Chapter 98

He was alive.

In the world of Brave Hearts, Harold Stokes was never a dual-wielder. His equipment in the game consisted solely of a Black Straight Sword. The crystal-embedded sword he now used in tandem with it was an anomaly—a weapon provided by Justus.

Naturally, the gift hadn't been a gesture of kindness. It was merely a tool designed to convince those around Harold to accept him as a convenient pawn.

But Justus’s penchant for machination didn't stop there.

The sword possessed the extraordinary ability to enhance the user’s combat prowess by absorbing their magic power. Had the weapon been uncontrollable—activating the moment it was gripped—Harold would have adamantly refused it.

He would have refused because having his magic power drained by that blade literally meant shaving away his life. It was a strategy typical of Justus: telling a lie while technically speaking the truth.

Consequently, Harold had almost never used the sword’s power until now. He had only unleashed its true performance twice before.

The first time was during a mission when he happened upon a unit of the Knight Order on the verge of annihilation; he had slaughtered the monsters at maximum speed to save them. The second time was at the summit of Mount Giran, where he had instantly slain two Ice Dragons (Hydras).

In both instances, the activation had lasted only minutes. Yet, knowing his life was being consumed made even those few minutes feel fatal. The uncertainty of exactly how much of his lifespan was being lost was a source of unspeakable terror.

This was precisely why Harold had avoided the sword’s power at all costs. He spent every waking moment racking his brain and taking every possible measure because he didn’t want to die; shortening his own life as a result was the height of self-defeat.

But now, he didn't have the luxury of choice. The man named Vincent was simply that formidable.

Harold kept his feet in constant motion to capitalize on his clear advantage in speed, clashing blades while firing magic as a deterrent whenever he saw an opening. If he let his guard down for even a second, he would be swallowed by the violent force Vincent swung to crush him, even through a parry. He repeated this cycle of offense and defense over and over.

Then, a momentary void appeared—a gap in the exchange lasting less than a second. In that instant, Harold concentrated every nerve in his body.

He stepped in with the speed of a lightning flash.

Due to his physique and weapon, Vincent had a significantly longer reach than Harold. This was one of the primary reasons Harold struggled to find an opening. One might think simply closing the distance was the answer, but it wasn't that simple. While it was possible to go on the offensive with superior speed and volume of strikes, the risk was too high given Vincent’s sheer power and his reflexes in both attack and defense. A single mistake would result in a reversal, forcing Harold to fight within Vincent’s preferred range.

Above all, Harold judged that he lacked the raw power to disable Vincent in a single blow, and landing a clean hit on a vital point was nearly impossible against such an opponent.

So, how should he proceed?

Harold’s answer was simple and clear.

He would focus entirely on evasion and deterrents, wait for a gap to appear, strike a single blow, and immediately retreat from Vincent’s reach. This was the classic Hit and Away.

Just as Vincent began the motion to swing his sword upward, Harold closed the distance. Vincent aborted his attack and forcibly swung his Great Sword down while taking a half-step back to create space.

However, even with Vincent’s Herculean strength, the forced attack lacked its usual weight.

Harold aimed for the right arm holding the weapon. Perhaps to avoid hindering the shoulder’s range of motion, the armpit area was exposed. Harold swung, sliding his black sword into the gap in the armor.

He withdrew before Vincent could recover his stance, putting distance between them once more.

As a method of reliably landing a strike, it was effective.

But there were problems. Every time he used Super Acceleration to close the gap, the sword drained his magic power. Furthermore, this style threatened to drag the battle out, and it was impossible to say how much magic—and life—would be consumed.

Moreover, the sensation of his blade hitting the black cloth under Vincent’s arm hadn't felt like cutting flesh. He had been obstructed by something hard.

He had a good idea of what it was. It was likely chainmail or something similar integrated into the suit. Unless he landed a perfect, decisive strike, he would have to cut through it multiple times to reach the body beneath.

If they weren't inside a cramped cave, he could have tried distancing himself to pepper Vincent with high-level magic, but in these confines, the only result would be getting caught in his own blast or being crushed to death by a magic-induced cave-in.

"Making me work for it, damn you..."

The situation was truly wretched.

He might die at Vincent’s hand. He might collapse as the sword drained the life from him.

Even so, to survive, Harold had no choice but to keep fighting.

---

As if repelling the darkness, the tree branches used for firewood crackled and hissed as they burned. Lifa sat with her knees pulled to her chest, staring into the flickering flames as she contemplated.

It was less of a simple thought and more of a nagging worry. The cause was Harold, and by extension, Erika, who was currently traveling with them.

Erika was the lady of House Sumeragi and a member of their party.

She was kind and graceful, yet she possessed a core of strength that allowed her to state her opinions clearly. She wasn't a sheltered, ignorant noble; she observed the world with a broad perspective, and her skill with the bow and magic far exceeded that of average knights or adventurers.

She had the pedigree, the character, and the talent. The more they traveled together, the more Lifa realized how perfect a woman Erika truly was.

On top of all that, she was more beautiful than anyone Lifa had ever seen. It was no wonder Colette sang her praises without hesitation. Erika was practically the embodiment of a man’s ideal.

And apparently, this Erika was Harold’s fiancée.

The two individuals in question denied it, but since Francis and Erika’s brother, Itsuki, were in total agreement on the matter, it couldn't be a total lie.

So why did Erika deny it? One could say it was because she hated Harold, but Lifa found it hard to believe that someone as refined as Erika would let such blatant loathing show.

Lifa had felt a similar sense of incongruity recently regarding Harold’s behavior—specifically, his excessive coldness toward Erika.

To Lifa, it looked as though both Harold and Erika were acting "out of character" whenever they dealt with each other.

It was only a hypothesis.

But what if Harold’s coldness was a calculated move to distance Erika? What if he acted that way to ensure she wouldn't be hurt by his death... or rather, because he didn't want her to be hurt? The kindness of a man with a personality as twisted as Harold’s was notoriously difficult to see, but Lifa figured such a possibility was entirely plausible.

And what if Erika had sensed those feelings and was stubbornly pretending to loathe him just to honor his wish? Erika had known Harold since they were children; they were essentially childhood friends.

Lifa didn't know when Harold had started acting this way, but for all his aura of perfectionism, the man could be surprisingly clumsy. If someone spent enough time with him, they were bound to notice his lapses or his incredibly awkward brand of kindness.

Especially someone as brilliant as Erika.

Lifa’s theory had no hard evidence.

It was a flight of fancy born from connecting the dots of their unusual behavior. Normally, Lifa would have laughed off such a leap in logic and ignored it.

The reason she couldn't let it go was the fear that if this theory was even close to the truth, Erika might end up with a wound that would never heal.

The real question was how much Erika actually knew about Harold’s situation.

If she only sensed he was trying to push her away and was simply complying, she probably "didn't know Harold’s life was coming to an end." The primary reason Lifa thought this was because Harold had specifically sworn her to secrecy about his lifespan back in the Sumeragi Territory.

Erika didn't seem like the type to wear her hatred on her sleeve. She was human, so she surely got angry and had people she disliked, but she undoubtedly had the poise to hide that under a smile.

So why was she like that only with Harold? Was it because that’s what Harold wanted?

If so, she was suppressing her own heart to devote herself to his wishes.

Lifa felt this way because the more she learned about Erika’s character, the more she doubted that Erika truly hated the man.

Five out of the six people in their party—everyone except Erika—were fond of Harold, which was a statistical miracle. Despite this, Erika remained the only one who wouldn't budge on her stance that Harold was a villain. This was the core of the incongruity. Whenever Rainer or Colette tried to convince her that "Harold isn't as bad as the rumors say," she simply stonewalled them with: "I cannot reach an understanding with that man."

It was almost as if she were advertising the fact that "Erika Sumeragi hates Harold Stokes." Lifa couldn't believe she would spout such shallow words if her only motivation was personal spite.

It felt far more natural to assume she was striking a pose for some specific reason. And what if that reason was for Harold’s sake?

If that were true, would Erika’s heart be able to take it when Harold finally died? And would Lifa’s own heart be able to withstand the crushing guilt of knowing he was dying and saying nothing?

But if she confessed everything to Erika now, she would be breaking her promise to Harold...

"...Nothing goes the way I want it to."

She let the words escape with a heavy sigh.

Suddenly, a voice called out to her completely defenseless back.

"What exactly is not going your way?"

"Hie...!"

Lifa nearly shrieked at the ambush, barely managing to choke it back.

Her extreme reaction wasn't just because of the sudden voice, but because of who it belonged to.

"E-Erika? What’s up?"

"It is time to change the watch."

"Huh, already? Isn't it a bit early?"

"No, it is exactly time..."

Lifa checked the clock. As Erika said, it was only a few minutes until the scheduled swap.

She must have been deeper in thought than she realized. Looking over, her watch partner, Rainer, was dead to the world. She had been so lost in her head that she hadn't even noticed him falling asleep.

"Ah, you're right. Sorry, I forgot to wake him up."

"It’s quite alright. But you looked as though you were troubled by something..."

"Ah—..."

It was hard to say, 'Actually, I'm agonizing over your relationship with Harold.' That would be like sprinting into a minefield.

Besides, she had her promise to Harold. More importantly, she doubted Erika would give her a straight answer if she asked directly. Still, sitting around and doing nothing didn't sit right with her.

In that case, she would try to shake her by changing the angle of the conversation. Confirming that everyone else was sound asleep, Lifa prefaced her next move with the thought that she was probably being a meddler, but she spoke anyway.

"...Say, Erika. Is there anyone you like?"