Chapter 108

After witnessing Finnegan regain consciousness, Cody left the room with Harold, feeling a deep sense of shame over his own powerlessness. Any detailed explanations could wait until the situation had settled.

Returning to the living room, Cody sank into a chair and exhaled a long, heavy sigh. Harold wasted no time addressing him.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"Yeah... though honestly, I’d hoped to settle this without burdening you, Harold."

"Blame your own incompetence."

"You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry... and, truly, thank you."

Cody bowed his head low. It was partly gratitude for saving Finnegan, but more than anything, he knew that wielding that sword came at the cost of Harold’s own life force. Because he was aware of that price, Cody had been desperate to handle things with his own strength. He had even told himself that even if he failed, he must never rely on Harold.

(In the end, I just dumped everything on him. I’m pathetic—the absolute worst...)

As the elder of the two, preaching about seniority wasn't really Cody’s style. Still, there was a certain level of propriety he should have maintained. At the very least, he should have stopped Harold.

But when Harold had picked up the sword Cody dropped—when he moved to save Finnegan—Cody had given in to his own weakness.

He had relied on Harold’s strength and kindness, but most of all, he had succumbed to his own frailty.

"It is not for the likes of you to thank me. Though, if you feel so indebted, I shall treat you as my puppet from here on out."

"Hahaha... please, go easy on me."

I really can’t compete with him, Cody thought. It wasn't a simple matter of combat prowess.

Perhaps sensing that Cody was spiraling into a rare state of self-loathing, Harold had offered encouragement in his own abrasive way. At times like this, it was impossible to tell which of them was actually the senior.

Harold had been unnaturally mature since the day they met, but now that he was of an age to be called a young man, he exuded a sense of dignity and even a certain charisma. He was a hero on par with Vincent—perhaps even greater. Cody sighed inwardly, once again struck by how truly extraordinary the boy was.

"Now then, let's get some rest ourselves."

It was already late enough to be considered the middle of the night.

It wasn't realistic to go looking for an inn at this hour, and since they would need to explain everything once the sun rose, it would be strange to leave the house without a word.

"You should take the sofa; you're the hero of the hour. I can sleep in this chair, or even on the floor if I have to. It's no problem."

Cody stretched, stifling a yawn. He was hit by a wave of crushing fatigue.

Given his profession, he took pride in his stamina, but even that brief moment of holding the sword felt as though his very life force had been uprooted. He shuddered to realize that was the sensation of one’s life being shaved away.

He also felt a flicker of dread toward Harold, who wielded that power with such a composed face. He wondered if Harold wasn't afraid of the death that surely awaited him at the end of that path.

Of course, even Cody wasn't insensitive enough to ask such a thing aloud.

"Ah, wait, are you the type who can't sleep on a sofa? I suppose you are of noble birth."

Even as he said it, Cody didn't think Harold was the pampered sort. He seemed like the type who could sleep standing up or in the middle of a pitch-black forest if necessary.

...But why was he being so quiet? Thinking that being ignored was a bit lonely, Cody turned to look at Harold, only to find him staring intensely at a letter he had pulled from somewhere.

His expression was so grim that Cody hesitated to even speak. Before he could decide, Harold roughly stuffed the letter into his pocket and turned on his heel.

"An emergency. I’m leaving."

"Leaving? Right now?"

"Handle the explanation to those people yourself. But do not say more than is necessary."

"I can do that much, but... is there anything you want me to tell them?"

"...Tell them to just live as they please from now on."

The moment the words left his mouth, Harold vanished into the night before he could be stopped. Cody was left standing in a daze.

He didn't know the specifics, but Harold was a busy man; if an emergency had cropped up, it couldn't be helped. He didn't mind being left with the explanation, but it meant the person who actually deserved the gratitude for saving Finnegan was gone.

While Cody was pondering what to do, a voice suddenly called out from behind him.

"Cody-san."

"Whoops, Sarah-chan. Sorry, did I wake you?"

Standing there was Sarah, clad in her nightgown.

It seemed they had been a bit too loud. Cody wondered if he should just explain the situation now, but before he could decide, Sarah spoke.

"Thank you for your hard work. You have one more role to play."

"...Sarah-chan?"

Something was wrong. It wasn't just the nonsensical reply or Sarah’s behavior—she was looking directly at him, yet her gaze seemed to pierce through him into a void.

There was a sense of fundamental wrongness, as if the very foundations of reality had warped.

He couldn't put his finger on what it was. His mind spun in circles, his brain seemingly refusing to process the anomaly.

Sarah closed the distance, one slow step at a time. This was clearly not normal, but Cody found himself unable to move, transfixed by the sky-blue eyes peering into his own.

(Sky-blue...? No, wait, Sarah’s eyes were—)

Before he could remember, his vision was cut off. Sarah’s small palms covered his eyes.

He felt the soft touch of her hands gripping his temples. Even then, his body remained frozen.

"What... are you..."

Before he could finish the question, Cody’s world went dark.

"You, too, shall become a trial for him."

The voice that reached Cody’s ears just as his consciousness flickered out was an ambiguous one—belonging neither to Sarah nor to an adult man.

◇

His breath came in ragged gasps. That alone was proof that Harold was sprinting at full speed.

Still, he did not slow down.

The sun had already climbed high into the sky. The brilliant blue expanse felt like a mockery of Harold, for whom nothing had gone right lately. It was a cruel irony.

The fact that his thoughts were drifting in such a negative direction was a testament to how dire the situation was.

(Why the hell have they already broken into the Harrison Mansion?!)

There was indeed an event in the Harrison Mansion where Rainer fights to reclaim his sword. However, based on the reports Harold received from El and the others in "Frieri," it felt as though the timeline had skipped two or three intermediate events.

When he had read the emergency contact letter that had been surreptitiously delivered to Finnegan’s house, he had nearly doubted his own eyes.

Since explaining every future plot point to El would have made him look suspiciously like a prophet, Harold had mostly stuck to telling them to tail Rainer's group, observe their actions, and report any movement. He had shared the key events as "predictions" and told them to prioritize reporting those above all else.

That was how he’d received this emergency notice, but it didn't explain why the plot was accelerating so rapidly. Hearing the story from El would be the fastest way to understand, but he didn't even have a second to spare for that.

"There it is...!"

Several hours after dashing out of Finnegan’s house faster than any horse, his destination finally came into view.

It was a mid-sized town on the outskirts of the Royal Capital. Within it sat a mansion that boasted the scale of a small castle. If things followed the original story, the battle should be taking place on the rooftop.

Harold kicked off the brick walls of a nearby building, leaping onto the roof and racing toward the Harrison Mansion without losing momentum. The gaps between buildings necessitated long jumps, but those distances were trivial for Harold’s physical abilities. He likely inconvenienced the residents, but he closed the distance to the mansion at top speed.

In a perfect world, he would have had time to infiltrate the mansion stealthily.

The hypothesis he’d formed in Vincent’s sickroom—if it was correct, he thought he might be able to restore the emotions and sense of self of Ventus and Lilium. Cody’s request had been to treat a man suffering from similar symptoms.

Believing that a success there would mean he could save those two, and judging that he still had a time buffer based on the game's timeline, Harold had granted Cody’s wish.

That result had been a massive success. It significantly increased his chances of saving the children. But then, this disaster had struck.

"Goddammit...!"

An oath escaped his lips.

If the information in that letter was accurate, the battle inside the mansion was likely already underway. He didn't think for a second that Rainer’s party would lose, but he had no idea what would happen to those two.

In the game, they rebel against Harrison after being defeated, but their ultimate fate is never mentioned. It was possible they regained their suppressed selves, but either Lilium or Ventus usually ended up being cut down by a rampaging Harrison. Or perhaps Justus had simply issued an order for Harrison to be eliminated.

Regardless, unless Harold intervened, there was no path to salvation for them.

(I have to carry more lives on my back again...?!)

Looking back, even before he could process the absurdity of being possessed by a game character, he had moved to prevent Clara’s death. In the Bertis Forest, he hadn't been able to abandon Sid and the others, taking responsibility for the lives of the Sumeragi private soldiers. Just recently, he’d managed to capture a brainwashed Vincent alive, and even Finnegan would have died soon if left alone.

Every time, the weight of those lives pressed down on him. A swirl of fear and frustration churned in his gut, making him want to scream that he’d had enough. Yet the world mocked him, forcing him to keep making these life-or-death choices.

Perhaps it was simply that the existence known as "Harold Stokes" was that deeply hated by the world.

But no matter the difficulty, no matter if he was the most hated man alive, and even if the Historical Correction Force was determined to cement his death—his will to survive would never break. He would dodge every death flag and scream "Serves you right!" at this world.

And to ensure he could one day say those words from the bottom of his heart, the first thing he had to do was—!

The screech of clashing metal echoed through the air. With two swords, Harold caught the heavy slashes of two young girls, an impact far greater than their slender frames suggested. He had intervened at the final possible second.

"...Lord Harold?"

Erika’s eyes widened as she stared at Harold, who had literally dropped out of the sky onto the four-story rooftop. She looked somewhat drained of life, but he had to focus on Lilium first. While still parrying her scimitar, he drew back his arm and drove the hilt of his sword into her solar plexus.

It was a rough strike, but one designed to do no real damage. However, because Harold had infused it with magic power, Lilium collapsed instantly. He caught her slight frame and laid her on a bench that wasn't encased in ice.

Next, he pressed his blade against Ventus, who was currently restrained by ice. He, too, lost consciousness immediately. Harold shattered the ice and carried him to the bench as well. Seeing both children secured, Harold finally felt a wave of relief.

Throughout this, the only one making any noise was Harrison. He was currently on all fours, his feet frozen to the floor, screaming and raving like a pathetic animal. Rainer and the others were merely watching the scene in stunned confusion. Since Harrison was being an eyesore, Harold released the ice restraint, and in one fluid motion, buried a fist in the man's gut to forcibly shut him up.

Finally, he turned to face Rainer’s party.

Harold didn't know how they were looking at him. Were they simply shocked? Confused by his sudden intrusion? Regardless, the words he spoke next would be critical. If he misspoke, it could mean the difference between life and death.

Understanding that perfectly in his mind, Harold opened his mouth.

—No. It opened on its own.

"You lot have no right to proceed beyond this point. If you refuse to turn back, I will have to cut you down. By all means, go ahead and refuse."

Those were the words from one of the three Harold boss battles in the original story.

It was the iconic line spoken during their very first encounter.