Chapter 289: Sorry, It's Not Personal
The moment the two Darksteels noticed the black-haired youth, a chill shot down their spines.
They hadn't sensed his approach—hadn't seen him enter, hadn't even noticed when he brought a chair over and casually sat down at the table.
That kind of silent movement was more than just skill.
It meant one thing.
If this boy had wanted to kill them, they'd already be dead.
Still, compared to the Darksteels' icy vigilance, it was the others in the room who had the more… animated reactions.
Monique, who'd never met the boy before, only blinked in surprise. The sudden intrusion was unexpected, but not terrifying.
To her, he was just an unknown variable, not a nightmare made flesh.
But Centaurea and Roy… they knew.
Centaurea held her breath, astonished not just by his arrival, but by the audacity of it.
To casually walk into a Armorless Union high-level meeting and sit down like he owned the place? That wasn't bold—that was insane.
Roy's reaction, however, was something else entirely.
His eyes bulged wide, far wider than any man should be able to. His lips trembled. He couldn't move his limbs—still recovering from the incident—but if he could have run, he absolutely would have.
That smile. That terrifying, gentle smile on the boy's face.
He remembered it vividly.
The same smile that accompanied four precise, merciless bullets—one for each limb. He would never forget that day, or the pain. Or the calm, surgical precision behind that smiling face.
The boy hadn't changed. He still wore that same smile.
And that meant trouble.
Even so, Roy wasn't the one who reacted the strongest.
No, that honor belonged to the injured Darksteel lying on the bed.
The very moment he laid eyes on the boy, the breath caught in his throat. His body stiffened—then his head tilted to the side as he passed out cold.
Because he had seen the boy's killing intent firsthand. He had felt it.
An arrow that could cleave the earth in half—launched with a casual smile.
Roy had the luxury of knowing the boy wouldn't kill him. But this Darksteel? He wasn't so sure. The memory of that death-dealing smile haunted him like a curse.
And yet, the boy simply looked around and smiled again, completely unfazed by the tension.
"Why's everyone staring at me?" he asked, feigning innocence as he tapped the table with a finger. "Go on, don't mind me. I'm just stating my opinion."
He gave a light shrug, then leaned back in his chair.
"I mean, I am the one you're talking about, right? So it's only fair that I show up and say my piece."
His eyes swept across the table, finally settling on the two hooded Darksteels. Calm. Amused.
To him, it was simple logic. If the Armorless Union was planning to just bow out after starting trouble, he had a right to oppose that.
They stirred the hornet's nest. Now they wanted to walk away?
Not happening.
"…Your reasoning is sound," one Darksteel said, voice steady despite the weight pressing on his chest. "However… before anything else, could you at least explain why you're here?"
The other Darksteel nodded, and both subtly withdrew their hands from their coats.
They had considered reaching for their weapons—instinct more than intent—but just one look at the boy, and they knew that wouldn't end well.
If he had wanted to kill them, he would've done so already.
Stealth like his wasn't just impressive, it was terrifying.
He didn't seem like someone who couldn't be reasoned with… but also not someone who tolerated being ignored.
The boy—Steven—smiled again, unbothered.
"Me? I'm just here to find someone," he replied casually. "But… looks like I might need to adjust my priorities. Don't worry though, you can finish your little meeting first. I'll wait."
Steven raised an eyebrow at Centaurea, who immediately looked like she wanted to bury her face in the table and disappear. Only after that did he flash a bright, innocent smile at the rest of them.
"You do realize," Monique finally said, her voice sharp, "that you're not supposed to be here."
Even she could tell something was wrong now.
If even the two Darksteels—the untouchable elites of the Armorless Union—were lowering themselves in front of this boy, then it was painfully clear that now was not the time to pick a fight.
But Monique wasn't just anyone. She was a rising Lazurite, and someone full of ambition. She couldn't just sit there and allow this boy to treat all of them like they were beneath him.
"How am I not supposed to be here?" Steven said with a casual laugh, waving his hand as if brushing away a fly. "Does the Armorless Union control where I go now? You sure act like big shots."
The playful curl in his lips didn't quite reach his eyes.
The blue -haired catgirl in front of him was far too fiery for his taste. Unlike the cat he was familiar with, this one had claws and no patience.
Did she really think he was just going to politely turn around and leave?
"Monique, that's enough," one of the Darksteels said, raising a hand to cut off the growing tension. "We have no reason to start a conflict with him. Whatever he wants to say or do—he's free to do so. But that doesn't mean he gets to make decisions for the Armorless Union."
The other nodded in agreement.
The situation was far too volatile. If they made the wrong move and angered this boy, the consequences could be... well, just look at Roy, or the other Darksteel still unconscious on the bed.
They couldn't read the young boy's strength. Not at all.
That in itself was a terrifying thing. All their instincts screamed that this smiling youth was dangerous on a fundamental level.
Their specialty was sniping—eliminating enemies from a safe distance. But in close quarters like this? Even two of them might not be enough.
"Why can't I?" Steven said with a shrug. "I think it's a pretty solid idea. You guys were thinking of packing your bags and running, right?"
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table with an easy grin.
"Well, instead of bailing, how about this? Come work for me."
He said it like he was offering them a sales pitch at a café.
"I've been thinking about starting up a company or maybe a business group, you know? And I could really use some bodyguards. Enforcers. Whatever. You guys have experience, and I think you'd fit right in."
He tapped the table again, and his tone shifted just slightly—playful, yet cutting.
"Of course, bodyguards need to be sharp and reliable. I don't hire trash."
As he said that, his gaze swept briefly across Roy and Monique—pointed and deliberate—then carefully skipped over Centaurea, who was still trying very hard to blend into the wall.
"…What's that supposed to mean?" Monique narrowed her eyes, her tone dangerous.
Steven smiled.
"I mean exactly what you think I mean."
Roy, to his credit, flopped to the ground without hesitation. If it weren't for the fact that both his hands had been shot and were currently unusable, he probably would've thrown them in the air to show he surrendered.
"I'm just a trash."
"Don't get me wrong," Steven said with a carefree grin, "I'm not targeting you. I meant the entire Armorless Union—there's just too much garbage floating around. If you were to work under me, obviously I'd have to take out the trash first."
His tone was light, almost joking, but the implication beneath the words was clear—and far from friendly.
With that, he turned his gaze away from Monique and toward the two Darksteels who had remained silent this entire time.
He knew perfectly well who the real decision-makers were.
"…Do you understand what your words imply?" one of the Darksteels finally spoke, voice calm and measured. "Even the K.G.C.C and the Armorless Union are simply partners. There is no hierarchy between us. You seriously expect us to believe you're not joking?"
The Darksteels, shrouded in their dark hoods, fell into momentary silence—likely weighing the absurdity of the boy's proposal.
Who just walks in and declares they're taking over an entire organization?
Did he think he was some kind of anime protagonist—bursting in, flexing his aura, and suddenly everyone bows down to him?
Well… Roy might as well have, since he looked like he was ready to kneel.
The Darksteels, while cautious of the young boy's strength, weren't that spineless.
"I'm not joking," Steven said, shrugging with mock helplessness. "I just heard some old stories, that's all. How the Armorless Union once fought for justice—stood up for the people of Kazimierz when no one else would. Back then, 'Darksteels' meant 'hero.' I just think it'd be a shame to see something like that rot away into what it's become."
He let his words settle.
Honestly, if Sona hadn't told him about the Union's past—about how they'd once fought against the corrupt knights to protect the oppressed—he'd never have believed it himself. The current Union was a shadow of that former ideal.
And that's the only reason he hadn't taken the whole lot of them out already.
Instead, he chose to give them a chance.
"…Whatever the Armorless Union was or is, it has nothing to do with you," one of the Darksteels said at last, lifting their head slightly beneath the hood. "As for your proposal, our answer is no. The Union will not serve under anyone."
Their voice was firm, unwavering.
They may have lost sight of their ideals, but they wouldn't just roll over because of one boy's speech. That kind of thing only happens in fairy tales.
"I see. That's your answer, huh?" Steven replied with an easy smile. "But, see, there's a little problem with that."
His voice dipped lower. More serious.
"What if I'm not here to negotiate?"
He let the silence build before continuing, eyes narrowing.
"…Who told you that you had a choice in the matter?"
The room dropped a few degrees in an instant.
Steven's smile remained, but now it carried an edge—sharp and undeniable—as he reached down and fastened a belt to his waist.
"Or maybe… the two of you Darksteels thought I didn't realize the ones in front of me are just puppets, recording devices for your real bodies?"
He tilted his head innocently.
"You've been watching me through a scope this whole time, haven't you? Arrows drawn, ready to shoot at my head the second something felt off?"
Then, without warning, a swirling black vortex appeared beside him—twisting space like a whirlpool tearing through reality. The transformation was seamless and stunning, and in that very moment, Steven stood clad in the familiar armor of the Black Knight.
With a single graceful gesture, he sliced through the air.
The portal before him cracked open wider, and he reached in—pulling out two stunned figures in dark combat gear, each holding massive bows, eyes wide in disbelief.
He dropped them like caught prey, both of them too shocked to even react.
"So…" Steven said, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder, "do you still want to stick with that answer?"
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