Kazimierz, Martin's Tavern
"Alright, Margaret, stop moving! The competition is about to start!"
Martin, the bald boss, stopped wiping the wine glasses and pointed to the old television set on the wall.
"It's alright, Uncle Martin, I can watch and do it at the same time."
The Kuranta girl, known as Margaret, moved nimbly and steadily, stacking the goods neatly; her golden hair remained striking even in the dim light.
"Sigh... why are you so stubborn?"
Martin shook his head helplessly, his gaze shifting to another, even younger Kuranta girl beside him.
"And you, little Maria! Don't be like your sister!"
"Hehe, I just want to finish the work quickly..."
Maria awkwardly put down the suitcase and scratched her head sheepishly.
Margaret walked over, easily took the box, and said gently:
"You go watch the match first, Maria. Things will be ready soon here; the match won't be over so quickly."
"But sister..."
"Alright, alright!"
Martin simply came out from behind the bar and snatched the remaining boxes from the sisters.
"I told you to rest, so you can rest! Those two bottles of vintage wine that little Maria broke weren't worth much anyway; I was just teasing her! You don't need to work to atone for your sins!"
"This has nothing to do with the value of the wine." Margaret's expression was serious, her eyes clear and firm.
"Since a mistake has been made, no matter how small, one should try one's best to make amends."
Martin covered his forehead and let out a long sigh:
"I shouldn't have said that! And I definitely shouldn't have agreed to your help!"
Upon seeing this, several regulars in the tavern let out good-natured laughter.
"Hahaha, who told you to tease little Maria by saying she broke the store's prized possession? Now you've got what you deserve!"
"That's right, Margaret has always been like this since she was little. Once she's made up her mind, not even ten beasts could pull her back!"
"Margaret is becoming more and more like a knight, that aura... hic, have you ever thought about trying your hand at a knightly tournament?"
The tavern fell silent instantly, and all eyes turned to the customer who had spoken.
Martin's expression changed, and he began to hurl insults at the guest:
"[Kazimierz curse!] What the hell are you spouting?! What are you up to?!"
The guest realized his mistake and quickly waved his hand.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I spoke too quickly. I'll punish myself with a drink, I'll punish myself with a drink!"
However, to everyone's surprise, Margaret did not show any signs of being offended or angry.
She paused for a moment, then said in a calm tone:
"As for knightly competitions... perhaps we'll consider giving it a try next year."
"What?!"
"Margaret?!"
"Elder sister?!"
A gasp of surprise erupted in the tavern. Martin was so anxious he almost jumped up.
"Margaret! Don't listen to their nonsense! I used to be a gladiator knight! I know better than anyone what a quagmire that is!"
"Glory and dreams? What a load of rubbish! That place has long been corrupted by the greed of the Business Federation! It's not a place for true knights!"
He took a breath and tried to dissuade him with more practical issues:
"Besides, Zofia, and your uncle, do you think they'll agree? Given the current situation of the Nearl Family..."
When her family was mentioned, Margaret's bright eyes dimmed for a moment, and she sighed softly:
"My aunt and uncle... probably won't agree."
"Then why..."
"But I still want to try." Margaret raised her head, her eyes regaining their resolve.
"It's not about restoring Nearl's glory—that name is now perhaps synonymous with 'the past' for many people."
"I just think... if one day I can stand on the podium and become the champion of the tournament."
"Would that give us a voice? Would that allow some people to see the places the spotlight doesn't reach? To see those struggling, crawling, and barely surviving in the shadows?"
Margaret clenched her fists slightly as she recalled the people she and her sister had seen on Sector Zero.
"At the very least... a knight's lance and shield shouldn't be wielded merely for show and money."
The tavern was silent. The regulars looked at each other in bewilderment. Martin looked at the burning light of idealism in the girl's eyes, and all the words of dissuasion stuck in his throat.
"Sister can definitely do it!"
Breaking the somber mood was Maria's energetic shout as she ran to Margaret, grasped her sister's hand tightly, and looked at her with eyes full of adoration.
Martin looked at the two sisters, shook his head, and sighed softly:
"That's true... after all, you are 'Nearl'."
Just as everyone was reminiscing about someone in Margaret's image, the atmosphere in the tavern was broken by a gasp.
"Hey! Look, something seems to be wrong with the game!" Everyone turned their attention to the television.
"This match was dominated by that scumbag Rust Copper? Tsk... poor unlucky guy on the other side."
On the screen, commentator Big Mouth Mob's voice was as exaggerated as ever, but the entrance gate where the Rusty Knight should have been facing off was empty.
"The opposing knights ran away?" Martin frowned. "This is the first time."
"Ha! Even the Business Federation makes mistakes? There's going to be a long line for refunds now!"
"Wait! Someone's coming out!"
Why am I here?
Under the spotlight, Gregor looked around, the deafening noise making him question his own soul.
As he looked at his reflection on the big screen, his last shred of hope that "this is a special private room" was shattered.
"Black Iron Knight! The match is about to begin, please come to the stage immediately!"
The referee's shout came, and Gregor became even more confused.
Is this someone calling me?
Turning around, in the passageway, the staff member who brought him there was kneeling on the ground, kowtowing frantically.
After a second of silence, Gregor understood his situation.
Am I now a temporary worker?
Gregor felt a sense of absurdity, while the audience's discontent was growing stronger.
"What's going on! Why aren't you on stage yet?"
"I don't care if he's Black Iron Knight or not, I want to see rivers of blood!"
"What exactly is this Commercial Union doing? If they don't start soon, I'm getting a refund!"
The discontent grew louder and louder. Gregor shook his head, turned around, and walked back.
[Never mind, it's none of my business.]
Gregor's move was like a spark thrown into a hot oil pan, instantly igniting the entire arena.
Boos, curses, and litter rained down on the entrance to the passageway.
"Trying to run away! Does someone like that even deserve to be a knight!?"
"Damn it, what about my bets? Get back here!"
"You've disappointed me so much! I even put a lot of pressure on you!"
The staff tried to stop him, but Gregor gently pushed them away.
"Hey! You coward, are you trying to run away?!"
The voice of the Rusty Knight resounded throughout the arena via broadcast, silencing the din.
Gregor didn't stop, he continued forward.
"I heard you're a mercenary? And look at those horns on your head..." Rust Copper's voice held a malicious, surprised tone.
"You're not a Sarkaz, are you?"
"Sarkaz?!"
An uproar erupted in the audience and in front of countless television sets, with a cacophony of voices buzzing with surprise, fear, and disgust.
"Why are there Sarkaz in the arena?!"
"Damn it, what does the Business Federation think of our safety? Why are there Infected here!?"
"Wait a minute? Since he's on the field, maybe he's not Infected."
"Have you ever seen Sarkaz who isn't Infected?"
"Well..."
Gregor ignored her. In the upper VIP box, Ifrit was furious, slamming her fist on the glass and yelling at those below.
Silence's face turned pale, Saria pushed open the door and left.
The mockery of Rust Copper continues:
"I knew it! No wonder you're so surprised, Sarkaz. You stray dogs should be grateful for scraps; the Glorious Knights' Tournament isn't for you!"
"That's so unfair..."
Inside the tavern, Maria clutched the hem of her dress tightly.
The guests shook their heads and sighed:
"Just bear with it. Getting yelled at is better than getting beaten up."
Margaret clenched her fist, staring at the Rust Copper on the screen, and whispered:
"This kind of person doesn't deserve to be called a knight."
Damn it, this bastard isn't reacting at all?!
On the arena, the Rusty Knight gritted his teeth inwardly.
This is a comeback match he fought so hard for; if he messes it up this time, who knows how long he'll have to wait for the next one.
He tried to utter some harsh words, but... Greg remained silent and walked away.
As Gregor was about to walk into the tunnel, many spectators got up and left, Big Mouth Mob ashen-faced.
Rust Copper, consumed by rage, spat and roared out with vicious contempt:
"Get out of here, you homeless stray dog! Go back to your wasteland, don't get in my way!"
Click--
Gregor stopped in his tracks.
[A stray dog without a home...]
Seeing Gregor stop, the audience members who were about to leave sat back down.
The Rusty Knight was taken aback at first, then grinned, his malicious voice amplified again through the broadcast:
"What's wrong? Is the stray dog angry and trying to bite someone?"
Gregor slowly turned around.
There was no running, no roaring, just strides, step by step, toward the arena.
The audience erupted in enthusiastic cheers, as if the insults from moments before had never existed.
"It's starting! It's finally starting!"
"Rusty Knight! Take him down! Let this arrogant fool learn his lesson!"
"Go Black Iron Knight! I bet you won't fall down for ten seconds!"
"Wait a minute! Don't you guys think this guy looks familiar? I feel like I've seen him in the Wine Report before..."
"This is bad," Martin sighed, shaking his head in the tavern.
"The Black Iron Knight is completely blinded by rage. That bastard Rust Copper is ruthless... the young man is likely in serious trouble."
The tavern was filled with agreement and sighs, as if they could already see Gregor's crushing defeat.
"No."
A voice interrupted the discussion, and everyone looked at Margaret.
The girl's golden eyes were fixed on the screen, her expression more solemn than ever before.
"He wasn't blinded by anger..."
Margaret's voice was deep and certain.
"The Black Iron Knight... went up with a clear killing intent."
Laugh--
Laugh--
Each step on the specially made alloy floor leaves a slightly melted footprint.
The intense heat caused the air around Gregor to distort violently, making his figure appear like a swaying, demonic reflection.
The referee at the edge of the arena was tugging at his collar, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Strange... why is it suddenly so hot?"
The Rusty Knight's mockery gradually faded, and as Gregor approached, a tangible heat wave swept over him.
"Playing tricks..."
Rust Copper cursed under his breath, his eyes beginning to dart around.
"Referee! Can we begin?!"
Gregor finally stepped onto the arena, without roaring or taunting, simply standing quietly.
The referee suddenly felt a chill and retreated towards the bottom of the stage.
"The competition begins!"
As soon as the referee finished speaking, Gregor took a step forward, pressing down on the Rust Copper.
"Oh? Instead of running away, you're walking towards me?"
The Rust Copper- clad axe charged forward, his steps seemingly casual, but actually gathering power.
As he walked, he adopted a gentler tone:
"Oh dear... what an arrogant newbie. As your senior, I'll let you have your way." The distance between them shortened.
"How about this, we'll stop when there are three steps left, and I'll give you three moves."
Gregor walked on in silence, seemingly oblivious, a sinister glint in his Rust Copper eyes:
Since you're not saying anything, I'll take that as a yes.
He planted the axe blade beside him and assumed a fighting stance, empty-handed.
Five steps.
"To be honest, I don't even know your name."
The Rust Copper seemed to be chatting casually, while its other hand quietly slipped behind its back.
Four steps.
"If you don't know the name..."
His hand, which had been scratching back, gripped the handle of another battle axe.
"There's nothing we can do—we can't erect a monument for you!!!"
Three steps.
With a fully charged attack, Rust Copper sprang up like a viper, his axe slashing diagonally toward Gregor's shoulder and neck!
Rust Copper felt displeased.
Having already received a warning for crippling my opponent before, I'll have to be more restrained this time and just cripple half of their body.
The axe blade pierced the armor, and as Rust Copper had predicted, the tattered armor offered no resistance to his advanced equipment.
The next moment, a feeling of blockage came.
The Rust Copper eyes widened suddenly; this texture... wasn't steel!?
He decisively abandoned the axe, used the momentum to retreat rapidly, and at the same time pulled out another axe that had been stuck in the ground.
Ignoring the axe embedded in his shoulder, Gregor continued to approach without stopping.
"Despicable!" Rust Copper exclaimed in shock and fury, "There's another layer of armor underneath the first?!"
He held back, took a firm step, and swung his second axe across Gregor's waist.
Laugh--!
The axe blade jammed again, and at the same time, a burning pain traveled up the axe handle.
Rust Copper released his grip in shock, only to find that the two steel axes had turned a deep red-hot, almost melting.
"Damn monster!!!"
He finally became frightened and retreated repeatedly.
An uproar erupted in the audience; at that moment, anyone could see the Rusty Knight's disadvantage.
The previously puzzled audience members shouted out in surprise.
"I remember who he is! He's the mysterious man who's keeping the Black Knight!"
"Wait a minute? Who are you saying you're keeping as a sugar daddy?"
Below,
Gregor continued to close in, the pressure of his silence more suffocating than any roar.
They retreated to the edge of the arena, with nowhere left to go.
Rust Copper feigned a stumble, intending to lure Gregor into an attack, then use the momentum to throw him off the stage.
But Gregor only approached.
Rust Copper gritted his teeth, lunged forward, grabbed Gregor's arms, and unleashed a burst of strength—
Not moving at all...
Click, click.
Gregor's right arm bent backward to withstand the pressure, his Rust Copper pupils shrank to pinpoints, and he opened his mouth as if to roar:
"Wait! I'll vote..."
Boom--!!!!
Before he could finish speaking, flames erupted from behind Gregor's elbow, the explosive roar swallowing his voice.
Rust Copper only had time to hastily hold up the tattered arm armor in front of him.
Click--!!!
A piercing cracking sound rang out.
Arm armor, hand bones, and something even more vulnerable beneath the visor.
A visible white shockwave exploded from the point of impact, and under the gaze of countless stunned eyes, the Rusty Knight crashed into the protective wall below the stands like a cannonball.
Boom--!!!
Gravel and dust filled the air.
Gregor slowly withdrew his arm and turned to walk back the way he came.
The referee seemed to wake from a dream, but dared not approach the area where the Rust Copper was located.
No, there's no need to check anymore...
"Victory, the victor--"
"Black Iron Knight --!!!"