Chapter 123

Harold raced across the town, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. A glance toward the center revealed that the monsters were still lingering around the Central Plaza; they showed no sign of heading toward the Main Gate, where he had spotted the child-like silhouette.

It would have been a headache if they had scattered once they lost sight of their primary target, but their cluster made it easier for him to draw their attention and lead them away.

(Yes, convenient. Almost suspiciously so.)

One of his chief concerns was the unpredictability of the monsters once he broke line of sight.

They were likely being controlled by Justus to some degree, but since Harold hadn't fully grasped the man’s ultimate designs, the lack of movement wasn't exactly a relief. Moreover, he didn't have the luxury of calculating how the Red Bottle’s scent would interact with the monsters' orders. To be blunt, the entire operation had been a "wing it and see" gamble.

While the plan had worked out so far, the sheer perfection of the outcome made him paranoid.

More than twenty minutes had passed since Harold had disengaged from the front lines. Although monsters continued to spawn, they remained congregated in the Central Plaza, merely loitering around its perimeter.

If this stalemate held, he wouldn't even need to fight. He could simply keep watch until the evacuation was complete. In the meantime, finding that silhouette would be well within his reach.

(Well, it’s probably just the calm before the storm anyway.)

He kept his eyes glued to the horde from the shadow of a building near the plaza. Even if he chose to play it safe, the situation was bound to take a turn for the worse.

It was a conviction born from a grim sort of faith—not just in Justus’s malice, but in the sheer magnetism for misfortune that was Harold Stokes. Thus, Harold held his breath and waited in an eerie silence that felt entirely wrong for a town swarming with thousands of monsters.

The wait did not last long.

As if to shatter the mounting tension, the monsters suddenly began to move in unison. Their coordination was absolute as they surged in a single direction.

He didn't know if the Red Bottle’s effect had finally worn off, or if it had been useless from the start while they waited for Justus’s command. Regardless, at this moment, Justus’s will was undeniably in play.

"So the Main Gate is the target after all."

In a sense, it was exactly what he had anticipated—mostly because it was the scenario Harold was least equipped to handle.

Leaping from behind the chimney, Harold landed on the street and charged head-on into the advancing pack.

He sprinted down the center of the town's main artery. Planting his feet firmly with every stride, Harold accelerated to a blur. As if responding to his momentum, the Black Sword—gripped unusually in both hands—erupted in a violent, electric glow.

The moment the radiance reached its peak, Harold vanished into the light.

"『Raijin - Flash Streak』!"

It looked as though a single bolt of lightning had lanced through the monster ranks.

A zigzagging flash tore through the street; a moment later, the monsters that had occupied it were nothing but static corpses. Every single one had been decapitated or bisected, their wounds charred black and cauterized by the heat of the strike.

『Raijin』, the same technique he had used to finish his duel with Vincent, was a secret art that transformed the blade itself into lightning. Because it required a brief charge time, its destructive power was among the highest in Harold's repertoire.

In the original game, it was a single-hit gap-closer. Harold, however, had modified it into a chain-attack by incorporating his Air Dash. By linking the dashes, he could carve through one enemy and immediately accelerate toward the next at terminal velocity.

A single mistimed movement would result in him slamming into a wall or a monster at lethal speeds, but Harold had refined the move into a practical combat style through his sheer physical talent and superhuman kinetic vision.

Having decimated the vanguard in seconds, Harold skidded to a halt before the main body of the horde and invoked magic without a moment’s delay. He aimed not at the monsters, but at the ground beneath them.

"『Rock Neal』!"

Thick stone spikes, three meters long, erupted from the cobblestones. They acted as a jagged barricade, skewering the front line and halting the momentum of those behind.

In an open field, the spell was a poor obstacle, but in a narrow street barely a dozen meters wide and flanked by buildings, the story changed. By spamming the spell within this bottleneck, he could effectively plug the road with a forest of stone spears while thinning the enemy numbers.

Of course, this wasn't a permanent solution.

He had bought a moment of peace for the Main Gate. Next, he would draw their aggro and lead them toward the north side of town... or so he thought.

(They’re ignoring me entirely!)

Harold climbed onto a nearby roof and began indiscriminately lobbing spells into the flanks of the monsters trapped behind his stone wall. He expected them to turn on him, but they didn't even spare him a glance.

He had considered this a possibility, but seeing it in person confirmed it: the monsters' actions were being micro-managed.

The Red Bottles had likely been a total failure. If so, the only reason they had moved according to Harold's expectations initially was...

"Damn it, he baited me...!"

The feeling that the plan was working. The hope that he could succeed.

Had Justus dangled those possibilities just to lead his thoughts astray? He had let Harold believe he could lure the monsters. Then, by having the monsters loiter in the plaza, he had tricked Harold into choosing to wait and watch.

That choice had bought time for the evacuation, yes. But it had also given Justus all the time he needed to set the board.

Harold had known the monsters' behavior was suspicious. It was that very suspicion that had made him hesitate to move rashly.

Despite his vigilance, he had been manipulated into believing things were within his expectations. He had been lulled into a sense of control by the monsters' repetitive behavior. His own belief that his "strategy" was working had forced him to play a reactive, losing game.

If his every move had been calculated by Justus, then what was the man's goal—

As if being dragged into deep water, Harold's thoughts sank into a spiral of analysis. Sensing the opening, a single monster soared over his head.

It was a Griffon. It was the only flying type in the area, and he thought he had prioritized its destruction with his Bolt Lances. The survivor ignored Harold completely, diving toward a specific spot.

There, where there had been nothing but shadows a moment ago, stood a small child.

Since when? Where did he come from? It was suspicious as hell, but what if he really was just a stray evacuee?

A dozen thoughts flashed through Harold's mind in a fraction of a second, but his body moved before he could sort them. His intuition screamed that if he didn't act now, the boy was dead.

Just before the Griffon's massive talons could reach the child, Harold's blade sheared the beast's head from its shoulders.

As the monster's blood sprayed across the pavement, the young boy stared into the void. His eyes were vacant and unfocused, acknowledging neither Harold nor the dead beast before him.

It was an eerie sight, but Harold recognized it instantly.

The boy had the same hollow eyes as Ventus and Lilium.

He was another victim of Justus's human experimentation.

"...You're in the way. Go to sleep."

As he had done with the others, Harold pressed the hilt of his sword against the boy's abdomen—firmly, yet with a trace of gentleness. With a soft groan, the child went limp in Harold's arms.

Justus clearly had a plan for the boy, but Harold couldn't begin to guess what it was.

Regardless, he had secured the child. Now he just had to hand him off to the Frieri and get the hell out of here.

The thought had barely formed when an explosion rocked the street behind him.

Harold leaped back instinctively. His wall of stone spears had been obliterated, along with the monsters packed against it.

Judging by the sheer scale of the blast, it was high-level magic.

He didn't have time to wonder who had cast it. With the barrier gone, the dammed-up horde began to surge forward again. They were moving significantly faster than before, and this time, their eyes were locked onto Harold.

"Tch!"

Even for him, fighting a horde while protecting a child was a tall order. He racked his brain for a way out while dodging the initial pounce.

He could try to outrun them and bolt through the Main Gate. It was possible, but it would mean abandoning the remaining Frieri scouts. Furthermore, he needed to seal that gate as a final measure to keep the monsters contained. If he fled through it now, the scouts would be trapped inside with the monsters or burned alive in the aftermath.

He could hide the boy in a nearby building and draw the aggro away, hoping a scout would find him. It was a better plan, but the boy's safety wasn't guaranteed. The monsters' orders were being updated in real-time; the moment Harold left the boy's side, they might switch targets and kill him.

Taking the boy and retreating back to the center of town was also out. Short bursts of speed were fine, but the physical strain of high-speed three-dimensional maneuvers would likely kill a small child.

The same applied to a prolonged game of evasion.

(What do I do? Give me an answer!)

Combat, evasion, and escape were all blocked.

Choosing any one of them meant sacrificing either the boy or his subordinates. It was a literal choice between lives.

"Harold!!" "Boss!!"

In that moment of desperation, two voices reached his ears. He didn't need to see their faces to know who they were.

Sid and Keith. Two men who shouldn't have been anywhere near this street.

He glanced sideways and saw more than just those two. Aileen was there, along with several other knights and Frieri members. There were about ten of them in total.

(Did you predict this too, Justus? Fine. I’ll play your game.)

He wouldn't choose between lives. If there was a path where everyone survived, he would take it, even if it was a trap.

The only life he was willing to gamble was his own.

Weaving through the monsters' onslaught, Harold reached the group and thrust the boy into the arms of a scout before they could say a word.

"A stray brat. Take him and get out of here. Gather the rest of the scouts on your way."

"Eh? Ah, yes! Understood!"

"The rest of you, guard them. That is the Knight Order's job, isn't it?"

"...Understood," Sid replied, his voice firm.

Without a backward glance at the retreating group, Harold turned to face the incoming tide.

"『Shunraigo』!"

A fan-shaped wave of lightning blades tore through the front rank, reaping dozens of lives in an instant. It wasn't enough to stop them, but it gave him the opening he needed.

"I never thought the day would come when I'd stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you again," Sid remarked, stepping up beside him.

"Hmph. Don't flatter yourself. Your only job is cleaning up the scraps."

"You really aren't charming, are you?" Aileen sighed, drawing her sword. "A little gratitude wouldn't kill you."

"Well, it's just like the Boss, in a way," Keith added with a grin.

Harold, Sid, Aileen, and Keith stood in a line, weapons at the ready.

He didn't care if two of them had just raised a massive flag by promising to marry after the war. If they were going to wave flags, he’d just have to snap them—along with his own—into splinters.

"I’m the rearguard. I’ll leave the stragglers to you. Screw up, and I’ll kill you myself."

"You got it!"

"Roger that!"

"Understood, sir!"

Their answers were a mess of different styles, but every voice was brimming with strength.