Chapter 35

Aside from that initial brush with the Hammer Trent, the group encountered no other large monsters. The field exercise proceeded smoothly, without further incident.

Combat comprised the bulk of the final exam, and the targets were predetermined based on the level of skill expected from a new recruit. These targets ranged from small monsters that could be handled individually to medium-sized ones that required unit coordination to take down.

Of course, one couldn't always find the intended monsters on command. It wasn't uncommon for knights to spend days staking out a habitat. These long waits tested more than just combat prowess; they scrutinized a recruit's stamina, patience, and ability to work with a team.

While progress was exceptionally fast this time because Harold was the sole examinee, periods of waiting and scouting remained an unavoidable necessity.

Ultimately, the final exam concluded three days after it began. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon when they finally felled the last Basilisk.

As Harold and the others prepared camp along the riverbank, Sakris took a moment to reflect on the events of the past few days.

This final exam for the basic training course had been organized in haste, and its only participant was the boy currently dominating every conversation in the barracks: Harold Stokes.

His age—thirteen—was shocking enough, but his battle with the Hammer Trent had been truly astounding. Under normal circumstances, taking down such a massive creature required a squad of at least four new recruits.

That was precisely why Sakris had assigned Lucas and Selim, both veteran platoon leaders, to provide support. Yet Harold had effortlessly slaughtered the Hammer Trent without ever needing their help.

Sakris knew with absolute certainty that he couldn't have killed the beast that quickly himself.

It was an abnormal level of combat ability. Sakris realized he was witnessing the kind of once-in-a-generation talent destined to carve his name into the annals of the Knight Order.

Perhaps it was only natural for a boy who had attained such power at thirteen to become conceited. Sakris suspected that Harold’s prickly nature, his arrogance, and his habit of looking down on others were all symptoms of that overwhelming confidence.

However, that confidence usually led to reckless solo actions. In Sakris's experience, those who were most secure in their own strength tended to neglect their comrades. No matter how strong a man was, there was a limit to what he could achieve alone. If Harold couldn't understand that, Sakris had intended to fail him—but that resolve had only lasted a few hours.

When the time came to coordinate with Cody’s squad, Harold had performed flawlessly.

They were out of sync at first, but with every encounter, the teamwork improved. By the third day, they were demonstrating rock-solid combinations. It was clear to Sakris that this was only possible because Harold was the one adjusting his movements to match Cody’s men.

In terms of raw skill, Harold was light-years ahead of Robinson and the others. Had they tried to keep up with him, they would have been nothing but a burden. By suppressing his own power, Harold had enabled the team to function.

Though he remained foul-mouthed from start to finish, his tactical movements focused on leveraging his allies' strengths and covering their weaknesses. Despite his apparent disdain for others, he possessed a keen ability to respect and utilize their capabilities.

He was a walking contradiction. A boy whose words never matched his actions.

If he truly viewed his comrades as worthless, he never could have achieved such magnificent coordination. Then again, Sakris also considered the alternative: perhaps Harold was simply so talented that he could pull off such a feat regardless of his true feelings.

The exam had ended without Sakris truly grasping the boy's essence. Regardless, Harold had produced results so undeniable that failing him was out of the question.

Still, Sakris couldn't shake a lingering sense of unease—a vague, inexplicable incongruity.

Carrying that doubt, they began the march back to the Royal Capital the following morning. They departed at six o’clock; if all went well, they would arrive before nightfall.

They moved in a standard column, stopping briefly for lunch. They were more than halfway back to the capital when it happened.

"What is that?"

Lucas was the first to notice. Everyone’s eyes snapped forward at his call.

Several hundred meters ahead, something blackish-red was swaying in the middle of the path.

"...Smoke? No, the color and movement are wrong."

"It looks... hazy."

"A new species of monster, maybe?"

The soldiers threw out speculations, but no one had an answer. Since it sat directly on their route, they approached to investigate. As they drew closer, Harold’s expression grew grimmer than usual.

Sakris noticed it—and so did Cody.

"Harold-kun, do you know what that is?" Cody asked in a low voice. Only Harold and Sakris were close enough to hear.

"Who knows? But if you don't feel anything coming from that, your instincts have truly rotted," Harold replied, his eyes locked on the swaying mass. Sakris didn't understand why the boy sensed such danger, but he would soon find out that Harold’s intuition was perfect.

Up close, the thing was a localized mist. It was shaped roughly like a cylinder, welling up from the ground and dispersing once it reached a height of about five feet. There were no other clues to its identity.

"Is something buried under there?"

The moment Sid bent down to take a look, the mist wavered violently. A portion of it transformed as if driven by a conscious will.

Harold’s voice cut through the air. "Get back!"

"Eh? Whoa!"

The mist coalesced into a sharp scythe, lashing out at Sid like a whip.

Before the boy could react, Harold lunged forward, grabbed Sid by the collar, and yanked him backward. It was a close shave; a fraction of a second later, and the mist-scythe would have opened Sid’s throat. A few strands of Sid's hair, severed by the blow, fluttered to the grass.

Realizing how close he'd come to death, Sid turned pale and managed a shaky "T-Thanks... I owe you, Harold."

"I don't care. Stand up already, you slowpoke," Harold snapped. It was a harsh response to a man who had nearly died, but the situation was becoming dire.

Without them noticing, more mists had begun to appear.

"We're surrounded!"

"What the hell are these things?"

Six pillars of blackish-red mist now encircled the group. Each one formed a scythe and began to drift in a slow, predatory circle. Everyone recoiled from the surreal, eerie sight.

Everyone except for one.

After a single, sharp breath, Harold fearlessly charged the mist. He moved with a speed he hadn't shown once during the exam. While Sakris watched in astonishment, Harold used that blinding velocity to slash the enemy to ribbons.

The mist dispersed under his blades—only to reform instantly. After several failed attempts, Harold leaped back to the group.

"Physical attacks are useless. The blade just passes through. Don't bother trying to parry, either."

"But their attacks are physical enough..." Cody noted, glancing at Sid's severed hair.

The enemy was intangible, yet it could strike them with impunity.

"W-We can't win this..."

"Maybe we should run!?"

Robinson and Aileen were starting to panic. Even Sid hadn't fully recovered his nerve. This wasn't a state for combat. Sakris was about to order a retreat when Harold’s voice silenced the recruits.

"If you have time to panic, use your heads. If you don't want to die, ready your swords. Bolt Lance!"

A massive spear of lightning erupted with a crackling roar. The spell, powerful enough to kill almost any common beast, struck one of the mists head-on. The mist shattered, but it began to reform immediately. Harold didn't pause; he unleashed a barrage of magic.

"Flame Column! Aqua Slash!"

The results were immediate. The mist swallowed by the Flame Column reformed without issue, but the one hit by the Aqua Slash dispersed into the air and vanished completely.

"Water magic is the key?"

Harold fired a series of Aqua Slashes. Every shot hit home, but only one more pillar vanished. Four remained. The conclusion was obvious.

"You mean specific magic works on specific mists?"

"A different weakness for every individual? That’s a pain," Cody remarked.

"Are you lot useless dolls? Stop complaining and hammer them with every element you've got!"

"Fair point," Cody grinned.

Harold, Cody, and Sakris unleashed a simultaneous volley. Lightning rained down, fire spiraled, and gale-force winds tore through the field. The vibrant green grassland was transformed into scorched earth in seconds.

Once the last of the mists vanished, Sakris scanned the area, his heart pounding. There were no reinforcements. The crisis had passed.

"Is everyone alright?"

"W-We're okay..."

Not a single person was injured. Sakris let out a breath of relief, knowing full well it was only thanks to Harold’s instant judgment and tactical insight. Had Sakris been the one in command, he doubted they would have escaped without casualties. Sid, at the very least, would have been dead.

It was exactly as Harold had said. If you don't feel anything coming from that, your instincts have truly rotted.

Sakris had been warned, yet he hadn't stopped his men from approaching. It was a failure of leadership that had nearly cost a life.

Sakris bowed his head to the young recruit. "Thank you, Stokes-kun. And I apologize. This predicament was the result of my poor judgment."

"Don't count something this trivial as a predicament. But don't make the same mistake again."

At this point, the hierarchy between them felt non-existent. Sakris didn't care. He carved the words into his heart and replied with iron determination. "I won't. I swear it."

---

Sakris’s gratitude didn't even register with Harold. He was responding mechanically, his mind a whirlwind of agitation.

He had suspected it from a distance, but seeing them up close had confirmed his worst fears. Why are these things here?!

The blackish-red mists. In the game Brave Hearts, their official name was Eerie Clouds. They were immune to physical damage and only vulnerable to one randomly determined element. Worse, their attacks ignored defense stats. The only strategy was to dodge and blast them with magic.

That was why he had fought while giving a running commentary to Cody and the others.

In the game, the 'Search Glass' item could identify an enemy's weakness, but for some reason, that item didn't exist in this world. Harold had long ago accepted that this wasn't a perfect replica of the game, but the disappearance of the Search Glass had been the final nail in that coffin.

However, that wasn't the problem.

Eerie Clouds were plot-critical monsters. They weren't supposed to appear until the mid-to-late game. Specifically, they were the calling card of "Earth Erosion"—the grand plan of the final boss, Justus Freund.

Finding them here, five years before the start of the original story, was a disaster. It was far too early.

There was a chance they had always existed in this world and were only limited by game mechanics in the original story, but he had to assume the worst: Justus’s plan was moving faster than the script. If the timeline was accelerating, Harold’s knowledge of future events was becoming a liability.

He had prioritized saving the Sumeragi territory and joining the Knight Order, both of which were deviations from the original timeline. Had his interference caused this? Was he the reason the world's destruction was ahead of schedule?

(Easy now. Keep your head. It’s not a certainty yet...)

He forced his breathing to slow, fighting for composure. This was just the worst-case scenario. He needed facts.

Justus Freund.

To the world, he was a genius scientist. In reality, he was a madman willing to let the world burn to achieve his ambitions. He was also the man who had orchestrated the death of the original Harold Stokes.

Harold had hoped to avoid the man entirely, but if the world was changing, he couldn't afford to hide. He had to get close to the source of the rot before it was too late, regardless of the risk.

With a massive new seed of anxiety taking root in his mind, Harold’s final exam came to an end.