I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Your talent and skill in swordsmanship are exceptional. Even someone as intelligent as me had to constantly study every move and technique of the sword when I was young. I even had to secretly study these techniques under the covers at night after being beaten and in pain, and then fight you again the next day with dark circles under my eyes.

I'm afraid of you because the most vivid memory of that pain is linked to you, so much so that even now I still remember that agony vividly.

Even though I've grown up and no longer lost consciousness or the ability to think calmly due to pain, those suffocating moments that clouded my judgment continue to serve as a constant reminder, etched in my memory.

Of course, not being able to give you a proper beating is also a reason why this problem occurs.

However, the older I get, the more I feel that this is still far from enough.

Excellence is meaningless.

Even if you can act as a wandering knight and resolve all the unpleasant things around Kazimierz; even if you can witness those you once helped returning home with homemade malt candy and thank-you notes; even if you can defeat powerful enemies time and time again—

The seeds of disaster are still growing steadily in the cradle.

You once secretly took me away from Kavaleria to play in the countryside and fields, while my father was still worried about things like Oripathy and troublemakers.

There I saw a wheat field taller than your waist, which enveloped my entire body, making it impossible to see where to get out. I could only rely on Originium Arts to find a way out.

You call that being slick, but Margaret couldn't even do that. If I hadn't gone in again to bring her out, it would probably have taken her a whole day to walk out of that wheat field.

But you know what, Uncle?

When I returned there last time, the wheat field was gone, replaced by a barren, red earth that had been dug up.

Steel crisscrosses the fields, and mechanical arms churn and churn across them, laying black steel plates on the once soft soil, swallowing up the farmland and turning the golden wheat fields that once swayed in the wind into a dull, mechanized wasteland.

In the center of the field, a makeshift metal structure stands tall, surrounded by countless shipping containers and parts boxes. Workers move among them, and occasionally a few managers dressed in uniforms from a company in Kasimir stand at the edge of the site to monitor the situation.

Further afield, transport vehicles drove along newly laid makeshift tracks, carrying boxes labeled "Resource Development" and "Waste Recycling" to the mechanized giant arms. What these machines grabbed were torn, overturned, and crushed soil and roots.

At that moment, I stood on the edge of that now-gone wheat field, watching this scene from afar, trying to piece together what it once looked like from my memory.

But no matter how I try to recall it, I can no longer find the scenery of that summer, nor can I hear the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the wheat fields.

But this might be a good thing.

If you have studied mechanization and basic industrial theory, you will find that even if the scenery disappears and everything that symbolizes childhood is gone, as long as these things can earn some profit for the landowners, they can use them to acquire more money and achieve a better life.

Without the support of a core city, this region may be spared from oppression, but it will also become a lawless place due to the lack of legal control.

Therefore, this is necessary, this is the right path.

But what about the villagers who originally lived on the land?

Who do you think will get these lands? The Business Federation?

You should actually know this, since Lin Guang's family also has some.

Yes, the true owners of these lands were the nobles.

A village's land ownership is mortgaged to a company, which then sells the land to the villagers living there, sets a deadline, and then either dies or delays until that date, ultimately turning ownership into a mess. How much of the money and property belonging to the villagers actually ends up in their hands?

What's the point of continuing like this?

I remember you saying that this is a land even freer than Kavaleriaki, and as long as the farmers are willing to work, willing to touch the soil with their hands, and willing to let the crops grow in the wind, the land of Kazimir will never truly be abandoned, and Kazimir will always be Kazimir.

But back then I was looking too far ahead, only gazing at Victoria and Colombia in the distance, with a grander vision in my mind: to use war to quell the situation and then resolve the country's problems step by step. I didn't realize that the land beneath my feet had been trembling for a long time.

It lasted so long that I didn't have time to react.

And I have never understood the look in your eyes back then as clearly as I did at that moment.

In the past, you chose silence, chose to leave, chose to become a white-collar worker, someone seemingly insignificant yet always wandering in the shadow of Kazimierz. The world thought you were running away, the knights thought you were just cowardly, but I never doubted it.

That's not running away; it's the only thing you can do.

Perhaps many years ago, you already knew that Kazimierz was headed for destruction.

But, Uncle, I don't like silence; it's something I really hate.

Even though Casimir has changed, even if it is ruthless, cold, and indifferent, I still hope that I can do something to preserve something and let Maria grow up in a loving environment.

Although my current actions are all driven by selfishness, perhaps this statement is true, or at least partly true.

I……

I still hope that one day those golden waves of wheat that once swayed in the wind will reappear on this land.

Gerald

The Nightmare of Kazimierz

Chapter 1: A Light Brighter Than Neon Lights (6K7)

8:11 PM, Central Kazimierz, Four Cities United, June 15, 1097 Terra Calendar.

Five days have passed since the start of the 24th Kazimierz Knights Tournament.

The four cities were seamlessly connected, and even the "limited-time neighbors" between city-states, who had a six-month term, began to walk the streets together, greeting each other and inviting each other to join a certain knight's fan club.

The Major, held every three years, is the entirety of esports for those unaware of it.

In fact, prior to that, there had been intense selections, points accumulation, and exchanges between representatives and companies from various mobile cities, all in order to present a spectacular six-month-long competition for the audience of this top-level event.

To ensure the tourism industry reaches its peak, to ensure the smooth operation of daily products and business chains, and to ensure that all supporting fans are willing to spend money to buy tickets—an invisible hand firmly controls the pulse of the city, all operating for one goal, causing this vast country to race to the other side of the horizon, until it collapses.

Thus came Justina, a country girl who longed to become a knight.

Or, as we should say now, the Independent Knight, Justina.

She had just emerged from the underground arena, having finished another qualifying match of the day. Although the points she had accumulated over the past three years were enough for her to secure a good position in the Major, or even pursue the goal of becoming a Title Knight from the start.

However, the money that Independent Knights received without sponsorship was only barely enough. Even though it would be considered a considerable sum of money for an ordinary person, it was barely enough to treat Oripathy.

Fortunately, the new medicine was relatively cheap... She remembered that it came from Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals. The company's ships had briefly docked in the Great Knight Territory ten days ago, but left after the four cities were merged.

It's a bit of a shame; it would be great if there were a long-term supply source.

The future Farfang Knight was lost in thought, but in reality, she was still trying to distance herself from the agent who was talking incessantly to her. He was one of the talent scouts from Rose Newspaper, who had reportedly been watching her since her very first match.

But she didn't care much about these things. She knew better than anyone that, having not received a good education, once she signed a contract with a company, this so-called attentiveness would soon become an order that would drive her into the abyss.

“Miss Justina, please consider our proposal carefully. With the sponsorship of the Rose Newspaper, not to mention the publicity and promotion…”

The noise would disturb the sound of the wind, making it difficult for her to hear clearly.

So Justine, with her crossbow in hand, used a crate placed by the street at the next corner to jump onto the top of the crate in one movement, and then climbed up the ladder next to the building.

The petite Liboli made the most of her size, and soon got rid of her troublesome agent and arrived at the top of the building.

She looked into the distance.

As a sniper, excellent dynamic vision and reaction ability are key to her ability to handle high-intensity combat with ease, while the wind is what allows her to judge the opponent's movements.

Even at night, Qasimir remains brightly lit, with neon lights and shadows intertwining, clearly reflecting the pulse of the city under the night sky.

The streets surrounding the arena are the busiest area in the entire city, with thousands of spectators gathering there even at night, either talking loudly in pubs or watching replays of the matches on the big screen.

But her gaze went beyond these, turning to the other side of the city.

The neon lights gradually faded, silence replaced the noise, and the buildings in the night seemed isolated from this frantically operating city, appearing too inconspicuous and too dim atop the high-rises.

In that relatively quiet area, a magnificent castle sits atop a moving plate called the Great Knight's Territory, its outline clearly visible even from this distance.

It was a sight that would be astonishing even in the City of Knights—out of place with the surrounding neon-lit city, they illuminated their outlines by firelight alone, as if still immersed in the old glory of Kazimierz.

Justina didn't know much about the aristocratic system, but she had heard some rumors. The traditional knightly nobility system in Kazimierz didn't appear to have a strict hierarchical division; theoretically, all knightly families were a group of nobles of equal status. However, the reality was far more complex.

She had heard from conversations with some old knights that some gladiators, who also came from ancient knightly families, were forced to live in cramped, dilapidated dwellings far from the city center, even worse off than some ordinary peddlers.

They're at the same level, but it doesn't seem like they're really at the same level.

Justina couldn't quite understand it, so she took out the whistle from her bag, hoping the wind would carry the melody far away.

This somewhat alleviated the pain she was experiencing from the match; her abdomen had just been hit hard by the butt of her sword, and she still felt nauseous.

But she suddenly stopped moving.

For some reason, she felt that the sound of the wind seemed to have changed.

...It was a bit like the restlessness before a rainy day, with a sudden, unprovoked gust of wind carrying the impending rain, slapping against the stone wall and making a crackling sound.

At times like these, the wind usually seems a bit impatient, or even angry.

But it didn't rain today; the sky was crystal clear, without even a single cloud. So where did this frustration come from?

This voice, so different from her usual one, and the doubt it evoked, seemed like an invisible thread, guiding her consciousness to a more distant place.

She followed the strange wind and gazed into the distance—

Their gaze finally settled on the ancient castle in the distance.

Just a minute ago, the wall was completely empty, but now a figure is quietly standing there.

The black arm armor rippled slowly in the night, as if even the light refused to approach him. Knights on the city wall surrounded him, arranged in neat rows, standing silently as if bound by some invisible rule.

No one drew their sword, no one stepped forward, and no one tried to stop them.

They simply stood quietly, their eyes lowered beneath their helmets, welcoming his arrival with an almost reverent silence.

In that instant, Justina gripped the crossbow tightly, her feathers stood on end, and her heartbeat seemed to freeze.

Then--

As if sensing something, those golden eyes gently turned, piercing through layers of night and neon lights, and suddenly collided with her gaze.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment.

But the other person didn't seem to care. He just glanced at her quietly, then turned away and walked forward into the deep night, disappearing into the even deeper darkness.

High up in the building, Justina sat there, panting heavily, her nails almost digging into her palms, unable to shake off the sudden wave of fear.

……

Young Li Boli suddenly felt as if he had returned to his childhood village for a moment.

There, an old knight, weary from his journey, once stopped by their house and told her a story.

It's a story from hundreds of years ago.

He said that in the past, the Pegasus Kingdom and the Eagle Kingdom had constant conflicts and fought each other, resulting in countless deaths and injuries.

However, on an ordinary day, the noble eagles stationed on the border suddenly disappeared without a trace.

Feeling something was amiss, Pegasus went to investigate, only to encounter not the eagles or Ursus, but another group of gods who had come on an expedition.

He says,

That is the nightmare.

--------

Gerald stepped into the historic castle, his boots treading on the marble-paved corridors.

The surrounding candlelight flickered slightly, its faint glow casting an old, worn sheen on the gilded knightly emblems on the wall.

It was indeed impeccable in appearance, and his family may have had similar fiefdoms and buildings in the past... but at least he had never experienced waking up in a castle before, so everything here was new to him.

A faint sound came from afar, and the scent and fragrance filled his senses.

He silently stopped, causing the patrolling knight at the corner to freeze in place before he could even utter a sound, without the slightest struggle.

His vision was completely black, his breath was instantly taken away, and a feeling of suffocation instantly filled the knight's entire body, yet he still stood in the same position as when he was awake.

Gerald continued walking forward.

The castle is ancient, the architectural style is ancient, and the atmosphere is ancient.

And its luxurious interior.

He stopped in front of a banquet hall.

Golden candlelight illuminated every inch of the intricately carved ceiling, and the interplay of light and shadow reflected the overlapping crystal chandeliers, adorning the entire space with a dreamlike glow.

During the banquet, nobles gathered in twos and threes, clinking their glasses. The ladies sat gracefully on velvet chairs, their fingertips lightly gliding over the delicate pastries on the table, while secretly smearing the sweetness on the faces of passing waiters.

The young knights, holding wine glasses, discussed the secrets of the Business Association without any restraint on one side of the banquet hall. It was as if whoever knew more was more likely to have extraordinary connections in private. The upcoming competition and a certain newly promoted competitive knight were their pastimes during their post-dinner chats.

An elderly nobleman sat by the fireplace, his appearance suggesting he was the owner of the castle and the head of the family. Several well-dressed businessmen sat around him, their suits and ties a stark contrast to the style of the knights around them.

What a "warm" and "peaceful" scene!

Gerald, however, did not find the target he was looking for.