In the eastern sector's dungeon of Fairhaven Town, the Ironblood Knights were imprisoned.
Having lost the power of their magical beasts partners, they were now nothing more than physically strong humans.
Outside the dungeon, guards patrolled with their Gloom, using the Pokémon's Stun Spore and Sleep Powder to completely suppress any chance of rebellion from the captured knights.
In the corner of the dungeon, Bloodhowl sat quietly, his expression dark and heavy. Even now, he still found it hard to accept that the Ironblood Fortress had fallen.
His gaze drifted through the iron bars to the outside—toward the Glooms that dozed lazily through the dungeons—and a deep sense of helplessness welled up within him.
'All of my struggles and sacrifices… what were they even for?'
Clang—
Just as he sank into his thoughts, the sound of the heavy iron door opening suddenly echoed through the dungeon.
When he looked up, he saw a knight dressed in rough linen and cotton armor being escorted out of his cell, heading toward the dungeon's exit.
Seeing this scene, Bloodhowl instantly gathered his strength and rushed to the gate, gripping the cold iron bars tightly with both hands.
"Where are you taking him!?" he demanded in a deep voice.
"Don't worry," the guard replied without turning back. "Everyone will get their turn."
"As long as you haven't committed any major crimes, there's nothing to fear."
Hearing the guard's words, the knights within the prison exchanged complex looks. It was clear that each of them was turning those words over carefully in their minds.
Among them was Caesar, once a guardian knight under Marquis Hormay, and one of the few who had disobeyed the marquis's direct orders.
Yet he did not regret it in the slightest. His knight's oath had been to protect the civilians of the Ironblood Fortress, and that was exactly what he had done.
Thankfully, those civilians had been saved. That thought alone gave him a measure of peace. He had made the choice he believed was right, and now, even as a prisoner, he could face himself without shame.
As he stepped out of his cell, a ray of sunlight fell across his face, momentarily dazzling him.
"Caesar, long time no see."
A familiar voice spoke beside him.
"Matthew?" Caesar froze, his expression flickering as he looked at the man before him—the former vice-captain of their knight order.
After a moment, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry… I should have listened to you back then. You were right—Marquis Hormay truly wasn't worthy of our loyalty."
Matthew smiled faintly. "Indeed. But it's not too late for you to realize that now. You didn't disappoint me in the end."
"You mean protecting the civilians?" Caesar shook his head. "That's just what knights are supposed to do. Still… it's too late for me. I can never be a knight again."
As he said that, a shadow crossed his face. He knew that as a captive, his knightly path was over. Even though he had protected civilians, he was still part of the Ironblood Order—traitors in the eyes of the world.
"No," Matthew said calmly. "It's not too late."
"If I told you that Lord Aven is willing to preserve your title as a knight—would you swear allegiance to him?"
Caesar froze in shock. Lord Aven… willing to let me remain a knight?
At that name, his heart trembled violently. Instantly, the image of a lone figure standing before countless civilians, facing down death to save them, rose in his mind.
He had thought, if only I could serve a lord like that.
And now… could it truly be possible?
"Well?" Matthew smiled faintly. "Do you accept?"
Caesar finally came to his senses, blurting out, "R-Really? Is that… truly allowed?"
"It should be fine," Matthew nodded. "But tell me—there isn't anything terrible on your record, is there?"
"Terrible?" Caesar blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?" In his mind, the only wrong he had ever done was serving Marquis Hormay in the first place.
"Come. I'll take you to meet Lord Aven."
Matthew exhaled softly. He knew Caesar well—among all the Ironblood Knights, this old friend had always been the one who truly upheld the knight's code.
With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, Caesar followed him out into an open clearing. In the center stood a wooden table, and behind it, leaning casually against a chair, was a man whose presence made Caesar's heart skip a beat.
"Earl A…"
"Caesar?" Aven looked up slightly.
"Yes," Caesar dropped to one knee. "I pay my respects to you, Lord Aven."
"Good. Then you may now make your oath of allegiance," Aven said calmly.
"This is the oath text—just recite it as written."
With a gesture of his hand, a piece of parchment wrapped in a faint blue glow floated gently to Caesar's front.
Caesar blinked in surprise and lifted his gaze toward Aven. The young lord's eyes gleamed faintly with that same blue light.
A psychic… Lord Aven has supernatural abilities!
Before he could process it further, Aven's voice echoed directly in his mind: Do not attempt to lie. Before me, falsehoods are meaningless.
"Yes—yes, my lord!" Caesar swallowed hard, picking up the parchment while remaining on one knee.
He was no stranger to knightly ceremonies; he had practiced the oath countless times in his youth.
But this time was different. This time, his loyalty would belong to a lord truly worthy of it.
Taking a deep breath, he began to recite the words.
Aven listened quietly, Kirlia floating silently beside him. The oath had been crafted by Aven himself, and with Kirlia's psychic power, he could immediately sense whether the knight's heart held genuine loyalty.
When Caesar finished, Kirlia's eyes shimmered softly—affirmation.
Seeing this, Aven smiled. "I accept your oath, Sir Caesar."
He lifted the scepter of rulership and lightly touched it to Caesar's shoulder—a symbol of recognition between lord and knight.
"Congratulations, Caesar," Matthew said warmly. "Truly."
Aven nodded to Matthew. "Next one."
One after another, the knights who had defended civilians were brought forth to swear allegiance.
Time passed slowly in the dim dungeon.
Bloodhowl stood before the iron bars, watching as one knight after another was taken away.
Without exception, none of them returned. His expression darkened, shadowed by deep suspicion.
No major crimes, nothing to fear?
Then what about me…?
Leading a charge that ended in capture—does that count as a crime?
A bitter smile crept onto his lips. He had no doubt now—those knights were being executed one by one.
"Next—Bloodhowl," a guard called, glancing at the list before stepping toward his cell.
When his turn finally came, Bloodhowl felt… oddly relieved. Without a word, he followed the guard out.
At the entrance stood Matthew, as calm and steadfast as ever.
"Captain Bloodhowl," Matthew greeted quietly, a faint hint of emotion in his eyes.
He still remembered—when he had defected, Bloodhowl himself had been the one to lead the pursuit. Deep down, Matthew had always suspected the man had let him go on purpose.
"Matthew," Bloodhowl said, eyes flickering. "I almost regret it now. I should've dragged you back then."
Matthew fell silent for a long moment before answering, "I don't regret what I did. I never betrayed what it truly meant to be an Ironblood Knight."
Without another word, he turned and led the way forward.
Bloodhowl followed silently, until they stepped into the open clearing—
—and froze.
There, standing in formation, were countless familiar faces. The very knights he thought had already been executed!
"You… you're all alive?" he stammered, utterly dumbfounded.
"Those who chose to protect the civilians at the Ironblood Fortress," Matthew explained beside him, "are now all knights under Lord Aven."
Bloodhowl's expression twisted—shock, confusion, and disbelief all at once. His lips moved, but no words came out.
These men had defied Marquis Hormay's command—by all rights, that was treason. Yet now, faced with them, he couldn't bring himself to utter a single accusation.
Pain flashed across his face as memories of the gladiator arena flooded back. Was Marquis Hormay truly right all along? His conviction, already shaken, began to crumble completely.
Aven turned his gaze toward him. "Bloodhowl or Darius Kane, captain of the Ironblood Knights?"
"Yes… yes, my lord," Bloodhowl answered, his voice low and heavy.
"Good. Then the judgment begins."
"You will answer my questions truthfully. I expect no lies."
As he spoke, the quill and parchment before Aven rose into the air, glowing faintly under psychic control.
A bead of sweat slid down Bloodhowl's temple. Just meeting Aven's gaze made him feel a formless pressure pressing upon his chest.
In that instant, he knew for certain—the young lord was a psychic.
All thoughts of defiance faded. Lowering his head, he began to answer every question earnestly.
Scratch, scratch, scratch—
The feathered quill danced midair, moving swiftly under Aven's invisible command, recording every word.
This was how Aven trained his telekinesis—handling paperwork and refining his psychic control at the same time.
And though it seemed effortless, to Bloodhowl it was terrifying—proof that there truly existed humans who could wield unimaginable power.
"Do you know how to read and write?" Aven continued to ask calmly.
"Reading and writing are the most basic skills of a knight," Bloodhowl replied, giving Aven a slightly puzzled look, unsure why he was asking something so trivial.
"Good," Aven nodded slightly. "Then I will now pronounce my judgment."
"Darius Kane or more known as Bloodhowl, Captain of the Ironblood Knight Order for the crimes you have committed you are hereby—demoted to serfdom."
(End of Chapter)