Man on the ark, forced to become king

In fact, in the underworld of Kazimierz, the Unarmored Platinum Rank is already a very prestigious title.

Over time, the knightly class declined and was even stripped of its noble status. The knights' squires, who had once depended on the knights for survival, rose to power and became the de facto rulers of the country.

They established a business federation, which controlled most of the power in Kazimir. The Unarmed Alliance, which once existed to resist oppression, became a weapon in their hands to eliminate rebels and deal with things that were inconvenient to be discussed openly.

Based on this, the Unarmored Alliance can actually be considered a semi-official assassin organization, and its status alone is much higher than that of lone wolves and bounty hunters.

Their presence is felt throughout Qazimir, and their task forces strike fear into the hearts of many.

However, although it is much larger than it was originally, the upper structure of the Unarmored Alliance has remained unchanged.

The three Xuan Tie Grandmasters oversee everything and rarely take action. Below them are two Qing Jin Grandmasters who handle most of the affairs of the Wu Zhou Alliance, and then there are the Bai Jin Grandmasters who serve as executors.

In other words, Platinum's position in the Unarmored Alliance is similar to that of a 'general'. She can mobilize the vast majority of assassins, assign tasks, and also be responsible for carrying out highly difficult commissions.

For underground assassins who live in the shadows, that position is one to look up to; no one dares to offend them easily.

but……

"What kind of bullshit platinum position is this! It's just a bunch of slave laborers who stepped down to do the work and take the blame!"

"The salary is pitifully low, I have to work overtime every day, and there are no holidays. I don't get any benefits. I have to do all the dirty and hard work, and I have to take the blame for any mistakes! I've wanted to quit for a long time!"

The platinum-ranked player squatted on the ground like a punching bag, his resentment almost overflowing.

"I don't have time to go shopping, I don't have time to buy clothes, I don't have time to eat. Even the employees in the company can relax on their days off, but I work day and night. While others are enjoying delicious food, I can only find a quiet corner to eat cheap boxed lunches!"

"I don't get a single penny of the money for completing the mission. There's no insurance, no subsidies, and I have to pay out of my own pocket to cover my expenses. Those two stingy guys only provide the most basic and cheap equipment."

"The bow that she knocked down on the street before was something I painstakingly saved up for over several months to buy! And it was on installment, which I had just finished paying off!"

"They deserve to die!"

The more Xintrea spoke, the more agitated she became, her eyes reddening, her teeth clenched as if she wanted to devour some non-existent person alive.

'Are the working conditions at the Unarmored Alliance really this bad?'

With a stern face and a cool posture, Ma Enna almost lost his composure, touching the stubble on his chin, unsure of what to say.

This is not the renowned Platinum position; she is clearly a young girl who has been terribly exploited by a ruthless corporation.

To be fair, the Unarmored Alliance is a fairly large underground organization, so it's a bit much that their employee treatment is worse than that of the worst companies.

No wonder this Platinum player was full of grievances and didn't even think about resisting when captured; he had no professional ethics whatsoever.

This treatment is worse than working on a construction site... "corporate slave" is not even an accurate description. Even the serfs in the noble families of the old era were much better off than them. Anyone who was exploited like this would not be able to fulfill their duties. It's already quite good that they didn't rebel on the spot.

However, this statement only applies to ordinary companies and cannot be applied to the Unarmed Alliance.

How could an assassin organization that specializes in dirty work allow its members to betray them so easily? They must have stricter methods to control their subordinate assassins, and even if they can't completely eliminate them, it's impossible for such a thing to happen to an assassin at the Platinum rank.

Why would this guy do this... Marner was kept in the dark for the time being. He had some guesses, but couldn't verify them yet.

"Indeed, buying equipment on installment is a very painful thing, especially when the equipment is damaged before the loan is paid off."

To Marna's surprise, after listening to the accusations made by this Platinum-ranked figure, who was unusual in every way, against the Unarmored Alliance, her niece showed an expression of empathy, and her focus was quite subtle.

Taking out a loan to buy equipment or something...

What on earth has she been through outside...?

"Zofia, find a rope to tie her up and lock her in the basement. A Platinum member of the Unarmored Alliance does have some value."

Ignoring the connection between her niece and some strange platinum, Marner quickly made a decision.

Captured assassins are worthless, but those at the Platinum rank are an exception. She is not important to the Undead Alliance or the Light Family, and no one cares whether she lives or dies. However, killing her directly could still lead to a conflict with the Undead Alliance.

Although it is somewhat shameful, given the current weak state of the Linguang family, it is really not suitable to cause any more trouble.

Since his family and even the entire knightly class declined, he had become accustomed to similar compromises, so one more time wouldn't make a difference.

In short, lock them up for now; they should come in handy later.

Thinking this, Marna saw a Platinum-ranked figure with red-rimmed eyes voluntarily place the remaining small props, such as hidden weapons, on the ground, and obediently extend his hands to Zofia so that she could tie him up with rope, while whispering a promise: "I won't run away, I won't go anywhere!"

"..."

Why does my headache feel even worse?

"Take her away immediately."

For various reasons, Marner said he didn't want to see this weirdo anymore. He tugged at his stubble and focused his attention on Margaret, who was holding her sister, his expression returning to its usual seriousness.

“Tell me, Margaret, where have you been all this time? Then I’ll take you to see Father. His condition is… very bad.”

"Aren't we waiting for Aunt Zofia to come back?"

Margaret placed her younger sister on the sofa and said seriously, "I have plenty of time to talk about my experiences, but right now, Grandpa's health is more important. Please take me to see him, Uncle."

"Alright."

Marna did not refuse, and turned to walk towards the stairs leading to the second floor, talking as she went.

At home, he is much gentler, unlike his rigid, serious, and unsmiling demeanor outside.

"You know your father's health. He's very old, and the damage he's sustained has caused his body to age rapidly. He's become increasingly lethargic, especially after you left, and even moving around has become difficult for him."

"The doctors don't have any effective treatments, so the only thing we can do is let the patient rest. The rooms on the second floor have the best lighting and ventilation. If it's morning, even if you stay in bed, you can still get some sun in the room. That's all we can do."

The implication is that the elderly person's time is running out.

Margaret understood the meaning behind her uncle's words. She clenched her fists, lowered her eyes, and went upstairs in silence.

The half-open door opened gently, revealing a simply furnished room where a blond old man sat leaning against the headboard. Noticing the movement at the door, he turned his head to look.

He was very old, so old that wrinkles covered his face, and even his hair had lost its former luster. His scarred arms were like withered branches, just skin covering bones.

Time shows no favoritism; even the legendary heroes of Kazimierz cannot resist its erosion.

Cyril Nearl, the Long Knight of the Nearl family, was once a legendary figure, but is now so old that he has difficulty moving around.

But his eyes remained bright, bursting with an amazing brilliance the moment he saw Margaret.

“Margaret, you’re back.”

"Yes, I'm back, Grandpa."

Margaret lowered her head slightly, not daring to look directly into those eyes. She knew how much trouble her past actions had brought to the family, and she also bore some responsibility for the old man's current state.

"It's good that you're back, cough cough, it's good that you're back."

Cyril's voice was as weak as his body, or perhaps he was too excited; he coughed halfway through his speech, and his gaze remained fixed on his granddaughter, never leaving her for a second.

Marna went to help him, but he pushed her away.

"No need, I'm not that old yet."

"Grandpa, your health..."

"Cough cough, don't worry, Margaret, I'm already very content to see you again."

The old man smiled and grasped Margaret's outstretched hand, sighing, "If I could still wield a gun, if I could still ride a warhorse, you wouldn't have had to go through all that..."

“I’m sorry, Margaret, we are not able to shield you from those storms.”

"That's not your fault, Grandpa!"

Margaret withdrew her hand, and under the questioning gazes of the old man and Marna, she rummaged in her pocket, took out a small porcelain bottle about the size of a thumb, carefully held it in her hand, uncorked it, and handed it over.

"Drink it, it will make your body feel better."

“Okay, okay, Margaret has grown up too.”

Cyril shakily took the porcelain bottle, then smiled and poured it out.

The thumb-sized bottle had a very limited capacity. Thick, golden liquid flowed down from the bottle's opening, and a life force so intense that it was clearly perceptible even without deliberate perception suddenly burst forth.

There was only one drop of the golden liquid, but its effects were very obvious. The moment it entered the mouth, the old man's body was filled with a hazy glow, his arms were filled with flesh and blood again, his loose skin became taut, and his weak and emaciated body became stronger at a visible speed. The wrinkles all over his face disappeared one by one.

In the blink of an eye, Cyril Nearl transformed from a frail old man into a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, even his blond hair began to shine.

"This, this is?"

Marna, who witnessed everything, was dumbfounded and completely lost control of his expression. He even looked up and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

A miracle was born right before his eyes.

The fairy tale became reality, and the lost time returned to his father.

His gaze was fixed on the small porcelain bottle with Yan-style features, his thoughts in turmoil.

What exactly is it that can instantly restore an old, immobile person to a healthy, middle-aged state?

Such a treasure would attract countless powerful figures to fight over even if it were placed in the upper echelons of Kazimierz. How did Margaret obtain it?

“Margaret! Where did you find it?!”

However, before he could ask any questions, Cyril, now back to his prime, jumped off the bed and grabbed Margaret's shoulder.

Despite being free from the effects of aging, the old man showed no joy on his face; instead, he frowned, his eyes filled with worry.

He could feel the surging life force flowing through his body. The vitality carried by that drop of golden liquid directly brought him back to his former peak state. The remaining part was still merging into his flesh and blood, making his body stronger. Although he looked like he was in his forties or fifties, judging from his physical condition, it would not be an exaggeration to say that he was in his twenties.

Such a treasure is beyond description. In his decades of life, he had never heard of such a thing. What price did his little granddaughter pay for it?

He needs to get to the bottom of this!

"I bought it, I bought it..."