The Blood Knight was a towering bull—no, to be precise, a minotaur.
A male of the Forte tribe, his dark skin and ash-gray hair suggested both age and experience. When he caught sight of Felix and Muelsyse, he froze for a moment in surprise.
His fights had been harshly criticized by Greatmouth Mob as "a disgrace to knightly combat," since he relied purely on brute strength rather than elegance or form. The audience, too, didn't hold him in high regard. Even those with VIP tickets preferred to shake hands and take photos with his opponents rather than with him.
Worse still—he was an infected knight. Who could say what might happen if one shared a room with him for too long?
Though he bore the title of knight, infection had long since branded him a lesser being. Were it not for his exceptional combat skills, he might already be rotting in some filthy sewer, waiting for the unarmored reapers to come for his life.
"Greetings," said Felix softly, extending a hand. "Felix Lanshem. You may call me the Pioneer."
"Hello… Pioneer."
The Blood Knight stared at the offered hand for a long moment, uncertain.
"Go on," the woman beside Felix said with a friendly smile. "It's just a handshake—a simple greeting."
The minotaur took a deep breath, then reached out and clasped Felix's hand firmly.
"Blood Knight," Felix began, taking a seat. "Tell me—what is it that you truly desire?"
"At present, you've become the champion of this year's Kazimierz Major. Many sponsors will seek you out for endorsements. Even the Chamber of Commerce will likely invite you to join their ranks."
He smiled faintly. "And I, too, wish to extend an offer."
"To be frank," Felix continued, "I invest in knights of promise—those with the strength and will worth cultivating. I see that potential in you."
The Blood Knight's eyes hardened. "So, in the end, you're no different from those investors."
"No," Felix replied calmly. "What I seek is not your image—it is your allegiance."
He leaned back slightly, clarifying his words. "As for endorsements—given your Infected status, I doubt the rewards would ever be fair. The world still discounts people like you."
"…"
The Blood Knight nodded slowly. "I understand. I've accepted that much already. But tell me… would your organization even consider recruiting an infected?"
"We don't care about that," Felix said with a gentle smile.
Kazdel held a vast population—perhaps not as many as the players, but when counting the scattered Sarkaz across nations, they numbered at least a million. Of them, roughly seventy thousand had already joined Tomorrow's Development.
"I see…"
Hearing this, the Blood Knight's expression shifted—conflicted, thoughtful. Yet after a brief silence, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I must decline your offer."
"I understand," Felix said kindly, as if expecting the answer. "You have your own mission within Kawalerielki, don't you? You wish to elevate the infected knights—to see them participate freely in the tournaments, to help them cross the invisible boundary of class."
The Blood Knight was taken aback.
Felix rested his chin on his hand, smiling faintly. "A noble goal. But to achieve that, you'll first have to become a dog of the Chamber of Commerce."
The Blood Knight lowered his gaze, a faint bitterness curling at the corner of his lips.
He had already made his peace with it.
He had seen too many infected knights struggle on the edge of life and death. If becoming a pawn meant ensuring their rightful place in the arena—not as jesters or freaks, but as true competitors—then it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
No, he alone could make it.
Felix sighed softly. This man…
So naïve—and yet, so noble.
"I may have a way to satisfy both sides," Felix said, shifting his tone. "Tell me, have you heard of the Black Knight?"
"Of course," the Blood Knight nodded. "Kazimierz's three-time champion."
"Years ago, when the Chamber of Commerce ordered the Armorless Union to assassinate her, I spent twenty million LMD to buy her freedom."
"What—?!"
The Blood Knight's eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at Felix, as if trying to confirm that he'd heard correctly.
Twenty million?!
For an infected knight, that was a sum he could never hope to earn—not even in several lifetimes. That amount could purchase countless doses of specialized medicine for the infected, buy endless sweets and books for infected children, or even build entire shelters to keep them safe from the cold.
"And," Felix added casually, "I have some ties to the Nearl family. The Radiant Knight, Nearl, is also under my care now."
Another bombshell—quiet, but devastating.
To a traditional knight, the Nearl family's glory was the very symbol of chivalric honor. Every knight looked up to them, and the Blood Knight was no exception.
But—the Radiant Knight herself?
She had vanished from Kazimierz after her reign as the previous tournament champion. The rumors said she was an infected pretending to be normal—some believed it, others didn't, but none dared to speak openly of it.
Felix's expression softened as he spoke. "I tell you this because Tomorrow's Development isn't just another company. In the eyes of the Chamber of Commerce, we are already one of their strategic partners."
He folded his hands neatly on the table. "If you join Tomorrow's Development, you will be under my banner. That way, when you negotiate with them, you won't be at a disadvantage. And as for your plan—to promote infected knights and legitimize their participation in the tournaments—that can be pursued under our flag."
The Blood Knight lowered his head. "...I need time to think."
"Of course," Felix said with a patient smile. "I'll remain here for a few more days. I hope you'll have an answer before I leave."
Then he added, almost casually, "By the way, I've heard there's a gathering place for infected knights nearby. I'm curious about it. Would you take me there?"
The Blood Knight, having developed a basic trust in Felix, nodded. "Alright."
When they left the locker room, a crowd of investors stood in the distance, arguing among themselves with tense, restless energy. Their gazes toward the Blood Knight were heavy with disappointment—like merchants dissatisfied with the quality of their merchandise.
The Blood Knight felt a twist of discomfort in his chest.
When the representative of the Chamber of Commerce spotted him walking beside Felix, their face twitched slightly—but not with surprise.
Of course. Four years later, the infamous Knight Collector had returned. And, just as before, he had his eyes on the tournament champion.
Only this time, the champion was an infected.
The executives exchanged looks, unspoken words passing between them, and finally one of them sighed and made a call to report the situation to the upper board.
When the higher-ups heard that the person accompanying the champion was the Pioneer, their objections vanished immediately. In fact, they secretly hoped the infected knight would leave with Felix.
Though the Blood Knight had won the championship, his infected status had brought endless trouble to them. If the Pioneer took him away, it would solve more problems than it caused.
They could already sense a brewing storm on the horizon—and the farther this knight went, the better.
"Do you see their attitude?" Felix said quietly as they walked. His gaze flicked toward the towering knight beside him. "Even as the champion, they still look at you as nothing more than an infected."
"This is Kazimierz… This is the Kawalerielki. I understand," the Blood Knight murmured, his voice calm but heavy.
He showed no emotion on his face, but inside, a sigh lingered.
He led Felix and Muelsyse toward the outskirts of the city. Muelsyse, now using her water clone avatar, followed silently—her true body had gone ahead to the infected camp. She had said there was no real risk of contagion, but her elven sensitivity to Originium made her cautious nonetheless.
They arrived at an abandoned plaza outside the city walls. Judging by the graffiti on the cracked walls, it had been deserted for years. Around a few scattered bonfires, several armored figures huddled together for warmth, rubbing their chilled hands and feet.
Felix recognized one of them—he had participated in the tournament as well. Mob, the commentator, had mocked him as a "punching bag knight." His injuries were light, but his body was still wrapped in layers of bandages.
Nearby, two other infected knights lay bedridden, unable to rise. They had been crippled by the CC's knights during the matches. Combined with the worsening stages of Oripathy, their chances of survival were slim at best.
"Sir Blood Knight has returned!"
The moment he appeared, the infected knights and onlookers gathered around him. Their eyes burned with respect and emotion, their voices overlapping in excitement and gratitude.
For them, he wasn't just a champion.
He was proof that they still had hope.
For the infected knights, the victory of the Blood Knight was nothing short of a miracle—a surge of hope where there had only been despair.
At last, one of their own had become the champion of the Kazimierz Tournament.
It was proof that they could rise to the same heights as any ordinary knight—that they too could stand atop the grand arena, basking in glory.
In their hearts, the Blood Knight had become more than just a fighter.
He was their symbol, their beacon, their idol.
The knight understood this all too well. He moved among them with quiet warmth, speaking to each infected knight with patience and care, sometimes kneeling to pat a child's head. Gradually, his stern face softened into a gentle smile.
Nearby, Felix noticed a young child peering at him curiously. It was unusual—he wasn't the center of attention here, the Blood Knight was. Yet the child's gaze was fixed entirely on him.
She had a mane of fiery red hair that flickered like dancing flames. Her frame was small, frail even—and on her arm, Felix caught sight of a faint barcode.
A slave mark.
She had once been property.
Felix crouched down and waved. The little Zalak girl blinked, then scampered toward him, her light armor clearly hand-me-downs from another infected. At her waist hung a practice rapier, too large for her, but she carried it with a knight's pride.
"Hello," Felix greeted warmly. "I'm the Pioneer—friend of the Blood Knight."
The girl's eyes shone with excitement. "I'm Sona! I want to become a Knight!"
"Then you'd better start training hard," Felix said, smiling as he ruffled her hair. "Time waits for no one, you know."
"I can tell you've been practicing already."
He pointed to her hands. Sona opened her palms shyly—her fingers were covered in calluses, the marks of countless hours spent with a sword.
"Mr. Pioneer," she asked innocently, "which Knightclub are you from? I've never heard of a 'Pioneer Knight' before."
Felix chuckled softly. "I'm not a knight," he admitted. "But one day, I'll build my own Knightclub."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up.
"Yes," Felix nodded. "It'll be called the Fate Knights. If you still dream of the tournament when you're older, you should join us."
"I… I'll think about it!" Sona said, smiling brightly.
A voice from the distance called her name. She gave Felix a polite wave before dashing back toward her friends, the sunlight catching her red hair like a spark of hope.
"What a well-mannered child," murmured Muelsyse's water clone avatar beside him. "Her eyes are filled with dreams of the future."
Felix smiled faintly. "I understand the infected. I respect those like Sona—the ones who still look forward."
He paused, recalling the countless infected he'd met over time. His tone grew quieter. "I have no prejudice against the infected… but I do have prejudice against those who've already given up on themselves."
The worst, he thought, were the Ursus infected—those consumed entirely by hatred.
After some time, the Blood Knight finished speaking with his people. They were perceptive enough to leave the area, giving him privacy with the guests he had brought.
His living quarters were humble—little more than a tent, sparse and bare. There was nothing to offer, but Felix didn't mind. He simply sat down on the floor. The Blood Knight blinked in surprise, then followed suit.
"Now then," Felix said with a small smile, "let's talk about our future."
"You already know what Tomorrow's Development is," he began, "but it's a company, not a Knightclub. It can't openly compete in the tournaments or lend you its power on the field. So I've decided to establish a Knightclub of my own. Would you like to join?"
Every knight belonged to an order or club—some for honor, others for profit. Clubs were the backbone of the chivalric world; together they built strength, shared burdens, and protected one another. Four years ago, when a knight outpost was besieged, it was the combined might of multiple Clubs that crushed the bounty hunters' advance.
"Your… Knightclub?" The Blood Knight rested his chin in thought.
"I won't force your decision," Felix said calmly. "But what you wish to do—challenging authority—won't be easy. The Chamber of Commerce will offer you only one path: become their champion mascot. They'll even build a new club for you from the ground up. But the cost?"
"My… everything," the Blood Knight murmured.
He turned away, exhaling deeply. "I understand. You've said enough. I'm convinced."
"The Fate Knights, then," he said, rising to his feet. "Tell me what you need. Beyond my loyalty—what else must I give?"
Felix shook his head. "Only your loyalty. The rest—your choices, your cause—those are yours to decide."
"Even if I fight for the rights of infected knights?"
"Then fight," Felix said firmly. "You'll have my full support."
He raised a thumb in encouragement.
The Blood Knight straightened, his massive form rising like a giant war machine awakened anew. Facing Felix, he bowed deeply.
"You have my loyalty, Sir Pioneer."