Chapter 252: Death Mark
As Steven vanished into the black hole and disappeared from the arena, the audience on the stands finally let out a collective breath of relief. The oppressive atmosphere that had weighed on them moments ago slowly dissipated.
Meanwhile, the tournament staff rushed onto the platform, carefully lifting the nineteen battered and unconscious knights onto stretchers.
Back when Steven had still been present, no one had dared to even breathe too loudly.
After all, this was a man who—with a mere gesture—had summoned all those knights who had already left the battlefield and smashed them down without giving them the slightest chance to resist.
It was painfully obvious to everyone that this man didn't care for the rules of the Major, and had no intention of playing fair.
And if they somehow made the mistake of upsetting him?
What if he dragged them onto the stage next?
People are selfish creatures.
When faced with overwhelming strength, their first instinct is always self-preservation.
But now that the mysterious knight was gone, the fear he'd instilled began to morph—into frustration, indignation, and a desperate need to vent.
And, unsurprisingly, the officials of the Major became the perfect target.
"Refund, you scammers!"
"We came to see a match—not to get insulted!"
"What happened to all that talk about safety!? Didn't you say the Major guaranteed a perfect audience experience?!"
"…"
The wave of curses and angry shouts surged like a tidal wave. The spectators had no intention of reflecting on the mysterious knight's words or actions—they didn't care about his reasoning.
All they saw was that they had suffered.
They'd been mocked, ignored, and forced to watch their so-called knights get humiliated.
And worst of all—they couldn't do anything about it.
But for Czarny, the spokesman who had now fully taken over operations at the arena, these furious clowns meant nothing.
In fact, he actually agreed with the mysterious knight scathing view.
Sometimes, people really were just fools.
Fools that made a lot of noise but never posed any real threat.
No—the real problem wasn't the audience.
It was what the mysterious knight had said before he left.
That ominous promise to return.
If he came back for the next tournament…
Could they really survive another one of his appearances?
One or two incidents could be covered up—brushed under the rug using the authority of the K.G.C.C.
But if he kept showing up, disrupting events and humiliating knights like this…
The Major would crumble.
And the worst part?
Czarny had no idea why this terrifying man had done what he did.
As a spokesman, he firmly believed that people only acted when they had a goal.
The mysterious knight claimed it was because he was "disgusted by the Major," but to Czarny, that excuse was far too shallow. It didn't add up.
No one would go out of their way to antagonize all of Casimir just because of some personal distaste.
There had to be a deeper purpose—something hidden, something dangerous.
A strong opponent wasn't scary.
What was scary… was a strong opponent whose intentions you couldn't read.
At that moment, the door to the control room creaked open again.
A young man with teal-blue hair stumbled in, clearly shaken. Without saying a word, he slumped into a corner, pale-faced and trembling.
Czarny narrowed his eyes at him.
There was something off about his state.
"What happened back there?" Czarny's voice was sharp, laced with restrained fury. "Why didn't the Armorless Union intervene? We had both a Platinum and Lazurite present, and yet I didn't even see one of your damn arrows fired!"
The young man looked away, silent.
Czarny's brows furrowed.
He had been briefed on the operation involving the Whislash Knight. He knew the K.G.C.C had taken extra measures to ensure this particular match at the Flame Edge Arena was far more secure than usual.
Today, of all days, was supposed to have been the safest.
And yet, everything had gone completely to hell.
That mysterious knight wasn't just a powerful anomaly.
He was a disaster waiting to strike again.
And next time, they might not be so lucky.
Despite everything, the Flame Edge Arena had at least four Armorless Union squads hidden in the shadows, not to mention a Platinum-ranked and Lazurite-ranked assassin stationed on-site.
Under normal circumstances, even if the famed Radiant Knight herself were to return, this level of security should have been more than enough to neutralize her.
And yet…
From the moment that strange black-hole-wielding knight appeared until the moment he vanished, the Armorless Union didn't even flinch.
Not. One. Move.
"Don't look at me. Ask my boss," Roy—the teal-haired Lazurite-ranked asassing—leaned back with a tired look. "Our assignment was solely to intercept Whislash Knight. That was the mission. Nothing more. Unless we receive direct orders, we're not authorized to blow our cover."
He rubbed his temple with a deep sigh.
"Besides... do you really think my guys could handle that freak? Be honest with yourself."
His eyes drifted toward the officials around him, many of whom were now pale and silent.
"If I remember right, the arena security guards here used to be active campaign knights too, didn't they?"
"And yet not a single one of them dared to charge in."
The mere mention of that bizarre knight had Roy visibly clenching his jaw. His earlier composure was cracking.
Given what they'd all witnessed, it wasn't just his subordinates who'd have trouble. Even if the other Lazurite-ranked knight had stepped in, the outcome would've been the same: they would've been crushed.
No—if there was any hope of taking that guy down, it would take all three Darksteel-ranked top brass moving together.
And even then, it wasn't guaranteed.
Roy scowled, frustration rising.
This mission was supposed to be simple: delay Whislash Knight's advancement. A basic field operation.
Who the hell expected a monster like him to show up out of nowhere?
But that wasn't the worst part.
What really broke Roy's calm… was what happened at the very end.
Just before disappearing into the black hole, that knight had glanced his way—and made a gesture.
A very specific gesture.
Finger gun.
Index finger pointed at Roy like a barrel, thumb cocked like a hammer, followed by a mock "click" of an imaginary shot.
Roy froze even now just thinking about it.
He knew that gesture too well.
After all, he'd used it himself—not long ago—to intimidate Zofia. He'd taunted her with it, destabilized her mentally, and contributed to her defeat.
But this… was different.
While Zofia had trembled from fear and tension… Roy felt something much worse.
A primal, instinctive panic.
A gut-twisting sense of despair.
The kind of hopelessness a person feels when faced with something they know they cannot defeat.
That finger gun wasn't a joke.
It was a warning.
A promise.
"I saw you."
"Damn it… why me?" Roy muttered, hands covering his face. "I'm just a damn employee. Why the hell did I end up provoking him of all people?"
He let out a shaky laugh.
"If that guy was tight with Whislash Knight, they could've said something. Why leave me a death mark like that?"
Roy suddenly regretted taking this mission just to slack off.
It was supposed to be easy—suppress a wildcard, keep a low profile.
Now?
He was marked.
He should've just let Platinum handle it.
"…I'll be reporting your unit's performance to the Darksteel personally," Czarny finally said, his tone flat but layered with pressure. "You'd better locate that strange knight before the next tournament. You and I both know—the K.G.C.C won't tolerate another 'accident' like this. Not twice. Understood, Lord Roy?"
Roy waved him off with a sigh and a half-hearted smile.
"Tch, yeah, yeah. Don't need you to spell it out for me."
Pushing himself up from his chair, he gave a long stretch, then shuffled toward the exit, muttering curses under his breath.
As much as Roy hated to admit it, there was one possible lead they could still pursue.
And it wasn't just him who realized it—the entire K.G.C.C had reached the same conclusion.
Whislash Knight.
The very knight that black-hole bastard had saved at the start of it all.
That one act, seemingly unrelated to everything that came after, was the only thread connecting him to anything tangible.
Even if it was circumstantial, it was enough to prove some kind of link between them.
Maybe they were allies. Maybe old friends. Either way… that was the crack in the armor.
Still, Roy couldn't help but shudder as that finger gun gesture flashed through his mind again.
His whole body flinched.
Just thinking about that moment stirred a raw, primal terror in his gut.
'Hell no,' he thought. 'This mess? I'm not getting involved. Let Monique handle it—she's way more ambitious than me anyway.'
Or maybe he could dump it on Platinum. That poor kid had already taken on enough crap lately—what's one more thing? Sharing is caring, after all.
Once he'd made peace with this brilliant idea—removing himself from this ticking time bomb entirely—Roy gave a satisfied nod.
Too bad he hadn't yet realized that some things aren't up to him.
. . . . . . . . . .
Outside the arena, near the outer perimeter, a white-haired woman in a long coat sighed quietly as she coordinated her squad.
Her name was Centaurea, and despite holding the lofty rank of Platinum, her duties these days had nothing to do with prestige or glory.
Nope.
She was a glorified errand knight, working overtime on a job nobody wanted.
The search for the "black-hole knight" was pointless. Everyone knew it. But for the sake of the Armorless Union's pride—and to keep the K.G.C.C from breathing down their necks—she had no choice but to play along.
A hopeless, exhausting farce.
But then—against all odds—she found him.
From around the corner, Steven strolled out casually, as if he were just returning from a stroll through the park.
Same crooked smile. Same relaxed gait.
He even waved at her like they were old friends.
"…You've got to be kidding me," Centaurea muttered under her breath.
Her expression was deadpan, almost fish-like with how lifeless her eyes had gone.
She didn't even pretend to be surprised anymore. She'd already resigned herself to the fact that this guy was pure chaos in human form.
Like it or not, this was her reality now.
With slow, reluctant steps, she began walking over to him.
"Yo~"
Steven greeted her with a grin as if he hadn't just caused a massive scene and turned the entire arena upside down.
But before he could say anything else—
"Stop," Centaurea cut in, raising a hand. "Let me be clear. I don't know anything. I'm just a regular knight maintaining order. You're just a random spectator who asked me to help you find your seat. That's it. That's the story. Got it?"
Her eyes flicked to his waist—where the very same belt the black-hole knight had worn earlier was still strapped on.
He hadn't even taken it off yet.
'Seriously? You couldn't even bother to change?'
She had seen everything she needed to see. But deep down, she wished she hadn't.
He'd promised he wouldn't stir up trouble.
And what did he do? Nearly blew up the whole Flame Edge Arena.
Steven scratched his head with a sheepish laugh.
"Well, if you're gonna put it like that… I'll play along. But hey, while we're pretending I'm just a regular guy—how about that meal I owe you? I've got time now, and I'm in a good mood. Your call."
He finally removed the belt and casually stuffed it into his inventory, then smiled warmly as if nothing had happened.
Centaurea narrowed her eyes.
"Oh? You've got time now, huh?" she said coldly.
She stared at him like she wanted to punch his face in.
"Too bad for you, thanks to a certain mysterious knight, I don't."
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