Chapter 23

Part 2 begins with this chapter.

"Don't take it head-on! Split left and right! Intercept it!"

In a corner of the vast, usually serene grasslands, a roar shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

The voice belonged to a sturdy man clad in white armor, barking incessant orders at the forty soldiers under his command. However, his shouts were easily drowned out by the thunderous bellow of a Hornhead.

The creature let out a low-frequency scream—a deep, earth-shaking guooooon that vibrated through to the marrow of the soldiers' bones.

The beast was five meters long and over two meters tall, its lead-colored hide massive and imposing. Its most striking feature, and the source of its name, was the long, thick, rugged horn protruding from its forehead. The Hornhead was a ferocious monster that used its rock-hard head and horn as a battering ram. It looked like a giant rhinoceros encased in iron plating.

While omnivorous, it didn't specifically hunt humans or other animals. However, it was intensely territorial. Since no other monsters in the area could rival its strength, the species had been steadily expanding its influence, encroaching dangerously close to human settlements.

That was why the soldiers were here to cull it.

The monster's greatest threat was its charge, which possessed enough power to demolish a house with ease. A direct hit on a human meant certain death.

To counter this, the captain attempted a pincer maneuver from the flanks, but the Hornhead was no fool. It swung its massive horn and heavy tail, keeping the surrounding soldiers at bay. Though they managed to inflict minor wounds, they hadn't yet slowed it down. As the battle dragged on, injuries among the men were starting to mount.

Fortunately, no one had been incapacitated yet, but the captain knew that if this stalemate continued, it was only a matter of time before the first casualty fell.

As the captain agonized over his next move, a small shadow slipped silently past him.

"W-Wait! Stop! It's dangerous!"

The captain tried to intervene, but the shadow—a young boy—didn't slow his pace. Without even looking back, the boy spoke.

"This is a waste of time. Pull your men back. They’re just getting in the way."

The captain choked on his words, silenced by the boy's cold, detached tone.

The boy was Harold Stokes, the son of their employer, Hayden Stokes. He reached down and drew a single sword from the scabbard at his waist.

Unlike the soldiers armored in heavy iron, Harold was lightly equipped for the field: a three-quarter-length jacket, tight leather trousers, and boots that reached mid-calf. He stood before the Hornhead with total composure.

With the soldiers retreating and the multi-directional pressure suddenly gone, the Hornhead locked its eyes on Harold. It growled as the boy closed the distance with a steady, unhesitating stride. Only then did Harold’s expression shift.

"They say the weakest dogs bark the loudest."

His face showed neither fear nor tension—only mockery. He looked down on the massive beast as if it were a mere insect.

The provocation worked.

With another piercing roar, the Hornhead launched its massive bulk at the tiny target. Despite the incoming ton of muscle and bone, Harold didn't flinch. He didn't even move to dodge.

When the distance closed to a few meters, Harold finally stepped forward.

An instant later, a high-pitched clang echoed across the plains—the sound of Harold’s blade meeting the Hornhead’s horn in a flash of motion.

The result of the clash wasn't signaled by the monster's roar of rage, but by a shriek of pure agony. Its pride—the symbolic horn—had been severed clean off at the base.

"I recall the blacksmiths flock to these horns. It’ll probably only fetch a pittance, but go ahead and collect it."

Harold didn't even spare a glance for the writhing monster. It was as if the creature had already ceased to exist in his eyes.

However, while the blow was devastating, it wasn't fatal. The Hornhead forced its trembling limbs to stand. Its eyes burned with a new, primal fury. It howled a third time, unleashing a roar of absolute rage.

"W-What is that?!" one of the soldiers cried out in shock.

A golden light began to swirl around the giant beast, forming a complex geometric pattern.

It was a magic circle.

Monsters capable of magic generally fell into two categories: those born with the innate ability, and those who gained it later in life by growing exceptionally strong and large. This Hornhead was clearly the latter—a testament to its overwhelming power.

The beast reared back on its hind legs and slammed its front hooves down with enough force to shatter the earth. From the point of impact, a fissure raced toward Harold, the ground tearing itself apart and flipping upward in a straight line.

"Grand Punisher."

Despite the grandiose name, it was an intermediate Earth-element spell designed to crush an opponent between walls of upended earth. It was powerful, but its linear nature made it predictable. At a distance, it was easy to evade.

Harold, however, charged straight into it.

Just before the earthen walls could swallow him, he leapt. He kicked off the rising slabs of rock, alternating his feet as if sprinting through the air. Having cleared the ten-meter gap in seconds, Harold executed one final, massive jump, soaring high enough to look down on the Hornhead.

Lightning began to crackle and dance around his blade.

"Enough of this futile struggle."

The sword was so saturated with electricity it seemed to glow. Without a moment's hesitation, Harold swung it down.

"Thunderbird!"

In a flash of blinding light and a thunderous boom, a massive bird of lightning erupted from the blade and dove toward the Hornhead. The Thunderbird, radiating enough heat to sear the eyes of any onlooker, tore straight through the creature's massive body.

Harold landed gracefully. A second later, the Hornhead collapsed. Its body was riddled with burns and carbonized patches, smoke curling up from its charred hide. It lay motionless. The Hornhead’s life had been completely extinguished.

"I'm finished here. Clean this up quickly."

Without a drop of sweat or a single scratch, Harold turned and walked back toward the carriage as if the battle had been nothing more than a mundane chore. He was leaving the harvesting of the horn and the disposal of the carcass to the men.

The moment the carriage door clicked shut and Harold vanished from sight, the suffocating tension finally broke. The soldiers all exhaled in unison.

"Unit One, get that horn! The rest of you, start on the carcass! Move it! This is the only work suited for men who had to trouble Lord Harold to do their jobs for them!"

The captain’s command snapped the men out of their daze. As they scrambled to work, a new recruit in Unit One—assigned the lighter task of horn collection—approached a veteran, still unable to process what he’d seen.

"Was Lord Harold always... that strong?"

"Ah, right. This was your first time out with him," the veteran, Arias, replied with a wry smile. "It started about three years ago when he began volunteering for these expeditions. He was impressive even then, but now... well, you saw it yourself."

"But is it really okay? No matter how strong he is, he's the heir to House Stokes. If he ever got hurt..."

"The captain’s head would roll. And probably a few of ours too. Literally." Arias made a slicing motion across his throat.

Despite the veteran's nonchalant tone, the recruit felt a chill run down his spine. "That's not 'okay' at all!"

"It's fine. You'll understand eventually." Arias gave the recruit a reassuring pat on the back.

The recruit didn't understand yet, but those who had fought alongside Harold the longest trusted him the most.

When Harold first demanded to join the expeditions, his parents had been hesitant. As parents who doted on their son, their concern was natural. However, after Harold gave them a brief demonstration of his swordplay and magic, they had pivoted instantly. They were enamored by his genius and realized that his military exploits would greatly enhance the prestige of House Stokes.

Thus, Harold was allowed to join. It was his first real experience with combat, and at the start, he had struggled, even sustaining significant injuries. However, Harold always hid his wounds from his parents. Even when he suffered a cracked bone, he acted as if nothing were wrong, slipping away to the Sumeragi Territory for a few days to recover before returning home.

No one but Harold knew his true motivations, but his actions had undeniably saved lives.

Expeditions were inherently dangerous. Even if encounters with "boss" monsters like the Hornhead were rare, serious injuries and deaths were common. But ever since Harold started participating, the number of severe injuries had plummeted, and the death toll had dropped to zero.

Part of it was simply because Harold killed most of the threats himself, but he also went out of his way to protect the men—even while insulting them. The cracked bone he’d hidden had been sustained while shielding a soldier from a lethal blow.

It was obvious to the veterans that he had stepped in today because he sensed the men were nearing their limits. That silent consideration made them both grateful and frustrated. They were supposed to be the ones protecting Harold, yet here they were, being saved by a thirteen-year-old boy. It was a powerful motivator; many of the soldiers trained harder than ever just for the hope of one day being strong enough to stand by his side.

(I've built up a decent amount of combat experience with the local monsters. I'd like to push further out, so I need to make sure I don't lose any men. There are still so many species I haven't indexed yet... I need to collect that data as soon as possible.)

Even if Harold's true "principle of action" was simply to efficiently farm experience points and data for his own survival, the fact remained that the soldiers owed him their lives. He hid his injuries solely because he knew his parents would bar him from expeditions if they found out he was getting hurt.

The three years Harold had spent misunderstood by everyone around him had brought about significant changes.

Chief among them was his combat prowess and mental fortitude. Through a desperate, relentless cycle of fighting, he had reached a point where he could face multiple monsters alone without a hint of fear. His aggressive, almost eager approach to combat had even earned him a reputation among the commoners as a "Berserker"—a symbol of terror.

And there was one more change, not in Harold himself, but in his environment. The primary driver of this was Tasuku Sumeragi. Thanks to Tasuku's tireless efforts, the LP Farming Method was finally about to see the light of day.

Returning to the Stokes Mansion after a two-week expedition, Harold didn't even pause to rest. He immediately boarded a carriage with Tasuku to head back to the Sumeragi Territory. His parents interpreted this as Harold being hopelessly "head over heels" for Erika.

Harold felt a pang of phantom stomach pain whenever he imagined their reaction if the engagement were ever broken, but he shook the thought away. Que sera, sera.

"How did the negotiations go?" Harold asked.

"Quite well," Tasuku replied with a bright smile. "We can finally begin full-scale implementation."

"Successful" meant that, as planned, House Stokes had been placated with immediate, tangible benefits.

These "interests" were simple: the contract fees for farmers using the LP Farming Method were waived for the Stokes Territory, usage fees were reduced, and a portion of the tax revenue generated by the increased yields would be kicked back to House Stokes.

This allowed the Stokes farmers to adopt the method with minimal overhead. Since the LP Farming Method allowed for faster harvest cycles, it would give them a massive advantage in exports, increasing overall revenue and allowing the peasants to pay Hayden’s heavy taxes without delay.

From Hayden’s perspective, his tax revenue would increase without him lifting a finger. He saw no reason to fight for total control of the patent yet; he assumed that once Harold and Erika were married, the rights would be shared between the families anyway.

"To think things would proceed so smoothly," Harold muttered.

It was a strange thing for the mastermind behind the plan to say, but he couldn't help but sigh at how easily his father had been manipulated.

"Oh, that reminds me," Tasuku said, switching topics. "I have a message for you from Itsuki."

"Another duel?"

"Haha, well, that's a given. But there's something else this time. He wants to know if you'd like to enter the Fighting Tournament in Delphit."

Delphit. The Fighting Tournament. Those words triggered a memory. In the original Brave Hearts story, there was an event where the protagonist wins that very tournament.

(If I remember correctly, that event involves a gauntlet of human opponents. And since it's a tournament, it's not a fight to the death...)

This was a massive opportunity to gain experience in interpersonal combat. It was the perfect bait for the current Harold.

"...Interesting. I'll do it."

With those words, Harold’s entry into the tournament was set.