Sir Lynch Levive

Not a single Honorary Knight had appeared in a hundred years, and not a single new noble house had been born in over two centuries—this was a fact known to everyone in the Kingdom of Lande.

Yet at this very moment, without the slightest warning, His Excellency Viscount Moliere, the royal secretary, had detonated the most explosive bombshell of the entire ball.

Unless Viscount Moliere—whose family had served as secretaries for generations—had falsified the decree, then... Lande had gained another knight: the only living Knight of Lande.

The reporters frantically recorded everything. Now they finally understood the meaning behind those baffling remarks from earlier.

A lion does not get angry over the provocations of sheep; it merely bites them to death with thunderous force.

Those questions had been so foolish that a newly risen powerhouse simply couldn't be bothered to answer.

You will know, just in a way you could never imagine, receiving an answer you wouldn't dare dream of in your wildest dreams.

Every word of the preceding conversation was like a slap across the face, leaving them thoroughly battered and humiliated.

But the reporters of Lande were notoriously shameless. Feeling no embarrassment, they grew even more reluctant to leave, clustering tightly around, reveling in the painful pleasure of it all.

As for the guests, none could believe their ears. Most turned to those beside them, asking, “Who is Lynch Levive?” Meanwhile, those who already knew him were equally bewildered, asking what extraordinary achievements this man had attained to receive such a tremendous honor.

Naturally, no one answered; those in the know had no intention of telling them.

But after exchanging a few words, the quicker-witted guests realized that who he had been was irrelevant. What mattered was that this was real—a new star was rising, and they... had been gloating at this very star just minutes earlier.

To think we were actually mocking someone who just broke a century-old precedent. Are we blind? Lynch Levive... I'll remember that name.

In an instant, the way most people looked at Lynch completely changed. Everyone was mentally echoing that name, acutely aware that everything that transpired tonight had turned them all into stepping stones for Lynch's most magnificent debut onto the grand stage.

Yet perversely, they thoroughly enjoyed it. Their gazes chased after Lynch's position with burning fervor. No one questioned any longer why a cherished daughter of an illustrious house was mingling with a lowborn, powerless commoner; now, they only envied the boldness and foresight of an ancient, prominent clan.

As expected of a millennium-old family! We could never match that kind of vision in our entire lives. They actually placed their bets so early, and while we were making fools of ourselves, they had already secured victory behind the scenes.

Truly incredible. When that young lady watched our little performance earlier, she must have been laughing her heart out inside, probably looking at us like monkeys in a circus.

Revering the strong was the innate nature of the nobility. Feeling not an ounce of shame, everyone wished nothing more than to cozy up to him.

“This is impossible!”

Two individuals were so choked with frustration they felt ready to lose their minds.

They were none other than the culprits who had provoked Lynch's temper and set off the whole hall: Jett Williams, the son of the Chairman of the House of Lords, and Viscount Kaelin Jackson, the Third Secretary of the Governor's Mansion.

Within mere seconds, their expressions shifted through countless shades. A wave of dizziness washed over them, leaving them feeling as though trapped in a bizarre dream.

How is this possible? He's just a commoner! How could he suddenly become a new noble personally invested by His Majesty the King?

Compared to him, what are we, whose noble status relies entirely on our ancestors?

They thought they had been digging a pit to ruin someone else, when in reality, they had been the laughingstock all along, thinking themselves clever while being thoroughly played.

The clown was me all along?

Mocking glances flicked over from the sidelines from time to time, accompanied by muffled chuckles. The two knew that people were using tangible reactions to pay homage to the two actors who had sacrificed themselves to put on this show for everyone.

Burning with humiliation, they wished they could drop dead on the spot. Recalling Lynch's parting words, neither doubted that those prophecies would come true. Their lifelong prospects had been utterly ruined. Staring blankly, they stood numbly in place, plunging into profound despair.

Lynch stood upon the steps beside the prominent figures, taking in the scene before him.

In truth, he also felt a sense of unreality. After all, less than two months ago, he had just hanged himself in his room, struggled desperately just to survive, been forced to roll on the ground by any random enemy, survived on days-old stale white bread, and felt agonizing despair over a few vanishing pounds. Back then, he had been a nobody whose life or death mattered to no one.

Yet in under two months, he had become capable of resolving mysterious events affecting hundreds and thousands of people by his own power, saving countless innocent lives. He could maneuver effortlessly under the gaze of high-tier powerhouses, dissolving their lethal strikes with effortless grace. He was now savoring the finest delicacies and wines of the Duke's mansion, carrying tens of thousands of pounds worth of rubies in his pockets, and waltzing arm in arm with the future queen of a world power.

Life's dramatic twists and turns had come far too quickly—it was simply thrilling.

Facing the myriad expressions of the crowd below, Lynch merely looked on with a smile.

He wasn't surprised by their reactions. Following Duke Vane's prior explanations, he already understood how sensational this matter was for the people of Lande.

To be precise, it was a sensational event for any of the five great powers.

Class stratification in these nations was far too rigid. No matter how hard ordinary commoners worked, they could at most accumulate wealth to become wealthy tycoons. Yet no amount of wealth could elevate their social standing, grant them entry into the kingdom's core decision-making circle, or allow them to steer the kingdom's direction with their own will.

This was precisely the fundamental reason for the emergence of the parliamentary faction. Lacking room for upward mobility, the newly rich could only resort to other means to reshuffle the deck. Naturally, the vested noble interests refused to stand idly by, locking down the sole path and sealing off all hope of advancement beneath a glass ceiling.

Consequently, contradictions snowballed. Within an airtight pressure cooker, it brewed into a bomb capable of destroying the social order.

That was how the bourgeois movements in his former world had come about. While this world might possess greater resilience due to the presence of deities and mystery, historical laws were difficult to alter. Sooner or later, this bomb would detonate.

Precisely because of this, the investiture drew such a violent reaction from everyone present. And thanks to those two good samaritans, his name would likely spread across all of Lande tonight.

Lynch smiled, realizing that this conferral was anything but simple.

His emergence had suddenly cracked open the sealed road, giving people a glimpse of hope and providing a temporary vent for immense societal pressure. That was likely why the King and the House of Lords had been willing to accept Duke Vane's proposal—to elevate a rookie like him, who belonged to no faction whatsoever.

A clever calculation indeed. But does that conflict with the fact that I'm getting a massive windfall?

Under the gaze of countless eyes, Lynch puffed out his chest with confidence, watching with a smile as Her Highness Princess Sophia took His Majesty the King's letter from Viscount Moliere, reviewed it once more, and then stepped before Lynch amidst the rapt attention of all.

The clamor below abruptly ceased. Everyone held their breath, fixing their eyes upon this scene unseen in a hundred years.

“Mr. Lynch Levive.” Duke Vane's demeanor was unprecedentedly grave. “Please face the Princess and kneel on one knee.”

Lynch didn't waste any words. Angling himself toward the crowd, he knelt on one knee and looked up at Her Highness Sophia.

“Today is merely a provisional ceremony intended to proclaim this to the world, so all formalities have been simplified. When you travel to Norin in the future, His Majesty the King will naturally preside over a complete investiture ceremony for you.”

Her Highness extended her hand with majestic composure. Viscount Moliere immediately presented a ceremonial sword with both hands, placing it into the Princess's grip. Without hesitation, Her Highness drew the unsharpened blade and rested it lightly upon Lynch's shoulder:

“Mr. Lynch Levive, in recognition of your outstanding merit, in the name of the Kingdom of Lande, in the name of the Rose family, and in the name of His Majesty King Rudolph II of Lande, I hereby confer upon you the title of Knight of Lande. From this day forth, you shall be a member of Lande's honorary nobility. The fate of Lande shall be tied to yours. You must uphold the responsibilities of the nobility, protect the people of Lande, defend the honor of Lande, and never betray the trust of the kingdom and His Majesty the King. Mr. Lynch Levive, can you do this?”

“I shall do my utmost.”

“Very well. Now, please swear your oath.”

Huh? How would I know how to swear an oath? And can someone just swear vows willy-nilly?

But with a roll of his eyes, Lynch already had an idea.

“I hereby swear that, with my mortal body, I shall strive for my entire life to protect order, maintain world peace, safeguard innocent citizens, and defend the interests of Lande. I shall hold fast to my promise, fulfilling my duties and obligations until this mortal frame turns to ash.”

“Very well. Then, on behalf of His Majesty the King, I proclaim...”

The Princess lightly lifted the sword and tapped Lynch's shoulder three times:

“Sir Lynch Levive, Lande shares glory with you.”

“Long live Lande! Long live Sir Levive!”

A tidal wave of cheers resounded across the sky as colorful fireworks bloomed once more.

At this moment, everyone shouted the same name.

Lynch Levive.