The Awakening Of The Last Knight.

Chapter 4, The Black Armor Vs Stealth Mode.

Ali allowed himself to be led to the Knights Association headquarters without resistance. Fighting back against the Blue Armored Knight was out of the question—not only was the man far stronger, but Ali was too exhausted to put up a struggle. When they arrived, he was escorted to a stark white interrogation room and left alone, the door locking with a quiet but final click. 

For nearly an hour, he sat in silence, turning over his options in his head. Should he tell them about the System? Would they even believe him? Something about the idea made his skin crawl—he couldn’t shake the feeling that honesty might backfire. 

Finally, the door opened, and a sharp-eyed detective strode in, a file tucked under one arm. He took a seat across from Ali, studying him for a long moment before speaking. 

"Name and age," the detective said, his tone brisk. 

"Ali Al Hadi . Twenty-two," Ali answered, keeping his voice steady. 

"And what were you doing during the incident?" 

Ali hesitated. "It was supposed to be my graduation. Then the ghouls attacked."

The detective jotted something down, then glanced at a monitor where another officer was presumably cross-checking records and security footage. After a moment, he gave a slight nod. 

"That checks out. Now—the white armor. Where did you get it?"

Ali’s fingers tensed slightly against the table. "It was… given to me."

"By who?" 

"I can’t say."

The detective’s expression darkened. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "Ali, you understand how this looks, don’t you? Mysterious armor, unnatural combat skills—right now, you’re either a witness or a suspect. Choose carefully."

Ali held his gaze, pulse quickening. Before he could reply, the detective suddenly grabbed his collar and his tone changed "listen kid, you better start talking or there will be a sequence, are you a spy from another country? How did you know about the attack?"

Ali's mind raced as the weight of the accusation settled over him. A foreign spy? The absurdity of it made his blood boil. Just hours ago, he'd been fighting side by side with their knights to protect innocent lives, and now he was being treated like a criminal. His jaw clenched, frustration and exhaustion warring inside him as he met the detective's cold stare.

"I'm not a spy!" Ali snapped, his voice raw with emotion. "I don't know what else to tell you, but that's the truth. I only fought to save my friends—my family. Is that a crime now?"

The detective's expression didn't waver. Instead, he moved with terrifying speed, slamming Ali against the concrete wall with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. Ali gritted his teeth as the man peeled off his jacket, revealing a sleek, high-tech gauntlet beneath.

"Look, kid,"the detective growled, his voice dripping with menace. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. But if you keep playing dumb,I'll have to use force."

A chill ran down Ali's spine. Before he could react, the detective barked a command: "Black Armor, activate!"

Darkness erupted around him—a swirling vortex of shadows that consumed the room. The air grew thick, suffocating, as if the light itself had been devoured. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the shadows dissipated, revealing the detective clad in an obsidian black suit. It was unlike anything Ali had ever seen: a fusion of medieval knight and futuristic war machine, its angular plates humming with suppressed energy, glowing red veins pulsing across its surface like exposed circuitry.

Ali barely had time to process the transformation before the armored detective lunged. A gauntleted hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground. Ali gagged, clawing at the unyielding grip, his vision spotting at the edges. He knew he had no choice now, he either fights back or dies.

With the last of his breath, Ali choked out "White Armor—activate!"

Light erupted—blinding, purifying—as if the sun had detonated in the heart of the room. The detective snarled, recoiling as the radiance seared his vision. Ali felt the familiar surge of power as his armor materialized, its pristine plates locking into place with a chorus of mechanical whispers. The weight of it grounded him, the pain in his throat fading as the armor's systems synced with his pulse.

When the light faded, the two warriors stood poised for battle. The detective wiped at his eyes, then grinned, his smile a grotesque slash beneath his helmet's visor."Now this is going to be fun," he hissed, flexing his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, a searing blade of crimson plasma erupted from his forearm, its heat distorting the air.

Ali didn't hesitate. His sword flashed into existence—a sleek, silver arc of enchanted steel humming with latent energy. The detective struck first, a horizontal slash aimed to bisect. Ali barely parried in time, the clash of plasma against metal sending sparks cascading across the room.

The force of the blow drove Ali back, his boots screeching against the floor. He could feel the detective's strength—augmented, unnatural. This wasn't just armor; it was a weapon fused to its user. And Ali was trapped in a cage with it.

Ali barely managed to roll under another vicious slash, the plasma blade glowing as it carved through the air where his head had been a second before. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning with exhaustion. Every dodge was a hair’s breadth from disaster—the detective’s movements were precise, relentless, each strike carrying the weight of years of combat experience Ali simply didn’t have. 

"Running won’t save you," the detective taunted, his voice distorted by the helmet’s modulator. He advanced, twirling the plasma blade lazily. "You’re just delaying the inevitable."

Ali’s back hit the wall, the cold metal pressing into his armor. His lungs screamed for air, his vision swimming with fatigue. "This guy’s stamina is insane" he thought, gritting his teeth. The last time he’d checked his own stats, his endurance had been mediocre at best. He wondered what kind of numbers did this detective have? 

Then it hit him—Stealth Moves. The ability he’d unlocked after leveling up. He’d never used it before, but right now, it was his only shot. 

Keeping his voice barely above a whisper, Ali muttered, "System—pull up Stealth protocols."

A translucent blue menu flickered in his vision, text scrolling rapidly: 

[Stealth Mode: Temporary invisibility (10 minutes max). Cooldown: 2 min. 

Warning: Movement above 50% speed cancels effect.] 

Ali’s heart pounded. "10 minutes That’s all I get" .He skimmed the details, but the detective didn’t give him time to finish. 

"Talking to yourself now?" The detective lunged, plasma blade aimed straight for Ali’s chest. 

"Stealth—activate!" Ali hissed. 

The world blurred as his armor emitted a high-pitched hum. His body flickered, then vanished—just as the detective’s blade punched through empty air. 

"What the—?!" The detective staggered, off-balance. His helmet’s visor snapped left and right, scanning the room. "Where did you—?!" 

Ali held his breath, creeping sideways. He could see the detective’s back now, exposed. He had One shot. He tightened his grip on his sword and then Ali struck.