Osian watched Jonathan as he bowed to him.
There was no falsehood in his powerful gesture. He was truly asking Osian to teach him.
This caught Osian off guard and he first asked why.
They only got to know each other by doing a job together.
He couldn't think of any reason or occasion for him to come all this way and bow his head.
"I want to be stronger."
Jonathan said in a deep voice.
It was a clear, simple statement, but he couldn't think of anything more eloquent.
Maybe it was because Jonathan was so sincere in his desire to be strong.
"Why did you come to see me if you want to be stronger?""Because I thought you could make it possible."
The corners of Osian's eyes curved slightly.
While others thought Osian's strength was something innate, Jonathan felt it.
This power and strength he wielded was something he had to work for.
"But I'm curious about the suddenness of your arrival. Is there a reason for it? A man of your stature can't go unnoticed anywhere."
"Do you know about [Supremacy]?"
Supremacy, an organization of mutants with exceptional abilities and talents.
There was a fight with them at the Goldiron mansion recently.
"Were you one of them?"
Jonathan shook his head with a bitter smile at Osian's question.
"On the contrary. I was rather looked down upon by them."
"Weren't they the same mutants?"
"They [Supremacy] favor only the best mutants. It's a group of mutants who are discriminated against by humans, but they ignore or look down on mutants who are weaker than them. Only mutants above a certain rank are allowed to join."
An organization created to combat discrimination is perpetrating new discrimination.
Osian wasn't surprised. People are naturally sensitive to what's being done to them and forgiving of what's being done to others.
Even if they're mutants, they were just humans with inherent powers, not human beings.
"Is that why you came to me?"
"I want to be stronger. I don't want to be looked down upon by anyone."
"Why do you want to be stronger so badly?"
"I've spent my whole life looking down. But that day, when I saw the light you showed me, I realized that we should be looking up."
"We?"
Osian felt a twinge of discomfort at Jonathan's words.
We? What do you mean, we?
Osian's keen senses picked up on the sound of a small group of people gathered outside the building.
Opening the door, he stepped outside to find a group of nervous fixers with familiar faces.
There was even a familiar face among them.
"Hey. Long time no see."
Commander David smirked and waved at Osian.
Osian recognized what they had in common.
They had seen the starlight in him.
They had come to him because they sensed that it was something other than a caricature of mutant power.
Osian pondered for a moment.
‘Even if you suddenly ask me to make you stronger, I’m the one who’s in trouble.’
Anyone who came to him out of the blue and asked him to take them as a disciple would probably think something like that.
It's fine if you're someone who likes to show off your skills, or if you like to teach or train others but Osian wasn't much of a talker. He doesn't really try to teach others anything.
How could he teach others when he wasn't perfect himself?
It was also because he had a very high standard for himself.
‘But at the same time, when I heard that, my heart started racing.’
Why Jonathan's words are disconcerting but not unwelcome.
Perhaps it's because they genuinely want him to teach them.
'Those who want to be knights.’
Knights do not exist in this age. Osian is the only one left.
He is the last and final knight of this age.
But is that good?
It didn't seem right. The title of last knight is cool, but Osian didn't want it.
It would be too sad to see the knighthood end like this.
It was a sense of duty that went beyond the physicality of knighthood, a sense of duty that came with being a man who loved knights more than anyone else.
‘If I teach them.’
I can keep the knighthood alive.
‘Of course, I don't know if they can really become knights if they try.’
He questioned whether he could teach them properly, since he himself hadn't gone through the basic process in the first place.
He was an in-game character, a wandering knight from birth, and as he leveled up, he naturally had access to the power of the Starlight.
But Jonathan, David, and the others were different.
HE doesn't know if they deserve it or not, if they have talent or not.
Still.
Not even trying seemed like the wrong thing to do, no matter how much he thought about it.
'This is not a decision I can make on my own.’
Osian first told Jonathan to wait outside, then entered the Violet Fox and sat down in front of Ronan.
"Hoo-hoo. You look troubled."
"And you don't seem too surprised."
"Me? Of course I'm surprised. Considering the amount of time you've been in the business, Mr. Osian, this is an extraordinary rate of growth."
"In other words, for someone to ask me to teach him, you've already guessed."
"Because other people have gone through a similar process, and in Tirna, freelance jobs like fixers, there's a cult of strength in Tirna, because the stronger you are, the more money you'll make, the more social status and prestige you'll have."
Osian nods his head in affirmation.
"So naturally, there are those who follow the strong and chase after them."
"I suppose that's what happened to me."
Osian closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly opened them.
"What about you?"
"You mean me?"
"To be honest, I don't know. I'm not sure I could teach them properly, and I don't know how to turn down someone so sincere."
"In other words, you don't hate them, but you don't know what else to do."
"Something like that."
So Osian decided to take the advice rather than go it alone.
That's because brokers don't just connect people with work, they also act as caregivers who listen to their concerns.
"Maybe it's because you think too much."
Ronan said, spreading his index finger wide.
"Overthinking?"
"Yes. Sometimes it's good to keep it simple, to go where your heart leads."
"Do you think so too?"
"Yeah, because I tend to use my heart rather than my head when it comes to inviting other fixers to join us here at Violet Fox."
Come to think of it, he heard that before.
Call it a good gut feeling. Ronan had a ghostly sense of recognizing talented gems.
"On the contrary, if you think too much, sometimes even the original answer becomes clouded. That's how people end up making the wrong choices."
"I see."
"Besides, if you choose from your heart, you're less likely to regret it if you fail. Isn't that better?"
Osian smirked at Ronan's playful comment.
"Yeah. I guess you're not wrong about that."
As it turns out, he'd made the right choice in asking Ronan for advice.
It cleared his head.
"But is it okay for a Fixer to teach someone like that?"
"A fixer is a symbol of freedom, and if they want to teach someone and build their own power, I support them if that's the path they choose."
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on becoming independent. I’ll just teach them how to get beaten up less when they go somewhere.”
By this point, any doubts he had about whether he could teach well were gone.
As he followed his instincts, a method that had been a blur came into sharp focus.
As Osian opened the door and stepped out, the people waiting outside all tensed.
Most of them thought he was going to say no and rightly so.
That technique of emitting pure white light from his sword was his arcane skill.
There was no way he could teach it to others. After all, it was industry practice to keep one's skills as secret as possible.
It was enough that Osian hadn't cursed and kicked them out the moment they asked him to teach them.
"You said you wanted me to teach you."
Everyone swallowed hard and nodded, even David looked unusually serious.
Osian surveyed the assembled group.
There were seven of them. All of them, including Jonathan and David, were former Fixers with different backgrounds, different weapons, and different ways of fighting.
But they all had one thing in common: the intense desire in their eyes.
There was a fire in their eyes.
It wasn't something that could be seen with the naked eye, or so Osian thought but Osian thought the spark was beautiful, even if it was small.
If it burned stronger, perhaps it could become a star.
It was all in his hands to make it happen.
"My teaching can be tough. Are you confident that you can do it without giving up?"
"Yes!"
Jonathan was the first to answer.
His voice was solemn and thunderous. He was followed by the other fixers who shouted back.
“Okay. Then, from today onwards, you are all aspiring knights.”
Osian was determined.
‘In this city of gold, I will create a new order of knights.’
*
Balud stood in the doorway of his boss's chambers.
After a moment of staring at the ornately decorated wooden door, he inspected his clothing.
His white suit was immaculate, not a wrinkle in it, and his hair was neatly swept back.
"It’s Balud. May I come in?"
"Sure. Come in."
A thick, heavy thud of permission sounded from inside.
Once inside, he saw a room filled with ornate ornaments, treasures, and decorations.
And in the center of it all, slumped in a large chair, was a grizzled old man.
"Boss, I hear I've been summoned."
Balud inclined his head toward the old man.
The stocky old man scratched his fat cheeks with his fingers which were filled with jeweled gold rings.
"Yes. Welcome, Balud."
Isaac Bourbork, the boss of the North Blinders and the godfather of the place.
A native of the barbarian peoples of the north, he had come to Tirna on his own and built an organization of this magnitude.
"Have a seat."
At Isaac's command, Balud calmly took the empty seat.
"My daughter isn’t being too much trouble, is she?"
"No, she's fine."
Isela Bourbork, Isaac’s daughter, often sticks around and talks, but Balud never seems to mind.
"Yes. You're the only one of us on the board who can handle that tomboy."
"Thank you for the compliment."
"You know I have great faith in you, Balud, we're of the same northern ethnicity, and people from the same hometown should be good to each other, and if I were to step down, I wouldn't think of anyone else but you to take my place."
Balud was flattered by the comment, but he didn't let it show, instead ducking his head.
"You're doing a good job, Balud, and you've gotten there by being resourceful, despite coming in later than the previous directors. If there's one thing you lack, it's a business."
"Business."
Isaac's words hit a little close to home for Balud.
Most of the families in North Blinders had their own businesses.
The Kursha family did redevelopment and building demolition.
Another was in the bootlegging business, another in milk distribution, another in nightlife and gambling.
Balud, on the other hand, was more of a service provider.
It was more of a hands-on business than a business, so naturally, revenues were not stable.
Even if Balud's resourcefulness allowed him to maximize it, it was still unstable compared to the other directors.
"But lately, I've heard some bad news about you."
Balud's expression hardened as he realized what Isaac was about to say.
"At this rate, your position is in jeopardy and you'll have a hard time succeeding me. You know what that means don't you?"