Arknightcraft Modpack (Steve in Terra) (Minecraft x Arknight) Chapter 275: Do You Really Think You're Worthy Of Being Call

Suspended in midair, Steven cleared his throat with his usual theatrical cough, then let out a mocking chuckle, his aged yet magnetic voice echoing across the arena below, where the audience was still trying to make sense of the situation.

"In this day and age, you're still watching traditional Major?"

He spread his arms as if to welco the world.

"Co, then. Show —what is a true Kazimierz knight?"

There was no need to rely on a dramatic black hole entrance this ti.

The Black Hole Knight's re presence was more than enough to send shockwaves through the Knights' Association.

He had their full attention now.

Casting a quick glance at the two knights currently dueling on stage, he cracked his knuckles and, in the blink of an eye, blurred into motion.

A trail of afterimages lingered in his wake as he appeared behind the two combatants—who were still completely unaware of what was happening.

"Mind if I borrow the stage? I'm sure neither of you will object."

With casual indifference, as though tossing out garbage, Steven flung both knights out of the ring. Only then did he straighten his tattered coat and turn to face the hovering drones—raising his fist and giving his signature gesture:

Thumb down.

It was as arrogant and provocative as ever—and just as effective.

The stadium, which had been in a tense hush, exploded with noise.

Spectators, comntators, and even mbers of the K.G.C.C alike were instantly provoked.

"Is that the sa guy who insulted everyone last ti? How the hell is he this arrogant?!"

"What about the match? I ca to see a duel! Why isn't anyone stopping this clown?"

"Son of a—! He insulted ! Move aside, honey, I'm going down there to kick his ass myself!"

"Damn, he's kinda hot though."

"…"

The drones made sure Steven got plenty of screen ti. Crowd reactions were varied—while the overwhelming majority were fuming, there was still a small but vocal group who thought Steven's antics were incredibly cool.

Not that their opinions mattered—those voices were quickly drowned in the sea of outrage.

. . . . . . .

In the control room, one of the K.G.C.C's designated spokesn, Czarny, stood by the window, calmly watching the giant screen where the unruly knight had made his dramatic return.

So, he really hadn't been bluffing.

The infamous rogue knight had shown his face once more during a live event.

They still couldn't confirm his real identity, but everything remained within acceptable paraters.

"Sir, what should we do?" a frantic event host burst into the room. "Should we cut the broadcast?!"

Czarny didn't even turn around.

"No need. Let it continue. This—this is what the audience wants. Haven't you noticed how much more fired up they are compared to any match we've hosted?"

Then his gaze sharpened, and he muttered with disdain:

"Although, your security really is useless. Still can't figure out how he got in?"

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

As far as he was concerned, the Black Hole Knight reappearance wasn't all bad. In fact, it had reignited interest in the Major across the Grand Knight Territory. The people of Kazimierz were once again on fire with passion.

And passion… ant profit.

Once they could properly handle the Black Hole Knight, all the chaos he'd caused could be spun into even greater profit.

"…Apologies. The guards said they have no idea how he got in—it was like he just… appeared out of thin air," the host stamred, still baffled.

Who could possibly stop soone who opened a black hole midair and calmly descended from it?

Czarny waved a hand dismissively. "Forget it. Send in those two Knights to stall for ti. The K.G.C.C's trump card still needs so final prep."

He wasn't harsh in his tone—everyone who saw the Black Hole Knight entrance knew full well that no amount of security would've made a difference. The only thing to do now was follow the plan: use the Candle Knight and the Wind Knight for what they were worth.

"Understood."

The host quickly turned and left the room.

Now alone, Czarny stared at the screen again.

That bizarre knight—no panic, no urgency, just waiting, like he already knew what they were planning and was simply allowing them to catch up.

A strange unease gripped his chest.

Could the K.G.C.C's trump card really deal with soone like that?

No—he shook his head. He couldn't afford to entertain that doubt. How could the power of a single man hope to rival the might of the K.G.C.C?

Surely, that feeling was just… an illusion.

With a sigh, he rubbed his temples and forced himself to focus back on the battlefield.

. . . . . . .

Steven, for his part, was in no hurry.

He casually pulled a collapsible street vendor chair from his inventory and sat right in the middle of the arena—completely unbothered by the thousands of eyes on him.

He was giving them ti. Ti for the knights, ti for the K.G.C.C's response.

Ti was sothing he had plenty of.

All he hoped… was that after all this waiting, the K.G.C.C might actually surprise him a little.

But while he had ti to kill, the audience didn't.

Their match had been canceled. Then this man had dropped in out of nowhere and insulted them all—only to sit there as if the whole world revolved around him.

What was this? They paid for tickets, and this is what they got?

They didn't care how strong he was. What they cared about was why no one was putting him in his place.

Steven found it amusing, honestly—watching the audience's ugly, irrational anger boil over.

The louder they scread, the more fragile the Major's image beca.

It's difficult to manage?

Then maybe it shouldn't exist at all.

But of course, that was the last thing the organizers wanted. And so, the broadcast drone suddenly shifted focus—zooming in on the arena entrance.

There, standing side by side like heroes confronting a demon king, were two figures:

—The Wind Knight, clad in heavy plate armor.

—The Candle Knight, draped in an ornate robe, regal and radiant.

Their appearance instantly reignited the crowd's passion.

"Crush him, Wind Knight!"

"Show that arrogant freak what Kazimierz knights are made of!"

"Lady Viviana! Please step on !"

"…"

…Mixed in with so questionable comnts, the roar of support was undeniable. The two knights clearly had a massive following—nearly the entire arena erupted into cheers just for them.

Right on cue, Steven stood up.

The drone cara panned from a low angle, deliberately emphasizing his silhouette—like a demon king rising from slumber. Towering. Oppressive.

"So this is the Knights' Association's answer? This is the pride of Kazimierz's Grand Knightdom?"

Steven flexed his wrist and looked down at the two knights from the edge of the arena stage, repeating a question he'd asked more than once already:

"Tell —do you really think you're worthy of being called knights?"

But his gaze quickly drifted past them, up toward the stands. The expressions on the spectators' faces reminded him of idol fans catching sight of their favorite celebrity.

Not awe.

Not respect.

Certainly not aspiration.

Were these really the eyes of people witnessing paragons they wanted to emulate?

Were the two knights before him even knights at all?

Or were they just glorified entertainers—standing on this tournant stage, not for justice or honor, but to please a crowd?

The Wind Knight, clad in elegant pale-blue armor, either didn't understand the aning behind Steven's words… or worse, did understand, but had long since forgotten how to answer them.

Instead, he simply gripped his longsword tighter.

A gust of wind surged around him, and he lunged forward—so fast the eye could barely track his movent—as he aid a powerful strike at Steven.

"We don't need you to judge whether we're knights or not!"

"Who even are you, to think you have the right? You mock all of Kazimierz with your arrogance—today, that ends!"

There was no show of martial courtesy. No knightly honor.

As soone who had seen the Black Hole Knight past antics, the Wind Knight wasn't going to give him the chance to pull out another one of those strange black hole spells. He wasn't here to duel—he was here to eliminate a threat.

No one cared about how it was done.

Because only the victor had the right to stand on this stage.

That, in his mind, was the true rule of knights.

But just before his blade could reach the Black Hole Knight, he saw it—

A flash of regret in the Black Hole Knight eyes, hidden beneath that strange helt.

"I had hoped… that soone with a title like yours might see further, understand deeper…. I suppose I was mistaken."

To the Wind Knight, his speed was unmatched—even among Kazimierz's finest.

But the Black Hole Knight effortlessly slipped to the side, dodging the strike with ease.

Then, he did sothing strange—he placed his palm on a peculiar belt at his waist, where a crank-like lever jutted out.

With a sharp series of chanical clicks, the Black Hole Knight spun the crank several tis.

A whimsical lody began to play.

Before the Wind Knight could even form a confused expression, the "eyes" of the Black Hole Knight helt lit up with a glint of red.

A split second later—bam!

A sidekick slamd into his unguarded chest, igniting a strange black hole-shaped emblem. The impact sent the Wind Knight flying across the arena like a ragdoll, slamming into the far wall with bone-rattling force.

But that wasn't the end.

The dust and debris that should've erupted from the crash didn't spread.

Instead, it froze—then reversed, sucked cleanly into a spiraling vortex.

In the blink of an eye, both dust and knight were gone without a trace.

The classic "strike that kicks up a lot of dust but causes no injury" trope didn't apply here.

Not when it was a Black Hole Kick.

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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:

sdrive.google/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M

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