How to Live as a Knight After the Ending

Chapter 151: The End of Childhood (1)

Adrian’s expression hardened.

He never imagined that Max would suffer like this.

‘He’s wearing my family’s newest prosthesis, and he’s fallen for nothing?’

Max, who had his arms and legs cut off, and had new prosthetics put in their place, was no different from a living killing machine.

What’s more, the ones he wore weren’t something you’d see everywhere.

They were military-grade prosthetics, qualitatively different from the bums on the streets or those with modest industrial prosthetics.

‘What the hell is that knight?’

Even more striking than the body’s power was the white flames that emanated from his sword as he swung it.

It sliced through Max’s body as easily as a hot knife through butter.

He knew that the sharp blade is no ordinary sword, but it’s a pure weapon, untouched by any process.

The fact that it was able to cut through the latest body while spewing strange flames was clearly the original ability of the knight wearing that armor.

Sensing Adrian’s emotion, his bodyguards rushed to his side.

“Master, what shall we do?”

“It’s too bad. He was a guy who was good at handling the latest models. But he ended up losing his value.”

Adrian’s voice was cold. He was surprised that Max had been killed, but he wasn’t saddened by it.

Rather, he regretted the loss of the experimental data that would have confirmed the newest prosthetics.

“I’m sure you guys will be different.”

“You needn’t worry.”

Four people, three men and a woman, left the banner and ran out into the rain. All of them were veterans and were extremely trained.

Osian watched them approach from behind his helmet.

Soon, the four surrounded him, all of them equipped with the latest in high-powered prosthetics.

But they would have more to hide than Max, who had been sent as vanguard.

“Yeah. If they give up after losing just one, I’ll be disappointed.”

The good news was that the mafia of North Blinders was taking a wait-and-see attitude.

Partly out of curiosity to see the power of the family that they would be joining forces with, but more than that, they seemed to be waiting to see how Osian would survive this.

‘I’m like a monkey in a zoo.’

In truth, it had been predictable since he had entered the middle of this place in his armor.

Adrian’s bodyguards loitered in a circle around Osian, keeping their distance.

They’d seen what happened to Max when he tried to get too close earlier, so they were being cautious.

Osian would have preferred them to lunge at him in contempt, but they were not fools and would not do such a thing in a life-and-death fight.

If there was a problem, it was their trick.

The mobsters watching from the periphery began to chatter.

The curiosity and tension that had been building up during the siege had been released.

One by one, their eyes began to change.

Whatever the case, Balud is a traitor, and Osian is his hired fixer.

It dawned on them that these two had ruined the feast, and they should be made to pay for it.

‘Clever of them, deliberately stalling, forcing the other to make a judgment call.’

Osian glanced at each of the four guards surrounding him.

Unlike Max, they didn’t lunge at him, and when he made a gesture to charge, they stepped back.

It was the movement of a hunter stalking a predator.

This must have been their original fighting style but it can’t go on like this.

‘If I let them get away with this, one by one they’ll start coming for us. I have to cut them off somehow, before the flow goes back that way.’

It’s all about momentum.

We have to push them before they can get their bearings.

‘To do that.’

Osian slid the shield on his left arm into his bracelet.

As if on cue, the bodyguards lowered themselves slightly, alert, as Osian put the shield away.

They wondered if he would suddenly charge, and if so, how would they maintain the perimeter.

As they pondered this, Osian gripped his sword with both hands.

“Don’t come all the way here and act like a bother.”

Osian looked back at Balud, not at the guards.

“I’ll make this quick, that’s my job.”

Osian snapped his sword in two.

“What the hell.”

“The sword, did it split in two?”

Suddenly, the sword, which had been burning with pure white flames, turned into a bluish mist.

Everyone was puzzled by the sudden anomaly.

However, the game hadn’t even begun yet.

Osian raised his head and looked up at the sky.

-Tududududud. He could faintly hear the sound of rain falling on his armor.

The moon, which cannot be seen now, is rising high in the sky on the other side of the continent.

May they find rest, as always, in your merriment.

“Full Moon Armor.”

The armor’s appearance changed like a mirage.

The armor’s solid metal form morphed into a robe that seemed more comfortable to move in.

The helmet that looked strong became a sleek helmet with a hood and the splendid cloak was of frosty silk seemed ready to melt in the air.

“Has he changed?”

“Watch out, everyone!”

The mobsters looked at Osian’s transformation as if it were some kind of magic, but the bodyguards facing him did not.

With their superior vision, they saw the rain falling around him freeze and turn into sleet.

‘Cold? In this rainy weather, this is deadly! We have to stop him!’

The bodyguards quickly exchanged glances.

The female bodyguard, a redhead, stretched out her left arm. Her arm was also made up of a prosthetic hand, and her open palm had a large hole like a gun barrel.

-Thump! Thump! Thump!

Capsule after capsule shot out of her left arm like a grenade.

The capsules spun in midair before opening, and the ether water catalyzed the magic inside.

It was fire magic, of course.

The flames leapt into the air and engulfed Osian as the mobsters widened their eyes.

“Holy shit. She’s carrying a capsule in the prosthetic hand?”

“How much does a prosthetic hand cost?”

The flames roared, spreading their heat to the surroundings.

The flames should have been dampened by the pouring rain, but instead, they evaporated the rainwater, creating a thick cloud of smoke.

If nothing else, it was likely that Osian would have been reduced to a pile of blackened charcoal by that fire magic.

Regardless, the other three pointed their prosthetic guns at the white vapor and fired indiscriminately forward.

Tut-tut-tut-tut!

Shell casings rumbled out of the gaps in his forearms and piled up on the grass.

It wasn’t until they expended the single magazine embedded in their forearm that they stopped firing.

The guards stared at the slowly dispersing vapor.

It was at this point that they thought Osian would have collapsed, helpless.

The vapor was washed away by the pouring rain, and nothing remained where it had been, nothing but a burning, bullet-scarred lawn.

“Nothing? Where is he?”

It was the first time anyone had asked that question.

A chill ran down their spines. Was it an instinctive gut feeling in the face of death?

A guard felt it, and with the reflexes of a veteran, he tried to move, but his body wouldn’t budge.

It was the same with the prosthetic.

‘Uh, how did…….’

His body froze. So did the prosthetic. The prosthetic hand, made to resist heat and cold, was frosted and frozen solid.

The chill that ran down his spine just a moment ago wasn’t an instinctive illusion.

The chill was real, coursing through his body, taking over his entire being.

Tsk, tsk.

Four of the Blackstone family’s vaunted bodyguards froze to death on the spot. It had happened in a matter of seconds, almost simultaneously.

Adrian’s eyes widened.

He understood that Max lost, of course, but it didn’t make sense that the elite bodyguards he’d hired to protect him would be so useless.

“How the hell!”

As he struggled to comprehend what was going on, a chill came to Adrian’s neck.

“You’d better not move. Unless you want to end up like them.”

Adrian wiped the chill from his lips as Osian stood beside him, one of his moon blades pointed at his throat.

Adrian’s lips quivered. He hadn’t even seen him coming.

Not surprising, since he hadn’t even seen the guards get beaten in the first place.

There were still more of the men Adrian had brought with him but their employer and master was being held hostage by, and they couldn’t act rashly.

It was the same with the mobsters.

With Osian’s overwhelming force and the master of a family they were supposed to be allied with held hostage, no one could do anything but look on.

Osian looked at Balud.

Feeling his gaze, Balud closed and opened his eyes in gratitude.

Kudangtang!

The commotion inside the mansion was unusually loud as everyone fell silent.

The Balud family burst through the broken door and joined them.

“It’s the Balud family.”

“I can’t believe there are still that many of them left.”

“Legor. They don’t call him immortal for nothing after he got shot like that.”

They were more mangled and scarred than before, but none of them could be taken lightly.

In the harsh conditions, they had survived.

From their determination to fight, they were different from the average North Blinders member.

“Brother, the cleanup is done!”

At Legor’s shout, Balud nodded in understanding.

From here, it was his turn.

“Listen up, everyone.”

Balud opened his mouth.

“I’ve come to you on a bad note, and I don’t intend to apologize for that. What matters is this: how a traitor to the organization came to be here.”

Everyone listened to him.

The mood was right, the flow was right.

“I was accused of being a traitor, I was purged, and I had to flee to survive, but I managed to make it here, through all that heavy guard. Why? Why? What do you think I’m here for?”

It was his usual cold tone, but it was strangely appealing.

He’s right, he could have just stayed alive and run.

Why did he even bother coming here? It was suicidal.

What the hell was going on?

Everyone waited for Balud’s next words.

“Because I’m a proud North Blinders man.”

Even among the mafia members, there were mixed reactions.

Some wondered if that made any sense, and others felt something deep inside.

Surprisingly, the latter were the ones who had been in North Blinders for the longest time.

In this line of work, you sometimes have to kill people who betray you.

That’s why they shared a strong bond among themselves, known as family.

A mace is harsher than death for a betrayer but for the sake of family, they were willing to risk it.

Not all of them lived by that motto, but most had similar beliefs.

For only with such a strong heart could they endure for so long.

That’s right.

Family was the magic word that kept them there, unbroken, no matter how hard and rugged their work.

“We North Blinders have always prioritized the well-being of the family. If a colleague is harmed, we avenge them. It’s a vendetta. We’ve always valued discipline. It’s omerta. It’s something that is immutable, something that should never fade with the passage of time.”

Balud’s voice rang clear through the rain.

“This tradition was abused by two men: the boss, Islow Burbank, and Kursha Isazo.”

All eyes turned to Islow.

No one asked if it was true, but the stares were asking enough.

No, some of them knew it was true.

There was no way that Balud, the most upstanding of them all, would suddenly turn traitor.

Besides, the purge of the Balud family had happened too quickly.

It was as if they’d had this in mind all along.

Islow’s face turned red at Balud’s point.

“How dare you speak to me like that!”

He shouted, his voice cracking from long cigarette puffs.

Whether he realized it or not, Balud only glared at Islow with a cold stare.

“Boss, no, Islow Bourbork. You, more than anyone else, preached organizational discipline, but you broke it. It’s time you paid the price.”

“Discipline? Don’t be ridiculous! I created the North Blinders! I’m the boss! I’m the discipline, and I can get rid of it whenever I want!”

The mafias started to murmur at those words.

The Boss’s orders are absolute but even the boss can’t deny the traditions of the organization.

The opinion was split down the middle and this was the picture Balud wanted most.

“I could wage war here. I’ve mobilized the toughest warriors I’ve ever seen, and there will be plenty of blood on both sides, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Balud drew his hatchet and raised it.

“Blood is to be shed by the leader, as it should be by those who lead.”

He pointed the sharp blade of the hatchet at Islow.

“So come forth. Don’t hide behind titles and pretenses and talk the talk, prove it with your actions.”

“You, you bastard!”

“I challenge you to a one-on-one duel.”