Chapter 122

"Hey, do you really think it’s okay to leave things like this?"

Sid let the words slip as he descended the mountain alongside the evacuating residents of Burston. He didn't look back, his gaze fixed warily on their surroundings. Aileen, the recipient of his doubt, offered neither denial nor affirmation; she simply kept her eyes forward, her lips drawn in a tight, firm line.

Of course it’s not okay, she wanted to scream. She knew Sid was likely fishing for that exact response.

However, they were currently bound by their mission: guarding the evacuees. As members of the Knight Order, they couldn't simply abandon their post. Due to a separate large-scale operation, the vast majority of the Order’s immediately deployable personnel had been sent to Travis. The reality was that even this evacuation would have been impossible to manage without the help of the Frieri, the organization Harold had assembled.

Furthermore, the threat wasn't limited to the monsters lurking beneath the town. There was a very real possibility that the indigenous monsters living in the mountains might catch the scent of the crowd and attack. No matter how much they worried about Harold, they couldn't abandon thousands of defenseless civilians to run back to him.

"That idiot and his constant recklessness...!"

Aileen spat the words in frustration, yet she knew all too well that she couldn't propose a better solution. That helplessness was what made the situation so galling.

If only I were stronger. If only I had the strategic mind to devise a different plan. Even knowing the thoughts were futile, she couldn't suppress them.

Harold was more than just cheeky; he was arrogant, abrasive, and lacked every ounce of the charm one expected from a younger peer. Even so, she didn't believe he was a villain who deserved to die. If there was anything she could do for the man currently risking his life to buy them time...

"...Hm? Is it just me, or is it getting noisy back there?"

Sid turned around, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Now that he mentioned it, the sound of a commotion was drifting up from the rear of the column.

It didn't sound like the panic of a monster attack, but something was definitely wrong.

As they watched, a fellow knight came sprinting toward them. Sid called out to him.

"Hey! What’s the situation?"

"Ah, Sid. It’s... well..."

The knight caught his breath and gave them the long and short of it: a couple had come forward in a panic, claiming that while they were distracted for a moment, their child had disappeared—likely having doubled back to town to retrieve a forgotten plushie.

"Wait, that’s a disaster!" Sid shouted.

"What were the perimeter guards doing?! How did they miss a kid wandering off?" Aileen added, her voice rising.

Whether the child had actually made it back to town or had simply gotten lost in the woods, losing track of a civilian was a catastrophic failure on the Order's part. Manpower was thin, yes, but that was no excuse.

If anything happened to that child, they wouldn't be able to face the parents—nor could they face Harold, who was currently putting his life on the line to ensure everyone's safety.

"There’s no excuse, but for now, we have to report this to Captain Lagareth."

"...Right. Sid, go find the Captain. I’ll take your spot here," the messenger knight said.

"Understood," Sid replied, then turned to Aileen. "Aileen!"

"What?!"

"Run to Platoon Leader Barbeite at the rear. The main escort has to continue, but we need to pull together a small search party immediately."

Understanding the urgency, Aileen nodded sharply.

If they were going to search for the child, they would almost certainly have to head back toward Burston. It was obvious how much danger they would be in if Harold or the Frieri lost control of the situation.

"I’ve got it... Just make sure you get back here fast, okay?"

"Obviously. And don't you dare go charging off on your own before I catch up."

"Then you’d better hurry."

With those final words, the two of them sprinted off in opposite directions—one toward the front of the line, the other toward the rear.

◇

Evade. Parry. Counter.

Harold used the momentum of the swarming monsters against them. His dual swords carved through flesh while his magic incinerated the survivors.

Dozens of minutes had passed since the engagement began. Harold continued to slaughter the horde with a mechanical, almost trance-like focus. The number of kills had long since passed a hundred.

Still, he did not stop.

A signal flare was the designated sign that the evacuation was complete. If he could hold out until that light hit the sky, it would be his victory. He had done everything humanly possible within the time he had to prepare.

However, based on the elapsed time, the "all-clear" signal was still a long way off. Harold knew better than anyone that this world wasn't kind enough to let a plan proceed without a hitch.

Yet, amidst the chaos, he had found a glimmer of hope—grim though it was.

The Red Bottles were working perfectly. The monsters were staying fixated on the plaza, obsessed with killing him. Had the horde been under any kind of intelligent, unified control, they might have ignored him to hunt down the easier prey fleeing up the mountain. If that had happened, Harold alone couldn't have stopped them. The Frieri, the knights, and the civilians would have been slaughtered. The fact that they were focused on him made the battle manageable, if exhausting.

On the other hand, he was facing an unforeseen environmental hazard.

Fighting in the plaza had been the plan, but the mounting piles of carcasses were swallowing the ground. This wasn't a video game; the corpses didn't vanish into pixels. The plaza was becoming a charnel house, the stone tiles slick with a sea of blood that made his footing treacherous.

He felt the sting of his own lack of foresight.

Harold knew his greatest asset was his speed. He had chosen an open space to exploit that, but staying here was rapidly becoming a liability. If he moved, however, would he lead the monsters out of the Red Bottles’ range? It was impossible to predict how the "berserk" effect would change if the target moved too far.

As he sliced through another monster, a piercing whistle cut through the air. A streak of red light shot into the night sky.

Red—the emergency signal. Regrettably, it was all too predictable. He didn't even feel a flicker of surprise.

He didn't have the luxury of debating his next move. An emergency meant the fundamental premise of the operation had collapsed. He had to grasp the situation immediately.

Harold unleashed a massive flame column, turning a cluster of monsters into ash to create a momentary screen. As the disoriented horde lost sight of him, he sprinted toward the emergency rendezvous point.

To keep the fight in the town center and away from the exits, he had set the meeting point at the Stone Wall Turret on the western edge of town. Burston was small; at his top speed, Harold could cross the distance in minutes.

"Report. Make it quick," Harold commanded.

He didn't use the stairs; he vaulted through the window, landing in the turret before the Frieri members could even register his arrival. They jumped at his sudden entrance but recovered quickly.

"S-Signals from the scouts! They've spotted someone—likely a resident who didn't get out!"

"Where? How many?"

"Two kilometers northeast of the Main Gate! But it’s pitch black out there—they lost sight of them almost immediately. It’s only one person. The scout thinks... they think it’s a child!"

"Tch. What a pain in the ass..."

A child, alone, somewhere in a monster-infested town in total darkness. It was a nightmare scenario.

Harold’s mind raced. He knew his "stats" didn't include a high intelligence for this kind of thing, but he thought desperately anyway. The priority was finding the kid and getting them to safety.

"Status of the search?"

"We’ve mobilized every available scout, leaving only the bare minimum for communications. No luck yet."

If the Frieri couldn't find them, the kid was either hiding or constantly moving. Since the Main Gate was under constant watch and no one had reported anyone entering or leaving, they had to be somewhere inside the town limits. A child would be terrified of the monsters; they were likely huddled in a corner somewhere.

He had to find them in this darkness, while thousands of monsters were trying to eat him.

"...I’ll lure the bastards to the north side of town. Find the brat and get out of here while I’ve got their attention."

"The north side?! That’s where the main mine shaft is! Luring them there is suicide!"

The man was right. The largest entrance to the mines was in the north; it was the heart of the nest. Leading the surface monsters back to the source was an invitation to be buried under an endless tide.

Harold didn't want to do it. He wasn't a martyr. But he had judged it necessary, and in his world, that meant it was the only path forward.

"Shut up. You will follow my judgment," Harold snapped.

"Ugh... Understood, sir."

The man looked intimidated, but Harold could see the genuine worry in his eyes. It was a strange feeling—knowing he was actually liked enough by his subordinates for them to fear for his life.

(Then again, maybe they just don't want their paycheck to stop because the boss kicked the bucket,) Harold thought cynically.

He realized then that he hadn't made a single provision for the Frieri’s management if he died. It was an ill-omened thought, but he had no intention of dying, so perhaps it was appropriate. Still, he felt enough affection for them to realize he’d actually have regrets if he fell here.

It had all started as a desperate attempt to dodge his own death flags. But somewhere along the line, he had started saving people, and now he had a long list of people he refused to let die.

Rainer, Colette, Lifa, Francis, Hugo... and Erika. The protagonists who would carry the weight of the world. The innocent people of Burston. Zen, Norman, Jake—the staff and soldiers of the Stokes house. Tasuku, Itsuki, and the Sumeragi hidden group. Sid and Aileen. The Frieri. Even El and the Giffelt clan, though theirs was a relationship built on profit, had been instrumental in getting him this far.

If he were to weigh their lives against his own, which way would the scales tip? Harold didn't know. No—he decided he didn't need to know.

If he just put his own life on the same side of the scale as theirs, the choice became simple. There was no need to weigh one against the other if he intended to save them all along with himself.

"Signal relayed! We’re ready to move on your command!"

"Fire it. We begin."

A yellow flash tore through the night sky, followed by a sharp, echoing crack.

With that signal, Harold threw himself back into the heart of the storm.