They all call me Great Master

The calm voice sounded so loud amidst the silent surroundings.

As everyone's gaze shifted toward the direction of the voice, the remnants of the sunset just happened to circle around the Bell Tower on Elta Square, casting a dazzling light on the figure in a black coat, holding an Orange Cat, and wearing a gentle smile.

"Master!"

"Lord Kledos!"

Different titles were called out one after another.

Arthur set Pendragon down on the ground.

"Wait here for me, don't wander off!"

With these words, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Arthur quickly mounted the stage.

He had damaged his organs!

Arthur had just glanced and seen the severity of the injuries of both Lord Dibwa's nephew and Lord Bass's nephew.

In the current world's conventional medical standards, with injuries like theirs, apart from waiting for death, there were basically no other options.

But this world had the "Mystic Side."

"Could you help me with something?"

Arthur looked at the doctor on the stage—a middle-aged man wearing a cotton mask, head cover, and gloves, his age evident from the crow's feet around his exposed eyes.

However, he had very pronounced dark circles.

Being able to serve as the stage's doctor meant that he had a considerable reputation in South Los.

As for the dark circles?

He must have been busy with his own affairs aside from the "Swordsmanship Competition."

Just like him!

Arthur was certain if the "Swordsmanship Competition" extended over a week, he too would have dark circles.

Fortunately, the final championship was tomorrow.

After that?

He planned to rest well for two days, definitely not going out, just sleeping.

"Of course, what do I need to do?"

The doctor asked very politely.

"Hold the hilt. When I slowly pour the potion, you need to pull out the longsword steadily and slowly, definitely not too fast, and don't tremble."

Arthur instructed.

The "Hand of Void" could have done this step as well, but Arthur did not want to reveal the fact that his "Hand of Void" was different from the others.

Fortunately, there was a readily available doctor in front of him.

As a doctor, having steady hands was paramount!

After all, after the Holy Court-controlled Holy Era and the Nobles-controlled Silver Age, doctors in the Pioneer Era had gradually gotten on the right track.

Gone were the days when barbers and doctors were the same people, staunchly believing in bleeding and purgatives as cures for most diseases, and using hot irons to treat fistulas—of course, some places still held these beliefs staunchly, especially those troubled by hair loss, convinced that bird droppings could induce hair growth.

For the most part, people understood this.

After all...

That was their only hope.

Who would blame someone superstitious because of baldness?

Their every single hair strand had a name!

"Understood."

The doctor grasped the hilt of the longsword impaled in Lord Bass's nephew.

This young man's longsword was stuck in his chest, and he was more severely injured.

Arthur pulled out a healing potion produced by Amiel from the potion bag in his coat, uncorked it slowly, and poured it around the wound.

Under the astonished gaze of the doctor, the wound visibly began to heal.

"Focus!"

Arthur gently reminded him.

Anyone encountering the 'Mystic Side' for the first time would react similarly, Arthur understood this well and was not annoyed, and he continued to control the flow of the potion.

"Good!"

The arena doctor immediately nodded and began to slowly pull out the longsword.

Steady, without a tiny bit of trembling.

Not causing any extra wounds.

The potion slowly seeped in as well.

When the spilling Fresh Blood came into contact with the potion, it immediately began to scab, blocking further bleeding—clearly, although Amiel was unreliable most of the time, the Potions she made were quite good.

'In the future, I can commission her to make more, just in case.'

Arthur thought to himself, and as soon as the arena doctor had completely pulled out the sword, he immediately poured out half of the potion from the test tube, and then poured the remaining half into the mouth of the Lord's nephew.

Observing the wound scab and the nephew of Lord Bass breathing steadily, Arthur nodded silently.

His goal was half achieved.

One more to go.

Arthur's sudden speech naturally had its own purpose.

Apart from the necessary XP.

It was also because Arthur needed an 'entry ticket' to the 'South Los Nobility Circle'—Knighthoods are recognized by the public as Nobles, but are not very useful in the South Los Nobility Circle.

Arthur was very aware of this.

More clear to him was that entering this closed, ancient, rigid, and dirty circle would require more time, energy, and…

swallowing disgust!

Naturally, Arthur was somewhat resistant to this.

But to gain access to the Legacy and Mystical Knowledge that these Nobles possessed, he had to 'not fear getting dirty'.

Push harder?

As long as the South Los family were not extinct, Arthur would remain calm.

However, Arthur's luck recently was quite good—

When both the nephew of Lord Bowa and the nephew of Lord Bass fell to the ground at the same time, Arthur knew that his chance had arrived.

Even though these two young men could not inherit their uncles' titles, as descendants of Nobles, even becoming Wanderer Knights, they were incomparable to common folks.

And by virtue of saving their lives, when the two families hosted salons and banquets again, Arthur would definitely be among those invited.

Similarly, when Arthur hosted salons and banquets, he could invite them as well.

Do not underestimate such salons and banquets.

This is what is called 'the circle'.

A kind of 'protective film' that isolates most people from channels of promotion, allowing a small part to enjoy more resources.

When order is in chaos, this film is useless, and if you are tough enough, it just takes a poke to break it, at most causing a little bleeding.

But when order is intact, this film becomes elevated, concealed in brilliance, blinding those who look up.

Time passed by the second, and once the nephew of Lord Dibwa was also breathing steady and out of danger, the people of Elta Square once again gave a round of applause to the young 'Spirit Medium'.

Arthur nodded to the crowd around him.

Then, with a gentle gaze to the two young men still lying on the arena, he spoke slowly—

"Rest up, it's okay, it's all over now."

"Thank you, Lord Kledos."

Both expressed their thanks in unison, and Arthur smiled a little, then signaled for the stretcher to come up on the arena.

No persuasions.

No advice either.

Compared to commoners, these Noble descendants' pride would not readily accept others' kindness.

Of course, because of this pride, Arthur also did not worry about his own return.

Whether or not the two learned a lesson from this nearly Death experience, such returns would not change.

Watching as the two Noble descendants were carried off the arena, Arthur also jumped down from the arena and embraced Pendragon, who was waiting nearby.

At this time, the arena doctor quickly approached, first bowing in greeting and then, in a very low voice, asked—

"Lord Kledos, do you think Death can lead to Resurrection?"

Hearing such a question, Arthur's face still maintained a smile, but his eyes slightly narrowed.