Chapter 73

The three-day celebration at House Berlioz finally drew to a close. With it, the moment Harold had been waiting for arrived: he was officially relieved of his duties as Erika’s vanguard—a mission that had proven to be a monumental drain on his mental state.

He was so utterly exhausted that even a heavy sigh felt like too much effort. He wanted nothing more than to praise himself for surviving the ordeal despite the immense psychological toll.

Looking back, it had been one disaster after another. First, there was the conspiracy between Itsuki and Justus that forced him into the role of Erika's bodyguard without warning. Then, upon arriving at the Berlioz manor, he was ambushed by a muscle-brained head of the house. After defeating the man, he was immediately offered an eight-year-old bride. And just when he thought things couldn't get worse, a character from the original game attacked him. To top it all off, the duel he’d proposed as a peaceful resolution had somehow morphed into a Harold-exclusive deathmatch with Erika’s hand in marriage as the prize.

Listing the events chronologically made it feel as though he had been targeted by a relentless streak of misfortune.

For what it was worth, the final day of the celebration had been relatively peaceful. Francis had become annoyingly over-familiar, Erika had been acting strangely for some reason, and Itsuki had spent the entire time smirking at them from a distance, but overall, there were no major incidents. With Harold looming nearby, no other men dared to swarm around Erika. One could say he had performed his assigned duty to perfection.

Yet, Harold felt no sense of fulfillment or achievement. All that remained was a simmering grudge against Itsuki and Justus for deceiving him.

As for Itsuki, it seemed Erika had given him a severe tongue-lashing on the second night. After overhearing the boy's tearful apologies, Harold lost the motivation to add any further rebukes.

That left only his loathsome superior: Justus. After enduring another two-day carriage ride back to the Royal Capital, Harold went straight to the Research Institute. He threw open the door to Justus’s private room with enough violence to nearly kick it off its hinges.

His fury was palpable—so much so that the researchers who usually glared at him with open hostility found themselves instinctively looking away.

"What is the meaning of this, Justus...!"

His voice was a low, hideous growl. Even in the face of such naked aggression, Justus didn't let his cold, detached demeanor waver for a second.

"So, you've returned. I don't require a report on this mission. It was little more than child’s play, after all."

Justus didn't even stop his work, offering Harold only a brief, dismissive glance before returning to his notes.

Harold hadn't come to deliver a report. Justus likely knew that, which only made his dismissive attitude more infuriating.

"Yeah, it was a pathetic farce. I’m not cooperating with you just to be a part of your worthless games."

"Cooperating? Don't forget that you are strictly my pawn, Harold. Know your place."

Justus spoke flatly, stating his words as if they were immutable laws of nature.

No matter what sarcasm or complaints Harold threw at him, it was like punching a curtain. Justus was a man who processed every event internally and reached his own absolute conclusions. He was immune to the influence or emotions of others.

His willpower was nothing short of monstrous.

Even so, Harold had to say his piece.

"If you think you can truly control me, then keep trying. But if you try to involve me with those people again, I’ll have a few ideas of my own."

"Is she really that important to you? That daughter of House Sumeragi."

"Don't be a fool. I’m incompatible with her. Perhaps even more so than I am with you."

"Hahaha! You say the most interesting things. But that’s only natural, isn't it? After all, you and I are very similar beings."

Justus spread his arms grandiosely, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

His abyss-like eyes remained devoid of light, yet his cheeks curved into a distorted, manic smile as he peered at Harold. Being lumped together with this madman was more than Harold could stomach.

He had said what he came to say, and staying any longer would only make him more nauseous. As Harold turned to leave, Justus called out in an intoxicated tone.

"No matter how you try to hide it, your core is the same as mine. You are a man of madness who will choose any means necessary to achieve his desires."

As if to cut off the man's words, Harold slammed the door behind him with the same destructive force he had used to enter.

He had come to lodge a complaint, but he was leaving even more irritated than when he arrived. It had been entirely counterproductive.

Harold’s frustration was so obvious that no one dared to cross his path as he stomped through the halls. Except for one person.

"Oh, you're back."

He nearly collided with El. Even faced with the aura of pure displeasure radiating from Harold, El didn't flinch.

However, Lifa was nowhere to be seen.

"Where’s the girl?"

"If you mean Lifa, she’s in her room. She’s getting ready to head back to her village tomorrow."

"I see. I trust she didn't cause any trouble while I was gone?"

"I don't know if 'trouble' is the right word, but Director Justus did tell us the story of how you two met."

"What did he tell you?"

According to El, the Director had spun a highly embellished, dramatic tale of their encounter. While the basic facts were technically there, the narrative was far from the truth. The details regarding the sword were a complete fabrication, and the story went out of its way to paint Harold as a volatile, dangerous individual.

The only part that actually matched reality was Harold saying, "Give me power. I'll teach you what a real hell is." Even that had been tweaked for dramatic effect.

Harold still didn't fully understand what Justus intended for him. He had expected to be used as a convenient pawn, but he was starting to suspect there was something more to it.

Well, regardless of the man's motives, as long as Justus continued his plans, Harold would have a front-row seat to the original story’s progression.

"Anyway, Lifa heard the whole story too," El added.

"I see."

"...That's it?"

El looked at him with a skeptical expression, but Harold didn't know how else to react.

The only reason Harold could walk the streets freely was because he was under Justus’s protection, and the cover story for that was his role as a "subject for the practical testing of a magic-draining sword." He couldn't exactly tell El the truth yet, so it was safer to let the lie stand.

He figured he would have to tell El the truth eventually, given their partnership.

"What else is there to say?"

"Well, I suppose... but Lifa was pretty shocked by it."

(Shocked, huh...)

He didn't know the specifics of her reaction, but he supposed learning that an acquaintance—even one you bickered with—was going to die would be a bit of a blow.

However, Harold had no words of comfort to offer. If he tried to be kind, it would only be more painful for Lifa to be encouraged by a man who was supposed to be dying. It was better to act as he always did.

"...She's in her room, then?"

"Yeah."

It was a hassle, but leaving it like this sat poorly with him. Deciding he should at least see her face once, Harold headed for her room.

El simply waved him off with a "Good luck" and headed the other way. Harold wished El would have come along to provide backup; his own mouth was incapable of spitting out anything remotely comforting.

He knocked on Lifa's door, feeling pathetic for even caring.

"Who is it?"

Her voice was flat, lacking its usual energetic spark. Come to think of it, she had been acting strange since just before he left for Kablan. He still didn't know why.

"Open the door."

Immediately, he heard a frantic clattering from inside.

The sound of things being knocked over continued for several seconds before the door finally opened—though only by a few centimeters.

Harold wedged his foot into the gap and forced it open without a shred of mercy.

"Ah...!"

Lifa stumbled back as the door swung wide. Her face was a mix of surprise and distress.

Perhaps it was just the assumption that she was depressed, but she looked even more fragile than usual. If she truly was grieving to the point of becoming haggard, a part of him was touched, but the part of him that felt guilty for lying was much larger.

"I heard the rare rumor that you were moping, but you look normal enough to me. How boring."

"What did you say!?"

Lifa flared up instantly. Her boiling point was as low as ever. In a way, it made her very easy to read.

"You really are a piece of work... Who do you think I'm depressed because of anyway!?"

"You're the one who chose to listen to the story and chose to feel bad about it. I don't recall asking for your pity."

"---!"

Lifa was rendered speechless by his outrageous logic, her face turning a deep shade of red.

Their relationship was nothing but friction, but given what lay ahead, it was probably better this way. It would be easier for her to move on later if she hated him.

"Ugh! I shouldn't have bothered worrying about you at all!"

"Don't flatter yourself. I haven't fallen so far that I need concern from the likes of you."

"You really do have an answer for everything... yet your own will never seems to waver, does it?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I heard everything from Dr. Justus—about what happened after the Deliberation Chamber's verdict. You joined him because you wanted to be stronger, even if it cost you your life."

"..."

Harold offered no denial. Seeing his silence, Lifa asked a final question.

"I think you're already strong enough, Harold. So why... why go so far as to trade your life for more power?"

To Harold, the answer was obvious.

He needed power because when a direct death flag finally came for him, his own combat ability would be the only thing standing between him and the grave. If he hadn't accepted Justus’s deal back then, he would have been executed on the spot.

Dealing with problems before they became death flags was ideal, but if he followed the game's script, he would have to fight the protagonist's party three times and survive every encounter. In the worst-case scenario, he might even have to step in and handle events the protagonists failed to clear.

He had to be strong for those moments. Strong enough to survive despite the odds. He had to crush every death flag and force his way through to the end.

"A foolish question. I have things I must do. Even if I have to stake my life on it."

He meant that literally. If he wasn't prepared to die, he never would have been able to maintain a training regimen of ten hours a day for eight years. To rewrite a reality that character corrections alone couldn't fix, that level of effort was mandatory.

"Even if you stake your life... but you barely have any..."

She likely intended to say "barely any life left," but the words caught in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

"Well, I doubt anything in this world is worth as much as my life anyway. I'm not about to be killed by a mere object."

I'm not going to die. He spoke with the arrogant, baseless confidence of a man who believed himself invincible. To anyone listening, it was a ridiculous display of hubris.

"Phew... You really are something. It's scary because you actually make it sound like it'll come true."

Just as Harold had hoped, a small smile returned to Lifa’s face. It was mostly a smile of exasperation, but it was far better than the gloomy expression she had been wearing.

Eventually, she would find out the story about the magic-draining sword was a lie. Until then, it was better if she thought of him as a reckless idiot who threw his life away for power rather than someone to mourn.

She seemed like she’d be fine now. Once they parted tomorrow, the next time they met would likely be as enemies. That would give her the closure she needed.

Satisfied, Harold turned to leave, but Lifa called out, "Wait a second." As he started to turn back, his world went silent.

It wasn't magic. Lifa had reached up from behind and clamped her hands firmly over his ears.

It only lasted a few seconds. By the time he realized what was happening, she had already pulled away.

"What was that for?"

"Nothing? There was just something I didn't want you to hear."

Harold swallowed the retort of 'Then say it after I've left!' Between the mental strain of the celebration and the long journey, he was bone-tired. The urge to sleep was winning, so he decided to let her cryptic behavior slide.

Looking back, if he had pressed her for the truth then, he could have avoided a great deal of trouble later. But as they say, regret always comes too late.

This single choice would eventually cause Harold an immense amount of suffering.

---

The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue. A refreshing southern breeze swayed the grass and flowers. It was a perfect day for a departure.

Rainer, who had grown from a boy into a fine young man, stroked the hilt of the sword at his waist and took a deep breath.

"Are you really going, Rainer?"

The voice belonged to Colette. She, too, had transformed from a girl into a beautiful young woman. However, her eyes were brimming with tears, looking as if they might overflow at any moment.

Rainer gave her a reassuring, sun-like smile.

"Don't worry so much. Those guys ran off toward the next town, so they can't have gone that far."

"But it’s dangerous! There are monsters outside, and you might have to fight the people that even Leona-san and Olbel-san couldn't beat!"

Colette tried to stop him by invoking his parents' names. To her, Rainer’s plan seemed reckless and detached from reality.

The previous night, thieves had broken into Rainer’s home—specifically, a detached warehouse. Leona had caught them, and a fight had broken out.

It was two-on-two. Even though they had been retired for years, Olbel and Leona were once famous adventurers, yet the thieves—clad in pitch-black robes that hid their faces—had outmatched them. If Olbel and Leona said so, there was no questioning it.

Olbel had taken a deep wound to his side, and Leona to her left leg. Rainer had jumped into the fray just in time; while his strike hadn't landed a clean hit, it had torn the robe of one of the thieves.

In that split second, under the moonlight, Rainer had seen the thief’s pale face. The thieves had retreated immediately after, and the Griffith family had escaped further harm.

But they hadn't escaped unscathed. The thieves had stolen a treasure sword found in a distant ruin back when his parents were still active adventurers. It was the sword Rainer was supposed to receive when he left the village to fulfill his dream of joining the Knight Order. He couldn't let it go.

"I’m the only one who saw their faces. And I’m the only one left who can fight."

With his parents injured, Rainer felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He was the only one in the village capable of taking the sword back.

"So just wait for me. Take care of Dad and Mom while I’m gone, okay?"

"Uu..."

Colette knew Rainer well enough to know that once his mind was made up, nothing would change it. She also knew she couldn't stop him.

She didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay by her side.

Those feelings swirled in her heart, but she couldn't voice them. She felt that if she did, she would be admitting how weak she had become by relying on his protection for so long.

If she had possessed the courage to say she would go with him right then, perhaps the end of the journey awaiting Rainer might have been different.

"Well, I'm off, Colette!"

Rainer began to walk away, his figure growing smaller with every step. Colette could do nothing but watch him go.

Neither of them could have known that this single step was the beginning of a long, epic journey—one that would eventually decide the fate of the entire world.