(Red Coat POV)
"Oh? He dodged two of my shots?" I muttered, eye pressed to the magnifying scope. "No one has ever evaded more than one."
In all my years as one of the Ten Great Knights of Wales, a single bullet was always enough. My marksmanship was legendary—refined through brutal training at the elite Wales Combat Facilities. They called a prodigy. A "Monster Sniper."
Eventually, I was elevated into the most prestigious force of the kingdom—the Great Knights—and given my codena: Red Coat. A na whispered in fear. Even nobles watched their steps, dreading the day they might appear on my target list.
And yet... this man... a supposed "filmmaker"... had sensed both my shots?
’What kind of instincts does he possess?’
Narrowing my eyes, I focused the scope on his face.
«Eagle Eyes» — the gift I was born with. The reason for my rise. It lets see across vast distances with perfect clarity. Even now, perched on a rooftop nearly four kiloters away from Hellfire Park, I could make out the stitching on his collar.
But then—he moved.
Not randomly.
He looked up.
At .
My breath hitched.
"...Is he staring straight at ?" I whispered, heart skipping.
There was no mistaking it—his eyes were locked in my direction. His gaze cold. Calm. Calculating.
I pulled back slightly from the scope, shaking the irrational thought from my head.
"No... That’s impossible. There’s no way."
I exhaled slowly, forcing composure back into my hands.
’Calm down. He’s just a demon. A filmmaker with good reflexes. That’s all.’
Steadying my aim again, I reached for the mode switch on my rifle—flipping it into Magus Mode. The barrel shifted, lengthening. The core began to glow faintly blue as mana circuits ignited. This round... would be no ordinary shot.
Mana-infused. Piercing. Capable of wounding even a demigod.
I lined up the shot once more, centering the crosshairs just below his collarbone. I wasn’t aiming to kill—just to send a ssage.
"...Let’s see you dodge this."
My finger curled around the trigger—until I saw them.
His office door opened slightly.
Two familiar figures stepped inside.
My scope adjusted, focusing.
I relaxed my grip with a faint smirk. "So they finally made their move."
Gently, I lowered the rifle and clicked the safety back on.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "Looks like I won’t need this bullet after all."
With practiced ease, I flicked the safety back on and disengaged the scope. The thrill of the kill faded, replaced by curiosity.
’Let’s see how this eting unfolds, Arthur Pendragon...’
---
(3rd Person POV)
Back at the office, two figures stepped through the shattered doorway.
Mary, still crouched behind the desk, felt her heart pounding in her ears. At first, it had only been a suspicion—a gnawing thought in the back of her mind that one of the Great Knights had co for Arthur. After all, only a Knight of that caliber could fire a bullet strong enough to pierce the Hellfire Park’s reinforced barrier like it was paper.
But now—seeing them in the flesh—she was certain.
One wore a sleek black coat, his lower face masked, and only his piercing red eyes visible through the shadows of his hood. The other stood tall, cloaked in a regal golden coat, a gleaming sword casually resting in his right hand. His helt shone with royal brilliance—ornate and unmistakably sacred.
Mary’s breath caught.
Her eyes zeroed in on the emblems on their chests.
The black-coated one bore the inscription:
"Wales Great Knights — Shadow Knight, Trench Coat."
The golden figure’s badge read:
"Wales Great Knights — Golden Knight, Royal Coat."
Her stomach tightened. ’So it’s true. The Great Knights of Wales... They’ve actually co for him.’
She glanced toward Arthur, still standing tall despite the growing danger. ’There’s no way he can survive this...’
She had always admired Arthur’s vision—his bold, often reckless path—but in the face of two elite Knights, admiration couldn’t stop her doubt.
’I followed his ideas. I believed in the change he wanted to bring... but he’s just a filmmaker. He doesn’t have the strength to face this kind of power.’
Mary gritted her teeth, torn by guilt and resignation. ’This is the end of our partnership then. I should be relieved... The contract that bound to him would dissolve once he’s gone.’
But the relief never ca.
Instead, her chest tightened with sothing she couldn’t na.
’Damn it... Why does this feel so wrong?’
While her thoughts spiraled, Arthur stood calm, his expression unreadable, lips curved into a faint smile.
"You two really made it past all my security," he said casually, almost amused. "I’m impressed."
The Golden Knight, Royal Coat, chuckled. "Well, credit goes to my partner here," he said, patting Trench Coat on the shoulder. "He’s got this little skill—turns into a shadow for a few minutes. Helps sneak around unnoticed. He cloaked us both and—voilà—we slipped in without so much as a whisper."
He said it with pride. Almost as if it were a friendly visit.
The two Knights stood confidently before the unard filmmaker.
But they weren’t here to talk.
They were here for sothing else.
Arthur wasn’t the least bit intimidated by these so-called Great Knights. If anything, their presence amused him. In his eyes, they were nothing more than ants — pests he could crush with a blink, if he so wished.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he found himself intrigued. Curious. Entertained, even.
He gestured casually toward the two. "Seems I’ve received a pair of unexpected guests," he said, his voice calm, almost playful. "Should I offer you so tea? That would be the polite thing to do."
Royal Coat let out a muffled chuckle from behind his gilded helm. "No need for that."
Trench Coat’s gaze remained fixed on Arthur, cold and calculating. "Surprising. Red Coat must’ve gone soft. You’re not bleeding or limping. I would’ve expected a bullet in your shoulder—or knee at least."
Mary flinched, a chill running down her spine.
Arthur’s smile never wavered. "Ah... so it was your friend on the rooftop—four kiloters out, yes?" His tone remained pleasant, but there was a cold gleam behind his eyes.
Both knights stiffened.
’He knows?’
’How the hell does he know Red Coat’s position?’
Just then, a voice echoed in Arthur’s mind—telepathy from the shadow hidden nearby.
Sylwen: "Boss! I deeply apologize. Those two slipped past our guards... they even bypassed . Shall I—"
Arthur: "It’s fine. I can handle myself." He paused. "Go to Red Coat’s location. Bring him back alive."
"Understood."
Unseen, Sylwen vanished. Her stealth was so refined that even the Great Knights hadn’t sensed her leaving—though Trench Coat narrowed his eyes at the door, a faint suspicion flickering in them.
Mary suddenly rushed to Arthur’s side, gripping his arm. "Arthur, you need to leave! These two aren’t like those puffed-up nobles—this is serious!"
Royal Coat let out a mocking laugh. "Well, well... the eldest princess of the Nightstar royal family herself." He gave an exaggerated, mocking bow. "What an honor, Your Highness."
Trench Coat mirrored him with a shallow, sarcastic nod.
Mary glared. "What is the Wales military doing here? This is the Horn Kingdom of the Demon Realm—not your human territory."
Trench Coat’s voice was flat. "It would be wise if Your Highness refrained from interfering."
Royal Coat’s grip subtly tightened on his sword. "This demon’s grown far too arrogant. And if you don’t want a scar across that royal skin, I’d suggest stepping aside."
Mary clenched her fists, trembling. But then—slowly—she stepped away, casting Arthur a glance full of regret.
’I’m sorry...’
Arthur only gave her a gentle smile. Not one of farewell, but of amusent.
And that smile... it stunned Mary.
’Why... why isn’t he scared at all?’
Trench Coat glanced at Royal Coat and spoke coolly, "You handle this. I’ll observe."
Royal Coat gave a light chuckle. "Gladly."
"Just make sure you leave him alive," Trench Coat added flatly.
"Yeah, yeah," Royal Coat muttered, rolling his neck with confidence. He locked eyes with Arthur, flashing a grin. "I suppose knocking you out cold will be enough."
Without another word, he vanished.
Mary gasped and instinctively stepped back. Her eyes were fixed on Arthur.
In a blink, Royal Coat reappeared beside Arthur, aiming the hilt of his sword at the back of his neck for a clean knockout.
But what happened next defied every expectation.
Arthur turned—fast.
His hand shot out like a blur, catching Royal Coat cleanly by the throat mid-strike.
"Ugh—!" Royal Coat choked as his grip on the sword slackened. The weapon clattered to the floor.
Mary’s jaw dropped. Trench Coat’s expression froze. Even Red Coat, watching from afar, was montarily stunned.
Arthur now stood calmly, effortlessly holding the fad Golden Knight off the ground by the throat—one-handed.
"Grrk—!" Royal Coat struggled, feet kicking.
Trench Coat’s hand imdiately went to the hilt of his combat dagger. "Let him go, you bastard!"
Arthur’s golden eyes slid toward him, cold and unshaken. "Let him go?" he echoed with a faint smile. "What if I don’t?"
"Don’t push your luck!" Trench Coat snapped. "He let his guard down for a second! That’s all!"
Arthur tilted his head slightly. "Then maybe your knights should stop underestimating ."
Seeing Arthur had no intention of letting Royal Coat go, Trench Coat grit his teeth and lunged forward.
"You leave no choice! True Strike: Abyssal Ruin!" he roared.
In that mont, his knife turned pitch black, trembling with cursed energy. Wails of tornted souls whispered around the blade as if reality itself recoiled from it. Shadows leaked from the edge, and an aura of death suffused the air as the cursed dagger aid directly for Arthur’s arm—the one gripping Royal Coat’s neck.
But in the blink of an eye, Arthur shifted.
With the ease of soone adjusting a wineglass, Arthur smoothly swung Royal Coat’s body—using him like a shield—and subtly tilted his wrist just as the blade descended.
Ti seed to slow.
The cursed knife veered off course, slipping past Arthur’s arm... and plunging straight into the exposed slit of Royal Coat’s helt—right between the eyes.
"No—!" Trench Coat’s scream was too late.
The mont the blade pierced, there was a sickening crack followed by a wet, gurgling crunch. Trench Coat felt it in his hand—the tremor of resistance giving way to flesh, skull, and brain. Blood erupted in a jet, splashing onto his hand and arm, drenching the cursed blade in thick, red warmth.
Mary shrieked, her voice echoing like a glass shattering across the room. "AH!"
Eyes wide with horror, Trench Coat stumbled back. His hand trembled violently as he looked at the tip of his own blade—still lodged deep into his comrade’s skull.
The body in Arthur’s grasp went limp.
With a casual flick, Arthur tossed the now-limp body aside like useless baggage. It thudded hard against the floor, blood pooling beneath the golden coat.
Arthur tilted his head, feigning concern. "Oh my. Looks like you just killed your friend."
His smile was cold. Mocking.
Trench Coat stood frozen, heart pounding in disbelief. "No... I—I didn’t an to—!"
But Arthur’s eyes glead with an amused malice.
"How unfortunate," he added, with a faint smirk. "Was that part of the plan?"
---
From the rooftop four kiloters out, Red Coat stared through his scope, eyes wide with disbelief.
"No... that’s not possible..." he muttered.
His usually calm breath caught in his throat. His left eye turned crimson, glowing faintly — a sign of rising emotion. A chill settled in his chest like a creeping on.
Without hesitation, he switched the sniper into Magus Mode — a setting reserved only for true elimination. The barrel humd with dark magic. He aligned the crosshairs right on Arthur’s forehead.
"You bastard... you deserve to die."
But just as he steadied the shot—
He froze.
His instincts scread. A sharp chill crawled up his spine.
He turned his head—just in ti to see a beautiful woman in robes and a sharp Hellfire uniform standing behind him.
His pupils narrowed. "Who are you?"
The woman’s voice was icy. "You don’t need to know."
Then she vanished.
He barely sidestepped.
She ca in fast — too fast. Red Coat gritted his teeth and ducked low, rolling over the gravel rooftop as she struck again. He flipped backward, gaining distance, and in that fleeting second—
He re-aid.
Crosshairs. Locked. On Arthur’s head.
"No!" Sylwen reached out, but—
Bang!
The shot had already been fired.
She slamd a brutal punch into Red Coat’s gut, knocking him off balance. Her thoughts raced. He let himself get hit... just to get that shot off?!
But Red Coat didn’t care. He was already peering through his scope mid-stumble, ready to savor the final image—Arthur’s head, pierced clean through.
What he saw instead stopped his breath.
Arthur stood perfectly still in the office.
Two fingers raised.
The bullet — caught — between them.
"...What... the hell..." Red Coat whispered, stunned.
He didn’t get to finish his thought.
Crack!
Sylwen landed a clean strike on his chin. His vision snapped white — then nothing.
Red Coat collapsed.
Sylwen exhaled, brushing her hair back in frustration. "I knew Boss could handle it... but damn. I let a bullet pass ." She glanced toward the distant glass tower. "Embarrassing."
---
Back at the office, Mary was on her knees, heart pounding. Trench Coat stood frozen, still reeling from what had just happened.
Then—
Crack!
Another bullet whistled into the room.
Mary gasped.
But to her shock, Arthur simply lifted his hand—and caught it between his fingers.
Even Trench Coat stared in disbelief. That’s... Red Coat’s shot!
Arthur twirled the bullet casually, his eyes settling on Trench Coat with amusent.
"Seems we’ve got a stray flying around," he said with a smile. "How about I return it? Trenchy-kun?"
Trench Coat’s eyes widened. "W–wait—!"
He tried to move, pushing his trembling body into motion—but too late.
Arthur flicked the bullet.
Bang!
It tore through Trench Coat’s chest with precise force—not enough to kill, but enough to drop him. Arthur had guided it with his Divine Sense, deliberately avoiding the vital organs.
Thud.
Trench Coat hit the floor hard, groaning in pain. He had braced for death... but it never ca.
He was still alive.
Mary’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at Arthur—no longer with admiration, but fear.
Arthur turned to her with a warm, almost gentle smile.
"Your Highness," he said calmly. "Let’s keep this between us, shall we? A little secret."
Mary nodded quickly—repeatedly—like a chick bobbing for grain.
Arthur’s smile remained as he crouched beside Trench Coat.
"You look like you’re hurting," he said softly.
Trench Coat gritted his teeth, blood soaking through his coat. "Y-you... just who the hell are you..."
Arthur gave a small chuckle. "? Co on now. You didn’t walk in here blind, did you? You Great Knights must’ve done your howork. Surely, you know who I am."
Trench Coat didn’t respond—just clutched his chest, eyes burning with confusion and fear.
Mary, still on the ground, watched the scene unfold.
’I doubted him before... doubted his vision, his crazy plan to make Queen... and to go against the grip Wales has on us. But now...’
She looked up at Arthur, who was now calmly dusting off his coat.
’Now I realize... I may have completely underestimated him.’
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