Chapter 254: Men Are Boys Until They Die
While Centaurea had just been saddled with a difficult and risky mission, Steven was enjoying his freedom without a care in the world.
He strolled out of the Flame Edge Arena looking completely at ease—nothing like the overbearing villainous knight who'd dominated the scene just a short while ago.
Honestly, if you didn't know they were the same person, you'd never guess it. There was no trace of that overwhelming presence, no hint of arrogance or aggression.
Right now, Steven just looked like a young man out for a relaxing walk.
And there was a reason for his blissful mood: he'd just let off a massive amount of pent-up frustration.
That whole stunt earlier? That was pure catharsis—his own bold declaration of "I'll do whatever the hell I want."
Rigged matches, corporate manipulation, ganging up on solo players, off-field interference—the so-called Kazimierz Major had every single flaw a competition possibly could.
For a guy who'd grown up watching a lot of international sporting tournaments, this crapshow was a disgrace.
Back in the day, all he could do was grumble from the sidelines. But now?
Now he had power. Now, if something pissed him off, he could do something about it.
Not only would he rant, he'd even drag the complicit audience down with him. "You call this entertainment? Pathetic."
No wonder that girl from Rhodes Island, Nearl, had made that weird face when he first mentioned wanting to see a Major match. In hindsight, she probably wanted to say, "Don't waste your time."
But hey—it was fine now. He'd said his piece. He'd let off steam.
And with how much chaos he'd caused, it was safe to say there'd be no shortage of battles from now on.
Steven had no intention of stopping after just one stunt.
That parting line he'd thrown out before leaving the arena? That wasn't an empty threat.
There was no way the General Chamber of Commerce would let things play out the same next time, not if they had half a brain. Until they uncovered his identity, they'd be sure to up their game.
At the very least, they'd stop sending small fry and start deploying fighters with actual skill.
Anyone who could make it into the top 18 of the tournament should have some real ability, right?
As for whether he could beat them? That wasn't even a concern. He didn't even need to use Black Hole, that overpowered cheat of a skill.
Even just matching fists and raw power, he was confident he could crush them.
His base strength was already absurd, and once his Driver Suit was activated, it boosted his speed and power to ridiculous levels.
Back in the arena, he had a feeling that, in that state, he could probably kill the Fallingstar Beast with a single normal jab—not exactly a small feat.
And sure, the belt consumed stamina… but come on, he's a Minecrafter.
Back in Minecraft, he could mine for a full month straight without sleep. Talking to him about stamina was a joke.
All in all, the Kamen Rider Craft Mod he'd spent a million points on? Worth every single one.
Especially since Black Hole came with area-based teleportation.
Sure, he couldn't hop between countries like those Waystones could, but within Kazimierz's Grand Knight Territory?
He could go wherever he wanted with just a thought.
And the best part?
He looked damn cool.
Who could resist the allure of transforming?
Even if it wasn't into a Kamen Rider, Steven figured people would still line up if you told them they could become a Saint Seiya Saints or something.
Because in the end—
Men are boys until they die.
And what do boys dream of, if not transforming and piloting giant robots?
He had just scratched the first itch—transforming. As for piloting some colossal mech?
Well, that would have to wait until he figured out which Mod to install next.
But that was a problem for future-him.
For now, he was feeling more than satisfied.
With nothing else on his plate, Steven leisurely made his way back to the inn.
Once he stepped inside, he noticed something unusual—Skadi and Specter, the two Abyssal Hunters, were nowhere to be seen. Their room was empty, not even a note left behind.
With nothing to do and no one around, Steven squinted up at the blazing midday sun and stood still in thought for a few seconds.
Then, as if arriving at an obvious conclusion, he turned and walked out again.
There's still plenty of time left, he might as well grab a drink first.
Besides, the tavern was the best place to eavesdrop on how the general public was reacting to his little performance.
Having made up his mind, Steven headed downstairs and quickly found his way back to the same bar from earlier.
It was just as quiet as before—daytime crowds weren't exactly a thing here.
But just as he stepped through the door, a blur of blonde hair nearly slammed right into him.
The girl hit him full-force. Steven barely flinched, but she staggered back from the recoil and nearly fell on her rear.
Fortunately, he reached out and caught her just in time, saving her from an awkward tumble.
"You okay?"
Steven rubbed his chest where she'd bumped into him. It tickled more than anything.
He glanced down at the girl, who was still a little dazed.
Her long golden hair was tied into a high ponytail with a black ribbon, and though her small, pretty face was filled with confusion, there was a clear urgency in her eyes.
"I'm fine, I'm fine! Sorry, I'm in a rush—really sorry!"
The girl bowed repeatedly in apology, then darted out of the bar in a hurry, vanishing down the street before Steven could ask another question.
He didn't take it personally. She clearly had something urgent going on, and she had apologized. No harm done.
Still, as he watched her disappear, he couldn't shake a certain feeling of familiarity.
'Where have I seen her before…?'
Maybe she just looked like someone he'd met? Either way, he couldn't quite place it, so he shrugged it off and headed for the bar.
He took a seat at the counter, only to notice that besides the bald bartender and the familiar bearded old knight, there was now a third figure sitting nearby.
This newcomer stood out—an imposing, bear-like presence that was impossible to ignore.
He seemed to be mid-conversation with the old knight, the two talking in low tones.
"Yo, good afternoon. Same as last time—lime beer, heavy ice."
Steven gave a casual wave to the bartender, who finally noticed him and lit up.
"Ah, it's you again, Mister Steve. Coming right up."
The bald bartender nodded and started prepping his drink. Meanwhile, the old knight's eyes gleamed in recognition. He picked up his glass and moved over to sit beside Steven.
"Introduce me?"
Steven flashed a smile and glanced at the massive figure behind the knight.
He gave the towering man a slight nod—a small, polite gesture of acknowledgment.
Even without saying a word, the man's presence was enough to make him feel like the room had gotten smaller.
Steven didn't know who this guy was yet, but one thing was certain—
He wasn't just here for a drink.
Before the old knight could even speak up to introduce them, the massive white bear did it himself.
"Hah, just an old polar bear. You can call me Kowal, or Old Craftsman. Either works."
His voice was deep and composed—surprisingly calm for someone who looked like a grizzly you'd meet in a snowstorm.
Steven blinked, surprised. He wasn't expecting the bear to actually talk.
Up until now, he honestly thought Kowal was just a bear in clothes.
"Uh… just call me Steve. Nice to meet you."
He offered a friendly smile, though he couldn't help the curiosity that flickered in his eyes.
"See? Told you two would get along," the bearded knight grinned proudly, patting his chest.
"I've been talking about you to the old craftsman for a while now. Told you my instincts were right, didn't I?"
Kowal nodded, his tone approving.
"Yeah. You don't strike me as the petty, argumentative type."
Steven wasn't some impossibly handsome guy, but his relaxed demeanor and nonchalant attitude gave off a natural charm—the kind that instantly lowered people's defenses.
"Tch, you guys start complimenting me the second I walk in—guess I've got no choice but to buy a round, huh?"
Steven chuckled and raised a hand, calling for more drinks.
He was more than happy to treat friends—there wasn't any concern about "losing money" or "being taken advantage of."
For him, good company was reason enough.
"Haha! That's what I like about you, kid!"
Both men burst into laughter and threw an arm around Steven's shoulders.
In just a few minutes, the three of them were chatting like old friends reuniting after years apart.
Because really—men's friendships could be just that simple.
After chugging down half his beer in one go, Steven finally asked the thing that had been bugging him since he arrived:
"By the way… that girl who just ran out. Who was she? She looked like some noble heiress—not the type you'd expect to see in a bar like this."
He turned to the others with a puzzled expression.
If it had been someone like Zofia dropping by, he could understand—after all, she was clearly friends with these guys.
But that girl? She looked barely out of school.
No matter how he looked at it, she didn't seem like someone who'd hang out with a bunch of grizzled uncles in a dive bar.
<+>
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