MTM 114

Thud.

For a moment, Harto felt his heart drop. When he tried to read calmly, the elementals seemed to notice and stared at him while their pupils rolling around.

“Wh-why are you suddenly talking about Hartiros?”

Harto steadied his trembling voice and answered as nonchalantly as possible.

“Just… because he’s the most famous. That’s why I asked. No other meaning.”

“Ah… I see…”

At Zed’s nonchalant attitude, Harto cleared his throat loudly, trying to calm his racing heart.

“M-maybe… he’s a monster…?”

When Harto timidly muttered, Zed smiled knowingly and shook his head.

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Huh…?”

“Hartiros doesn’t belong anywhere. Even this 300-year-old ancient text doesn’t have a clear classification for his existence.”

“……”

Harto couldn’t say anything. Suddenly, the words spoken by the orc he had met in <Black Crown> flashed through his mind. That he wasn’t a spirit or a monster…

“Robert said he’d look for more ancient records related to Hartiros… Hmm, well. Since no one who’s faced Hartiros directly has ever returned alive, the records are bound to be sketchy. He’s a brutal bastard who burns every living thing in sight.”

“……”

Zed frowned, muttering to himself as if recalling the atrocities Hartiros had committed.

‘But Zed, you… you’re still alive…’

It wasn’t just Zed. Leon, Allen, Ser, Reina… Even the small animals that lived around the forest cabin lived peacefully by Harto’s side.

‘But… no one knows I’m inside Hartiros’ body…’

For the first time, Harto felt wronged. Even though he was the villain in the novel, he had thought he would be happy just to have a free body…. The fact that Hartiros, fixed in the eyes of the world, was nothing but a monster deserving of death was endlessly resentful and bitter.

“Or, he might just be an ancient demon. Hmm…. If Walter heard this theory, he’d be raving about killing me.”

Zed chuckled softly and pushed the open book aside. The elementals, who had been engrossed in the book, protested with squeaks and chased after the book, reopening it.

Zed offered a small apology to them and stretched both arms toward Harto. He held Harto tightly in his embrace and flopped onto the bed.

“Harto. Let’s just close our eyes for a bit and have breakfast.”

“Yes… Zed, you must be tired. You should sleep…”

“Harto, you can’t sneak off while I’m asleep, okay?”

Zed held Harto close and whispered like a whining child.

“Ah, I won’t go… I’ll stay here.”

Harto accepted Zed’s tender, warm embrace and murmured quietly.

Perhaps because he was so exhausted, Zed soon fell into a deep sleep, breathing evenly.

Harto lay in Zed’s arms, quietly listening to the heartbeat coming from his chest.

That sound was the most peaceful lullaby in the world to Harto, and at the same time, the very reason for his existence.

“Zed….”

Harto closed his eyes, struggling to suppress the hot emotions welling up inside him. And for the first time since arriving here, he prayed. If a god truly existed in this world, he begged, pleading with desperate earnestness, to change this tragic fate.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A deep night, thick with clouds that even stifled the moonlight. A serpentine procession stretched silently through the forest, shrouded in pitch-black darkness. Hidden within the shadows, their identities were revealed: the heavy, silver-armored Royal Knights.

Despite the considerable number of men moving, their footsteps were as quiet as ghosts, not even crushing a single twig as they crossed the forest.

This silence was thanks to the magical devices Robert had supplied in large quantities.

This elixir, a magical concoction blended with the secretion of a white snail, formed a slippery film when applied to the soles of their shoes, eliminating friction with the ground and allowing them to conceal their presence completely. It possessed the exact opposite properties of a black snail’s secretion, which had been applied to wagon wheels in the desert to gain traction.

Twinkle, twinkle.

A blue light flashed over Isadora’s shoulder as she commanded the knights from the front. It was a stop signal. The knights following behind, as well as the rest of the group, halted in their tracks.

‘…It finally begins.’

After swiftly assessing the situation, Allen took Leon and positioned himself beside Isadora. Click, click, click. Simultaneously, the elite unit of the Royal Knights formed ranks, awaiting Isadora’s command. Beyond them, Zed, Harto, and Robert had already mounted their black steeds and were quietly riding away toward the northern foothills.

According to the plan, the group split into three branches.

The eastern tower was assigned to Zed, Harto, and Robert; the western underground sanctuary to Isadora, Allen, and Leon. As for the underground dungeon of the imperial palace where Prince Damien was held captive, a team consisting of part of the Royal Knights and Ser would move in.

Allen was not pleased that Ser was stepping foot onto this perilous battlefield.

Having only heard that he worked in the feast district, he had concluded he would be of no help in combat. Therefore, Ser’s joining was naturally unwelcome.

‘Ser is an alchemist.’

‘What? That guy does alchemy?’

Though he didn’t say it aloud, Harto replied curtly to Allen, who was expressing his doubts. He then recounted how Ser had effortlessly dismantled the magical bars at the <Black Crown> using alchemy. Allen vaguely recalled hearing about the incident from Reina before, but at the time, he had dismissed it as drunken rambling and hadn’t paid much attention.

‘Hmm, so it was true after all…?’

Allen finally set aside his prejudice and took an interest in Ser. Alchemy was a rare field, a discipline far more difficult and profound to master than magic, with only a handful of true successors. Having previously thought of Ser as just a pretty face with an empty head, the revelation that he was an alchemist struck him as incredibly fresh.

Zing.

‘Ah! Just now…Did our eyes meet?’

It was the instant Ser, mingled within the procession of the Royal Knights, brushed past Allen. Beneath the hood covering his head, he was certain he felt a cold gaze land on him, but when he looked again, Ser had already blended into the crowd of knights and was receding into the distance.

Thump.

“Allen, even in a place like this… Keep your wits about you.”

Leon tapped Allen’s side as he stood blankly, shaking his head. Only then did Allen snap back to reality. Realizing what Leon had seen and misunderstood, his face flushed.

“What? Hey, that wasn’t… Ugh, you just wait, you…”

Muttering under his breath, Allen pulled himself together and followed Isadora westward. He prayed fate wouldn’t be cruel, wishing good luck upon the scattered group.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“From here, it’s probably best to walk.”

Robert, who had been leading the way on horseback along the rough mountain path, pulled on the reins and stopped. Before him lay a landscape of bare white rock, not a blade of grass in sight.

They all dismounted and tied their horses to a spot where trees grew thickly.

“If we pass this rocky hill and go a little further, we’ll come to a steep cliff. That’s the point closest to the North Tower.”

Robert’s plan was to use ropes to infiltrate the tower from there. Zed nodded silently, then turned his broad back toward Harto.

“Zed…?”

“Harto, climb onto my back. The path is treacherous.”

“Eh….”

Harto, who had been about to insist on walking himself, saw Robert nimbly leaping between the rocks like a ghost and quickly gave up. Instead, Harto transformed into a much smaller monster than usual and settled onto Zed’s shoulders.

‘I can see the path.’

He had thought even the moonlight would be blocked, leaving him unable to see an inch ahead, but where Robert had stepped, a mysterious trail resembling stardust remained. It was a magical path; as Zed stepped on the marks, the light gradually faded.

Whooooooosh-.

Before long, the wind swept across the mountain ridge, clearing the clouds. 

The hidden moon illuminated them clearly.

Harto cautiously raised his head. His gaze was directed not at the moon, but elsewhere. A tall, immense tower, revealing its pure white form even in the pitch-black darkness. It stood as if piercing the sky.

Thump, thump, thump….

‘Strange….’

The closer he got to the tower, the more a strange pulsing beat echoed within Harto’s chest. At first, he thought it was just nerves. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t fear or dread. It was closer to a fluttering excitement, as if he were finally about to face something he had long forgotten.

It felt as if that tower was calling out to him.