Arknights: Soul Knights of Terra — Chapter 102

Chapter 102: Returning Disappointed

“On this land, it is normal for disasters to follow one another. I have long been prepared for this.”

Watching Saria’s resolute expression, Justin found his own lingering anxieties easing. He slapped his cheeks hard, the sharp stinging sensation pulling him together.

“You are right,” he admitted, exhaling a long breath. “It seems my training is still far from enough.”

He picked up his now-cold coffee and took a heavy gulp. The bitter, stagnant taste made his features crinkle in distaste. Setting the ceramic cup down, his gaze drifted once again to the empty left sleeve of Saria’s jacket. He hesitated, his fingers tapping nervously against the tabletop.

“Are you really sure you don’t need a custom prosthetic limb? The department still has plenty of budget for that.”

“No need.”

Saria answered crisply. She raised her left shoulder, and in a blink, a translucent, hardened construct formed where her arm should be. She abruptly clenched those manifested fingers.

Crack—!

A short, sharp sonic boom whipped through the cafe, rattling the windows and startling the surrounding customers. Heads turned in their direction, eyes wide with alarm.

“My condition is not as bad as you imagine,” Saria said smoothly, releasing the tension in her hand and offering a polite, apologetic nod to the disturbed patrons. “I can temporarily manifest one with Arts when necessary.”

She turned her sharp gaze back to him. “Your energy should be focused on the negotiations with the Commercial Union. That is the key to our trip here.”

“…As expected of you.” Justin’s face filled with genuine admiration. It was no wonder she ranked first on Rhine Lab’s internal list of the most reliable partners.

“However, you don’t need to be personally responsible for this meeting,” Justin added, leaning forward. “Since you’ve finally managed to leave that mess in Columbia behind… why don’t you relax a little?”

Seeing Saria’s brow furrow into a slight frown, he quickly raised his hands. “Isn’t there that newcomer? He can at least hold his own against you for a while. Routine security tasks shouldn’t be a problem for him. As for you… go keep Researcher Silence company and take a load off. You know as well as I do that ever since that incident, her mental state has not been very good.”

Saria’s lips parted to issue a rebuttal, but the words died in her throat. After a heavy moment of silence, she lowered her gaze and gave a faint nod.

“…Contact me immediately if you run into trouble.”

“That’s more like it!” Justin let out a sigh of relief and offered a bright smile. “Just rest assured and go on your break. I will handle the Commercial Union.”

Saria nodded again, preparing to leave, before a thought crossed her mind. “Where is that newcomer now?”

“Ah, this…” Justin’s expression turned a bit subtle, his eyes darting to the side. “Since I thought you would be handling the immediate security, I let him go familiarize himself with the environment.”

“Familiarize himself with the environment?”

“Didn’t the Commercial Union prepare a VIP viewing box for us? I sent him there.” Justin explained, then muttered under his breath, scratching his chin. “Come to think of it, what was that newcomer’s name again…”

Meanwhile, inside the Kazimierz Knight-Arena.

The VIP receptionist checked the gilded guest list in her hand, her perfectly manicured eyebrows knitting together as she looked at the visitor standing before her.

The man was tall and muscular, his hair slicked back with an excessive amount of gel. He wore a tailored suit and a smile that practically oozed a deliberately manufactured charm.

“Excuse me… are you the guest from Rhine Lab?” the receptionist asked cautiously. The aura of the man before her felt entirely disconnected from the stoic, academic researchers she had been briefed to expect. “Are you Mr. Fitzroy?”

“Certainly not.”

The man flashed a brilliant smile and spread his arms, subtly flexing to show off his physique beneath the expensive fabric. “Do I look like one of those powerless office workers?”

The receptionist took a discreet half-step back. Years of rigorous professional training allowed her to maintain a flawless facade of calm. “I recall the accompanying Head of the Security Department being a lady…”

The man’s smile instantly stiffened, freezing into a rigid grimace. He clicked his tongue in open annoyance, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit and yanking out his ID badge and invitation letter.

The receptionist accepted the documents with both hands, inspecting the holographic seals carefully before bowing low. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Jeston Williams. Please follow me. Your box is already prepared.”

Jeston caught his breath, puffing out his chest. He held his head high, sharply adjusted his collar, and followed her down the carpeted corridor.

“Listen closely,” Jeston began, his tone dripping with unearned superiority. “Perhaps the name ‘Jeston’ isn’t loud enough in Kazimierz yet, but I guarantee you, this is only temporary! Soon, I will surpass that woman and become the true core of the Security Department. I—”

“We have arrived, Mr. Jeston.”

The receptionist stopped abruptly, sliding the heavy mahogany door open and interrupting his impromptu speech at the exact perfect moment.

Jeston glared daggers at the side of her head, but she kept her eyes fixed politely on her own nose, completely ignoring his irritation. He let out a loud huff, stormed into the luxurious box, and slammed the door shut behind him.

“What is it, my friend?”

SilverAsh paused in the bustling VIP hallway, noticing that Gregor had suddenly stopped in his tracks. The warlord cast a curious glance over his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

The electronic, synthesized voice replied calmly. Gregor resumed his heavy, measured steps, and the two continued down the corridor.

Beneath his mechanical exterior, Gregor was quietly processing a bizarre sensor reading. He couldn’t fathom why the man who had just stormed into the nearby room would have heavy iron plates surgically embedded directly into his own flesh.

Before he could dwell on it, SilverAsh stopped in front of a set of double doors. “We have arrived.”

Pushing open the door to their assigned box, they were greeted by an interior that was lavish without being gaudy. Plush leather seating faced a massive floor-to-ceiling reinforced window, offering a commanding, unobstructed view of the main arena below.

“I hope today’s program can keep you entertained,” SilverAsh said, sitting down with practiced elegance. He crossed one leg over the other, his sharp feline eyes casting downward toward the frenzied, neon-lit scene.

“I will tentatively look forward to it,” Gregor replied, his massive frame settling into the seat beside him.

The moment they sat down, the colossal holographic screens suspended above the arena flared to life. Dazzling, strobing lighting effects swept across the stands, accompanied by a heavy, impassioned bassline of electronic music that instantly ignited a deafening roar from the tens of thousands of spectators.

A man with an exaggerated, spiky hairstyle suddenly leaned close to the main camera, his face filling the screens with a wild, manic grin.

“Ladies and gentlemen in the audience! Friends tuning in front of your television sets! How—are you doing?!”

“I am your old friend—Big-Mouth Mob!!!”

“Wooo—!!!”

A shockwave of cheers erupted from the stands, shaking the very foundation of the stadium. Mob grinned wider, extending his arm to point at the sponsor logos flashing rapidly on the screens behind him.

“Mob has received your enthusiasm at one hundred and twenty percent! So now—let us skip the boring warm-up and go straight to the segment everyone cares about most!”

He took a massive, theatrical breath. The stadium drums hammered out a rapid, thrilling beat as a barrage of spotlights converged on the center stage.

“Knight—” Mob roared.

The entire audience screamed the response in perfect unison: “-Arena!!!”

“Oh oh oh oh oh—!!!”

The sheer volume threatened to blow the roof off the dome. Amidst the boiling ocean of revelry, Mob spread his arms wide, soaking in the adoration.

“That’s right! There are only three months left until the new Knight Championship! So the question is—brave knights, are your points enough?!”

He suddenly yanked his arm back, leaning aggressively into the camera lens. “Of course—not enough!!! This is the Kazimierz Knight-Arena! Only true stars can stand here and step onto the glorious stage of the Championship!”

His voice pitched higher, laced with highly inflammatory hype. “So, let us welcome the two contestants with our loudest cheers!!!”

Spotlights pierced the darkness of the arena floor, and Mob’s tone shifted, becoming as melodious and dramatic as a stage poet.

“First to enter—the elegant messenger! His swordsmanship is as continuous as the waves, and his posture is as intoxicating as the tide! Possessing a massive legion of loyal followers and known for his flashy combat techniques—the Surging Wave Knight, Torres!!!”

A knight clad in gleaming blue and white armor, heavily decorated with stylized wave patterns, strode elegantly out of the gates. He performed an impeccable, sweeping courtly bow toward the audience, removed his plumed helmet, and flashed a devastatingly charming smile to the crowd.

“Lord Torres—!!!”

The high-pitched screams of his female fans soared instantly, clashing violently against the sour boos and crude catcalls from the male audience members.

Mob let the chaotic noise simmer for a few perfect seconds before cutting back in. “And his opponent—one of the powerhouses ranked at the top of the leaderboard, and the man most likely to qualify for the Championship preliminaries! The Silverlight Knight, Nolan!!!”

From the opposite gate, a knight in solid, silver-white armor walked out with steady, heavy steps. His gear was purely functional, completely lacking any flashy corporate decorations or custom paint jobs.

Cheers rang out for him, but they were a chaotic mix of desperation and frustration.

“Come on! I’ve bet my entire savings on you this time!”

“Are you here for the first time, brother? Don’t you know he is the ‘Almost-There Knight’?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“This guy! Every time he saves up enough points and is about to qualify for the Championship preliminaries, he always loses!”

“Six years! He hasn’t been able to cross that threshold once! Every time, it’s just ‘almost’!”

“What?! Is it too late for me to get a refund now?!”

Inside the soundproofed luxury box, SilverAsh gently swirled the amber liquid in his crystal wine glass, his eyes tracking the two knights with completely different auras.

“On one side is a ‘commodity’carefully packaged to attract a specific demographic,” SilverAsh murmured, his tone laced with dry amusement. “And on the other is a’jinx’ who has solid strength but repeatedly misses key opportunities. The Commercial Union’s script… It seems today is destined to be unsatisfying.”

Gregor’s glowing optics locked onto the Silverlight Knight. “Who do you think will win?”

SilverAsh smiled faintly. “Looking purely at past records, Silverlight has a much higher win rate. But this is the Commercial Union’s Knight-Arena…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The implication hung heavy in the air.

Down below, the match began. The Surging Wave Knight launched the first assault. His slender rapier traced a brilliant, deep blue trajectory through the air—flashy, swift, and entirely telegraphed.

The Silverlight Knight simply lowered his center of gravity. His movements were not fast, but they were brutally efficient, easily parrying and blocking every single strike with minimal effort.

Inside the box, Gregor watched in absolute silence. He wasn’t an expert in the local martial arts, but the sheer gap in raw combat strength was glaringly obvious.

Through his internal thermal sensors, Gregor monitored their vitals. The Surging Wave Knight’s body temperature was constantly rising, his muscles burning through stamina just to maintain his flashy footwork. In stark contrast, the Silverlight Knight’s thermal signature showed almost zero fluctuation. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

‘What kind of competition is this…’ Gregor thought dryly.

The battle below dragged on, becoming increasingly theatrical. The audience screamed themselves hoarse, demanding the Silverlight Knight launch a counterattack.

Bowing to the public outcry, the Silverlight Knight finally raised his heavy broadsword and repelled the Surging Wave Knight with a single, crushing strike. The two entered a fierce exchange of blows, and the momentum tilted steadily and inevitably toward the Silverlight Knight.

Yet, watching the flawless execution, SilverAsh merely sighed. “It’s over.”

Right on cue, the Silverlight Knight’s body began to tremble violently. He staggered, gasping for breath as if suddenly struck by an invisible illness. Seizing the opening, the Surging Wave Knight shouted a dramatic battle cry, accelerating his movements.

The blue rapier pierced straight through the faltering defense, slipping perfectly into the unarmored joint of Nolan’s shoulder plate.

The Silverlight Knight’s body shuddered violently, and he collapsed backward into the dirt. A massive chorus of wails and furious curses erupted instantly from the betting stands.

“Let’s go.”

Gregor stood up first, having seen enough of the farce. SilverAsh set his glass down and followed with a helpless shake of his head.

“My apologies. I didn’t expect it to be this kind of scene either.”

As they opened the door to leave, the muffled voice of the commentator leaked into the hallway. “…A beautiful comeback! The Surging Wave Knight has proven with his actions that flashiness and strength can absolutely coexist!”

SilverAsh sighed again, adjusting his cuffs. “Compared to a martial competition, this is nothing more than a commercial performance.”

Just as they stepped into the corridor, the door to the adjacent box was pushed open with excessive force. Jeston strode out, a scowl of obvious irritation plastered across his face. He had clearly decided to leave early as well.

Upon spotting the wealthy-looking SilverAsh and his towering, mechanical companion, Jeston’s scowl vanished, instantly replaced by a practiced, social smile.

“It seems I’m not the only one who couldn’t stand this boring match?” Jeston initiated the conversation smoothly, his gaze wandering appreciatively over SilverAsh’s exquisite, high-society attire.

In reality, his superior had just contacted him, forcing him to cut his leisure time short, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

SilverAsh quickly regained his polite composure and offered a slight nod. “Indeed. A match with such a predictable outcome is hard to get invested in.”

He responded briefly, keeping a subtle eye on Gregor’s reaction. Seeing that the towering Paladin just stood there in absolute silence, SilverAsh engaged the stranger to maintain appearances.

Jeston’s eyes flicked toward the massive figure beside the nobleman. A man with a TV for a head? Could this guy be the one in charge of the VIP group?

Musing inwardly, Jeston decided to probe the waters. He flashed his most charming smile. “You two don’t look like locals. May I ask where you are from? I am Jeston Williams, currently employed at Rhine Lab in Columbia.”

Gregor’s mechanical head snapped abruptly toward him.

‘Rhine Lab?’