Chapter 148 Personal Side Quest: The Silver Knight Chronicles - Genius and Madman

It seems that everyone has a dream of becoming a hero when they are young.

There will always be a time when children enjoy the feeling of having invincible power. They use their power to uphold justice and help the weak in their imaginations, and everyone longs to become an unparalleled hero.

Cervantes was the same, only his dreams were more intense compared to others.

Especially after he acquired this power called superpower, he became even more convinced that he could become that one-in-a-million superhero. After reaching adulthood, he resolutely enlisted in the army and unfortunately caught up with the last "world war" in this world.

Even more unfortunately, Cervantes only realized he could not become a hero after enlisting in the army.

He named his supernatural ability after the fantasy hero "Don Quixote." He once had high hopes for his ability, but was repeatedly thwarted by reality.

After all, his "Don Quixote" effect is merely attaching a thin layer of armor to his body. Perhaps in ancient times, or the age of knights, this might have been a decent ability. But in the context of modern warfare, this thin shell, barely stronger than iron armor, offers absolutely no protection. On the contrary, its bright silver reflection makes him an easy target.

Therefore, he was not selected for the special forces with superpowers, but became an ordinary, unremarkable soldier.

Every time Cervantes peeked out in his armor, his comrades had to spare some effort to knock the dim-witted fellow off with the butt of their rifles to prevent him from being shot in the head.

Over time, people stopped giving Cervantes a friendly look. At most, they would slap him back into the trench when they saw him wearing that "completely suicidal" white armor.

Cervantes himself maintained that excessive energy and optimistic attitude—and then created trouble time and time again.

Although he himself only wanted to be a hero, to others he was just trouble.

Some people gave him the nickname "Pale Joke" because everything he said, even his rebuttals, sounded so weak and powerless that he was practically a joke.

Cervantes, with his formidable strength, managed to have one of his arms crippled.

A bullet pierced his arm, and the conditions on the battlefield made it impossible for him to receive proper care and treatment.

Without a doubt, his left hand was permanently disabled.

Despite the disability in his left hand, thanks to his special ability, it did not affect his daily activities; the arm covered in silver armor remained as functional as ever.

Then the war ended, and Cervantes left the army without any achievements, taking only the disability of his left hand and a pile of indictments with him.

That was a frame-up, simply because he was the least popular person. So, many times, it was a natural progression to frame him.

Fortunately, the investigation was quite thorough, and he argued his case logically (and most people agreed that someone with a mentally unstable mind wouldn't do such a bad thing), so he was ultimately not convicted.

However, the fact that he had been sued was a stain on his record, and coupled with the disability he suffered in the war, Cervantes couldn't even find a job to support himself.

After much contemplation (or perhaps not even that long), Cervantes abandoned his already unfulfilled adventurous career and resolved to embark on an "adventure."

Wearing armor formed from supernatural powers, and holding a rusty iron rod that he'd somehow found—Cervantes firmly believed this rod was perfect as a knight's lance, so he picked it up—he casually ran off to "fight for justice."

Of course, this so-called chivalrous act consists of 50% reckless behavior, 20% accidental incidents, 20% rambling nonsense, and 10% accidental stumbles.

After all, simply leaving Don Quixote to wander around on the streets is already a public security issue of its own.

Sometimes he can indeed stop criminals, like those who commit robberies. After all, when faced with a guy dressed in full armor, wielding an iron bar, and seemingly reckless (and more importantly, appearing mentally unstable), someone who just wants to steal a small amount of money can't last more than three seconds.

Sometimes it can even prevent more serious cases, such as someone rushing into a brothel and then running away while calling the police.

Considering that he could help (and that mentally unstable people are not to be trifled with), the local police chose to turn a blind eye to Cervantes, treating him as if he didn't exist as long as he didn't run into them.

Therefore, given the numerous troubles he had attracted, the wandering Cervantes became an "urban legend" in these regions.

Many people have only heard rumors about him, like stories, and those who work at the police station know his true identity. But... very few people really care about him.

Like a minor incident in life, or hearing a strange tale during lunch break, this guy who "acts as a hero" in a bizarre way won't have any impact on people's lives, nor is it worth spending too much time on.

Cervantes himself, however, paid no attention to this situation and continued his "adventure career".

During yet another of his wanderings, Cervantes caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of several thugs dragging another person into a secluded alley.

Overwhelmed by a sense of justice, Cervantes took action, rushing into the alley without hesitation and stepping forward to stop a robbery.

—As a price, a bullet is now heading straight for him.

Cervantes charged forward with only a rusty iron lance as his weapon. Initially, thanks to his supernatural armor and sheer ferocity, he was able to hold his own against the four men. But the moment they drew their guns, Cervantes knew he was doomed.

And this time, he is likely to lose exceptionally badly.

Haven't you heard that time slows down when people are nervous? Perhaps it's because of the tension of being so close to death that Cervantes' thoughts are now running at an unusually fast pace.

But Cervantes didn't think about how to escape or how to fight; instead, he thought about some trivial things.

He actually knew it himself; for example, pretending to be a hero and a knight was a very stupid thing to do.

After all, this is no longer the age of knights. Moreover, even the so-called knights of the past were certainly not the truly noble figures we imagine.

Those knights are merely "perfect knights" who exist only in novels; they are idealized fantasy products. And if one were to actually imitate them in real life...

Cervantes chuckled to himself.

This person is either insane or absolutely a fool.

As for him... he probably has both.

As the bullet drew closer, Cervantes grew increasingly relaxed: the pressure of the collision between fantasy and reality was far too painful for him.

If this is how it ends... well, it's better than ending up as a mad old man spouting nonsense.

Let's leave it at that for now.

As his thoughts drifted, strange scenes began to appear before his eyes—not things from reality, but things that existed in his imagination.

In his imagination, everything in his mind was given a physical form: common sense, reason, experience, dreams... They seemed to have human postures, looking at Cervantes with either a sigh, silence, or a gentle shake of the head.

His original thoughts unfolded before him like a road, with the door to reality behind him and the road to fantasy before him.

However, this road has now been completely severed.

Common sense told him that his chances of winning were zero.

Reason told him that it was all a farce.

Experience told him that continuing to fight would only result in death.

The cowardly and fragile Cervantes compromised. He slowly walked to the door marked "reality" and decided to admit his ordinariness.

Cervantes was just a mortal man, nothing more.

He was never a hero.

Cervantes slowly pushed open the door to reality, about to step inside.

Just then, "Dream" spoke up: "What about Don Quixote?"

The foot that had been taken out suddenly froze in place.

Yes, Cervantes was never a hero.

But Don Quixote is.

He should be fearless, righteous, courageous, and never back down.

Don Quixote is a true hero.

Silver armor covered the gaunt figure, and a massive lance tore open the door to reality. The laughing knight leaped over common sense and reason, leaving everything behind, and charged toward the other side of reality.

Upon reaching the broken road, Don Quixote leaped into the air and continued running through the air as if stepping on solid ground.

He finally understood his mistake—reality and fantasy are in conflict; if one lingers in fantasy, one is destined to be incompatible with reality; if one covets reality, one can never integrate into fantasy.

Reality is dull and solid, while fantasy is brilliant and fragile.

Cervantes and Don Quixote embarked on this path of fantasy without hesitation.

After the gunshots rang out, the gunmen stared in disbelief at the unharmed figure.

And the armor surging around him.

"You evil heretics..."

The fragile armor is expanding, the pale joke has turned into a silver knight, and the expanding silver has turned the rusted iron bar into a real weapon of mass destruction.

The flash of light beneath his helmet replaced his gaze, its glow like a burning flame.

"I, Don Quixote, hereby accept the challenge!"