"Guild Leader" (5K)

Gerald had some doubts about this, after all, given the other man's habit of reading newspapers, he had always regarded this uncle as a figure from the last century.

Maria then clicked on the message. The text was very simple, consisting of only two lines. The first line was clearly addressed to Maria, and it read:

[Are you enjoying this humiliating time by not finishing off your opponent as quickly as possible? Since you don't want to go home, then don't come back until the end of the match.]

It's very much in line with what he would say, but given his personality, this kind of talk is more suitable for someone to say casually to Maria as she passes by after a long day at work, without any need to send it through a terminal.

What's noteworthy is the sentence that appears two lines later.

[As for the other one, I know you won't listen, but don't go too far.]

Be careful, spilled water cannot be gathered up again.

"Although Uncle has never liked Knight Competition," Maria said, looking at the information on the terminal, her tone tinged with a hint of emotion, "I've thought my actions might anger him again... but at least, it seems like Uncle can still understand me, right?"

"I understand."

Looking at the message, which was most likely addressed to him, Gerald was unusually silent for a moment. "Well, Maria, just do what you think is right, it'll be fine."

"I knew my brother would say that."

This is how Maria answered.

Upon hearing the other person's words, Gerald looked up at his sister whom he hadn't seen for many years. After observing her closely, he realized that she had indeed grown up a lot. Her face had changed from the childish one to the resolute yet somewhat mature one. When she was lying on him, he could feel the physique and muscles she had developed during this period of training.

A balanced and graceful physique represents the perfect combination of strength and agility; this level cannot be reached without hardship and specialized training.

Maria suddenly took another step forward, met Gerald's gaze, and gave him a bright smile, as if she had finally rediscovered the self-assuredness she once had when she used to act spoiled in front of her brother.

"Because you're back, I'm not afraid of anything anymore."

She looked directly into Gerald's eyes, her tone declaring an undeniable fact, "If I really did something wrong, my brother would stop me, right?"

"--Ah, that's right." Gerald nodded slightly, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

The atmosphere at that moment almost made one think that everything had returned to the way it was before—without the heaviness of family ties, the shadow of death, or the need to feign strength.

Just like yesterday.

"Mmm!" Maria clapped her hands happily, a slightly unsettling glint in her innocent face. "So, you're saying that even something as simple as helping me take a bath is the right thing to do, just like I do, right?"

It did not repeat itself yesterday.

Gerald didn't speak; he even seemed to pause breathing for a second.

"...?" Maria tilted her head, seemingly unaware of the problem. "Hey, isn't that right? After all, my brother bathed me when I was just a baby, didn't he?"

She spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she were asking "what should we have for dinner?", even with a hint of grievance in her tone. "And to prevent any rumors from spreading and to avoid any misunderstandings with Aunt, it's better if we don't bother her now, right? Aunt has a simple bathtub in her room, you know? Although it's not as big as the one in the manor."

"My brother said he wouldn't leave me today, right?"

Her smile grew increasingly chilling, "And I also want to hear what exactly happened to my brother these past two years!"

Tell me?

Not long after.

Zofia knew her way around and entered the secret passage behind the bookshelf, pushing a cart full of food and snacks.

She carefully pressed her ear against the hidden door of her room, and after realizing there was no sound coming from inside, she cautiously peeked out and scanned the room.

She had expected to see some kind of war relic-like scene, but instead was met with an unusually quiet landscape.

After taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, Maria sat on the sofa, nestled obediently in Gerald's arms, neither speaking nor moving, just quietly leaning against him.

This should have been a heartwarming scene, but Zofia had only taken two steps when she sensed something was wrong.

She wanted to get a closer look at Maria's expression, but instead she saw the child's tears streaming down her face, soaking most of the blanket on the floor, her eyes swollen, and yet she herself made no sound.

Seeing this, Zofia blinked and cautiously mouthed something to Gerald was walking on thin ice:

What's going on?

Gerald shifted slightly, then silently shook his head at her.

I can't answer that.

He can handle fake crying; this child is always easy to deal with when he wants to be affectionate.

But did he really cry?

He was completely helpless.

Chapter Twelve "Guild Leader" (5K)

The past two hours had been a nightmare for Gerald, worse than when he faced two powerful opponents simultaneously on Rhodes Island.

Amidst all the bad news, the only good news is that he no longer needs to explain what he experienced over the past two years.

After crying herself to sleep, Maria decided to find her way back to bed, leaving her clothes scattered everywhere in her drowsy state, much to the dismay of her two guardians.

Correspondingly, Zofia and Gerald finally had some time and space to discuss things.

He briefly explained what had just happened to Zofia, and unsurprisingly received an undisguised eye roll in return.

"That kid is really something, believing something like that. How can someone go from never having been in a relationship to having a child in just two years... Sigh, that's what it's like to be blinded by love. Maybe I can understand it."

"..."

What do you mean by 'everything I said is true'?

Sometimes it's a good thing to have someone with common sense like Zofia; at least she won't delve too deeply into these topics and won't be exposed to unknown forms of mental pollution.

After quickly glossing over this topic, the second thing Gerald said to Zofia was:

"Please lend me some money, Zofia."

2:44 AM, Central Kazimierz, Four-City Union, June 18, 1097 (Terra Calendar).

Beneath the wind-woven net of Incantation, Gerald's figure silently swept across the rooftops in the night.

The wind was silent, the moon was dim, only the scattered neon lights at my feet seemed to sway in the slumbering Kazimierz.

The night wind howled in his ears, but under the layers of Incantation, the howling sound was stripped of its frequency, leaving only a silent and oppressive echo.

The sword that Lamaline had given him was now floating beside him in the form of Incantation. He wasn't yet "proficient" in the Incantation, but he had long been accustomed to using it as part of his control—if he was only using the power of the Incantation itself for speed, breaking through barriers, stealth, and positioning, that was more than enough.

If it weren't for the lack of Banshee blood, his understanding of spells would probably already be at the level of Greater Banshee. After all, his family of N (N≥3) has produced two Banshee Queen. While this assessment might not be considered arrogant, it is at least somewhat fair.

Gerald glanced down at himself.

His chosen destination was one of the borders of the Four-City Union, an old-fashioned warehouse dock located on the edge of the Great Knight Territory that seemed unremarkable at first glance.

These types of plots are mostly on the fringes of commercial land, abandoned by the powerful and wealthy, and not valued by any Commercial Union. However, they have many advantages on the surface, such as convenient access and high secrecy. Consequently, they naturally attract the attention of some "vagrants" who want to use them as a place to live and stay.

Pegasus landed on the ground without making a sound. He put away the Incantation, wiped his finger on his sleeve, and the Incantation surrounding him instantly returned to the black ink imprinted on his chest.

The next issue to address, which is the real topic of discussion, is how to continue to hold the reins on Kazimierz.

As he said earlier, the collapse of the Armorless Union is a huge crack that will trigger a chain reaction of collapses, affecting the whole body from the slightest movement—and this "crack" should not be the Darksteel.

He didn't actually intend to simply kill that person; letting them fight amongst themselves was the best option. However, Darksteel wasn't involved in the matter, and he hadn't killed the two Lazurite who were in charge, which was another matter.

Furthermore, before his death, Darksteel actually handed over all the hiding places and information he possessed, only asking for a quick death.

What will the person who knows all this do?

The answer is simple.

Hunters who know their rifles are missing often pretend to be calm on the surface, but the more they try to cover it up, the more they reveal their true vulnerability.

Therefore, this is the best time to solve the problem.

After confirming the location of the trap, Gerald walked openly to the side door covered with old notices and rust, raised his hand, extended his finger, and knocked on the door.

A few seconds later, the latch was pulled open, and the rusty door frame scraped against the door with a sickening metallic screech. A hand wearing a black gauntlet pressed against the doorknob and then pushed it open.

Appearing behind the door was a Sarkaz man. He was relatively short, with dark skin, gray-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and two swords slung diagonally behind him. His expression was not fierce; in fact, he could be described as easygoing.

"Hmm, the scent of Pegasus." He seemed to sense something, sniffed the air, and then greeted him casually, "Good evening, friend. Are you here to see someone?"

Gerald nodded.

Sarkaz turned slightly to the side, making a welcoming gesture. "Hey, please come in. The doorway isn't the place to talk business."

Although the man did not recognize Gerald, he showed no surprise and did not attempt to inquire about his name or purpose—as if he already knew what kind of person would appear at this time, in this place, and knock on this door.

Bounty hunter Toland Cash's profession of living on the edge has given him an extremely keen sense of judgment. He can tell at a glance who is someone to mess with and who is not, without even having fought a single battle.

Gerald, on the other hand, is exactly the kind of person you "shouldn't mess with."

In the dimly lit warehouse, there was an old iron table and several folding chairs, along with a portable stove and a teapot. Toland naturally pulled out a chair for Gerald and then began preparing tea with practiced ease.

"Sorry, this place doesn't offer any fancy hospitality." He poured water into a kettle and put it on the stove, casually adding, "I don't like carbonated drinks; they're bad for my stomach."

"It's alright," Gerald replied calmly. "I didn't come here for a drink anyway."

"So, what brings you here so late at night?"

The tea had just begun to sizzle when Toland asked the question.

He showed neither stage fright nor unnecessary probing, as if the person sitting next to him was not someone who could influence the entire situation in Kazimierz, but just an ordinary client.

"Darksteel," Gerald replied, getting straight to the point.

Toland paused, looked down at the stove, and his gaze became almost imperceptibly heavy.

"The three of you acted together," Gerald continued, speaking slowly and deliberately, as if recounting an old story, "A Sarkaz with a broken horn, a regular Sarkaz ... and a Pegasus."

"--The Knight of Darkness Light, Młynar Nearl."

"... So you came to see me because of this noble knight who has long since vanished?" Toland's tone was emotionless, perhaps more confused than anything else. "Sorry, I might not be able to follow your logic. If you want to see him, you can go to that company about ten blocks away from here; he's working overtime there right now."

"No," Gerald denied calmly. "In the latest intelligence data from Darksteel, I found that you are investigating 'Zero District,' which involves a section of Meshko Industries —but that intelligence did not detail the distribution of the plots, nor did it indicate the location of the entrance."

"I need someone to show me the way."

Although he could get the answer by simply asking the company's executives, the person in front of him could do the same. In comparison, he preferred to drag Młynar's former friend into the vortex.

Toland turned around, leaned against the table behind him, and said thoughtfully, "Where is he? I mean, Darksteel."

"Dead."

"How did he die?"

"He was no stronger than me, so he sought a quick death from me, and I pierced his heart." Gerald nodded. "He died without pain."

"... I see, so you were behind the Rose News operation too."

Upon hearing this, Toland became even more convinced of his own thoughts, and the smile on his face gradually turned into loneliness, "Let me think... Ah, now I know who you are. About a few years ago, a friend of mine, Silverlance Pegasi, told me that an unprecedented genius had emerged in the army, but unfortunately, compared to Silverlance Pegasi, he was more suited to be a wandering knight."

"Now I see." He tapped his finger on the table. "You and Młynar are like two ends of a magnet, you know that, Mr. Gerald."

"One doesn't hesitate to observe, while the other is sitting right in front of me, wanting to change the things you disapprove of, without even the slightest hesitation."

"I didn't come here to hear you say that, Mr. Toland." Gerald shook his head. "The reason I brought up Młynar in this conversation was simply to confirm your attitude and thoughts. Now I'm quite certain that your views on Kazimierz do not align with his."

Although all three tried to change Kazimierz in their own ways, they were ultimately met with a near-cruel end.

The founder of the Armorless Union, a knight-slayer, aimed his arrows at corrupt knightly nobles; the Lightless Pegasus executed traitors, thwarted conspiracies outside Kazimierz, and instilled fear in the army of Leithanien; and this ordinary Sarkaz before us is no different.

As a result, one became a front man for the Commercial Union, one became an insignificant speck of dust in the city, and the remaining one became an ordinary bounty hunter. They went their separate ways and almost never saw each other again.

Judging from Darksteel's diary and the changes in his inner journey, he seemed to have foreseen the fate of the three of them and had already prepared a meticulous plan for his own death.

"Why are you investigating Zero District?" Toland suddenly asked. "Is it to predict the Commercial Union's next move and take control of the plot's leader in advance?"

"I think this is a reasonable deduction," Gerald nodded slightly.

"Before we go on, I want to ask you a question." Toland's questions continued, "How are you going to solve the problem of those Infected Knights?"

"Even if we go to Zero District, the presence of the infected remains a thorn in Kazimierz. This is obvious without needing to investigate," he continued. "Those people are one of the city's deepest-rooted contradictions; once they are no longer of use, they become a burden, something to be eliminated."

"If you want to reform this society by starting with the nobles and the Commercial Union, then you will inevitably have to choose between several options: expulsion, massacre, and placement of the infected. Especially when these two classes will inevitably use the infected as a shield for mitigation."

"... So, tell me."

As Toland spoke of this, a hint of almost suppressed numbness appeared in his eyes. It wasn't compassion, but rather the faint pain of wounds that had been torn apart and stitched up again and again over the long years.

Because among that group of people "destined to be purged," there were not only infected individuals seen as outcasts, but also many of his Sarkaz kin.

He put down his teacup, his voice solemn: