Chapter 288: I've Said My Piece, Who Agrees? Who Opposes?
At that very moment, inside one of the hospital's luxury wards, two figures cloaked in black robes sat calmly in the center of the room, their hoods obscuring most of their faces.
Across from them were three wheelchairs and one hospital bed. In that bed lay a man whose body had clearly been through hell.
It was hard to imagine that this was how the upper echelon of the Armorless Union gathered.
With the exception of Monique, everyone else in the room was either gravely injured, bedridden, or both.
And judging by the subtle atmosphere… they all had one person to thank for their current state.
"There's likely to be a major upheaval in the Grand Knight Territory soon," one of the uninjured Darksteel said, tapping a gloved finger lightly against the table. "I think we need to decide—together—what kind of stance the Armorless Union should take in the face of it."
Even Roy, who had fallen unconscious earlier, had been roused for this meeting. The Darksteel who lay in the bed, still hooked up to a respirator, forced himself into a sitting position against the headboard.
This was a matter that could determine the Union's future—possibly its very survival.
No matter their condition, everyone had to be present. At the very least, the show of unity had to be maintained.
"…Personally, I think where there's risk, there's also opportunity," Monique said, breaking the silence as she calmly reached into her coat and drew out a photograph.
She placed it on the table, face-up. The figure in the photo wore strange black-and-white armor.
It was, unmistakably, him.
"I believe if the Armorless Union wants to raise its standing within the K.G.C.C, we have to make our move. The best way to prove our value... is to eliminate their biggest headache."
She didn't bother spelling it out. Everyone knew who she meant.
This morning's events had spread fast.
Monique had already heard the full report through her own network.
The K.G.C.C was clearly at their wits' end with this armored wild card, and even if they wanted to take him down, they lacked the means to do so.
But if the Armorless Union could succeed where the K.G.C.C had failed? The rewards would be immense.
In comparison, that squirrel she'd let escape earlier was nothing more than a footnote.
"This guy's identity is still a mystery," Monique continued, tapping the photo, "but I believe Roy might have a lead. And perhaps… Platinum, too."
Her eyes shifted to Roy and Centaurea, her gaze heavy with implication.
If they wanted to trace this guy, the only real lead was through the Whislash Knight—and those two had been the ones in charge of that case.
"…A lead? You think we didn't pay the price trying to find one?" Roy let out a derisive laugh, then winced as he shifted in his wheelchair.
With great effort, he gestured toward Centaurea with a jerk of his neck.
"I'm trying not to be rude here, but if you had taken this mission instead of her, we'd probably be in here discussing things with a new Lazurite."
"Yes, the Whislash Knight was traveling with some strange outsider, but that guy clearly didn't want anyone digging into his business. We sent an elite team from the Union—and me—and not a single one of us even managed to touch his coat."
He shot Monique a glare.
"You want us to keep investigating? With what? Should I send in the last two working heads I've got left as undercover agents?"
The sarcasm in his voice was sharp enough to cut steel.
Roy wasn't exaggerating.
What was supposed to be a simple recon op had turned into a complete disaster, all thanks to that "outsider" who moved like a monster and fought like a nightmare.
If he hadn't been specifically left alive to carry a message, Roy figured he'd already be buried in a ditch somewhere.
And now Monique was acting like they'd just slacked off?
He didn't know what fantasy she was living in, but clearly, she didn't grasp the kind of thing they were up against.
Roy wasn't trying to belittle them. He was just being honest. Even if you stacked both of these Darksteels on top of each other, they still wouldn't be a match for that guy.
"…And isn't that exactly why he fits the profile of a knight so well?" Monique retorted, voice sharp as a blade. "Handing over that information to the K.G.C.C would've been a huge deal. But you and the Platinum chose to keep it hidden. I won't speculate on your motives, but I will ask—what exactly are you two trying to do?"
She said it flat out, right in front of the Darksteels, without so much as a flicker of hesitation. No effort to preserve face. No diplomatic cushioning. Monique was here to tear off masks.
But what caught her off guard was the response—or rather, the lack of one.
The Darksteels didn't flinch. Their expressions were obscured beneath their hoods, but their body language betrayed no defensiveness. No hostility. Just cold, composed silence.
They weren't mad at Roy. In fact, they didn't seem surprised at all.
That, Monique hadn't expected.
"…Roy acted on our instruction," came a raspy voice from the hospital bed. The Darksteel lying there, wheezing softly between breaths aided by a respirator, opened his mouth.
"You're still looking too shallowly, Monique. All you see are the benefits of working with the K.G.C.C. But have you ever stopped to consider what kind of enemy we're dealing with here?"
His tone was calm—unnervingly so. But within it, Monique could sense something else: dissatisfaction. Directed at her.
"And let me add something else. The reason I took on the K.G.C.C's commission personally—did you know that the one who crippled the two of them…"
He gestured to the wheelchairs with a subtle, painful motion.
"…was the same man involved in your case."
Even with the respirator, every sentence came with a struggle, each word peeled from his lungs like it cost him years of life. But beneath the weakness, Monique sensed something else in his voice—fear.
"Of course… he's also the reason I ended up like this."
Recalling that memory, his body trembled.
That one arrow, fired from beyond the horizon as if it could pierce the very earth, had shattered something inside him.
Once, he'd thought no one on this land could rival his archery.
Now?
He wasn't sure he'd ever have the courage to draw a bow again.
"…"
Monique had no idea.
But she understood, loud and clear, the message behind his words.
This enemy… the Armorless Union simply couldn't afford to cross him.
If even a Darksteel—one of the highest authorities in the organization—had been reduced to this, what chance did anyone else have?
Challenging such a force was nothing short of delusional.
"So, whatever you all decide from here on out," the Darksteel continued, a wry smile tugging at his lips, "I'm thinking of retiring. Maybe we should just disband. Once I recover, I'll open a little shop selling shampoo or something. Either way, I probably won't be holding a bow again."
The words sounded absurd—like something a washed-up gangster would say in a cliché movie before going straight. But the way he said it, completely at peace, made it chillingly real.
The Armorless Union didn't exactly have a retirement system.
But if they disbanded, well… then retirement was no longer a problem.
He wasn't alone, either. He knew—felt—that the other two Darksteels were thinking the same thing.
They were tired. And they didn't want to keep playing this game.
"…You're seriously saying that?" one of the figures in a wheelchair finally muttered.
That kind of statement… sure, any of them could have said it.
But for it to come from him?
From a Darksteel?
That changed everything.
After all, a Darksteel wasn't just some mid-level member. They are the true leader of the Armorless Union. If a Darksteel was ready to walk away…
The room was thick with silence. The kind that suffocates rather than settles.
Roy glanced grimly at the two Darksteels who had remained silent throughout the conversation.
He met Monique's eyes, then Centaurea's.
In that quiet moment, a silent agreement passed between them—and all three fell quiet.
They were too injured to resist, too broken to defy. That was the harsh truth.
'Being the boss really has its perks, huh?' Roy thought bitterly. Even retirement's something you get to decide for the rest of your underling.
"…Don't worry. We're not throwing you away," one of the previously silent Darksteels finally spoke. His voice was calm, almost gentle. "It's just that things are still unclear. Whether we advance or retreat, the time to decide is now."
His partner nodded, picking up where he left off.
"Here's the situation: we all know the K.G.C.C is desperate to find that 'problem individual.' And thanks to Roy, we know that person has no interest in dealing with us. He made it clear—he wants the Armorless Union to stay out of this."
"And now, it's time to make a decision. Do we stand with the K.G.C.C? Stay neutral? Or follow Third advice and disband entirely?"
As he spoke, he reached forward and placed the photo Monique had thrown onto the table squarely in the center.
The image of that black-and-white armored figure stared back at them like an omen.
The Darksteel leaned forward, hands clasped just below his eyes.
"We want to hear from each of you."
Monique crossed her arms and sank into thought. She was quiet for a moment before exhaling sharply.
"…As unreliable and unknowable as this so-called 'knight' is, I'd still rather side with a massive entity like the K.G.C.C. They've got the full backing of the Kazimierz Grand Knightdom. That kind of support doesn't just vanish."
It was the pragmatic choice. The safe bet. And Monique had always been a creature of logic.
"…I… I'm not sure," Centaurea murmured, clearly torn. "I'll defer to the judgment of the Darksteels."
A non-answer, really. And she knew it.
Deep down, if given the chance, she would have packed her things and vanished into the night. But that kind of decision wasn't hers to voice—not as a Platinum.
Now, all eyes turned to Roy.
"…Why're you all looking at me like that?" Roy gave a bitter laugh. "You think I'm in any shape to choose? Look at me!"
He gestured to his own body—battered, bruised, still recovering from a fight that had nearly ended him.
"Whatever you all decide is fine. Just don't expect me to face that monster again. Ever."
That made it three.
"Seems like most of you are leaning toward neutrality," one of the Darksteels observed. "That aligns with our conclusion as well."
He tapped the table twice, then sat back.
"From this point on, the Armorless Union will no longer interfere in anything related to that individual. No missions. No surveillance. No involvement. We're declaring ourselves neutral."
"And now…"
He raised his head.
"…I've said my piece. Who agrees? Who opposes?"
It was clearly rhetorical. In the Armorless Union, the Darksteels' decisions weren't up for debate. It was formality, nothing more.
Or so they thought.
"I object!"
A sudden voice sliced through the stillness.
Everyone froze.
It wasn't just the words. It was the sheer audacity behind them.
Eyes snapped toward the speaker—only to find a black-haired teenage boy already seated at the table, legs crossed casually, as if he had been there all along.
No one had seen him enter.
No one knew when he'd arrived.
And yet, there he sat—calm, confident, utterly out of place, and entirely unbothered by the storm of stunned gazes now aimed at him.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
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