Chapter 65: Patriot's Bizarre Duel Experience!

The arena announcer’s magically amplified voice boomed over the roaring crowd. “What a thrilling battle! The rising star, the Delivery Knight, is charging toward our next ruthless champion—the Snowflake Knight!”

A tiny Zalak with snow-white fur twitched her fluffy tail, letting out a fierce squeak as she charged at the towering Wendigo. Patriot didn’t even bother to draw a weapon. He simply reached out, pinched the squirrel by the tail, and gave her a gentle toss. She hit the dirt, rolled a few times to dissipate the momentum, and immediately went limp, playing dead with absolute obedience.

‘So cute~’

“A grand victory!” the announcer screamed, sweat dripping from his brow. “The unstoppable Delivery Knight has now challenged the Wooden Spear Knight! Will he be able to halt this aggressive newcomer?”

A small, croaking Aegir with frog-like features hopped frantically around Patriot, clutching a splintering wooden spear. He poked and prodded at the Wendigo’s heavy armor, failing to even scratch the paint. After a particularly desperate thrust, the wooden spear wedged itself firmly into a joint in Patriot’s greaves. The frog tugged with all his might, his face turning purple, while Patriot just stood there, staring down in absolute silence. Finally, the frog’s courage snapped. He dropped the spear, fell to his knees, and became the very first Infected in the underground arena’s history to surrender for his life.

‘Also cute~’

“The next obstacle in the Delivery Knight’s path is the Bloodline Knight! Both are Sarkaz—who will claim ultimate supremacy?”

The unknown mixed-blood Sarkaz stepped into the ring, puffing his chest out—until he looked up. And up. He froze, his jaw dropping as he realized exactly what mythical sub-race of Sarkaz he was facing. “Wait, I’m fighting a Wendigo?!”

His weapons clattered to the floor. “Can I win? No, I’m definitely going to die! Wait… were my ancestors some kind of symbiotic Sarkaz? Why do I suddenly have this intense, overwhelming urge to follow him around and polish his armor?!”

The Sarkaz warrior fell to his knees, crawling forward. “I beg of you! Even though my Originium Arts can barely spark a campfire, my ancestors must have had a special talent for repairing Wendigo plating! I really can’t stand it anymore—there’s a micro-fracture in your left pauldron! Could you just let me fix it? I just want to try—!”

The Bloodline Knight clung desperately to Patriot’s massive leg, driven by some bizarre ancestral instinct, refusing to let go even as the arena guards had to physically drag him off the stage.

[System Prompt: New Operator Acquired +1.]

I stretched my arms back, popping my shoulders, and glanced around the dimly lit underground stands. The crowd had noticeably thinned out. Most of the bloodthirsty Kazdelian and Kazimierzian gamblers would rather watch lower-tier knights butcher each other in the mud than watch this imposing, soft-hearted giant spare every single opponent in a boring, bloodless game of love and justice.

The few who remained were either clinging to fantasies about his terrifying, demonic appearance, or…

“Next up!” the announcer yelled, his voice straining. “An anonymous rookie knight in black faces off against the fan-favorite Delivery Knight!”

A Kuranta Infected stepped onto the bloodstained sand. Half of his body had been brutally modified into a whirring combat prosthetic, and he flagrantly brandished a blade dripping with corrosive green poison.

…or they were the syndicate bosses who wanted to kill this outsider for completely disrupting the arena’s betting pools.

Out of absolute, unwavering trust in Big Daddy Patriot’s stats, I didn’t even bother watching the start of the match. Instead, I leaned back in my VIP seat, leisurely turning around to study the expressions of the audience behind me.

Most of the syndicate thugs wore expressions of excited ecstasy, waiting for the poison to do its work. Only a few seasoned veterans instinctively frowned, showing a hint of genuine worry.

Down on the field, the fight erupted.

Boom! The Kuranta was clearly no ordinary arena fodder. After a quick skirmish proved that his wrist-mounted, long-range grenade launcher couldn’t even dent Patriot’s passive defense, he decisively abandoned ranged tactics. His mechanical limbs hissed with steam as he closed the distance in a blur of motion, attempting to drive his poisoned blade into the microscopic gaps of the Wendigo’s armor at point-blank range.

His movements were terrifyingly ruthless, highly trained, and efficient. He definitely wasn’t the kind of street-level thug a mere underground dueling arena could produce.

I clicked my tongue, leaning over to tease the bodyguard standing dutifully at my side. “Looks like a Silverlance Pegasus who retired or defected a few decades ago. Hey, Gravel, want to take notes and learn a few moves?”

Gravel smiled, her expression sweet but her eyes entirely focused on my safety. “The assassination techniques I’ve mastered are quite different from his frontal assault style, Doctor. But… if you were to guide me personally, I would very much love to learn.”

I immediately shut my mouth.

‘Why don’t I ever learn? I just had to run my mouth again and trigger her affection meter.’

Down in the ring, Patriot finally registered that this opponent was slightly more than a nuisance. The Wendigo’s glowing red eyes narrowed behind his skull helm. He grew serious, shifting his stance and raising his colossal greatshield for the very first time today.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Relying on his overwhelming physical durability and towering mass, Patriot stood almost perfectly still. He met the Kuranta’s blindingly fast, continuous slashes with steady, measured, immovable blocks. Sparks showered the arena floor like fireworks.

Realizing his blade was useless, the unknown Kuranta suddenly fell back, pulling a specialized, high-grade concussion grenade from his belt—a weapon clearly designed specifically to counter heavily armored targets like Patriot.

High-frequency vibration and extreme heat were the fastest ways to compromise rigid metal. The grenade detonated against the shield. The resulting kinetic shockwave transmitted violently through the layers of the heavy shield, the sheer frequency forcing Patriot’s massive hand to briefly loosen its grip!

At that exact moment, the collective heart of the audience leaped into their throats.

The crowd was shocked because it was the very first time the immovable Delivery Knight had been forced to back down.

I was shocked because my terminal suddenly buzzed with a frantic message from Maria Nearl, screaming that her uncle Młynar had come home early and discovered I had run off to the underground arenas with a legendary Wendigo terrorist.

‘Wha—! Maria, what are you talking about?! You were supposed to cover for me!’Panic setting in, I rapidly typed with one hand, trying to gaslight her into helping me explain away my’brilliant tactical plan’ to her terrifying uncle. Meanwhile, my other hand smoothly used PRTS to pull up a secondary optical interface, fully intending to record a rare, high-definition CG of Patriot in action.

Down below, the greatshield briefly slipped from Patriot’s grasp. But Big Daddy made absolutely no move to catch it. Instead, his right hand slowly rose, his massive fingers wrapping around the haft of his primary weapon… a heavy, terrifying halberd that began to thrum with a faint, bloody red light.

Under the astonished, breathless gaze of the entire arena, the Kuranta assassin—who had just been pressing the attack with frantic bloodlust—suddenly jolted as if struck by a high-voltage stun baton. Every survival instinct in his body screamed at once, and he bolted backward at maximum speed.

Unfortunately for him, it was far too late. Patriot raised his arm with effortless, terrifying grace.

A powerful, world-ending throw.

BOOM!!!!

The entire underground arena was instantly swallowed by a blinding white light. Everyone in the stands was plunged into a terrifying void of temporary blindness and absolute deafness. The sheer roar of the impact was comparable to a Columbian orbital spacecraft breaking the sound barrier on takeoff.

Knowing exactly what was coming, I had wisely shoved industrial-grade earplugs into my ears beforehand. I even reached out with both hands to firmly cover Gravel’s remaining two Zalak mouse ears, since her own hands were busy covering her human ones.

‘As expected,’I thought, watching the shockwave tear the arena’s protective barriers to shreds.’Admiring Big Daddy’s ultimate skill with the naked eye is so much more impactful. Using PRTS to stack buffs and auto-kill bosses in-game almost ruins the sheer cinematic experience of it.’

It felt like an eternity before the ringing faded and the world finally settled back into a dead, terrified silence.

As the thick clouds of dust slowly settled, a massive, smoking crater was revealed in the center of the arena—a blast radius comparable to a high-yield tactical Originium explosive. The bedrock at the bottom was shattered into a dense, terrifying spiderweb of fissures. And lying broken in the very dead center of that crater was the dying Kuranta.

Patriot stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching over the pulverized stone. He calmly retrieved his heavy halberd from the rubble, then reached down with his free hand and gently helped the shattered assassin back to his feet—treating him with the exact same gentle mercy he had shown to every single opponent before him.

Sitting in the front row VIP section, I was close enough to see the Kuranta’s face through the smoke. His eyes were glistening with unshed moisture.

‘No way, no way… is he actually crying from the sheer terror?’

Suddenly, a thunderous roar of cheers erupted from the stands. Almost every spectator leaped to their feet, screaming in absolute, primal excitement. In that singular moment of overwhelming awe, not a single soul cared that the Delivery Knight refused to kill his opponents.

They were no longer chanting “Delivery Knight.” Instead, swept up in the hysteria, the crowd collectively birthed a new, far more powerful moniker, screaming it until their throats bled:

“Stone Knight!!!”

“Stone Knight!!!”

A knight heavily ravaged by Originium Infection, yet possessing an unbreakable will and a body as hard as primordial stone.

If he continued fighting like this, tearing through the underground brackets with such overwhelming, merciful dominance, this title would be carried by these very spectators all the way to the Kazimierz Major. It would become a legend, a name as brightly resonant across the city as The Radiant Knight herself.

Standing amidst the settling dust and the blinding glare of the arena spotlights, Patriot slowly turned his massive, horned head toward the stands.

I leaned over the railing, smiled brightly, and gave him a confident thumbs-up.

Without a single doubt in my mind, I knew the truth. If he kept this up, this ancient Wendigo could conquer all of Kazimierz without breaking a sweat.

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent! 🙇‍♂️):

Massive thanks for reading and supporting the operation!]