Under the lamplight, beside the venue, stood a security tent. Inside, a long foldable table and a few metal chairs were arranged. Food and beverages were placed on the table. Even though the former knights didn’t join the festivities, the Magistrate was kind enough to have the waitresses deliver replenishments.

  “I’ll be taking my leave now, Mr Rhok and Mr Peter.” The waitress bowed before departing.

  Peter watched her with lustful eyes, unmoving until Rhok nudged him with an elbow.

  “Sorry!” the Copper blurted, his cheeks flushing red.

  After finishing their succulent meal, they parted ways to perform their assigned duties.

  Beside the tent, the Armatus mobile suits were parked neatly. One of their torso hatches was open, revealing the cockpit with Rhok inside, the HUD screen illuminating the pit. Meanwhile, on the ground, Peter provided security surveillance with his keen eyes and eagerly polished the Armatus’s surface.

  Rhok monitored one of his Armatus units patrolling in the stratosphere. In sentry mode, it could detect enemies within a 200-kilometre radius, which strategically allowed enough time for evacuation and counterattacks.

  Once he ensured aerial security was covered, he hummed in satisfaction and stepped out of the cockpit. With boosters on his back, he landed softly on solid ground.

  Peter was still completely absorbed in wiping down the machine, humming as he went.

  “What are you doing?” Rhok asked, his voice cracking. “Ahem!”

  “Oh! I didn’t know what to do, so I just did what I was taught at the Knight Institute,” Peter said in a self-deprecating tone.

  Rhok lamented the scenes of the past. “Ah, I almost forgot~the lowest ranks had to handle these, umm, unknightly tasks.”

  Rhok clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Kiddo, I used to think I was just a soldier—a killer. But then I realised I could be something more. I still kill, sure, but it’s to protect people from oppressors.”

  “Yes, yes… They were kind enough to let us live here, not as slaves, but as friends.”

  “You’re very right.” Rhok closed his eyes, his expression serene as he relished the memory of Burrowbane.

  Their smiles flashed before his eyes — the taste of Elfa’s carrot juice, the drink he shared with Alric.

  Then, the image shifted—

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  Bloodied corpses in his hands, the warmth he felt as he gathered their dismembered bodies into his embrace.

  Heat rose to his skin, an excruciating fury roaring inside him.

  “Not again…” Rhok inhaled deeply, letting the rage pass through him.

  “Are you okay, sir?” Peter’s voice snapped him back to reality.

  “Yes, yes…” Rhok nodded before grabbing Peter’s arm. “Now, show me how you do such a fine job polishing her.”

  “You wanna learn how to detail the Armatus?” Peter asked, his eyes shimmering with excitement.

  “Of course. Maintenance is just as important as the fight itself,” Rhok rasped with a grin.

  For a good while, Peter enthusiastically explained the entire process of polishing the Armatus.

  “First, when cleaning dust and debris, I use the two-bucket method,” Peter said, standing straight with confidence.

  “Two-bucket what?”

  “The two-bucket method, sir.” Peter pointed at the buckets. “One for soapy water and one for rinsing.”

  Rhok nodded vigorously.

  “Next, we use this pH-balanced shampoo, the same stuff used for cars!” Peter showed him a bottle, and Rhok examined it closely.

  “Then, we dry it with these microfibre towels to prevent swirl marks. This way, your Armatus will be nice and beautiful,” Peter smirked, revealing his yellowing teeth.

  “Wow… I’ve never thought of an Armatus as ‘beautiful’ before, but you really know your stuff,” Rhok admitted. This was new information to him.

  Peter might have seemed dull at first, but he was meticulous in his procedures. Before long, they had gone down the rabbit hole, discussing everything from surface waxing to minor paint repairs.

  As they were deep in conversation about the Armatus, a low hum reverberated through the air.

  Rhok paused mid-sentence, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. “Huh?”

  “What’s the matter, sir?” Peter asked, his lips parting in puzzlement.

  “There.” Rhok pointed at a section of space that was distorting into a long rectangular shape, resembling a door.

  “Is that… a portal?” Peter cocked his head to the side.

  “I guess so. Whoever it is, a magician, I mean arcanist…” Rhok muttered, stiffening his stance in caution.

  The portal fully materialised into a swirling red abyss, whirring with arcane energy, its presence borderline distorting reality itself.

  A tall figure strode forward, his sharp golden eyes locking onto Rhok with unwavering determination. He wasn’t dressed in a suit but in a sorcerer’s attire, a gemstone adorning his chest, his majestic cape billowing behind him. His dark blue hair was neatly trimmed, complementing his broad-shouldered, physically fit build.

  His unsettling smile sent a shiver down Peter’s spine.

  “Huh? You here for the party? That outfit could use some work,” Rhok remarked, sceptical of the man’s intent.

  “I don’t think he’s here for the party…” Peter whispered, shrinking behind Rhok’s broader frame.

  Exuding confidence, the man snapped his fingers, and a staff materialised in his hand.

  “You’re right! I’m here for Gold Knight Rhok Wagner,” he said with a wide smile.

  “Then state your business!” Rhok shot back, readying his plasma armguard. Something was off about this man — he could feel it in his bones.

  “Ah! How rude of me,” the stranger mused, offering a theatrical bow. “I am Suingi Marchand, the Prime Advisor of the Dunkelheit Empire.”