Arknightcraft Modpack (Steve in Terra) (Minecraft x Arknight) Chapter 251: Is This Truly The Best Your 'Knighthood' Has To

Tn: The Kan Rider Armor that Steven wore is Kan Rider Evol, the image I posted above and on the link below is how Evol looks like.

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That weird knight, who strutted around like so final boss from a video ga, was, of course, none other than Steven himself.

The belt he wore had been chosen with the utmost care. He'd sifted through countless options before finally settling on this one.

Sure, soone else's deck-based Rider gear had more variety and was technically more "boss-like," but it was too flashy, and the points needed to exchange for it were downright outrageous.

Besides, if he'd chosen the card-playing type, the transformation would only really work if soone recognized the Rider beneath the armor. And clearly, no one in this other world had even heard of Kan Riders. That alone made it lose a good chunk of its flair and entertainnt value.

But the Rider born from this belt? Totally different story.

Steven genuinely felt that his personality matched the original user's. Well, maybe he was just a little more reasonable. Just a little.

The moves were stylish, the presence was off the charts, and if he didn't activate planet-devouring features, the cost to redeem the belt wasn't even that high. Just ssing around with small black holes and minor spatial tricks? Totally manageable. He could afford it.

What made this belt—specifically, the one that transford him into Kan Rider Evol—even more satisfying was that it ca with a built-in voice changer.

That deep, sultry voice Evol had? Steven loved it. It sounded both calm and playfully arrogant—perfect for the vibe he wanted today.

After all, he wasn't just here to fight. He wanted to make headlines.

If he was gonna stir up trouble, it had to be legendary.

In a situation like that, blending in was out of the question.

His disguise needed to scream main villain energy.

Honestly, the more he looked like a villain, the better.

He wouldn't even mind if so so-called "hero" ca charging in to take him down—he welcod it.

In fact, he was itching for it.

One epic fight to blow off all that pent-up energy? Yes, please.

And unlike those 4 Feranmuts girls that chickened out the mont they t him face to face, these people didn't have the luxury of backing down. He'd already jumped right into their faces—surely they'd at least react, right?

If Kazimierz had any so-called elites left, now was the ti to bring them out. Let him taste-test them one by one.

He was more than ready.

And honestly? It wasn't like everything he said was just to provoke them.

A good chunk of it really ca from the bottom of his heart.

These "knights" had long since abandoned their so-called knightly spirit. And the audience—the ones really responsible for this entire ss—were no better.

Every single one of them? Idiots.

If he called them that, who was gonna stop him?

Because isn't that what they were?

Turning a noble tradition into cheap entertainnt, a plaything for the rich, just to satisfy their own amusent.

They were seriously proud of this? He almost burst out laughing just thinking about it.

The drones broadcasting the fight? The so-called referees? Total window dressing. "Fairness"? How much was that even worth to these people?

If they didn't even want to witness what a real duel between knights looked like anymore… then maybe it was ti he taught them what a real duel was supposed to be.

And Steven? He had the power to back it up. He didn't need rules. He didn't need judges.

He just needed to win. That was all.

With his role as the ultimate villain firmly established, Steven cracked his knuckles and turned to face the nineteen unfortunate knights he'd dragged out as his first batch of punching bags.

Honestly, using this gear to fight them almost felt like bullying. But hey—if you wanted to play the role of a powerful villain, you had to at least look the part. If any random weakling could beat him, then what was the point?

So yeah, ti to put on a little show.

The reason he had opened with that black hole move was simple: it was all about setting the stage.

You had to make an entrance. Stir the pot first, get everyone rattled—then everything else would fall into place.

He took a few slow steps toward the knights, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Oh? Weren't you all having so much fun just a minute ago? Isn't this so-called Major supposed to be a points-plundering system? How about this—if any of you manage to touch , I'll consider it my loss and apologize to each of you right here and now. Sounds fair?"

With that, Steven stood confidently before the knights, his gaze fixed on one in particular—the most conspicuous of the bunch, the Brassrust Knight.

It was obvious from the way he was facing: this provocation was laser-focused.

This whole stunt? It had already spiraled far beyond the organizers' expectations.

The host didn't even dare speak anymore—this wasn't how the tournant was supposed to go.

But what could they do now?

The venue's security had almost been sucked into the black hole earlier. What were they supposed to rely on at this point?

Honestly, this mysterious knight was clearly a combat monster in full-on lunatic mode.

Who could stop him? If no one could, then no matter what anyone said or did, it would all just co off as clownish.

"Put the drones in closer. Full broadcast. Let the audience see everything."

Just as the situation hit a deadlock, a man in a sharply tailored suit stepped into the control room, his face clouded with a cold expression.

Without waiting for permission, he began issuing orders.

"Huh? Spokesman, sir?!"

The host, Greatmouth Mob, wasn't much more than a glorified announcer, but even he recognized this man—Czarny, one of the official spokespeople for the K.G.C.C.

But what was a big shot like him doing here? And why was he taking over?

No one had ti to dwell on it. Orders were orders—and this one ca from the top.

The staff imdiately adjusted the drone feed, shifting the cara toward the bizarre new battlefield the mysterious knight had created for himself.

When the spokesman gives a directive, you don't question it.

"I'll take over operations from here," Czarny announced, tone cool and authoritative. "This guy's appearance has caught everyone off guard. His power level is completely unprecedented. Mishandle this, and the entire future of the Major could be jeopardized."

He even took the ti to explain things to the staff, offering a thin layer of reassurance. But what he didn't say was the real kicker:

If handled correctly, this could beco a goldmine.

Yes—provided that this knight truly had the strength he seed to show, and wasn't just so flashy lunatic putting on a performance.

But based on what they were seeing so far? That didn't seem likely.

The growing unease was visible even from afar—most clearly reflected on the face of a certain Lazurite ranked mber of the Armorless Union, seated up in the VIP stands. His expression had soured completely.

Still, none of them were in a worse spot than the nineteen knights standing on the field below.

Most of them had only signed up to earn points, make money, and maybe gain a bit of fa—not to end up being bait for so unstable war machine in so weird armor.

They didn't know what kind of terrifying techniques this knight might unleash next, but based on what they'd seen so far, it was highly unlikely he was going to just let them walk away.

Steven cracked his knuckles, his voice rising, sharp and clear, as it echoed across the now eerily silent arena.

"What's wrong? No one wants to make a move? Then I guess I'll go first. And since the drones are rolling…"

He turned, raising a hand toward the hovering caras, before shifting his gaze back to the knights with an amused sneer.

"Let's give the audience a good look at the so-called 'knights' your beloved Knights' Association has hand-picked. Let's show them just what kind of pathetic bottom-feeders you really are."

With that signature voice—aged, yet laced with a flamboyant flair—Steven let out a low chuckle. He stared at the knights before him, who still hadn't moved a muscle, and shook his head in clear disappointnt.

They didn't dare attack.

But that didn't an he was going to stand around forever.

In the blink of an eye, his figure flickered like a glitch in space, trailing afterimages as he shot toward the group of nineteen knights.

In a re flash, they were all sent flying—as if struck by an invisible beast of monstrous strength.

None of them even realized what had happened. One mont they were standing firm; the next, they were airborne.

By the ti their minds registered the danger, it was already far too late to resist.

Down below, Steven casually rolled his wrist, then lashed out with a violent forward punch.

A shockwave exploded from the ground, followed by a cascade of concussive blasts.

The knights, still suspended helplessly in the air, were swallowed up in an instant.

Smoke and debris choked the air—and when it finally cleared, the only things left on the battle platform were a scattering of motionless bodies, most of them stripped of their weapons and helts, their conditions uncertain.

Steven looked around at the ss he'd made and muttered with a bitter scoff,

"This? You call this knighthood? Pathetic."

He turned his attention to one of the hovering drones still broadcasting everything to the world and shook his head at it, disappointed. Then he casually walked over to the unconscious Brassrust Knight, knelt down, and grabbed the man's broken helt, hoisting him up like a rag doll.

"Your so-called knight gets publicly humiliated like this… and all of you just stand there and watch? Is that what it ans to be Kazimierzian? Are all Kazimierz people cowards? Or is this truly the best your 'knighthood' has to offer? Is this all there is to Kazimierz?"

Dragging the limp body forward, Steven held him up in front of the drone's lens, deliberately positioning them both in the fra.

It was a perfect close-up.

It felt just like sothing Evol himself would've done—stylish, dramatic, and cuttingly humiliating.

Steven was practically reenacting a villain's classic performance.

What he really wanted was for the hero to co crashing in and punch him out. That was the fun part.

But… no protagonist had shown up.

Not yet.

Maybe they were still en route.

Or maybe they didn't even exist.

That was the problem.

He wasn't going to just loiter here waiting for soone interesting to show up.

His patience had limits. If no one ca to give him a proper fight, then this little outburst—his way of venting his disgust for this entire "Major" charade—would lose all aning.

All he wanted was to stir things up, maybe find soone actually worth trading blows with.

But from the looks of things, today wasn't his lucky day.

Even that blue-haired man in the audience—the one who had exuded a killing intent earlier, the one who had influenced Zofia's defeat—hadn't so much as flinched.

On the contrary, he was doing his best to avoid being noticed. Like he wanted to disappear into the crowd.

Spineless. Far more than Steven had expected.

"…Tch. What a letdown."

Steven clicked his tongue and tossed the battered Olr aside like trash.

"I'll be back for the next tournant," he said with a smirk. "Let's hope you people can surprise by then."

Then, with a mocking little wave, he added,

"Alright, trash. Ciao～"

A swirling black hole snapped open behind him—and without so much as a second glance, Steven stepped backward into the void, vanishing from the stage like a specter.

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