Chapter 599: The Greatest Knight (One)

ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation

Kohen trudged through the narrow alleys of the Underground market, his gaze vacant, oblivious to the beggars and vagabonds seeking refuge under the eaves on either side and their secretive glances.

Someone called out, “Kohen.”

There was a messy-looking man ahead, trying to hide the bloodstains on his clothes. Further away, another shady figure was sneakily selling items from his pocket to passersby. Across the street, two beggars were in a fierce struggle over the ownership of a stray ring, their bony frames locked in a desperate contest.

But Kohen just walked past them, lost in his own world, not seeing or hearing anything around him—‘What does that have to do with me, anyway?’ “Kohen?”

The Glory of the Stars made him focus entirely on his own world, undistracted and single-minded. The distant clamour couldn’t capture his attention, and the nearby grime couldn’t sway his thoughts. The Underground market and even the Lower City District were like mere names on a piece of paper to him.

He walked as if beyond the edge of the heavens, surpassing everything and completely selfabsorbed—much like many aristocratic heirs he knew, they had their sights set on the Kingdom, their hearts on the world, and they were destined for greatness.

Yet…

“Kohen!”

At last, Kohen, who had been lost in an otherworldly trance, shuddered and stumbled back to his

senses.

“What’s wrong?”

Kohen quickly looked around:

Layork was still standing about ten steps away, looking scornful and unfriendly. Glover stood guard by the Prince, using his stature and expression to ward off any malicious, covetous glances. Kohen lowered his head: The voice’s source—the Second Prince—gazed deeply at him, eyes full of inquiry “Get a grip.”

Thales’ words bore an air of unquestionable assertion,

“After six years as a police officer, what Morris said shouldn’t have such a strong effect on you.” what Morris said

Kohen’s eyes took on a distant gaze.

“You ain’t up against just some gangsters, criminals, or even the evil… ”

“You embody the authority of this nation, standing tall as the strong, facing the resistance of the ones who ain’t got much power. ”

Kohen gave his head a forceful shake.

“Isn’t him, that bastard’s words got no power over me—”

“As if,” Glover cut in, his tone frosty.

Kohen stared at Zombie, his face contorting in conflict.

Thales let out a heavy sigh,

“Listen, Kohen, you have to know, Morris is part of the Brotherhood, and everything he said—”

“No!”

To everyone’s surprise, Kohen suddenly raised his voice jolting both Thales and Glover.

Even Layork up front frowned and looked back.

Thales stared at him, his brows furrowing,

‘Who is this, and what has he done with Kohen?’

“Not his words… it’s not, not like that…”

A different look crossed Kohen’s face, his words coming out in a hurried murmur.

“Hey,” Glover said, giving Kohen a careful pat and shooting a glare at a few curious onlookers who had been drawn over,

“You good—”

Kohen’s head shot up!

“Remember when you flipped the whole situation in the Heroic Spirit Palace, making all the sides stop fighting and back off, Your Highness?”

The police officer fixed Thales with an eager gaze, as if searching for an answer,

“To them—the Eckstedtians—were our words what did the trick?”

Thales blinked, caught off guard.

Eckstedtians…

But Kohen shook his head, his expression tinged with bitterness,

“My old man’s letter put it this way: ‘Words are just a way to express; actions reveal the heart.’” “As for ‘honeyed words can gain the heart’, that’s just a pretty fantasy of poets.”¹ There was a change in Thales’ expression, his words hesitating on his lips.

“He said that what influenced the Eckstedtians wasn’t your words, Your Highness,” the police officer lowered his head wearily,

“It was their own thoughts, their lived experiences, their own interests—you were just the one who pulled back the curtain; you just helped them see it clearly.”

Thales lapsed into silence for a while.

“Count Turami Karabeyan reminds me that there was once a Karabeyan who lived up to being called the ‘Wise Minister’,” the Prince let out a deep breath,

“If I get the chance, I would like to pay a visit to your respected father.” Kohen struggled with his thoughts, as if going through a tough battle.

“I didn’t quite buy into the old man’s talk at the time, but…”

“Same here, Your Highness,” Kohen said with a breath. “That fatty sure knows how to talk, but he isn’t gonna rattle me with a couple of lines.”

“Unless, to shake my resolve, something else was already there.”

He gazed thoughtfully at the narrow alley, as if its end were forever out of sight.

Thales watched his expression and let out a quiet sigh.

“I didn’t want to say it, but,” Kohen paused for a moment, then bravely said,

“Yes, I lost my confidence in my heart of the sword,”

“I’ve gotten better at my moves; the edge of my sword gotten sharper with each strike,” Kohen clenched his teeth, “Yet the swordsman himself is nothing but all rusty.”

“That’s why I haven’t improved for six years, not even a little bit.”

Thales frowned in concern.

“Maybe you should head back to the battlefield and get yourself into the thick of it again,” Glover scoffed, looking a bit annoyed by his attitude,

“Instead of playing cops and robbers on the streets all day.”

“Caleb!” Thales warned Glover with a sharp look, silencing him.

¹ lit. ‘smooth words can deceive the heart’, I^Mte^’L: traced back to a classic Chinese text called “#T-” (Guanzi), attributed to the ancient Chinese philosopher and strategist Guan Zhong (720-645 BCE). This expression reflects the wisdom and observations of the time about the power of persuasive speech and its potential to deceive or manipulate.

“I am not messing around,”

Yet Kohen showed no signs of anger; his gaze seemed just worn out,

“But what’s really shaking me isn’t the crap that fatty blabbered.”

“It’s me; it’s what I’ve been through in this city these past six years.”

what Eve been through in this city

Thales paused at those words, memories within the Abandoned Houses like wisps of a dream once again entwining around his feet.

“You know, Your Highness, that little girl from before who tried to swipe your coins?”

Kohen followed behind the Prince, his mind elsewhere as he spoke,

“Maybe she doesn’t like doing it, picking pockets or pulling tricks on people, and when she’s all grown up, she won’t wanna follow in her mom’s footsteps, working the crowd or messing around like her dad.”

“But she’s got no other way.”

Thales and Glover both froze at once; the former thought of the Abandoned Houses, and the latter of Red Street Market.

Kohen tripped over a rocky edge, but as if not noticing, he went on,

“Growing up with her mom and father—or maybe just her mom’s good friend—she can only copy their ways, ending up like most people on this street: tricky, merciless, with no shame or caring much about anything else.”

“When she’s older, she’ll end up like her mom, another numb girl on the street, or like her dad, a guy who doesn’t do much other than make trouble.”

“She’s got no other choices.”

Thales and Glover sank into silence.

Kohen gritted his teeth, holding onto his sword handle,

“She’s stuck this way because she was born here.”

“Just like everyone else on this street.”

Glover raised an eyebrow, his face chilling as he cut off Kohen, “Well, then get off your butts and do something, huh?” “Do something,” Kohen muttered, echoing, “Do what?”

Glover scoffed, his tone icy,

“Put those lousy parents of hers behind bars, or maybe hang ‘em high.” “Fighting crime, keeping the peace—isn’t that your job, co—officers?” Thales just shook his head subtly.

Kohen took a deep breath. “Yes, but…”

His voice hitched, his chest sinking, yet the words lingered powerless on his lips.

Kohen shook his head, downcast.

“What’s it?” Thales asked, his voice low and serious.

Kohen stayed quiet for a long time, so much so that Glover was on the verge of urging him, but at last he began to speak.

“Six years ago, Your Highness, in my first few months here, I couldn’t be more sure of myself. I wanted to make a difference, to do something meaningful.”

“Back then, I saw this place as another battlefield, thinking my opponents were just the Brotherhood and the Blood Bottle Gang, only their filth and sins, nothing but darkness and evil.” “But…”

Kohen’s words came to a halt.

“You ain ’t up against… the evil… ”

Kohen clenched his teeth and shook his head, getting back to the present,

“So, I worked really hard, putting in extra hours, fighting crime, keeping things orderly, stopping injustice and lawlessness, and bringing safety and the law back here.”

“But…”

The pivotal moment hovered on the edge of his words once more.

“In Lower City, we catch one group of criminals, and then another emerges. We clean up one nest, only for another to spring up.” Kohen’s breathing grew more agitated, his words quickening, “People we arrest are back on the streets in just a few days. The streets we clear are soon taken over by illegal gangs again. Warehouses we close off soon become hiding spots for criminals. And every year, the number of bodies taken out from here for burial stays just as high, or even higher…” Kohen’s words flowed out and carried a bitter edge, even a hint of helplessness.

“Being strict with the law, giving proper punishments, all that stuff we read in our politics books— none of that works here— I don’t know, maybe I didn’t study politics enough, maybe my crime-

fighting tactics are way too lousy, maybe I need to be like cousin Derek, getting top marks in political class, then maybe I’d know what the heck to do.”²

Thales listened quietly, his mood growing even more sombre.

But Glover didn’t flinch,

“Catching some small flies won’t cut it.”

Kohen raised his head, his voice urgent,

“I did it, you know!”

He locked eyes with Glover.

“I really did it; I picked up a few tricks from some co-workers, looked higher up the ladder, and went after big shots, like that Morris just now.”

“I took down a Brotherhood boss who managed the beggars and snipped all his ties, but in just two days, a fresh face clawed his way up from the bottom, filling the gap—quicker than a new officer gets in when there’s an opening.”

Glover just snorted, not impressed,

“That’s ‘cause he’s not high enough on the totem pole. You’ve got to find where it all starts, maybe even have to deal with that scumbag Black Sword—”

“The starting point!” Kohen’s voice got louder!

Glover frowned.

The police officer stood there, staring blankly at Glover,

“You’re right, Zombie, he wasn’t high up enough; got to find where it all starts.” “Where it starts….”

Kohen looked like a seeker chasing after some truth, gazing so far ahead in a world of his own.

“As a police officer watching over the Lower City, my influence is too small, too near-sighted; it’s like putting a tiny bandage on a bigger problem.”

“So I thought, gotta step up, do more, more, and more.”

“I gotta push harder, dig deeper, and see right through it.”

Kohen took a deep breath,

“So I went after it and traced the evil back to its source, where it all starts.”

But his strong determination suddenly dropped, like the seeker on a quest who eventually falls by the wayside,

‘giving proper punishments’; ^iE^ftl, carry out a death sentence according to the law (idiom).

“Then I ran into them.”

Glover and Thales had the same puzzled looks on their faces. “Them?”

Kohen nodded, his expression blank.

“The ones you saw on the street just now, Your Highness, that little girl,” the police officer’s voice was barely there,

“But here, there, and in other places, I’ve come across many kids like her.”

kids…

Thales unconsciously parted his lips.

“Is there a deeper rabbit hole than… these criminals’ messed-up childhoods?”

Kohen gulped down a mouthful of spit.

“Yes, Zombie, exactly as you put it, I did something; I stepped in, acted like the most decent officer out there.”

“I shut down their secret hangouts, gave the scumbags posing as their ‘parents’ a taste of justice, cleaned up their haunts, and gave those bastards trying to exploit them a good scare. I hate to phrase it this way, but if it weren’t for my last name, a less connected police officer would’ve vanished into thin air ages ago.”

“And those kids? Well, I made sure they ended up in the orphanages run by the Department of Moral Standards, in some foster homes, or even got a helping hand from the Sunset Church. In return, I’ve had to tangle with the Brotherhood and the Blood Bottle Gang, get in trouble with the police station, and see my co-workers look down on me…”

“I even sucked up my pride and promised the old man I’d show up at those nobles matchmaking balls—all just to squeeze a few coins from his tight grip, to help at least some of those kids who didn’t have anyone, to make sure they had a shot at a decent life, so they won’t fall back into hopelessness…”

As Kohen recounted, Thales and Glover watched his face go through all sorts of changes. Kohen’s excitement grew as he spoke, but then his mood took a sharp turn, “But… “

The police officer seemed frozen for a moment, like time had paused, and then he continued, “A few years back, I rescued this orphan.”

“He was barely ten years old then, and I had the Department of Moral Standards send him to an orphanage…”

Kohen’s gaze flickered, the colours fading from his face,

“But a few years down the line, I caught a bunch of Brotherhood thugs collecting debts—right in front of the debtor’s eyes, they used red-hot tongs to torture his son, just to squeeze out who knows how many miserable coppers.”

Glover’s face tensed up.

Kohen took a deep breath.

“That boy, the kid I rescued,”

“He was with them, with those thugs, like, fourteen or fifteen.”

Kohen spoke in a dazed tone,

“He’d gotten older, so I had to send him to jail.”

“Just like I sent him to that orphanage before.”

Thales closed his eyes, then slowly opened them again.

Kohen let out a pained exhale,

“And not just him, you know? It took me a while to figure it out; those kids I thought I’d saved…”

“Most of them, they’d end up back on the streets.”

“The ones with families… haha, their lousy parents would act all nice for a bit, but sooner or later, they’d go back to their old ways and drag ‘em down… just like that little girl earlier.”

“And the rest, they just couldn’t take it, couldn’t stick around, so they’d bolt from the orphanages or the families that took them in.”

Kohen hung his head, his mood heavy.

“You’re a real idiot.”

Glover chimed in suddenly, blurting out an unusually long string of words,

“Most of those orphanages and prisons—except maybe with even worse wardens—are all the same. Sending those kids there is like tossing them from the frying pan into the fire. You might as well let them loose on the streets to swipe bread.”

Kohen felt a shiver down his spine.

“And as for adoption, ha, it’s like tossing dice with a blindfold on,” Glover’s tone turned frosty,

“Best case scenario, they might end up scarfing down leftovers in a stable, playing ‘family” and grabbing that orphan relief voucher from the Department of Moral Standards. But if luck isn’t on their side…”

Zombie tightened his collar; his words left unfinished.

Kohen frowned,

“How do you know—”

Glover interrupted him, sounding icy,

“I heard!”

Kohen wrinkled his brow, “From who—”

“Nobody!”

Glover seemed extremely sensitive about the topic; he lifted his finger in a stern warning, “Cut it out! We’re done talking.”

Thales let out a quiet sigh.

Although Kohen was very confused, he didn’t dwell on it, just exhaled helplessly.

“Yeah, orphanages, foster homes—I got the scoop on them and went to a closer look then—those good policies from the era of the Virtuous King, they’ve gone downhill.” Kohen dropped his head,

“And as for the Sunset Church’s grace of the Gods…”

“It’s even more disgusting,” came a low voice.

Kohen and Glover both jumped in surprise.

They turned to see the Silent Assassin Layork beside them, who snorted softly, his gaze sharp, “I had a friend who ended up there.”

Kohen and Glover glanced at each other, but Layork didn’t pay them any mind; his tone was cold, “In the grace of the Gods shrine, there was this really kind old master priest who patiently taught him how to read and write, recite the Sunset Scriptures, and leam the ropes of proper behaviour and values. My friend was young then, never had anyone care like that for him; he was very thankful…”

“Until one day.”

Layork let out a soft snort with a half-smile on his lips, a mix of amusement and bitterness.

“That well-meaning master priest told my friend that, as a devout follower of the Sunset Goddess, he had once received the grace of the Gods…”

“It was tucked away beneath his thick robes, right there in his underwear.”

All of them frowned in distaste.

“The old priest undid his waist sash and kindly urged that kid. helping him to break through all the hurdles, find that “vessel of grace of the Gods’, and then hold it dear, treat it with reverence, shape it fully, and keep it close, always on his lips. The priest told him to keep going until he could make the remarkable happen—for the ordinary human body to produce a miraculous outpouring of pure, white divine rain…”

When it came to this, Layork just couldn’t hold back and burst into fits of laughter!

“Hahaha—white divine rain! Haha! Right there at the altar of the grace of the Gods shrine, right in front of the Goddess’ sacred elephant! Haha!”

He laughed loudly and dramatically, even bending over, yet his eyes betrayed no amusement; instead, they carried a rather unsettling, eerie quality.

To the present, including Thales, what could be felt was only an intense chill and a stifling heaviness.

“Your friend,” Glover said cautiously but without much emotion,

“He explained things pretty clearly.”

Layork’s smile vanished, and he gave him a cold, sharp look,

“Because he wasn’t the only one.”

A brief silence fell among the group.

Then it wasn’t when Kohen heaved a sigh before saying, “I never thought I’d say this, Layork, but I’m really sorry.”

“No need,” Layork coldly rebuffed, “because the supposedly wise and holy master priest, in the end, got the divine message wrong—on the day he retired, my friend found out with him.” Hearing this, Thales, who knew the Silent Assassin’s nature, blinked in realisation.

“It turns out that the so-called grace of the Gods, the holy rain sent by the gods,” Layork lowered his head, gently pulling out the hidden blade from his waist, revealing a menacing glint in his eyes. He said, “It’s actually crimson red.”

Kohen and Glover’s faces shifted slightly, and a silence once again lingered for a while.

But this time it was by Layork retracting the blade into its sheath, disturbing the tranquil air, that the quiet was broken.

Kohen raised his head, his tone filled with frustration,

“Bottom line, these kids end up back on the streets, either going back to their old ways—begging, stealing, scamming—or even attaching themselves to the scum, imitating, aiding, and maybe even aspiring to be like them, because at least the latter group gets to eat well…”

“Or their situation gets even worse—without the support and protection of the gang, they become like weeds, unnoticed and disregarded.”

“I can still recall a kid who spat at me once, saying that being ‘rescued’ by the police station was worse than staying under the Brotherhood’s wing. Even if it meant taking more beatings, at least there he’s got an organisation, friends to rely on, and a shot at survival. With a bit of luck, he could grow up to be just as tough, ready to bully other scoundrels.”

Thales couldn’t help but clench his back teeth.

“’Cause that’s the only way out,” Layork, who had unknowingly joined the conversation, scoffed, “The only road that lets ‘em find their own, find happiness, and find a reason to keep going.” “Instead of what you upper crust call ‘charity’.”

Kohen let out a humourless chuckle, his mood visibly dampened.

“And nearly every criminal—gamblers, thieves, con artists, prostitutes, you name it—has a similar rotten history from childhood to adulthood: sometimes it’s a deadbeat drunk of a father, sometimes it’s morally bankrupt friends, sometimes it’s the suffocating grip of poverty, sometimes it’s the cold, heartless ways of society, or sometimes it’s just the filthy streets themselves.”

“Compared to all of that, even the Black Street Brotherhood and the Blood Bottle Gang seem a bit less monstrous and repugnant.”

The police officer’s words left everyone sinking into their thoughts.

“They’re pitiable, despicable, tragic, and laughable. Honestly, I can’t tell whether they ended up like this by following a natural course or taking a wrong turn. Whether it was a choice they made willingly or one they were forced into, if they embraced it or were left with no other option, whether they deserved it or were unjustly burdened.”

“Yeah,” Layork was the first to break the silence, his tone dripping with disdain as he spat on the ground, “like we really give a damn about your opinion, cop.”

However, Kohen didn’t even bat an eye at his actions.

“We’re just stuck in this loop, you know, doing the same thing over and over— throwing their trashy parents in jail or hanging them. Then we let these kids simmer in a bigger, messier, darker cycle, waiting for them to soak up its messed-up ways, accept its messed-up rules, and toughen up, bit by bit.”

The police officer’s face turned grim,

“Turn into a whole new kind of trash.”

“And then we snatch them up again once they’ve turned into that trash.”

“Then we wait again and watch as their own kids, born into the same messed-up cycle, grow up and become a fresh batch of trash…”

He raised his head once more, gazing at the far side of the rundown street but still unable to spot its end.

“That’s what they choose for themselves.”

Glover spoke up, a trace of annoyance and anger in his tone,

“They need to face the results.”

“They’ choose, huh?” Layork laughed once more. His laughter grew louder and more unsettling, sending shivers down one’s spine,

“Choose…”

Kohen didn’t answer; he just stared at Zombie with a bitter expression, which made the latter visibly gloomier.

“But they didn’t get to choose.”

Thales, who had been quiet for a while, spoke up slowly, capturing the attention of the three.

“They never had a shot.”

The Prince climbed a few steps, heading towards the place he used to know so well.

“In a community like this, it’s the socio-economic status of their parents that ultimately holds them back—sorry, I mean, they couldn’t go to school when they were young, couldn’t learn a skill, and couldn’t glimpse a broader world…”³

Thales walked past a corner he had passed countless times in his childhood.

“They’re stuck here, unable to find stable, regular jobs. They’re left to swing between idleness and wrongdoing, caught in a cycle where they can’t afford to care about morals or laws. They prioritise grabbing whatever helps them survive. They can’t grasp ideals and dreams, only rewriting their

³ ‘skill’; -fitiK proficiency in a particular field (idiom).

lives in the grim reality of selfishness, narrow-mindedness, cruelty, laziness, baseness, and anger that life has thrust upon them.”⁴

“They don’t get a chance to experience morals, gratitude, selflessness, unity, and justice like we— those of us who claim to be well-off—do. They can only learn life’s lessons on the harsh streets and through the brutal cruelty of their peers.”

Thales uttered a sigh,

“Their poverty keeps getting passed down, and so will their criminal behaviour.”⁵

Kohen’s expression turned even darker.

Glover’s face remained unchanged, but his breathing quickened. Layork hugged his arms, unconsciously sticking to the wall as he walked.

“And when outsiders who mean well ask: Why is this so?”

Thales said with a heavy heart,

“People would wrinkle their noses and answer with a superior disgust, saying: Because they’re scum, they were raised badly, because they didn’t study well, or even because they’re just naturally like this: selfish, close-minded, cruel, lazy, lowly, angry. They don’t bother to learn and resort to crime—it’s all their own choice.”⁶

The young man’s speech suddenly picked up pace,

“People would say: We didn’t force them to not strive, not progress, lack morality, and turn to crime, right?”

The Prince’s raw emotions took Glover by surprise, and Zombie hesitated before trying to reach him,

“Your Highness?”

“Some things are true,” Thales said, lost in thought, “but it goes beyond that.”

“More than that.”

“If we truly want to change the current situation, rather than just comfort ourselves.” Glover and Kohen exchanged a glance, while Layork continued to stand with his arms crossed, silent.

Thales slowly lifted his head.

⁴ ‘wrongdoing’; l^HIBH, (idiom) violate the law and commit crimes; break the law.

⁵ ‘getting passed down’; ft(Wf^, passed on from generation to generation (idiom); to hand down.

⁶ ‘don’t bother to learn’; ^^^^., without learning or skills (idiom); ignorant and incompetent.

“And when their existence and actions—shaped within such a twisted environment—threaten the freedom and safety of the ‘people’,”

“People would once again be filled with righteous anger, proclaiming: Criminals must be hanged, because they deserve it.”

“People would say, as long as these scum are eradicated, they won’t harm others anymore, and the future will become better.”

Kohen bit his lip.

“Haha, if all the scum are gone,” Layork smirked,

“Then what’s left for folks to show they’re the good guys?”

Thales shook his head, dismissing the other’s extreme perspective,

“Just like you guys said earlier, out in the Desert, whether it’s orcs or humans, they all think: If you wipe out every last enemy,”

“Peace will magically happen.”

Glover and Kohen were both taken aback.

“But here’s the issue,” for a moment, Thales felt transported back to the Prison of Bones, Crassus of the Disaster Sword’s—Ricky’s—words echoing in his ears.

“How do we go about killing those…”

Thales mused,

“Enemies that can’t be killed?”

A lengthy silence fell upon them.

“So, just like that fatty said, the Black Street Brotherhood is everywhere, never disappearing.”

Kohen absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair, his voice tilled with anguish,

“Even if I kill the Black Sword, countless new ones will still crop up. They’ll grab his weapon, speak his language, and even wear his face.”

“That’s our real enemy, the ones that can’t be killed.”

Layork chuckled, giving his black band a tighter tug.

“Can’t punish ‘em, can’t ban ‘em, helping won’t cut it, and giving them handouts? Useless…” Kohen’s voice carried a deep sense of powerlessness,

“That was the first time I understood: my sword can take lives.”

Kohen looked up, bewildered

“But it can’t save them.”

“Not even one.”

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