Chapter 36

After finishing his exam and returning to the Royal Capital, Harold spent his days occupied with the usual chores and drills while waiting for his results. All the while, he racked his brain over how to establish contact with Justus.

Justus had a laboratory in the capital and, in the game, had been known to frequent the Royal Castle. If Harold simply wanted to create an opportunity to meet him, it wouldn't be difficult.

However, the difficulty skyrocketed once he added the requirement of doing so "without raising suspicion." Justus’s plans were shrouded in secrecy; while he might utilize others in the process, the core of his work was a solitary endeavor.

More importantly, Harold already knew the full extent of those secret plans. Dealing with a genius of that caliber, there was a constant risk that Harold’s words or actions might give away how much he truly knew. If that happened, Justus wouldn't hesitate to use every means at his disposal to silence him.

"Ha..."

Would it be better to just take him by surprise and capture him? No, the risks there were even higher.

The primary concern was the progress of the Earth Erosion. Even if he managed to apprehend Justus, if the erosion had advanced too far, Justus was currently the only person capable of stopping it.

"...rold."

But there was no world in which Justus would abandon his plan of his own volition. He was the type to see his desires through even if it meant throwing away his own life. Furthermore, Harold didn't believe he could defeat the man alone if "that power" were to awaken. If things went south, the continent might very well collapse before Rainer and his friends even had a chance to act.

In the first place, he lacked any evidence to justify capturing the man. Even if he disclosed the full plan to Vincent and the others, it was easy to imagine they would dismiss it as a hallucination. Who would believe a tall tale about Justus attempting to remake the world into a Wishing Machine to resurrect the dead?

"Harol—"

"Shut up."

Harold finally cut off the voice that had been calling his name for several minutes. There was a limit to how long he could ignore such persistent nagging. Arresting the motion of his sword mid-swing, he reluctantly turned toward Sid.

"What, you actually noticed me?" Sid asked, looking genuinely surprised.

Unfortunately for him, since Harold was training in a secluded corner where not a single soul was present, any intruder was immediately obvious. It was a dark, dismal spot—shrouded by bushes and the ruins of what appeared to have once been a stable. In other words, the perfect place for a loner to hide.

The reason he had been training in such a place was that he’d recently begun being harassed even at the main training grounds. His "seniors" likely thought they could openly vent their frustrations on him under the guise of sparring. He had judged that, at the very least, being bothered here wouldn't inconvenience anyone else.

"Naturally. I was merely filtering out unnecessary noise."

"That's even worse, man."

It was a fair point. However, since Harold's mouth was incapable of social niceties, he simply let it slide. Ignoring Sid’s retort, he moved the conversation along.

"So? What do you want?"

Prompted, Sid suddenly dropped into a deep bow, his waist bent at a perfect right angle. As Harold stood there, inwardly taken aback by the sudden display of formality, Sid made his request.

"Please! Give us a lesson!"

For a moment, Harold was at a loss for words.

Sid might not have been a master, but he had survived three years of the Knight Order’s grueling training to hone his skills. Now, that man was bowing his head to a newcomer—one six years his junior. It was entirely unexpected.

"You're an eyesore. Raise your head. And who exactly does 'us' refer to?"

"Me, Robin, and Aileen."

As suspected, it was the usual trio. Harold let out a heavy, undisguised sigh. These guys too?

"Where are the other two?"

"Out on city patrol. I came alone to ask, but it’s a unanimous decision."

Harold found himself in a bind. Even if he wanted to help, he didn't exactly have "techniques" to teach. In terms of the fundamental duties of a knight, Sid and the others had far more experience than he did. He was simply replicating movements from a video game; he lacked any solid technical theory to pass on.

That was his honest feeling, anyway. However, there was a clear benefit to making Sid and his friends stronger.

Sid, Robinson, and Aileen were all characters destined to lose their lives in a battle two years from now. Harold still hadn't decided if he would risk breaking the original story to save them—and he wasn't even sure if his intervention could change that particular event.

But it had been over a month since he'd met them. They had shared many meals and moments together, and if possible, he didn't want them to die. Strengthening them now would ensure that, should he find the resolve to save them later, it wouldn't already be too late.

"...Fine. Bring the other two here tomorrow."

"Oh! Thanks a ton!"

After a moment’s deliberation, Harold accepted. Regardless of how the future unfolded, having more capable allies would only help. Besides, he had his own ulterior motives—he figured there was no harm in utilizing Sid’s group for his own ends.

The following day.

The desolate, dim space played host to a surprisingly large group of eight. It consisted of Sid’s trio and the five members of the 94th Class Squad 7, including Harold. Isaac’s group and Sid’s group weren't acquainted, creating a somewhat awkward atmosphere, but Harold ignored the tension and got straight to the point.

"We’re starting."

Without preamble or explanation, the words tumbled out, leaving the other seven looking at each other in confusion.

"Starting? What are we even doing first?"

"Draw your swords. All of you, come at me at once."

"Hah?! You're making light of us way too much!"

The protest came from Aileen, the group’s only woman. Her voice was anything but ladylike. Harold understood why they would react that way, but he wasn't the type to explain himself. To make them understand the gap in their abilities, a practical demonstration was the fastest route.

"Do not talk back."

His frustration at being unable to explain himself manifested as a sharp, biting coldness. The group’s faces turned pale in an instant.

He wondered briefly if he was really that terrifying just by being a little stern. If so, it made sense why people avoided him. To a person of common sense, a man who was already a magnet for trouble and who radiated such an intimidating aura was someone to be avoided at all costs.

"Small fry should act like small fry and band together. I'll teach you that I am an existence you cannot yet reach."

While mentally acknowledging his own solitude, he continued to provoke them. This one-versus-many setup was exactly what he wanted. He had fought multiple monsters before, but he lacked experience fighting multiple human opponents simultaneously. He needed that experience for the future.

After all, there was every possibility he would eventually have to face the game’s entire protagonist party by himself.

"I’ll use you as my stepping stones. If you want to get stronger, then learn from this fight. Try to steal my skills—though I doubt it's possible for the likes of you."

He finished with a mocking sneer.

"...Fine. Bring it on!"

Sid glared at Harold, drawing his sword with a fierce look in his eyes. The others followed suit, dropping into combat stances. Whatever else they were, these were men and women of the Knight Order—none of them were so spineless as to take such an insult lying down.

"That's better. Struggle as hard as you can for my amusement."

With that, the chaotic eight-way melee began.

---

"—That concludes the report."

Sakris finished his summary of the special final exam. In the silence that followed, the officials gathered to judge the results began to murmur their impressions, clearly surprised by the details of the mission.

The discussion focused mainly on Harold’s overwhelming combat prowess and the appearance of the unknown monsters. A few voiced skepticism regarding the report's more outlandish claims.

Sensing the mood, Vincent took the lead.

"I’m sure you all have your reservations. However, as you’ve heard, while Harold is young, his individual strength already eclipses that of a Company Commander. He also shows an extraordinary aptitude for leadership. By assigning him to a formal unit early, we can cultivate his practical experience and further develop his potential."

"I understand your perspective, Vincent-kun. I agree that the plan is logical," replied Milstram, the man in charge of the Order’s force composition. He narrowed his eyes, the deep wrinkles of his long service shifting. While his gaze wasn't sharp, he maintained an air of undeniable authority as he questioned Vincent. "However, I wonder if this isn't a bit too hasty. Given what I’ve heard of the boy's personality, he’s bound to cause friction. He’s still young; wouldn't it be better to take the time to socialize him before sending him out?"

"Your concern is valid. It is precisely because he requires 'correction' that I have made this specific proposal."

"Let's hear it, then."

"Yes. I believe Lord Milstram may not be aware of the current situation..."

Vincent went on to explain the environment surrounding Harold: how he had humiliated his seniors in duels during the entrance exams, earning their resentment; how he was being targeted for harassment and violence; and how he was being isolated from his peers as a result. In such a toxic environment, building normal relationships was nearly impossible.

"...I see. You want to place him in a unit that won't hold a grudge against him. In that environment, he might actually build a foundation of trust."

"Exactly. Furthermore, the man I’m recommending, Cody, is a master at managing people. There is no one better at building rapport with subordinates. It was Cody who recruited the boy in the first place, and they’ve already been seen conversing with the other members of the squad."

Vincent was exaggerating slightly. Based on what he’d heard from Shannon, the "conversing" mostly involved Sid pestering a sour-faced Harold while the others watched with wry smiles. Nevertheless, the fact that Harold didn't immediately drive them away suggested he was opening up, even if only a fraction.

"Even so, it is lamentable," Milstram sighed. "Harold’s attitude is one thing, but for knights of this Order to blame their own weakness on a child and resort to such thuggery..."

"It is a failure on my part. I intend to punish those responsible as soon as they are identified. We are also looking into reports of certain individuals instigating the violence."

"If you're handling it, I won't interfere. Back to the point—the assignment is intended for experience, character correction, and to act as a shield against the resentment of the other recruits. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Though it may sound like favoritism, you may consider it a necessary measure to ensure Harold’s talent isn't crushed by pettiness."

The room erupted in whispers. Vincent was famous for being impartial and fair to a fault; to hear him publicly advocate for special treatment was unheard of. It drove home the point: Harold Stokes possessed a talent so rare that even the legendary Vincent was willing to stick his neck out for him.

"...If it's a talent you're that enamored with, Vincent-kun, I have nothing more to say. I approve his formal enlistment into the unit."

"Thank you for your understanding."

With Milstram’s approval, there were no further objections. Harold's assignment to Cody’s squad was officially decided. It was exactly what Vincent had aimed for—until an unexpected interference arrived at the very last moment.

With a heavy click, the meeting room door swung open.

"Forgive the intrusion, gentlemen," a middle-aged man with a gut that preceded him into the room announced. He didn't bother to bow. "I heard we have a promising new recruit."

"Indeed we do. Might I ask what brings you here, Lord Harrison?"

"I heard you were deciding the boy's placement and found myself curious. I didn't mean to meddle, but a rather timely offer crossed my desk, so I thought I’d drop by."

Harrison sat in an empty chair without waiting for an invitation, rubbing his belly and letting out a boisterous, arrogant laugh.

"Could you be more specific?" Vincent asked.

"A patrol mission. It’s nothing urgent or particularly dangerous, but the location is a bit of a haul. Right up against the border."

"That sounds like a chore."

"Wait, if it's a border patrol, shouldn't the local branches be handling it?"

The Knight Order operated branches across the country to handle regional issues, with the capital headquarters only stepping in for major incidents. Border patrols were usually the bread and butter of the provincial branches.

"I received a request for reinforcements from them," Harrison explained. "Apparently, the Beltis Woods have been restless lately. they want to conduct a full investigation but they're short on manpower."

"I haven't seen any such report..." Vincent noted, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh? Is that so? Perhaps the paperwork got lost somewhere." Harrison crossed his arms and tilted his head with a practiced, insincere air. More importantly, he had mentioned a location that could not be ignored.

"The Beltis Woods... that is the territory of the Stella tribe," Milstram noted. "They won't take kindly to an intrusion."

The Stella—also known as the Star People—were the oldest ethnic group on the continent. Once the masters of the world, their numbers had dwindled over millennia of internal power struggles. Now, they were a mysterious, reclusive people living in isolated communities. Because of their history, they were fiercely protective of their autonomy and hated outside interference. Any investigation into the woods risked a violent confrontation.

Harrison’s belly shook as he chuckled. "We're negotiating that now. We aren't invading their villages, after all. If we clear it with them beforehand, there shouldn't be an issue. But back to my point: why not send the new recruit along on this mission?"

"...And your reasoning?"

"No matter how talented he is, throwing him into a high-stakes combat zone immediately is a risk, isn't it? This patrol is low-danger. A long-term investigation would give him plenty of time to bond with his squad. Wouldn't that be the perfect first mission?"

Logically, Harrison was right. Even Vincent hadn't planned to send Harold into a meat grinder right away. This proposal seemed like the perfect compromise.

The only concern was why Harrison was being so helpful.

As the General Director, Harrison oversaw both the Knight Order and the National Army. He was the man who effectively controlled the nation’s military. However, the two branches were famous for their rivalry. The public viewed the Knights as the elite stars, while the Army was seen as the "plain" fallback for those who failed the Knight entrance exams.

Harrison himself had risen through the ranks of the National Army. Rumor had it he had fueled his climb with the pure spite of having failed to become a knight in his youth. Historically, he had viewed the Knight Order as an enemy.

His sudden cooperation was, frankly, suspicious. It was completely out of character.

"...I see. We shall take it under consideration," Vincent replied carefully.

Unable to discern Harrison’s true goal and lacking a solid reason to refuse, Vincent left it at that.

"Glad I could be of service," Harrison said, standing to leave.

A few months later, Harold’s name would be officially added to the roster for the mission to the Beltis Woods.