Chapter 120

People hurried back and forth in a frenzy, shouts and screams echoing through the streets. The scene was one of near-total panic.

Harold watched the commotion from a secluded high vantage point. Two primary factors had plunged the town of Burston into this chaos.

The first was the Order of the Holy King. They were currently making the rounds with an urgent evacuation advisory, claiming that the gas concentration in the mine was rising at a lethal rate and that a massive explosion could occur at any second. Living up to their reputation, the Order had finally managed to stir the residents—even those who had remained stubbornly unmoved until now—into finally fleeing the town.

Their efficiency was likely bolstered by the fact that the necessary preparations for flight had already been quietly completed in advance.

The second reason was a darker rumor: a story was circulating that Harold Stokes, having lost his patience with the slow evacuation, was preparing to cut down the townspeople at random. Of course, it wasn't so much "circulating" as it was being intentionally spread by Harold himself.

His goal was to light a fire under the laggards. Just the other day, several residents had witnessed him nearly executing the leader of the anti-evacuation faction. With that incident fresh in everyone's minds, the current rumor was being swallowed as gospel truth.

Because his mere presence risked inciting further chaos, Harold remained out of sight, choosing instead to wait in a spot that offered a clear view of the unfolding evacuation.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching the town and waiting for news. After a short while, Keith appeared to give a brief status report.

"Looks like 'Operation White Line' was a bust, Boss. They say the monsters haven't slowed down a bit."

Keith spoke nonchalantly, but the news was exactly what Harold had feared.

In the original Brave Hearts game, the "White Bottle" was an item used to lower monster encounter rates. Filled with a liquid that emitted a scent monsters detested, the plan had been to scatter it throughout the mine to either pin the horde in the Underground Great Hollow or force at least some of them to retreat.

It would have been a safe, low-effort solution had it worked, but those hopes were now dashed.

The monsters were likely being controlled by some external force, and since they were in a berserk state identical to the one in the original story, Harold had suspected the White Bottles might prove useless. At this rate, the horde would swarm the town in less than half a day.

"I see. Then proceed as planned. Follow Lyst’s instructions and get the residents clear of the area immediately."

"…Are you really staying behind, Boss?"

"Naturally. I intend to enjoy the spectacle of these fools scurrying in terror from up here."

Harold’s true part in the play would only begin once the monsters reached the surface. To that end, he needed the evacuation completed as quickly as possible.

"The next phase is ready, but are you sure about this? We’re talking thousands of monsters."

"What of it?"

"Normally, no one volunteers for rearguard duty against those odds. It’s a suicide mission. There’s no reason for you to put your neck on the line like this, Boss."

"Hmph. Do not waste my time with your worthless speculation. I am fighting because those monsters are in my way; I haven't the slightest intention of playing the hero or serving as a 'rearguard.'"

"…If you say so. I just hope we don’t have to pull the trigger on that final operation."

"If that concerns you, then hurry the evacuation along—drag them out by their hair if you must."

"Yeah, yeah. Good luck to you, Boss."

Though clearly unconvinced, Keith turned and headed back toward the town as ordered.

Keith’s concerns were perfectly valid, and Harold knew the man was genuinely worried. If the residents reached safety in time, Harold had no intention of taking such a reckless risk himself.

However, Harold had no faith in such a convenient outcome.

He had already steeled himself; he would do what had to be done. To keep his resolve from wavering, he maintained his mocking facade, laughing at Keith’s concern as if it were beneath him, even if the bravado was nothing more than a bluff.

The sun was already beginning its descent, the hour past noon.

Since the White Bottles had failed to stall them, the reports suggested the monsters would breach the surface by evening—in roughly three hours.

"…I’ll see this through," Harold whispered to no one, his words lost to the wind.

---

The young man known as Harold Stokes was a mystery. It had been nearly two years since Keith first crossed paths with him.

Back then, Keith had been living as a mercenary out of sheer habit, lacking any real purpose or vision for the future. He knew his lifestyle was unsustainable, but he lacked the drive to change it.

Unless a mercenary managed to land a contract as a private guard for a noble or a merchant house, the work eventually dried up. Keith knew all too well that only a tiny fraction of men ever secured such a comfortable position.

He had accepted that he would either die on the battlefield or grow old and rot away once his sword arm failed him. He lived for the moment, drowning himself in fleeting pleasures to avoid looking at the empty future ahead.

Then came that day.

"A man named Keith Wingate should be in this hole. Which one of you is he?"

The speaker had entered a derelict tavern frequented by thugs and aimless mercenaries. He was a teenage boy who looked entirely out of place in such a dive.

His tone was arrogant and his posture regal. Every inch of him announced his status as a nobleman—the specific type of nobleman that commoners despised on sight.

However, Keith was a man who had seen enough of the world to know better than to pick a fight with a noble. He understood the social hierarchy, and he wasn't immature enough to let his annoyance show.

He had considered staying quiet and letting the boy pass, but if the noble already knew his name, there was a good chance he knew his face as well. Trying to play dumb would only cause more trouble later. Hoping this wouldn't turn into a headache, Keith decided to speak up.

"I’m Keith. You got business with me?"

The noble boy narrowed his eyes, staring intently at him.

Keith felt an indescribable pressure. After appraising Keith like a piece of livestock, the boy spoke.

"I have recognized your potential. I shall grant you employment."

The boy’s arrogance was absolute.

And yet, it was so deeply ingrained in him that Keith felt a strange sense of intrigue rather than irritation. That was Keith’s first impression of Harold.

When he finally listened to the pitch, he realized it was an invitation to join an organization Harold had founded—a jack-of-all-trades agency of sorts.

At first, Keith took it for a rich kid’s hobby, a way for a noble to play at being a businessman, and he only half-listened. But when he saw the proposed wages, he nearly choked. The amount was staggering—not quite insane for an elite mercenary, but significantly higher than anything he had ever been offered.

Furthermore, the contract stated that a fixed salary would be paid monthly, regardless of how much work was actually performed.

"What kind of joke is this? Even a half-assed scammer would try harder to make the bait look believable."

The conditions were so absurd that Keith had spoken without thinking.

Harold’s response was immediate: "I told you this job involves risking your life. That is simply the value I have placed upon your head."

It was a brutally blunt thing to say, but Keith could only laugh.

A mercenary lived and died by the sword. Risking one's life was just part of the job description.

Yet Harold spoke as if paying a fortune for Keith’s life—a life Keith himself felt was worth less than ten gold coins—was a cold, calculated transaction.

As they talked, Keith realized that Harold was mature far beyond his years and exceptionally sharp. The contrast between his brilliant intellect and his total lack of common sense was endlessly entertaining.

"Heh, I see. Then I suppose I’d better earn my keep."

"Take care that you do not die. By the way, are you married? Do you have children?"

"Fortunately, I’m a bachelor."

"Then you have no need for a dependent allowance. Moving on, regarding overtime pay and worker's compensation…"

"…Dependent what? Worker’s compensation?"

Harold had ignored Keith’s confusion, continuing his lecture on the contract while using terms Keith had never heard in his life.

It was surprising enough that a noble would bother with a written contract for a mercenary, but the contents were so far removed from reality that Keith could only listen in a dazed, open-mouthed silence.

Looking back, the offer had been incredibly suspicious, but for some reason, Keith had decided to take a leap of faith. It turned out to be the best decision of his life.

Where else could one find a noble who paid a steady salary every month? Where else was there an employer who increased pay for having a family or working late?

Harold was the only man in the world who would compensate his employees for injuries sustained on the job. No one else talked about "employee benefits" or "paid leave."

"And yet, he never lets us actually risk our lives if he can help it. He’s always the first one to step into the fire."

That was the only real grievance anyone in Frieri had.

"Did you say something, Keith?" one of the younger recruits asked.

"…No, nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Tell me, what do you think of the Boss?"

"Harold? He was terrifying at first, but he’s done so much for us. I’ve got nothing but respect for the man."

"I figured. That’s what everyone says."

Keith looked toward the town. That was exactly the problem.

"But… I wish he’d rely on us more. I know I’m not much compared to him, and I’d probably just be in the way, but still…"

"You don't want to leave him to face it alone, do you?"

"…Yeah. Especially when that final operation is basically a suicide mission."

Every member of Frieri wanted to protest the third phase of Harold’s plan.

"To make sure it doesn't come to that, you need to take the refugees and get them to the base of the mountain. Fast."

"Wait, what about you, Keith?"

"With you and the Knights, the evacuation will go fine. I’m staying as close to the Boss as I can get."

If the final operation were triggered, someone had to activate the device.

That would be a heartbreaking task for anyone in Frieri. If it had to be done, Keith wanted to be the one to carry that burden.

Sensing his resolve, the younger man looked saddened, yet managed a small smile. "Please come back alive, Keith. You and the Boss."

"Count on it."

As Keith turned to leave, the ground began to tremble. A low, guttural rumbling rose from the earth, growing louder by the second.

"Is that…?"

"Dammit, they’re here already…!"

Keith sprinted back toward the town. The sun was low, casting long, dark shadows over the mountain path. He stumbled on the uneven ground, but he didn't slow down.

Under an orange sky stained by the setting sun, the blood-curdling shrieks of monsters echoed through the valley.