Chapter 13

Even though Yuno’s intrusion had forced him to cut his training short, Kazuki still found himself with too much time on his hands.

Recently, he had devoted every spare moment to practicing his swordsmanship. Though he had originally started out of a desperate need to survive the future, the process of mimicking game movements and mastering new techniques was becoming addictive.

Perhaps as a side effect of that singular focus, he hadn't developed any other way to kill time. He resented this body, which made a casual stroll through town an impossibility.

Deciding he might as well try some quiet reading for once, he pulled a few volumes from the bookshelf and began skimming through them.

Among the many books of children's stories, what caught Kazuki’s eye were the texts regarding magic.

They weren't technical manuals, but rather historical accounts detailing the origins and evolution of magic, alongside anecdotes about famous casters. The spells featured were all massive, flashy techniques—the kind classified as high-level in the game. He read on, figuring they were essentially the magical equivalent of "super moves" designed to appeal to children.

Then, he discovered a familiar name.

Vincent van Westervoort.

In the original story, he was a genius who had risen to the rank of Captain of the Order of the Holy King at a young age. His skill with a blade was undisputed, but he was also so proficient in magic that his name was recorded alongside the great legends of history.

If one had to describe him in a single phrase, it would be "Extreme Firepower."

His combat style revolved around his abnormally high defense—absurd for someone wearing only a suit of armor—which allowed him to charge straight ahead and crush opponents with the highest attack power of any character in the game.

And sadly, Vincent was an enemy character the protagonist’s party had to face in the final stages of the story. While he wasn't the final boss, his strength was legendary; if the player’s party had a weak front line or if the healer was a second too late, he would wipe them out in an instant.

Unlike Harold, however, Vincent was extremely popular with the fans. Most players sympathized with his reasons for opposing the protagonists and his inner turmoil, often thinking, This guy was suffering too, huh.

Kazuki didn't dislike Vincent either.

However, perhaps because he was currently inhabiting Harold’s body, he found himself daydreaming about a fight that never happened in the original story: Harold vs. Vincent. He began to rack his brains, wondering how Harold could possibly win.

One had the highest firepower in the game; the other had the highest speed.

In a head-on clash, Harold would be at a total disadvantage. He wouldn't last long if he took even one of Vincent’s hits directly.

However, Kazuki reasoned that with proper positioning, Harold—with his superior attack speed and variety of moves—ought to be able to hold his own.

In the era when Brave Hearts was released, concepts like depth or 3D movement weren't as common as they were today. The game’s combat system utilized a 2D horizontal axis, much like a traditional fighting game. Because of that, the emphasis was placed on giving precise instructions to party members to see how high a combo count they could achieve.

An expert like Kazuki could consistently chain together eighty-hit combos.

Of course, that was only possible with a full party of four.

Even though Harold was an enemy character with boosted stats to compensate for fighting alone, he would casually rack up thirty-hit combos against the player. Specifically, if he launched a character into the air, they would be treated like a punching bag until their health hit zero, unless an ally managed to interrupt the chain.

In other words, for Harold to defeat Vincent, he would have to dodge every single attack and, once he started a combo, never let up until the fight was over.

Granted, if someone could do that, they wouldn't lose to anyone. To put it another way, if one couldn't pull off something of that caliber, a one-on-one victory against Vincent was impossible.

Then what about that character? Kazuki wondered, his mind racing through hypothetical matchups between Harold and other characters he was never supposed to fight.

Visualizing dream matches and searching for a path to victory was a pleasure reserved for deep fans.

With his thoughts occasionally derailing and a break for dinner in between, the night was well underway by the time he finished the hundred-page book.

He closed the cover with a soft thud and let out a small sigh. It had been a satisfying read.

Checking the time, he saw it was already past midnight. Tomorrow morning, I’ll look for a book on swordsmanship, he thought as he prepared to crawl into bed.

Then, the realization finally hit him.

(Ah. I left my sword in the forest...)

Because he had hurried back and immediately lost himself in his reading, he had forgotten about it until this very moment.

Yuno might have been thoughtful enough to retrieve it, but considering she hadn't come to see him afterward, the sword was likely still stuck in that tree.

Kazuki reached a somewhat mistaken conclusion: A normal woman working as an attendant would probably be too intimidated to touch a real weapon.

In reality, Yuno simply couldn't walk through the Stokes Territory while conspicuously carrying a sword, and she didn't want to arouse suspicion by explaining to the mansion staff why she had been in the forest in the first place. So, she had simply left it.

Kazuki peered out the window. The moon hung in a break in the clouds, shining so brilliantly it drowned out the light of the stars.

The moon was two sizes larger than the one Kazuki knew from Japan. It illuminated the garden so clearly that he felt he could walk without a lamp.

Since I remembered it, I might as well go get it, he thought, pushing himself up.

It was a real sword—a lethal weapon. His Japanese sensibilities made him uneasy leaving such a thing abandoned in the wild. Moreover, the sword was Harold’s property; he didn't want to be held responsible if something went wrong.

Since most of the staff were asleep, he slipped through the silent mansion without making a sound.

He crossed the empty hall, pushed open the heavy front doors, and stepped outside.

He was relieved to find it was even brighter than he’d expected; even the forest seemed manageable. Even without monsters to worry about, wandering through a pitch-black forest required more courage than he possessed.

It was best to finish this before the clouds covered the moon.

Walking at a brisk pace, he circled around to the back of the estate. He approached the flowerbeds facing the southwest, on the opposite side of the Dungeon Tower.

The area was so vast it was more of a field than a flowerbed. Multicolored blossoms swayed in the gentle night breeze.

Kazuki froze when he saw Erika standing there, staring out at the landscape.

His first thought was: Wait, is she better already? She had been recuperating for two weeks, but even if she had fully recovered, the night air would be harsh.

It was a moment of genuine concern—the natural, common-sense reaction of an adult worrying about a child.

That was why he didn't hesitate to act. He called out to her, intending to use his usual insults to chase her back to her room. He did not realize that this was the first step toward the total collapse of the original story and his own carefully laid plans.

If he could have repeated this moment with his memories of the future intact, Kazuki would never have spoken. He must not have.

But he had no such power. It would be years before Kazuki would look back and poignantly realize that this was the single greatest turning point of his life.

But for now, he was oblivious.

"What are you doing at this hour?"

Erika’s slender shoulders jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned around timidly, and upon seeing Harold, she faltered.

He felt a slight sense of dissonance at her reaction—it was different from her usual ones—but Kazuki ignored it and closed the distance between them with a steady gait.

"I heard you were bedridden. To be out bathing in the night wind despite that... I can only conclude that you are a thoughtless fool."

Even as he said it, Kazuki thought, Do I really have to be that harsh?

The fact that he didn't follow up with a classic, "I-it's not like I'm worried about you!" proved that Harold was a genuine, high-tier piece of trash without a shred of tsundere sweetness. It was a despicable personality, but it was exactly who he was supposed to be.

Kazuki certainly didn't want to become a mass-produced tsundere version of Harold. The mere thought made his skin crawl.

"……"

"Don't just stand there. Go back to your room. Personally, I’d be much happier if you just went back to your own home exactly as you are."

Even after being hit with words that clearly showed no concern for her well-being, Erika didn't move. She remained standing there, head bowed.

Kazuki couldn't fathom what was going on in her head.

"…Hey. Don't just stand there. Say something."

Kazuki felt Harold’s tone growing irritated, almost like he was a spectator watching himself.

Erika remained silent, but she was fundamentally a sensible girl. Deciding that continuing any further would only serve to bully a defenseless child, Kazuki decided to end the conversation.

She was much younger here than in the original story; she likely just couldn't bring herself to be honest in front of someone she hated. Once Harold left and she calmed down, she would probably understand what he was trying to get at.

"Hmph. Fine. I don't care if your condition gets worse."

Harold spat out a self-defeating line that made his original intent even more confusing, and he prepared to walk past her.

But surprisingly, Erika stopped him.

"…Please, wait."

"What?"

"There is one thing I must ask you."

Her voice was trembling with anxiety, yet she looked Harold directly in the eyes with newfound resolve.

Kazuki tilted his head inwardly, wondering what could possibly be important enough to warrant such determination.

That question was answered with her very next words.

"There is a rumor that you burned a servant to death with magic. Is that... is that true?"

(Ah. That.)

Kazuki accepted the question calmly. There was no panic, no agitation.

He had suspected it would come out eventually after he’d shown Erika around two weeks ago. Since no one—not him, nor his parents—had any intention of hiding it, there was no way the secret would stay buried.

And his answer had been decided from the very start.

"No. That’s incorrect."

"Then—!"

Erika stepped toward Harold, her face brightening with a sudden surge of joy.

Then, Harold plunged her from that ray of hope straight into the abyss.

"The ones I killed were the servant and his daughter. Two people. Though I suppose it makes little difference how many I kill when they’re the sort of trash whose deaths aren't even worth a story."

In an instant, Erika's joy vanished. Her eyes widened as if she were looking at something impossible... something she desperately wished wasn't real.

"Why...? Why would you do such a thing...?"

Sorrow, anger, disappointment.

Struggling to suppress the tidal wave of emotions, Erika tried to find some glimmer of a "true" intention behind Harold’s words.

But every word he spoke only served to tear her heart apart.

"No great reason. If I had to say, it’s because they got on my nerves."

Harold spoke nonchalantly, as if killing someone because they slightly annoyed him was perfectly normal.

Erika couldn't begin to understand how someone could take a life so easily for such a trivial reason. It felt like a threshold that, as a human being, one "must not" cross.

"They were no better than livestock. Whether they live or die is entirely up to my whim, isn't it?"

"…That is enough."

"I was being merciful. I killed the daughter so she wouldn't be left alone in this world. They should probably be grateful."

"Please... stop...!"

"They’re an inferior species, after all. From the moment they were born, things like freedom—"

Slap.

The sound echoed through the night.

Erika’s palm had struck Harold’s cheek.

The term "Inferior Species"—the ultimate slur against those without noble blood—had finally snapped Erika’s patience.

The hand she had swung was trembling with rage, and her tear-filled eyes were clouded with pure contempt. Glaring at Harold, Erika spoke the most hateful words she had ever uttered in her life.

"You are the lowest kind of human being!"

"And? What of it?"

He didn't even look like he’d been hurt. He simply wore his usual, mocking smirk.

It was as if killing people and being called the lowest of the low meant absolutely nothing to him.

In that moment, Erika realized. It was impossible to reach this person.

"…I have nothing more to say to you."

"Hah. That is the best news I’ve heard all day."

"Excuse me."

As Kazuki watched Erika walk away, his left cheek began to throb with pain.

He had pushed her away for his own reasons, but having that much raw hostility directed at him was still painful.

(I definitely can’t see this as a "reward.")

With mental apologies to the more fanatical fans of the game, he let out a weary sigh. Anyone who would enjoy this was clearly out of their mind.

Still, being depressed wouldn't change anything. He forced himself to think positively: at least it was better than being slapped by an eighteen-year-old Erika. The slap of a grown-up Erika who had survived countless adventures would have packed a lot more than a simple sting.

"Don't waver. If I can't get used to this, I’ll never survive what’s coming."

His whisper was caught by the wind and carried away into the night.

With that, Erika's opinion of Harold had officially hit rock bottom.