.

Soon, apart from the reporters and photographers still standing, and the inspectors and supervisors standing in the corner, there was no one left standing in the lobby. The doors closed tightly, and blue and white runes appeared on the walls.

Gordon was the only one wearing armor present; there were hardly any people even wearing black suits. About one-fifth of the people present were wearing white suits, and the rest were wearing suits of other colors or simply other clothes.

Most of them were officials—besides political appointees and civil servants, there were also academics, pastors, professors, and executives from large corporations. Iver also saw his mentor, Professor Bard.

The second floor, on the other hand, was filled with even more people.

They are spectators and do not require special invitation; all they need to do is be an adult and wear a decent suit.

Earlier, Aiden had found his father on the second floor of the club, excitedly waving and pointing him out to Iver. The man was a seemingly mild-mannered, pot-bellied, pale, and chubby businessman with small eyes. Startled, the middle-aged man quickly waved his hand and mouthed to him to be quiet.

At that moment, Iver suddenly had a thought.

Because just now, Shadow Fiend woke up.

My master...

A hoarse and vicious voice echoed from the depths of Iver's heart.

I sense it; that little thief who stole the power of shadow is nearby—

... That assassin?

Iver narrowed his eyes slightly.

—You actually dared to come? This assassin, "Hawkeye," is quite bold.

This time was completely different from Monday—there were just as many high-level superhumans present. And having learned from the previous experience, they specifically had the Law Mage present seal the doors when they closed.

Or was she just here to spy on him? Iver touched the heavy key hanging at his waist, his mood calm.

This time, Iver wasn't afraid of her at all.

Rather, he was even somewhat impatient—

... If you don't help, then what's the point of me bringing this key?

"My master... may I intervene this time? I mean, if your life is in danger..."

Shadow Fiend's voice became anxious and manic.

"Tell me first, where is she?"

Iver asked himself the same question.

So Shadow Fiend marked her target—

It shared a portion of its power with Iver. Even a level one Shadow Affinity could accommodate a tiny bit of the Shadow Fiend's traits.

Thus, Iver gained a brief "Shadow Vision" ability: Iver's pupils darkened slightly, as if covered by a thin, transparent black veil.

In his vision, the entire space dimmed. The originally black shadows turned into a transparent gray, and the people hidden in the shadows became even darker.

Iver could see clearly that the female assassin was hiding directly beneath the largest camera in the lobby on the first floor, which was like a handcart, quietly concealed in the shadows.

"No need."

Iver calmly withdrew his gaze, then replied in his mind, "I won't need you this time, Shadow Fiend. Just watch how I do things."

"... Alright, Master."

The Shadow Demon's voice gradually became calm and cold. This, however, made her hoarse and mature female voice clearer, sounding more like a human voice.

Then I will remain silent and lie low... let's wait and see.

Its implication was that if Iver realized it couldn't win and then called on it, it might not obey.

Although it coveted the sacred flesh and blood offered willingly, demons are ultimately arrogant.

Since it has already said that it doesn't need its help, it won't rush to offer assistance.

"Certainly."

Iver smiled and said, "I won't let you down."

He knew that if he could handle the situation now—for example, defeat an enemy stronger than himself, or even just survive—the Shadow Demon would respect him even more. The fact that he could solve the problem without relying on the Shadow Demon's power demonstrated his mental strength and exceptional talent.

That was a genuine recognition from the demons, unlike the almost irresistible bewitching power brought about by the "Shepherding Method."

Just as Iver was willing to challenge the Villainous Warlock Veronica despite his weakness.

Through careful and meticulous planning and intrigue, one ultimately confronts the strong with the weak and achieves a perfect victory or bites into their flesh... This is the core principle of the Path of Transcendence.

This requires him to have sufficient "talent" and "courage".

—The principle of Path of Transcendence is rebellion and victory.