This time, it wasn’t like the clash with the Black Knight. The K.G.C.C. and the Armorless Union showed remarkable patience. Three days after Margaret Nearl claimed victory in the 22nd Kazimierz Major, every newspaper headline turned its spotlight on her, digging into her past.

The Kazimierz Knight Order granted her the official title that came with the championship: Radiant Knight.

From now on, Margaret Nearl would stand on the stage of Kazimierz as the Radiant Knight.

“An in-depth look into the secrets of House Nearl and the history of Kazimierz’s knightly families…”

Felix put the paper aside. Whether it was the respectable Knightly Daily or the gossip-laden Wine Journal, every page was filled with Margaret. She had just won the championship—of course they’d milk her name for every ounce of attention.

He glanced over at Młynar, who was also reading.

“What’s the old man doing today? Still resting?”

“Margaret returned home yesterday. Father is speaking with her now.”

Młynar folded his newspaper, stuffed the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, and grabbed his briefcase. Another day of the corporate grind was about to begin… though, come to think of it, wasn’t today Saturday? So he even worked weekends?

“You ever think about quitting?”

Młynar paused mid-stride. He turned back toward Felix, narrowing his eyes. “What, are you trying to recruit me?”

“I don’t care for companies that run on slogans without a future. And you—you’re just as reckless as your ideals.”

Felix’s dream had been laid bare before: coexistence between the Infected and the uninfected. In the game world, among players, that was reality. But here, in Terra, it was still a mountain to climb.

He knew that Tomorrow’s Development—his fledgling company—couldn’t yet draw someone like Młynar, a man of principle who carried his own conviction. Felix was still chasing after the standard set by Rhodes Island… except Rhodes Island had a head start. They had Babel as their foundation. Their core veterans never left. Expanding was simple when your base was already so solid. And above it all, there was Lady Kal’tsit…

Her skill as a physician was unparalleled, Rhodes Island’s Medical Department wasn’t for show. They had a culture of research, and the medics themselves were formidable. A small department, but filled with hidden dragons.

Felix, on the other hand, wasn’t a doctor. He had no medical training, no connections in the field. To match Rhodes Island’s pace, he would need to recruit talent from the outside. If that failed… maybe he could lower his pride and ask the Emperor. As a long-lived one, surely he knew a few good doctors.

Młynar left for work, and Felix remained in the sitting room, waiting.

Just beyond the wall—

Kirill Nearl was fading. His body was failing faster each day, held together only by sheer will. The hidden wounds, the lingering injuries… his strength was nearly gone. That he could still sit upright rather than lie bedridden was proof of the iron will that had carried him all these years.

“…Grandfather.”

“…Margaret.”

His voice was hoarse and heavy with fatigue. Yet his eyes, fixed on his granddaughter, were warm, proud—and touched with sorrow.

“A month at most. Five days at the shortest. You’ll have to leave Kazimierz… just as the Black Knight did four years ago. You may never return.”

“Grandfather, you mean the K.G.C.C.… and the Armorless Union?”

Margaret frowned. She knew well who they were, but what could she do?

The glory of House Nearl was long gone. When Kirill passed from this world, would the family be condemned to endless obscurity?

“As a knight of House Nearl, it is natural for you to walk beyond this land, to see the world with your own eyes.”

His words were broken by pauses, yet he pressed on. “But I worry for you. Alone, facing dangers you cannot anticipate… who will keep you safe?”

“…Grandfather.”

Kirill exhaled a long sigh. “What do you think of Felix?”

Margaret propped her chin with one hand, thoughtful, then answered: “He is reliable. Mysterious in many ways, with a charisma of his own… and the founder of Tomorrow’s Development.”

“This Major, all the turmoil—it is likely the Pioneer’s hand shaped much of it.”

She had felt the same. Forget the Sargon contract killers—who had ever heard of them operating in Kazimierz before? And those adventurers who arrived in such numbers? The border might have been opened to them, yes, but Kawalerielki lay deep in the heart of Kazimierz. Even rushing, they should never have arrived so swiftly.

Uncle spoke with uncertainty, and even Margaret herself could only respond with suspicion.

“Heh.”

Kirill chuckled faintly, but gave no answer.

“What do you think of Tomorrow’s Development?”

Naturally, Felix had spoken of his company in front of the old master before. He hadn’t exaggerated, but neither had he held back. He laid out its goals and ideals clearly, yet he also spoke of the shadows along the path—how the journey toward that ideal would be riddled with obstacles no one could avoid.

Margaret, too, had heard Felix describe Tomorrow’s Development. She was intrigued by the structure of such a company, but what resonated with her most was his goal.

To rescue the Infected. To offer them a hand, but also to hope they would one day stand on their own, and to fight beside them as equals.

There was a knight’s purity in that.

Pity for the weak, but respect for them as well.

“Grandfather… what are you saying?”

“To walk this land, one must bear a name, a banner. If you believe the future of Tomorrow’s Development is the future you seek… cough, cough—”

Before he could finish, Kirill was seized by a violent cough. Margaret panicked, rushing forward to steady him, gently patting his back until his breathing eased.

“…I want to meet Felix,” he rasped at last.

“I understand.”

Her voice carried a quiet sorrow only she could feel. She looked back at him one more time, then opened the door.

Felix had two reasons for coming to the Nearl household.

The first: his training was not yet done. Day after day, he practiced under Kirill’s guidance, learning Lance and swordsmanship, growing more and more proficient. He had formally apprenticed under Kirill, hoping to inherit his rare gift—but perhaps he had been a disciple too briefly, or perhaps his luck had simply not triggered that fateful moment of inheritance.

The second: to build ties with the Nearl family. By forging a bond with Kirill and Młynar, he would gain a foothold in the Grand Knight Territory. When the day came for him to return to Kazimierz, he would already have an intelligence network of his own… and besides, the Kazimierz Major was drawing near.

Margaret herself would one day wander the land, then join a group known as the Followers. Years later, she would encounter Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals and become one of their own.

For now, Tomorrow’s Development was not yet as mighty as Rhodes Island—but it was legitimate, visible, and a future people could believe in.

When Felix opened the door, he found Kirill looking tired.

“…Master.”

“Sit.”

Felix lowered himself into the seat before him. Without waiting for Kirill to speak, he continued on his own:

“Tomorrow’s Development’s headquarters is currently in Lungmen, but it won’t remain tied to one city forever…”

“You already know what I want to say?”

“You’re worried for Margaret’s future. Such care for your granddaughter is something I can only respect.”

Their eyes met, and Kirill’s lips curved into the faintest smile.

“Leaving Margaret in your hands… I’m at peace with that. To have taken on such a strange disciple in my twilight years—truly, what a curious twist of fate.”

“As for the K.G.C.C, we still don’t know what cards they hold. But I’ve already steeled myself for Margaret to leave Kazimierz.”

Kirill’s tone hardened. “It is the choice she has made. And a person must bear the cost of their choices. Her cost will be the same as the Black Knight’s, four years ago: exile from Kazimierz.”

Felix nodded silently.

When Margaret came back in with a tray of tea, she found her grandfather and Felix gone. Not far away, the training yard rang once more with Kirill’s booming, vigorous commands—his voice carrying a strength that belied the frailty of just moments ago.

The art of Originium Arts cannot be replicated—but spirit can. When spirit and the inner “breath” of a warrior are fused together, one may reach the pinnacle of martial mastery, the so-called unity of body and spirit.

Felix had indeed gained much from training. His grasp of Lance and Sword grew sharper, his reflexes keener. And once he donned his mechanical armor, with its enhancements layered atop his growing skill, his mobility and destructive power on the battlefield would be nothing short of staggering.

Kirill trained with him for a while before retiring to rest; his age no longer allowed for long sessions of guidance. Left alone, Felix continued practicing on his own. For over an hour he drilled the same movements again and again, until at last he slowed, sweat soaking his body.

A chilled bottle of water appeared before him.

“Thank you, Margaret.”

“Brother Felix, you train so hard,” Margaret said softly, a gentle smile on her lips. She had been seated in the gallery, quietly watching. At first, her thoughts had been restless, but as she observed the smooth, flowing rhythm of his movements, her mind grew strangely calm—almost entranced.

To put it nicely, she had entered a kind of meditative state. To put it bluntly… she had zoned out.

If Felix knew what was going through her mind, he’d probably blurt out: So I’m basically Shirou now? After all, both Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou once admitted to enjoying watching Shirou’s lonely high-jump practice. And now, looking at Margaret… was she his Rin?

He shook the thought away with a faint smile, taking the bottle from her. “It’s time to start packing. You don’t have much left before departure. The K.G.C.C. has already begun to move.”

“Brother Felix… could you explain more?”

Returning the practice sword to its rack, he answered not as the founder of Tomorrow’s Development, but as Kirill’s disciple and Margaret’s friend. “Even if I told you, there’s nothing you could do.”

“You remember those knightly orders, don’t you? After your victory, some of the old noble houses couldn’t resist stepping onto the stage again. But they don’t have the power of the Nearl family, nor any real voice in the new Kazimierz. What awaits them is thunderous suppression.”

“…I want to help them,” Margaret whispered.

“What could you possibly do, Margaret?” His voice was calm, almost tender.

“You’re just one person. And every action carries a price. By entering the jousts, you stopped being just yourself—you became the face of Kazimierz’s old knightly class. With your victory, the K.G.C.C. cannot strike you openly. But those old knights, newly emboldened, will be easy prey.”

Margaret lowered her head. At sixteen, the weight of such responsibility pressed on her like an iron burden.

“I will return. One day, in the future… I will return.”

Felix stepped closer and gently patted her head, like an older brother offering quiet reassurance. Warmth spread through her chest, drawing her gaze back up to him.

“For now, the best course is to remain still. Leave the next steps to me.”

As he walked away, Margaret raised her hand to her hair where he had touched it. Soon enough, she would be walking beside him.

Outside the Nearl estate, two knights in black-and-white tournament garb spotted Felix and strode up at once.

“Boss.”

He glanced at them—Verdant Knight and Foam Knight. After the 22nd Kazimierz Major, both had promptly deregistered from the official association and held farewell events for their fans. Foam Knight’s gathering had been modest, but Verdant Knight’s was another matter entirely. The farewell dragged from morning until deep into the night, wave after wave of sobbing fans refusing to leave. Even he had been moved by their devotion.

This was the power of the Kazimierz General Chamber of Commerce—using fans’ devotion and money to keep the knight-gladiators chained to the battlefield, making sure they never let go of their weapons.

“The Armorless Union made their move yesterday. Two knight orders have already fallen.”

The Verdant Knight clicked her tongue. “Those bastards… the Major just ended and they’re already stirring up trouble.”

“This is their reckoning,” someone replied flatly. “But don’t fool yourself—thinking we can save them on our own is impossible. What we’re facing isn’t just one faction. It’s the ruling class of Kazimierz itself.”

Felix pulled out his terminal. “—Rose, everyone in place?”

“At least the families have been evacuated,” came the reply. “But boss, this kind of work is overkill for us Sargon contract assassins. You know we usually bill by the hour, right?”

“Fine,” Felix smirked. “Since you charge by the hour, how about I take you out for dinner tomorrow? Call it a date. Of course… paid by the hour.”

“…Well… I suppose that’s… not unacceptable.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep