Chapter 106: How to Make You Never Forget Me (Part Two)

“Strange! What exactly is Aiven thinking? It's understandable that he refuses to exchange hostages and doesn’t care about Victor, but the other member of the Squirrel Party—judging by his attire, clearly of higher status than the others—was also rejected. And facing us like this, it’s obvious they can’t escape.” The speaker was Siegfried, the Rose Knight.

“Lady Kyra, go back and prepare some things. She’ll be here shortly. If the Squirrel Party wants to stall, let them stall!” said Roderick, the Lily Knight.

Adjusting the red hair that had fallen onto her forehead, Princess Yada by the window gazed at the sky. “It’s about to pour heavily. Could they be waiting for that moment to break through?”

This remark caught the attention of Vincent, captain of the city guards, who stood up. “I’ll go check again to ensure there are no oversights in the layout.”

The Lily and Rose Knights also rose, ready to return to their respective units.

Mayor Virellard clapped his hands twice. “Gentlemen! Cheer up! Aiven has a date with the gallows—don’t let him be late.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud bang echoed from upstairs, followed by the sounds of chaos rapidly approaching the command post. The situation was so obvious that it drew everyone’s attention. Even Princess Yada, who had been staring out the window, turned her gaze toward the door.

Unlike the other men inside who braced themselves for battle with stern faces, she felt a surge of excitement and anticipation at this unexpected development. Fate did not disappoint her.

“Bang!” The Rose Knight swept aside the door that had been kicked open, revealing a cloud of dust through which emerged a man more blazing than the furnace and freer than the sky—dashing and commanding. Clad in black leather, the bat emblem on his chest was striking and unmistakable.

He bowed elegantly to those inside. “Sorry to have come to the wrong place and caused trouble.”

Victor had no intention of fighting those inside. Aside from Mayor Virellard and Princess Yada, the other three were seasoned warriors. His purpose in coming here was merely to extend the lifespan of his “Dark Knight” alias.

After all, Batman had appeared from the room where Victor was held, so to continue using that identity, the ruling authorities had to clearly perceive that Batman’s physique was entirely different from Victor’s, establishing a firmly ingrained character impression.

Having made his grand entrance, the young man sidestepped a knight’s swing, punching the side of the helmet and sending the man flying aside. Then, with a flourish of his cape, he dashed straight toward Princess Yada’s position.

Though Batman’s reputation had so far been positive, the princess took two steps back, and both the Rose and Lily Knights stepped forward to shield her from harm.

But this was merely a feint. Batman’s real target was not Yada but the nearby window, which he shattered with a loud crash and leapt through.

Sensing the trick, Princess Yada immediately followed through the broken window. “Virellard, I’m going after Batman. You take charge here.”

She ordered the knights beside her to dismount, then mounted her own horse to give chase.

Victor, running ahead, turned a corner onto the main street, then used his grappling hook to ascend directly to the balcony of a nearby mansion’s second floor. Just as he was ready to make another dash through the bustling district, he heard Princess Yada’s command below: “No weapons allowed. Capture Batman alive.”

The boy almost thought he had misheard. He stopped and glanced back at the princess, while the Lily Knights pouring out also looked bewildered by this baffling order.

Roderick, arriving beside the princess, wore a questioning expression but hadn’t yet spoken.

Yada said firmly, “Facing an unarmed target, with Temolia’s elite and valiant knights—such brave and skilled gentlemen—do we really need weapons to capture him?”

Her words silenced the knights instantly. Victor, watching from a distance, sensed that this young woman treated the entire affair like a game. But that was fine—indeed, better this way.

The boy bowed impeccably from the second floor. “Lady Yada of the White, Batman salutes you. Your knightly spirit is beyond reproach, truly worthy of being the daughter of King Fortester.” A few flattering words cost nothing.

The princess liked the compliment; it always seemed to penetrate her heart. She spoke loudly, “Batman, it’s not yet nightfall. Why have you come here?”

“To speak briefly with Mr. Talor, the king’s secret agent, who has been earnestly pursuing me lately. I hoped to persuade him to ease up.”

A knight stepped closer to Yada. “Talor was beaten badly, unconscious but not in mortal danger.”

Hearing this, the princess’s crimson lips curled into a smile.

Roderick shouted loudly, “Batman, just you and me—one-on-one, fists only. Do you have the courage?”

The Lily Knight issued this challenge because he noticed the princess’s keen interest in this strange figure. Though her affections shifted quickly, he would not allow anyone to surpass him. Defeating Batman in front of everyone would be the fastest way for Yada to lose interest. The loser would never hold a place in her heart.

Victor smiled faintly at Roderick’s challenge. “Thank you for the invitation. To duel one-on-one with the renowned Lily Knight is a great honor. Such a rare opportunity would be foolish to refuse.”

Seeing that familiar smile, Yada whispered simultaneously with Batman, “But I refuse!”

Tilting her chin confidently, the princess murmured, “I see right through you.”

Yet the next moment, her mouth fell open in astonishment.

Batman, standing high above, raised both arms. His upper arms were nearly parallel to the ground, forearms flexed upward with fists clenched, fully contracting his biceps and holding the pose.

His cape fluttered dramatically as his well-defined, oval-shaped biceps and inverted triangular torso were on full display to everyone below—revealing every bulging muscle and what the ignorant youngsters called the “black bananas.”

He declared, “I cannot accept your challenge! My sincerest apologies!”

Princess Yada was momentarily dazed. Was he apologizing with this pose?

Then she noticed the knights around her, including Roderick, their eyes practically shooting flames, overwhelmed by a profound humiliation, and barely suppressing fits of maniacal laughter.

She could only maintain a stern expression and issue a grave command, “Capture him, and you shall earn my reward!”

From his lofty perch, Victor could only sigh at the medieval folk’s unfamiliarity with such displays, unable to appreciate the beauty of Olympian fitness poses. Especially paired with the second-generation Bat suit, the visual effect was undeniably striking.

But that wasn’t entirely true. At least from the princess’s gaze, the boy saw a kindred spirit—yet she was also a consummate political creature.

Hearing her order to capture him—the starting pistol of the second “Vijima Street Parkour Championship”—Batman, the reigning champion, accepted the reckless challenges of all present.