Akatsuki Translations

With a cold, metallic clang, a sword was thrown at Harold’s feet, echoing through the silent chamber. It was a blade he had grown all too familiar with—a cursed weapon once handed to him by Justus, one that drained the life of its wielder with every swing.

At the same time, the chains that had bound him clattered to the ground, releasing him from his restraints.

“Pick up the sword, Harold,” came a calm but commanding voice.

Justus.

It made no sense. In a situation where he held all the advantages, why would Justus willingly arm his prisoner? The gesture reeked of foreboding, a trap hidden behind a thin veil of mercy. And yet, Harold knew better than to hope for kindness. Without a weapon, there was no chance of survival. Even if Justus didn’t intend to kill him here and now, he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him for the sake of his research into astral bodies.

Grimacing, Harold summoned his strength into a body that felt heavier than usual, reached down, and gripped the hilt. The weight was familiar. Too familiar. He rose to his feet.

There was only one exit—the door Cody and the others had entered from. That meant if he wanted out, he had no choice but to break through them.

Harold spat out a curse, raising the sword and falling into a defensive stance.

“You would abandon your advantage so easily? Foolish,” he growled.

Justus gave a faint smile. “I have no concerns. Struggle all you like.”

How much of this is part of his plan? Harold wondered. Justus had a way of staying five steps ahead, even of someone like Harold—someone armed with the foreknowledge of the original story. The man’s presence exuded the cold authority of a final boss, and it was terrifying.

But this wasn’t the time to shrink back in fear. If Harold couldn’t escape this place, there would be no future—no chance to survive.

(Still… what the hell am I supposed to do?)

Even if he somehow defeated Justus—the one now wearing Sarah’s face—it would likely mean nothing. Justus had divided his consciousness; this was only a fragment. Worse still, every person in this room, apart from Harold, might be another extension of that same fractured mind.

In short, Harold was surrounded by those brainwashed by Justus. He couldn’t bring himself to cut them down, not when he knew they were merely puppets.

Which left only one path forward: escape.

The first obstacle, though, was figuring out where he even was.

He glanced around. The walls and ceiling were made of unfamiliar materials, but they vaguely reminded him of the research facility deep within the mines. Still, with how thoroughly the monsters had ravaged Baston, it was hard to believe that lab still stood.

From the way Justus had spoken, Harold must have been unconscious for a considerable time. That likely meant he’d been moved.

(A strangely modern place… Modern? No, it can’t be…)

In the world of Brave Hearts, modern architecture was all but nonexistent. The only known exception was the cutting-edge Astral Research Institute.

But now, something clicked in Harold’s memory.

Yes, he had seen this texture before—this artificial, sterile environment. It wasn’t the Astral Institute.

It was—

(The interior of the Sky Fortress…!?)

An ancient remnant from a long-lost civilization, vanished from the world ages ago. The Children of the Stars, as they were called, had built that massive airborne structure—a construction unlike the ruins they’d left behind elsewhere.

Little was known about it, even in the original story. It was simply treated as a given: It exists.

But within the game, the Sky Fortress had always stood apart, its eerie atmosphere and sleek architecture feeling wholly alien to the world around it.

And now Harold was inside it.

If this truly was the interior of the Sky Fortress, then it must currently be buried deep underground. Once it took flight, the exposed core—said to hold the memory of the planet itself—would signal the story’s shift into its final act.

In the game’s cutscene, the fortress had ascended by tearing through the earth and upending entire mountains. Logically speaking, any real structure should’ve been obliterated by that kind of upheaval. But not this one. The Sky Fortress had remained completely intact, as though reality itself bent to accommodate its existence.

It was the sort of absurdity typical of ancient civilizations in games—technology so advanced it might as well be magic. And this… this was the very definition of an out-of-place artifact.

Justus’s voice cut through Harold’s thoughts, smooth and composed as ever.

“Oh, one thing I forgot to mention. If you don’t want them to die, I’d recommend you properly defeat them.”

Harold’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Justus said with a casual shrug, “that I hold full control over their lives. Unless you break the condition known as Astral Corruption—or, in simpler terms for you, brainwashing—they won’t be coming back.”

Astral Corruption. Harold didn’t know the exact mechanics of it, but the message was clear enough. Cody and the others weren’t themselves. Fighting them wouldn’t be a clash of wills—it would be an act of cruelty. He hadn’t planned to fight them at all. His focus had been on retreat—survive now, regroup later.

But Justus knew that. Of course he did. This wasn’t a warning—it was a threat.

Try to run, and they die.

Whether or not that was true didn’t matter. Coming from Justus, it was all too plausible. The man was more than capable of carrying out that kind of twisted retribution.

Harold clenched his jaw. “You really are sick. Your brand of sadism makes me sick to my stomach.”

Justus smirked—he had struck the nerve he’d intended to. Every word had been aimed precisely at the part of Harold that couldn’t look away, couldn’t abandon others.

Realistically, if he excluded Cody, neutralizing the rest of them wouldn’t be too difficult.

But to do that would require using the sword’s power—again. The same power he’d wielded against Finnegan and Ventos. And that was exactly what Justus wanted.

Even knowing that, Harold had no other choice. He couldn’t sacrifice the lives of people he might still be able to save. And to make things worse, one of them was Cody—a central character from the original story.

He let out a long breath, something between a sigh and a steadying exhale.

(This… is going to be rough.)

　◇

The town of Baston was in a terrible state—much like Travis before it.

The front gate, once the main entrance, had collapsed so thoroughly that they had to take a detour just to get inside. Buildings lay in ruins, the aftermath of rampaging monsters. But what drew the eye most was a massive crater—dozens of meters wide. Looking down into the gaping hole, one could see remnants of buildings half-buried in soil and debris.

All around the town, charred monster corpses were piled in heaps. It was clear that whoever had led the evacuation hadn’t stopped there—they had followed through, disposing of the threat properly. That level of thoroughness was impressive.

Still, even at a glance, it was obvious: rebuilding would take time. Perhaps a great deal of it—if it could be done at all. In terms of sheer scale, Travis had taken the bigger hit. But in terms of severity and depth of damage, Baston had it worse.

The fact that no one had died was nothing short of a miracle.

“…No,” Erica murmured to herself. “It wasn’t a miracle at all.”

This outcome had not come from divine intervention. It was the result of everyone’s collective effort—those who had fought, those who had fled, those who had led. Harold among them.

He had held the line against the approaching monsters, standing as the final bulwark so that not a single person would fall. He’d paid dearly for it, caught in the collapse that followed. But Erica believed—knew—that he was still alive. That belief had brought her here.

“You’ve waited long enough.”

The voice came from behind as Vincent returned, having finished sharing information with the knights stationed in Baston. With him were two unfamiliar knights, a man and a woman, and a rugged-looking mercenary whose bearing spoke of battlefield experience.

“As Erica told me, the situation is more or less as expected,” Vincent reported. “There were no casualties—not among the townspeople, the knights, or even the mercenaries Harold had hired.”

“Any signs of stragglers?” Erica asked.

“None found so far. We’re verifying headcounts using the residency ledger at the evacuation site.”

There were no missing persons. No serious injuries. And the evacuees had the basic necessities secured for now.

That meant the rest—the rebuilding, the governance—was out of their hands. It was now a matter for the local lord and the kingdom to handle.

“As for Harold’s whereabouts,” Vincent continued, his tone shifting slightly, “we found some people who claim to have been with him just before he disappeared.”

Erica’s gaze flicked to the trio behind him. “Them?”

Vincent nodded. “Yes. From what we’ve gathered, they stayed in town and fought alongside Harold right up to the moment he vanished. So first, we’ll hear what they have to say—get a clear picture of what happened.”

He gestured for them to follow, leading them to a small shack on the outskirts. Inside were a few long benches and a single table. It looked hastily cleared out, with supplies shoved carelessly into a corner.

Most likely, the advance knights had used it for something and vacated in a hurry. Still, for a debrief, it would do just fine.

“Let’s go over everything again—start from the top, Sid.”

“Yes, sir!”

The young man named Sid straightened up at the prompt and began recounting the events in a crisp, clear tone.

“I was assigned to assist with the evacuation as part of the knights. During the process, a couple started insisting their child might’ve returned to town.”

“And why would the child go back?” Erica asked.

“They said… the kid might’ve gone back to retrieve a stuffed toy they forgot.”

A small child, unaware of the imminent danger, slipping away from their parents to retrieve a beloved toy left behind.

It wasn’t exactly far-fetched.

“Irene and I—along with a few others—headed back into town to search. When we reached the town entrance, we ran into Keith-san.”

“I work under Harold,” Keith chimed in, his voice rough. “We’d stayed behind with a few others. Altogether, maybe ten of us if you count the knights.”

“And once we entered through the front gate,” Sid continued, “we saw Harold fighting off a horde of monsters… all while protecting a single child.”

“He noticed us, handed the kid over, and told us to get them out of there. No hesitation,” Irene added.

As the three of them described the scene, Erica felt her chest tighten.

Putting others’ safety before his own, throwing himself into the jaws of danger without a second thought—that was Harold, through and through.

“We—members of ‘Frieri’—took the child and began evacuating,” Keith said. “The knights guarded our retreat. The three of us stayed behind.”

It was hard not to be impressed by their resolve. To stay behind when faced with a monster horde—whether out of knightly duty or mercenary loyalty—took courage.

“Not that we were making any big difference,” Keith added with a bitter chuckle. “Honestly, ninety percent of it was the boss. Whether we stayed or not, the outcome probably wouldn’t have changed much.”

“Harold kept the bulk of them at bay. Any that slipped past him—we took care of those. Our job was just to make sure not a single one got out of the town.”

“He held them back… alone?” Liner asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

Given what he’d witnessed in Travis, it was a fair question. How could one man pull that off?

“Yeah. Hard as it is to believe, he was fighting off hundreds of monsters all by himself.”

“…No, I believe it,” Liner said firmly. “I know how strong he is.”

He clenched his fists tightly on his knees. Whatever emotions were churning inside him, Erica couldn’t guess. Feelings like that weren’t easily put into words.

He must have come here carrying his own burdens.

“Well, we were holding out as best we could…” Sid began again, his earlier confidence faltering.

He didn’t fall silent—rather, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

“From this point on… even we’re not entirely sure what happened. Just explaining the situation might sound confusing.”

“That’s fine,” Erica said gently. “Tell us what you saw.”

“Understood. After a while, we got the signal that the evacuation was complete. To buy us time to retreat, Harold started unleashing a barrage of high-powered spells and wiped out a huge chunk of the monsters.”

Erica already knew Harold could use magic, and that his talent was impressive. But his main strength had always been his lightning-fast swordsmanship—so fast you could barely follow it with your eyes. Compared to that, his magic had always felt like a secondary skill.

And yet now, hearing how he single-handedly obliterated a horde of monsters with magic alone, she was once again reminded just how deep his well of power truly was.

“Thanks to that, we finally had a chance to escape. But just as we were about to fall back… a little girl called out to us.”

“A girl…?” Erica repeated, her eyes narrowing.

The word didn’t belong in the scene they were describing. It stood out—strangely and ominously.

“Yes. She asked, ‘Where are you going?’ And when we turned toward the voice… she was just standing there, emerging from the middle of the monster horde.”

Sid’s voice lowered.

“It was like… she was commanding them.”

Just imagining it sent a chill down Erica’s spine. That bizarre, unnatural image—a young girl, unharmed, seemingly leading a horde of monsters—was enough to unsettle anyone. And if even Harold had frozen in confusion at the sight, no one could blame him.

“And then… I don’t know why, but Harold called the girl Justus Freud.”

At the mention of that name, Erica and the others visibly tensed.

It was no wonder. Even hearing the account secondhand, none of it made sense. Why would Harold call the girl Justus? Was she really him? And if so, why in the form of a young girl?

The questions kept piling up. And none of them seemed like ones that could be answered here and now.

“…What happened after that?” Erica asked quietly.

“Harold shouted at us to run,” Sid said. “The moment he did, we knew the situation was serious—serious enough to shake him. And as soon as he said it, our legs were already moving toward the main gate.”

It was hard to imagine Harold panicking. Erica herself had never seen it. But no matter how composed he usually was, even Harold could be caught off guard by something truly unexpected.

She remembered—five years ago, how he’d come to visit Sumeragi with a look of grim determination. And eight years ago, how she’d once seen him silently shedding tears when no one was watching.

She’d known all along. Harold was strong. He always appeared calm and in control. But beneath that strength, he carried the same doubts and weaknesses any person would.

That was why she had once longed to be his support. But her own fragility had made her hesitate, made her want to give up. If not for Leafa, she might not even be standing here now.

“While we were running,” Sid continued, “Harold ran straight toward the girl. And then, in the next moment, a huge explosion went off. When the smoke cleared, the ground had collapsed—and Harold was gone…”

“That blast,” said Keith grimly, “was one of the traps the boss had set up ahead of time. The plan was to trigger it after we all got out—to collapse part of the gate and wall, cut off the monsters’ path. But whether it was an accident, or the enemy somehow caught on… it went off on its own.”

“I see…” Erica murmured.

From their story, she now understood details that Yuno’s earlier report hadn’t made clear. And the situation was far more serious than she had originally feared.

Still, what she had to do now hadn’t changed.

“Harold-sama must know things we don’t,” Erica said. “If that’s true, then following his orders wasn’t wrong… Though it’s easy to say that with words.”

“…Huh?”

“You regret it, don’t you? Turning your back on him in that moment.”

This time, it was Sid and the others whose expressions hardened. Erica could feel the pain in their silence—it mirrored her own.

They had wanted to stand with Harold. But they lacked the strength, the resolve. In the end, they’d left the burden to him alone. That truth stung. It was bitter and shameful.

But even so—if they didn’t hold on to that pain, if they didn’t take that next step forward with trembling feet—they would never catch up to Harold.

“Even if it’s something Harold-sama doesn’t want… I still want to become someone who can support him. I don’t want to leave him alone. And more than anything… I want to be by his side.”

Her voice was steady—gentle, yet unwavering.

Those words carried more than just affection or longing. They held countless emotions layered beneath the surface—devotion, sorrow, resolve.

Everyone in the room could feel the weight of Erica’s conviction. Her amethyst eyes shone with unwavering clarity, not a trace of doubt within them.

“I don’t know what dangers lie ahead. But no matter what, I will save Harold-sama. And… I know it’s selfish to ask, but I’m begging you—please, lend me your strength in rescuing him.”

There wasn’t a single soul present who could refuse her plea.