The Regrets of a Legendary Knight

Fletcher Cooper—the sole Legendary Knight of Blue Sand Island.

It's said that he was once a knight of the Flicker Empire, a warrior of great renown. But for reasons few could comprehend, he resigned and traveled to this remote island, seeking peace.

Hardly anyone ever willingly left the grand Flicker Empire, let alone a knight of his caliber. Resigning wasn't a simple matter—it came with heavy consequences.

First, one had to repay every coin the empire spent on their training, either through years of labor or a sum of money.

Second, a former knight would be forever banned from all imperial contracts, shops, auctions, and any establishment under the empire's rule.

Third, if they possessed sensitive knowledge, they were subjected to memory erasure—a process riddled with risks, such as Insanity, permanent amnesia, etc. 

And finally, the empire offered countless opportunities to those who served. It was a place where the strong climbed ever higher. But once one left, advancing any further became nearly impossible.

Fletcher had mythic rank talent. He wasn't guaranteed to ascend to that tier—perhaps a mere 5% chance—but it was a chance nonetheless. 

Yet, he walked away.

Because unlike most high-ranking knights and mages, who devoted their entire existence to power, Fletcher's heart longed for something else.

He longed for love and to start a family.

He had spent centuries as an orphan raised by the empire, training endlessly in the knight's path. For hundreds of years, he honed his skills, yet he had never pursued his own dream.

But once he reached the Legendary rank, doubts crept in.

"Why am I working so hard?"

"What are my real chances of reaching Mythic rank?"

"What if I waste my entire life chasing something I'll never achieve?"

And so, he made his choice.

He would seek out love, build a family, and live for something beyond simply advancing in rank.

But in the Flicker Empire, being a true family man was nearly impossible. Duty always came first. His wife and children? He barely had time to see them.

So, he gave it all up.

He sold everything—everything except his sword and two emergency spell crystals for protection.

With that, he left the empire behind and purchased Blue Sand Island, determined to make it his home.

Before Fletcher arrived, Blue Sand Island had never been home to a Legendary Knight. It was too small, too barren—unworthy of someone of his stature.

But Fletcher didn't care about resources or prestige. He simply wanted a place where his family could live for centuries in peace.

So, he chose this island.

He brought his wife and children here, and for decades, they lived in happiness.

Until his wife died.

She had no knightly or magical talent—most people didn't. But that never mattered to Fletcher. He saw her, he loved her, and she loved him. That was enough.

Or so he thought.

As the years passed, regret slowly crept into his heart.

He remained young, a warrior untouched by time, while she aged before his eyes. Despite the countless health-preserving spells he cast on her, she still grew old. In the end, she was a frail woman—healthy, yes, but her body had withered, her once-vibrant spirit dimmed.

When she finally passed, something inside Fletcher shattered.

He locked himself away in his room for two years.

He raged against the world. He cursed fate.

And worst of all, he questioned everything.

"What's the point of living, if everyone dies in the end?"

For the first time, he regretted leaving the Flicker Empire.

With the empire's resources, he had a 5% chance—just a sliver of hope—of breaking through to Mythic rank. If he had succeeded, his life would have stretched across millennia. He could have spent thousands of years searching for another purpose, another love, another dream.

But now, that chance was gone. Forever.

He would never be able to rejoin the Flicker Empire.

And what did he have to show for it?

Nothing.

His wife was gone. His children followed soon after.

After some more time, his grandchildren passed.

His great-great-great- ... -grandchildren still lived, but they saw him only as a source of wealth. Not as family.

They called him "respected ancestor" and showered him with hollow words, but there was no real connection. No love.

Once, long ago, he had considered marrying a Golden Knight—a woman he did not love—simply because her lifespan would be closer to his own.

But in the end, he couldn't do it.

There was no point in marrying someone he didn't love.

Love wasn't a choice of the mind—it was a matter of the heart.

For knights of his level, there were only two ways to find true love.

One: if they were lucky enough to meet someone of equal strength and fall in love.

Two: if they found love early and advanced together, side by side.

That was it.

Both paths depended on a single factor—luck.

And the reason was simple: talent.

Only a rare few were born with the talent to reach higher ranks. That meant the number of potential partners was painfully small.

Here, on Blue Sand Island, the chance of meeting someone like that was nonexistent.

Had he stayed in the Flicker Empire, his chances would have been much higher.

And that thought only deepened his regret.

Back then, he had been naive, blinded by love. He had refused to acknowledge the inevitable.

It should have been obvious.

As a Legendary Knight, he would remain young, untouched by time. But his wife—his love—would wither away, slowly, painfully, while he watched.

It had been completely foreseeable.

And yet, he had been too stupid to think about it.

Now, he wished he had never married her.

No—he regretted it.

No—he hated her.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't her fault. She had done nothing wrong.

But that didn't matter.

The hatred only grew.

The grief was gone. His love had disappeared, replaced by bitterness, resentment, and fury.

...

Fletcher, a knight with long gray hair and slightly wrinkled skin, woke up from his bed.

Legendary Knights didn't need sleep. Their bodies had long surpassed such mortal needs. But they could still enjoy it—if they had the time.

Most knights were too busy training to waste hours on sleep.

Fletcher, however, had nothing else to do.

So, he slept like an ordinary man. Maybe even longer than one.

As he sat up, he called out, "Maids!"

Within moments, several maids entered the room. They bowed silently and waited for his command.

Fletcher nodded, and they moved into action.

They carefully undressed him, bathed his skin, combed his hair, and dressed him in fresh robes.

Centuries ago, he used to do all of this himself. But at some point, that habit changed. Now, he had maids to handle it.

Half an hour later, Fletcher emerged from his chamber, clad in luxurious silver robes.

He walked through the halls, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone. After a few minutes, he arrived at his destination.

A hundred men stood in neat rows, silent and serious.

The moment they spotted Fletcher, their backs straightened even further.

He climbed onto a raised platform and shouted, "Take position!"

Immediately, the people below sprang into motion, shifting into their designated spots.

From his robe, Fletcher pulled out a red ball. Holding it high, he threw it into the air and roared, "Go!"

Chaos erupted.

The moment the ball touched the ground, the men lunged at it like starving beasts.

Fists flew. Kicks landed. Teeth sank into flesh. Fingers clawed at eyes.

The only rules were simple:

— No knives or metal weapons.— No stepping outside the white boundary lines.

Everything else was allowed.

It was brutal. Violent. Savage.

And Fletcher smiled.

These days, he was numb to most things. It was difficult to find entertainment.

But this game, the one he had created, still thrilled him.

He called it "Last Survivor."

And he loved watching it.

With a satisfied sigh, he sat down on the chair prepared for him, watching as the men below continued to tear each other apart for the red ball.

...

After an hour of relentless combat, the battlefield was littered with bodies.

Around fifty men lay on the ground—either groaning in pain or completely unconscious. The rest had fled past the white boundary line, some clutching broken bones, others bleeding heavily. Some had given up, and others had run simply out of fear.

Despite the brutality, no one was forced to participate.

They all entered the game willingly.

Because the reward was worth it.

Fletcher's gaze fell upon the last man standing—a warrior drenched in blood, his face battered beyond recognition. A few of his teeth were missing, his left eye was swollen shut, and deep wounds covered his body.

But in his trembling hands, he held the red ball.

Fletcher grinned.

"You are today's winner, young man!" he declared, stepping down from the platform. "Your life after this will be beyond imagination!"

He patted the bloodied man's shoulder.

The warrior only bowed in response. His mouth was too broken to speak, and his throat too damaged to utter a word.

Fletcher turned to his butler, who stood as always at his side.

"Reward him with the standard ten million silver," he commanded.

"Yes, my lord!" the butler nodded.

With that settled, Fletcher clapped his hands.

"Alright, bring in the female participants!"

Last Survivor was always played in two leagues—one for men, one for women.

Fletcher preferred the male league. It was more violent, more unpredictable, more savage. But the female matches had their own appeal.

Just as a servant moved to gather the female participants, a knight suddenly sprinted into the arena.

He was out of breath, his face pale with urgency.

"My lord! An emergency!"

Fletcher's expression darkened.

"Let me see it."

Taking the letter, he quickly scanned its contents.

With each passing second, his gaze grew more serious.

By the time he reached the end, he snapped the letter shut.

His voice was sharp and commanding.

"Prepare everything immediately! We have an important guest!"

He paused, then added with rare intensity—

"A Legendary Knight has arrived!"