Chapter 109

It had been roughly eight years since Kazuki Hirasawa was reincarnated as Harold Stokes. Regardless of his own intentions, that mouth of his—spouting nothing but vitriol and sarcasm—had caused him endless grief. He couldn't deny, however, that over nearly a decade, he had grown somewhat accustomed to it.

After all, he would never be able to open his mouth if he constantly fretted over being hated or wounding others. Besides, even when he spat out insults that made people question his humanity, it wasn't impossible to perform some degree of damage control through his subsequent actions. Of course, this usually only shifted his reputation from "the absolute worst piece of trash" to "a regular piece of trash," but a marginal improvement was better than nothing. Above all, he had long since grown used to being loathed and despised.

However, there was one thing Harold had yet to get used to.

Specifically, it was the way he would involuntarily spout lines straight out of the original story whenever he found himself in a situation mirroring the game's plot. It had happened when he offered to execute Clara to fake her death, and again in the underground dungeon when Justus came to visit him.

In the latter case, even though the timing and circumstances differed from the game, the core situation—Justus attempting to grant Harold power—was identical.

Based on these instances, Harold theorized that this phenomenon—what he called "Original Story Reproduction"—occurred whenever he encountered characters from the game in scenarios that led toward the original plot's development. Conversely, he suspected it wouldn't trigger during events not depicted in the original story or in scenes that had already passed.

The evidence was admittedly thin, but he had few samples to work with. Furthermore, since most of Harold’s scripted events were directly tied to his own death flags, he couldn't exactly go around intentionally triggering them for the sake of verification.

But now, at the worst possible moment, it had happened. Before he could even attempt to gloss over the situation, the lines from the scene where Harold first confronts Rainer as an enemy had slipped through his lips.

Under normal circumstances, this battle event took place early in the game when the party consisted only of Rainer, Colette, and Hugo. In this reality, the protagonist’s party was already at its full strength of six, and this was far from their first meeting.

(Dammit! Is that how it works?!)

Frantically thinking even as he panicked, Harold reached a conclusion.

Harold had first faced Rainer at the fighting tournament in Delphit, but that wasn't a battle between "enemies." In Fog Valley, they had briefly stood on opposite sides, but he hadn't been acting as "Harold" then.

But now, he had appeared as Harold in the very scene where, according to the script, he was supposed to be Harrison's pawn. He stood before Rainer's eyes as an unequivocal enemy.

(...I was completely off-guard.)

The fact that he’d had few opportunities to spout canon dialogue meant he hadn't fully grasped the trigger conditions. That, combined with his previous encounters with Rainer and the fact that the timeline had already deviated so much from the original story, had lulled him into a false sense of security. He never dreamed he would end up reciting the script here.

"Wh-what are you saying, Harold...?"

Rainer’s voice trembled slightly, as if he were witnessing the impossible. Though they weren't exactly traveling companions, Harold was supposed to be an ally. It was only natural for the pure-hearted Rainer to react this way when Harold suddenly addressed them with such overt hostility. The expressions of the others showed varying degrees of confusion as well.

Except for Erika. She alone stared back at Harold with a stony, level gaze. He couldn't tell if he should feel happy or sad that she clearly hated him enough to be unfazed... but this was no time for such idle thoughts.

"Are you truly serious?"

"Who knows? Perhaps you'll find out if you try to cut me down."

Harold tried to deny Erika's question, but as usual, only a provocation escaped his mouth. It was the same old familiar pattern. Correcting the course from here would be the true test of his skill.

He turned on his heel, presenting his back to Rainer and the others. It was a silent gesture meant to signal he had no intention of fighting. He knew their characters well enough to be certain they wouldn't attack him from behind.

He walked toward a corner of the balcony, heading for a small building that occupied about a third of the wide rooftop.

The doorknob was locked. Having no other choice, he used his sword to carve through the door and the surrounding wall to check the interior. Inside was a vast collection of weapons. He vaguely recalled the game only having a few swords and axes on the wall, but that was hardly worth dwelling on.

Among the massive cache of arms, two items were displayed with clear prominence. The sword stolen from Rainer’s home and the secret treasure Harold’s group had excavated from the ruins were enshrined in the center of the room.

For now, if the protagonist’s party obtained these, their equipment would be significantly upgraded. To be fair, simply equipping them and charging into the final boss fight usually resulted in a game over, but Harold had already dispatched Frieri to prepare a solution for that. As long as Rainer and the others got these weapons, things should be fine.

"This is what you were looking for, isn't it, Rainer?"

With that, Harold tossed the Treasured Sword Gramglan—the blade he himself had taken from the Griffith home—toward its rightful owner. It traced a lazy arc through the air before piercing the ground at Rainer’s feet.

However, Rainer merely grimaced, making no move to pick it up. As Harold wondered why, Colette spoke.

"How... how do you know about that, Lord Harold?"

He couldn't exactly say it was knowledge from the original story, nor could he admit to being the thief. But was it really that suspicious? Harold, the person, had already confirmed that the Griffith house had been robbed.

Then, the next sentence made him realize his blunder.

"That sword... even Rainer had never seen it before. How could you possibly...?"

The sheathless Gramglan had been stored in an iron box until now, displayed here in its bare state. If even Rainer hadn't known what it looked like, then the only people who knew its shape should have been the excavators, Olbel and Leona.

If that were the case, then Harold recognizing it as the stolen sword at a single glance was impossible. The only logical conclusion for the party to draw was that Harold was working with the thieves.

Based on Rainer and Colette’s reactions, they had reached that exact hypothesis. And despite the mountain of nuances, it was the absolute truth.

Harold didn't have time to ponder his answer. In this situation, silence or a hesitation would be taken as a confession. He had to deny it immediately, yet he couldn't risk saying the wrong thing.

"Are you lot so dense that you can't understand something so simple without it being spelled out for you?"

The words that finally tumbled out of his mouth were ambiguous, but in this context, being vague was as good as an admission of guilt.

He had thought he was used to self-correction? No, that was just negligence.

(So much for my arrogance... though the flags are certainly coming home to roost early.)

He mocked himself internally; this was classic "Harold." He wanted nothing more than to flee the scene right then and there.

But the world was rarely so kind.

"Why...! I thought you were my comrade...!"

Rainer gripped the hilt of Gramglan with a trembling hand. His eyes, fixed on Harold, were brimming with unshed tears.

To Rainer—honest, kind, and fiercely protective of his family and friends—this situation was agony. Knowing the boy’s personality, Harold could feel the weight of that betrayal.

Rainer had called Harold a comrade. There wasn't a shred of a lie in that sentiment. If Harold really was connected to the people who had hurt his parents, Rainer's grief and rage would be beyond measure.

The air grew heavy and sharp. A suffocating pressure radiated from Rainer as he leveled his sword.

In response, Harold raised his own blades. He did so out of the weary resignation that a fight was now inevitable. He hadn't necessarily failed to foresee this; rather, he had known deep down that if the original story took hold, this battle was unavoidable.

"...I have no need for comrades. Have you forgotten? Clumping together is how the weak survive."

Even so, he didn't want to fight them. They were the heroes who would save the world—inherently good people. He had no desire to cross blades with them.

He had hoped that the deviations from the script might have opened a different path, but that hope was gone. Driven by the cynical acceptance he had cultivated over the years, he flipped the switch in his mind to combat mode.

"You're strong, Harold... I know that! But if you have that kind of power, couldn't you have used it to protect people instead of hurting them?! You could have stopped those guys!"

Rainer shouted, gesturing toward Ventus and Lilium, who were lying unconscious on a nearby bench.

"Naturally. I could easily cut them down even if they both came at me at once."

"Then why did you do that to my father and mother...!"

"Because it was necessary."

That single sentence was the trigger.

Rainer closed the gap in an instant. His footwork was leagues faster than anything Harold had seen in Fog Valley, and the sharpness of his swing was far beyond that of a normal man.

Furthermore, the Gramglan in his hand possessed the ability to absorb external mana and convert it into elemental attacks. Responding to its wielder's fury, the blade erupted in flames as it swung down.

The fiery edge sought to incinerate everything in its path. Harold crossed his two swords to catch the blow, then parried with a sweeping strike that sent the stalled Rainer flying backward.

"Guh...!"

Rainer skidded across the roof, digging his heels in to maintain his balance despite the impact.

However, Harold’s focus had already shifted.

(There’s no point in hurting these guys! In fact, it's the worst possible outcome! Which means the one I have to watch out for most is—)

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the ground beneath Harold’s feet just as he tried to lunge.

The floor about a meter ahead was gouged out as if by a blast, with a single arrow embedded at the center. There was only one person present who used such a weapon.

"『Wind Strike Fan』."

The voice was devoid of emotion. It was Erika.

There was no trace of anger or sorrow in her eyes; like her voice, they reflected Harold with total apathy. Her perfect features combined with that coldness made her look like an exquisite, lifelike doll—a sight as eerie as it was beautiful.

"I no longer understand what you are thinking, Lord Harold."

She spoke to him with a sudden, chilling calm.

"...So what?"

"You likely wouldn't tell me why we must fight, even if I were to ask."

"..."

Harold had no reason to fight them. Technically, it was just a cluster of original plot points forcing the situation, but explaining that would only sound like a mockery. Not knowing how to respond, he remained silent.

"...Fine. It no longer matters. If you desire battle—if you have a reason to stand against us—then I shall fight you."

"...You truly are a troublesome woman."

Harold spat the line out, but a smile involuntarily touched his lips. It wasn't sarcasm; it was a self-mocking grin.

The real Erika was someone who would always choose dialogue over violence. While she fought as a member of the party, her character in the game suggested she would never willingly choose to fight if she were forced into it.

And yet, the saint-like Erika who loathed conflict was saying this. It was a testament to just how far Harold had fallen in her eyes.

He was the one who had spent years ensuring she would despise him. Now that it had finally come back to haunt him, he had no right to complain.

Erika raised her bow and drew the string tight, her aim locked onto Harold.

It was a different time and a different place than the game, but the battle against the protagonist’s party—the full party—was about to begin.

"I am coming."

With Erika’s declaration, the curtain was raised.