I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

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 day's 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 knightly competitions," Maria said, looking at the information on the terminal with a hint of emotion in her voice, "I've thought that my actions might anger him again... but at least, it seems that Uncle can still understand me, right?"

"...I understand."

Looking at the message, which was most likely sent to him, Gerald was unusually silent for a moment: "Well, Maria, just do what you think is right, no problem."

“I knew my brother would say that.”

This is how Maria answered.

Upon hearing the other person's words, Gerald raised his head and looked 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 just now, he could feel the physique and muscles she had developed during this period of training.

A balanced and graceful figure 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 regained the confidence 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 as if declaring an undeniable fact, "If I really do something wrong, my brother will 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, 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 happen again yesterday.

Gerald didn't speak, and even his breathing almost stopped for a second.

"...?" Maria tilted her head, as if she hadn't realized what the problem was. "Hey, isn't that right? After all, my brother bathed me when I was still a baby, didn't he?"

She spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she were saying "what should we eat for dinner," and even her tone carried a hint of grievance: "And in order to prevent any rumors from spreading and to avoid any misunderstandings with Aunt, it's better if we don't bother her now, right? There's a simple bathtub in Aunt's 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?

--------

Soon after.

Zofia, familiar with the place, made her way to 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 glanced around the room.

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

After taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, Maria sat on the sofa, nestled obediently in Gerald's arms, without speaking or moving, just quietly leaning against him.

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

She wanted to get a closer look at Maria's expression, but instead she saw the child's tears dripping down, soaking most of the blanket on the floor, and her eyes swollen, all without making a sound.

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

What's going on?

Gerald shifted slightly and 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 tries to be affectionate.

But did he really cry?

He had no idea what to do.

Chapter Twelve "Guild Leader" (5K)

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

The only good news amidst all the bad news is that he no longer needs to explain what he has 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, which gave her two guardians a headache in many ways.

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 in something like this. 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 subject to mental pollution from the unknown.

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

"Please lend me some money, Zofia."

--------

2:44 AM, Central Kazimir, Four Cities United, June 18, 1097 Terra Calendar.

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

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

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

The sword that Lamaren had given him was now floating beside him in the form of a spell. He wasn't yet "mastering" the spell, but he was already used to using it as part of his control—if he was just using the spell's power 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 a great banshee. After all, his family of N (N≥3) has produced two banshee lords, so while this assessment might not be arrogant, it's at least somewhat fair.

Gerald glanced down at himself.

His chosen destination was one of the borders of the four-city alliance, 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 consortium. However, they possess numerous 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 be addressed is the real topic of discussion: how to continue to hold the reins on Casimir.

As he said earlier, the collapse of the Unarmored Alliance 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 Black Iron.

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

Furthermore, before his death, Xuan Tie actually handed over all the hiding places and information he had, asking only 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 made a sickening metallic scraping sound as it was pulled open. A hand wearing a black gauntlet pressed on the doorknob and then pushed it open.

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

"Hmm, the scent of a 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 try to ask for 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 Toran Cash's profession of living on the edge has given him an extremely keen judgment of people. He can tell at a glance who is someone to mess with and who is not, without even having to fight them.

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

In the dimly lit warehouse, there was an old iron table and a few folding chairs, along with a portable stove and a teapot. Toran 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 fire, saying casually, "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 started to sizzle when Toran 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.

“Mysterious Iron,” Gerald replied to the question, getting straight to the point.

Toran paused, looked down at the stove, and his eyes grew imperceptibly heavy.

“The three of you once 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 legendary Knight of No Light, Marna Nearl."

"...So you came to find me because of this noble knight who has long since disappeared?" Toran's tone was emotionless, perhaps more puzzled 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 as a white-collar worker."

“No,” Gerald denied calmly. “In the latest intelligence data from Xuan Tie, I found that you are investigating the ‘Zero Plot’ matter, which involves some sectors under Meshko Industries—but the intelligence did not list the distribution of the plot in detail, 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 Marna's former friend into the vortex.

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

"died."

"How did you die?"

“He was no stronger than me, so he asked me for a quick death, and I pierced his heart.” Gerald nodded. “He died without pain.”

"...I see. So you were the one behind the Rose Newspapers business."

Upon hearing this explanation, Toran 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, Silver Spear Pegasus, told me that an unprecedented genius had emerged in the army, but unfortunately, compared to Silver Spear Pegasus, he was more suited to be a wandering knight."

“Now I’ve seen it.” He tapped his finger on the table. “You and Marner 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 don't like, without even the slightest hesitation."

“I didn’t come here to hear you say that, Mr. Toran.” Gerald shook his head. “The reason I brought up Marner 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 Unarmored Alliance, as a knight-killer, aimed his arrows at corrupt knightly nobles; the Pegasus of the Darkness executed traitors, thwarted conspiracies outside Kazimir, and instilled fear in the army of Letania; and the ordinary Sarkaz before us is no different.

As a result, one became a front man for the business confederation, 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 Xuan Tie'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 Plot Zero?" Toran suddenly asked. "Is it to predict the Business Federation's next move and take control of the leader of this plot in advance?"

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

“Before we go on, I want to ask you a question.” Toran’s questions continued: “How are you going to solve the problem of those infected knights?”

“Even if you go to Plot Zero, the presence of the infected is still a thorn in Kazimierz. You don’t need to investigate to understand that.” He continued, “Those people are one of the deepest contradictions in this city. Once they have no more use, they become a burden and something to be eliminated.”

"If you want to reform this society by starting with the nobles and the merchant confederation, then you will inevitably have to choose between several options: expulsion, slaughter, and placement of the infected. This is especially true when these two classes will inevitably use the infected as a shield for mitigation."

"...So, tell me."

As Toran spoke of this, a hint of almost suppressed numbness appeared in his eyes. It wasn't compassion, but rather the faint ache of some kind of wound 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: