Chapter 110

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you guys really doing this!?”

“Calm down, Erika! Rainer, you too!”

“How can I!? Harold hurt my father and mother! I can’t forgive him!”

“Fine, let's fight. ……But we should win first, then force the truth out of Harold’s own mouth.”

“I-I…”

As Erika and Harold dropped into their combat stances, the opinions of Lifa’s group—who had been watching from the sidelines—began to splinter. Erika felt a pang of guilt toward them, though she knew their hesitation was only natural.

She understood why Lifa and Hugo believed they shouldn't fight him. Erika didn't want to fight him either. In fact, the very sight of herself leveling a weapon at Harold was, to her, an utterly loathsome thing.

The man named Harold Stokes was arrogant and selfish. He was the type of person who would arrogantly save someone and then selfishly let himself be hurt in the process—always in the shadows, where no one would notice.

He intended to live his life alone, hated by the world.

Knowing him, there was likely some hidden reason why he had harmed Rainer's parents, just as there was a reason he was forcing this confrontation now. In that sense, fighting him might be a mistake.

Nevertheless, Erika chose to fight, because that was what Harold wanted.

(This is likely all I can do for you now…)

She hadn't been the kind of person who could truly support him. She wasn't strong enough to act for his sake if it meant defying his will.

Feeling that failure acutely, Erika realized that the only way she could respect Harold was to honor his wishes. Even if it was a choice that tasted of nothing but bitterness, she would give this battle everything she had.

“Those who do not intend to fight, please step back.”

“Erika! Stop being so stubborn!” Lifa shouted, but her plea fell on deaf ears.

This was the only thing Erika could do for the man she loved. It was the one thing she refused to give up.

“No. I will not back down.”

“Wait, enough already—”

“Hey.”

A voice like a sudden frost cut through the air. The chaotic atmosphere was instantly pulled taut.

Harold wasn't even in a proper stance. He simply held his two swords with his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Yet, the pressure radiating from him was more intense than that of any opponent they had ever faced.

“What are you prattling on about? If you don’t intend to fight, I’ll end this right now.”

The moment they heard the words “end this,” everyone present realized the truth: Harold was dead serious about fighting them.

Aside from Rainer, whose blood was already up, the realization shook Lifa’s group. Erika felt the same tremor of agitation, but she suppressed it, glaring back into Harold’s eyes with unwavering resolve.

Seeing her determination, Lifa, Hugo, and Colette finally drew their weapons.

“Here I come, Harold!”

Rainer’s roar served as the signal for the massacre to begin.

---

“Hah!”

A vertical flash of the flame sword delivered with everything Rainer had. Living up to its name—the Treasured Sword Gramglan, the Great Anger—the intensity of the flames and the speed of the strikes increased as Rainer converted his inner fury into raw power. Most impressive of all was that he was actually managing to keep up with Harold’s movements, if only just.

Whether positive or negative, Rainer’s emotions rode his blade. By exploding with emotion, he could draw out his latent potential and jump a level or two in strength mid-fight. It was a style of combat that screamed "RPG protagonist."

Harold’s style, by contrast, was the polar opposite. He was a machine of observation, calmly evading every strike and landing his own with surgical precision.

What made such a feat possible was his overwhelming speed and the absolute advantage of "knowing" his opponent's moves and the exact tactics required to win. Because of this, Harold would not lose easily.

Even in a situation as absurdly lopsided as six-against-one.

As he parried the brunt of Rainer’s assault, a sharp blow from a tonfa whistled toward his blind spot. Without looking, Harold spun a hundred and eighty degrees, meeting the strike with a kick.

Colette’s tonfa were made of naturally dense wood further reinforced with magic power, making them harder than most metals. Meeting such a weapon with a bare foot was usually a recipe for a shattered leg, but Harold executed the move effortlessly.

With a dull crack, the tonfa snapped in two.

This was the Housenkyaku—the same move he had used to shatter the branch-arm of a Hammer Trent. It was an original roundhouse kick that didn't exist in the Original Story, created by refining the combo-filler commonly known as the Heel Drop to maximize leg structural integrity and kinetic output.

“No way…!”

Shock colored Colette’s face as she stared at her broken weapon, which usually didn't even chip when clashing with steel.

In that split-second opening, Francis and Hugo closed in from both sides.

Rainer, the only one fast enough to pin Harold down, forced him to stay put while the other three piled on their attacks. It was a sound tactical judgment; they clearly knew they stood no chance one-on-one.

However, Harold already had a grasp of their team synergy.

In his past life, he had played Brave Hearts until he knew every mechanic. He had even done "challenge plays," restricting his party to the four physical fighters—Rainer, Colette, Francis, and Hugo—who lacked significant magic or long-range options. In a party where most skills were close-to-mid range and healing magic was non-existent, he’d been forced to master the precision of their guards and combos.

Defeating the combo-king Harold, the melee specialist Vincent, and the long-range spammer Justus with that specific party—especially while under-leveled—had been an exercise in pure masochism.

But because he had done it, he knew their limits. They couldn't reach the "current" Harold.

Furthermore, he had already devised countermeasures for the worst-case scenario where he had to fight them. During his brief tenure in the Knight Order, he had practiced one-against-many combat against Isaac’s group specifically for this moment.

While Rainer’s party was far superior in terms of raw stats, the practice had been invaluable for developing the reflexes to track attacks coming from every direction and instantly decide whether to dodge, parry, or block.

He parried a downward swing from the halberd, guiding the blade away. Power that could shatter the earth was no threat if it hit nothing but air.

Hugo tried to pull the halberd back to reset his stance, but Harold used the shaft as a stepping stone. He kicked off the weapon, leaping into the air to evade a thrust from Francis that was inches from his chest.

As he soared over three meters high, a volley of arrows streaked toward him. He swatted away only those on target with his sword. But the arrows were merely a distraction.

“‘Bolt Lance’!”

The vanguard had boxed him in, leaving the air as his only escape route. Erika had suppressed him with arrows to keep his eyes busy until the last possible second, and now Lifa—her magic refined by Justus’s scientific theories—fired the finishing blow.

It was a magnificent six-person coordination that surpassed anything in the game. Or it would have been, if Harold hadn't seen it coming.

In truth, while Harold was dealing with the frontline, he was most wary of the mages, Erika and Lifa. He had predicted that Lifa would be the one to go for the kill.

In a chaotic melee, large-scale area-of-effect spells were risky if the frontline was still engaged. That was why Harold had avoided taking anyone out immediately, keeping the fight messy.

Erika’s arrows were the perfect long-range suppression tool—a fact Rainer’s group took for granted. And when it came to a finishing move, Lifa would likely choose Bolt Lance, the fastest spell in her arsenal, to catch a speedster like Harold.

Tactically, it was the correct answer. It wouldn't kill him in one hit, but the paralysis it induced would end the fight.

Unfortunately for them, Bolt Lance was a thunder-attribute spell—Harold’s specialty. By the time he had deflected the arrows, his counter-spell was already prepped.

“‘Bolt Lance’.”

Fired at almost the exact same moment, Harold’s spell swallowed Lifa’s whole. It erupted into a light so blinding that it washed out the sun-drenched sky.

Everyone reflexively shielded their eyes. When the spots finally cleared, Harold was standing there, calm and completely unscathed.

“...Is that all?”

He sounded bored, but internally, he was sweating.

He had managed to avoid damage only because he was focusing 100% on evasion. Defeating all six of them was a different beast entirely. He absolutely could not afford to seriously injure the protagonist’s party right before the final battle.

On the other hand, getting himself taken out wasn't an option either given the upcoming plot events. He was running out of choices other than "flee and leave a permanent grudge."

“Not yet!”

Rainer screamed, rushing in again. Harold’s dismissive comment had clearly struck a nerve. To Rainer, this was a battle for his parents; being told “Is that all?” was an insult he couldn't stomach.

Harold had technically tried to offer a "truce" before the fight started, but his "Harold Mouth" had turned it into a declaration of war. That arrogance had backfired, making Rainer emotional—which made his next move a massive blunder.

“Oooooooooh!”

The flame sword swung down with even greater ferocity, scorched earth trailing in its wake.

Harold dodged the strike with ease, stepping into the massive blind spot behind the overextended boy. He didn't use his blade. Instead, he slammed the hilt of his sword into the back of Rainer’s head.

“Guh...!”

Rainer groaned but didn't go down. Harold had expected a one-hit knockout, but the protagonist’s durability was no joke. It was likely a manifestation of his "never give up" spirit.

Harold thrust his black sword into the ground to free a hand, then slammed his left palm against Rainer’s back.

With a sharp crack of discharge and a flash of light, Rainer finally collapsed to his knees, unconscious.

“Rainer!”

Colette rushed forward, followed by Francis and Hugo, but they were too late.

Harold positioned himself so that Colette and the others were directly in the line of fire for Erika and Lifa. Erika, seeing her allies in the way, was forced to freeze her next arrow mid-draw. Even a master marksman like her couldn't risk a shot with a target as fast as Harold between her and her friends. Lifa wasn't ready with her next spell either.

Seeing the pause, Harold lowered his center of gravity. His posture suggested he was about to pounce on Colette, prompting Francis and Hugo to sprint even harder to reach her.

But Harold was faster. In a blur of motion, he closed the distance.

“Huh?”

The confused sound came from Hugo. He had been so sure Colette was the target that he hadn't expected Harold to pivot toward him. He couldn't even track the movement.

In a near-perfect ambush, Harold’s sword hilt caught Hugo right under the chin. No matter how much muscle Hugo packed, having his brain rattled like that was an instant shutdown. His massive frame toppled backward and went still.

By the time Francis could even turn to face him, Harold buried a kick in his gut and followed up with a thunder-aspected palm strike—Goudashou - Thunder—stripping him of consciousness.

It had gone exactly as planned, but it felt hollow. He had neutralized half the team in seconds.

“...Is this really all they’ve got?”

The thought leaked out as a whisper.

Could they really win against Justus like this? The lack of resistance was genuinely worrying.

He glanced at Colette, who stood over Rainer, trembling. Her shoulders hitched as she tried to shield her friend, but with her weapons broken, she was no longer a threat.

“Now then. That just leaves the two of you.”

Treating Colette as if she were already beneath his notice, Harold turned to face Erika and Lifa. Lifa looked tense, while Erika’s gaze was like a blade, sharp and resolute.

“What now? Do you still want to play?”

“Of course,” Erika replied instantly.

Lifa, however, finally snapped.

“Ugh, I don’t get any of this! Erika, you’re being weird, and Harold, you’re a jerk! Why are we even fighting you!?”

“Stop barking. If you’ve lost the will to fight, get out of my sight.”

In Harold-speak, this was a polite request for them to please stop fighting and go home.

Naturally, it functioned as high-octane fuel for Lifa’s temper.

“...Fine! If that’s how you want it, let's do it! Don't come crying to me when you’re a crispy critter!”

Lifa slammed her rod into the ground. Instantly, a golden magic circle expanded beneath Harold.

“This is...!”

He recognized the spell immediately, but he was already caught.

“‘Dual Bind’!”

It was the single most powerful restraining spell in the game. In Brave Hearts, it didn't just freeze an opponent for eight seconds; it left them with a massive debuff to attack power and speed even after it wore off.

In terms of pure utility, it was a "broken" skill. If you spammed Dual Bind, no boss was a threat.

Of course, the game balanced this with heavy costs—it could only be used once per battle, and it consumed three-quarters of the user's total MP. More importantly, it had a long, mandatory incantation.

(When!? When did she chant!?)

His mind raced even though his limbs were frozen. The only possible answer was: she hadn't.

There hadn't been enough time between her Bolt Lance and now to recite the spell, and she hadn't said a word.

(Wait... no way. Is that what she did!?)

A piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Lifa had been chanting. Before the Bolt Lance, while Harold was busy with the vanguard, he had seen her glowing with golden mana and reciting something.

At the time, he thought the chant was for the Bolt Lance, but it had been far too long. Both spells shared the same golden elemental light.

(You’ve got to be kidding me… She used Bolt Lance as a chantless sub-cast while simultaneously chanting for Dual Bind!?)

Double-casting. It was a skill that didn't exist in the game, and one he had never seen in this world. It was a technique that defied common sense, even more than the idea of a "chantless Dual Bind."

And Harold knew exactly which madman would come up with a concept like that.

(What the hell have you been teaching her, Justus!?)

Lifa had never lacked mana; she had simply lacked the efficiency to use it. Her Oracle Organ had been "defective" in a way that prevented her from properly manifesting magic—a genetic hurdle.

But Justus was the world’s leading expert on the Oracle Organ. He was a man who combined peak magical theory with unparalleled scientific knowledge.

And Lifa was a genius in her own right. If she had been given a "hardware upgrade" to her Oracle Organ and taught to bypass traditional magical logic using scientific principles...

Her dormant talent would finally be unleashed in its most terrifying form.

“If we're doing this, Erika, don't you dare hold back!”

“I know.”

And then there was the other girl—the true prodigy who could spam top-tier magic without a single word.

Erika Sumeragi’s fangs finally reached him.

“‘Raven Storm’.”

Beneath Erika’s feet, a verdant green magic circle and a pitch-black one overlapped and expanded. It was a spell Harold had never seen before.

But looking at the coalescing mana, he could guess its nature.

Simultaneous activation of two different attributes, both cast without incantations. Judging by the sheer pressure of the mana, both were high-tier spells.

Even Harold wouldn't walk away from this in one piece. But despite the warning bells screaming in his head, his body refused to move.

And then, Harold vanished into a vortex of pitch-black wind.