I landed near the Hero and immediately followed up with a magical assault.
Miasma Spear: Decuple Fire.
"Guh... Damn it!"
The Hero swung his Holy Sword with fluid precision, cleaving through the miasma spears and scattering them into mist. He managed to weather the entire barrage without sustaining a single scratch.
"Hmm..."
I observed him in silence. His swordsmanship was refined; for someone his age, his skill was nothing short of genius. Five more years of refinement and he would have surely become a master.
But his life was to end tonight. That future was a luxury he would never be granted.
The sword he wielded was a mere magic weapon, though it seemed he was imbuing it with Holy Light. It was likely a gift granted to him upon his awakening as a Hero.
(A potent power for banishing evil—a tool specifically designed for slaying the undead.)
If I were to take a fatal wound from that Holy Sword, there was a risk my very soul would be damaged. It might even interfere with my resurrection. Even with my immortality, I could not afford to be careless. His was an ability clearly manifested for the sole purpose of killing the Demon King.
"............"
Still holding his Holy Sword at the ready, the Hero stared at me. He looked as if he were struggling to find words. Given his actions up until now, I had expected him to launch an attack without hesitation, but he eventually spoke with heavy reluctance.
"Why... why are you doing this...?"
Hearing his question, I gained a vague understanding of his state of mind. He wasn't trying to buy time; he genuinely wanted to know the reason behind the slaughter. It was a perfectly natural impulse. I could have simply attacked, but I decided to respond since the opportunity had presented itself.
I felt it was a necessary step for me as well. I wanted to hear the words of the current Hero.
I lowered my blade for a moment and answered him.
"Because I am the Demon King."
"Because of you, my family is dead! I had to kill my own sister after she turned into a ghoul...!"
"I see."
My actions had birthed countless tragedies within the Kingdom. I had besieged human lands with an Undead Army, and at times, I had personally annihilated them with my magic. The number of victims was staggering. I bore a mountain of sins that could never be atoned for; I knew this better than anyone.
I had carried out every atrocity with the full understanding that it would come to this. Therefore, I would not be shaken, no matter how much I was condemned. I stood there, fully aware of every evil I represented.
The Hero looked stunned by my composure. Then, he let out a hollow, dry laugh.
"Hahaha... so your heart doesn't ache at all. As expected of a Demon King."
The Hero suddenly looked down. When he raised his head again, his eyes were brimming with intense bloodlust. The radiance of the Holy Sword intensified as he leveled the tip at my throat.
"I am the Hero. I will follow my destiny and strike you down."
He made his declaration with resolute steel in his voice. His face was that of a man who had cast away every shred of doubt. I felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight; for a moment, I was struck by the illusion that I was looking at a ghost of my former self.
"............"
I reached for the keepsake sword. I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and drew it in a single, fluid motion. Taking the same stance as she once had, I confronted the Holy Sword Hero.
Silence hung between us as we measured the distance. A distant clamor reached my ears—the humans of the fortress and the Demon King’s Army were likely locked in combat. I couldn't afford to spare a thought for them. Even a momentary distraction here would be fatal.
"Haa!"
The Hero moved first. Staying low to the ground, he closed the space in a flash. I sensed his magic power surge; he was using a highly refined form of physical enhancement.
I quickly deployed my own magic. Black vines erupted from the earth, coiling like serpents to ensnare him.
"Out of my way!"
The Hero performed a short, sharp leap, severing the vines with minimal movement. He kicked off the ground, accelerating even further until I was within the reach of his Holy Sword.
(He is growing even in the midst of battle...)
Compared to our first exchange, his reaction speed had clearly increased. He was truly a Hero—a force of unreasonable justice, beloved by the world itself.
But I could not allow myself to be defeated. If I were to perish here, the tragedy would only repeat. Human conflict would escalate. In a world without a Demon King, a Hero like him would become an "excessive force." People, terrified of his immense power, would eventually plot to dispose of him.
It was the same end that I and she had once met.
Even if it didn't come to that, he would be used as a convenient weapon of war. The Holy Sword would be turned against hostile nations. Either way, blood would be spilled by the hands of humans.
Such a future was unacceptable. I had to change it.
I didn't care if the method was distorted. Even if I had to assume the mantle of the Demon King—the World's Evil—to do it, I wanted humanity to stand together. Ideals alone cannot sustain peace.
"It's over, Demon King!"
The Hero unleashed an upward slash, a trajectory intended to cleave my torso in two. If I did nothing, the Holy Sword would surely destroy the current Demon King.
(Of course, I will not let that happen.)
I concentrated my mind. As I stared at his incoming strike, I could read his every muscle twitch as if it were slowed to a crawl. My intuition told me exactly how to move. The swordsmanship of the former Hero, etched into the very fabric of my soul, guided my hand.
I flicked my wrist, matching the angle of the approaching Holy Sword. Our blades collided with a high-pitched ring, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
His slash didn't touch me. My keepsake sword had halted his blade by a hair's breadth.
"Wha...!?"
Startled, the Hero tried to push through with sheer strength. But the Holy Sword wouldn't budge. All that could be heard was the screech of grinding steel.
"It's futile."
I put my weight into the blade and parried him away. Wary of a counterattack, the Hero leaped backward. A thin red line opened across his cheek, and a small bead of blood seeped out. My blade had grazed him.
"............"
The Hero wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, staring at the blood. His expression stiffened. Fear was finally taking root. For a fleeting second, the thought that he couldn't win had crossed his mind. He was visualizing his own death. He finally realized that being the Hero did not guarantee absolute victory.
"You're afraid. Do not be ashamed; it is an emotion anyone would feel."
I took a relaxed stance with the keepsake sword and raised my free hand above my head. The space around us blurred as hundreds of miasma stakes manifested in the air. They swirled around the Hero, surrounding him from all directions. Every single point was aimed at his heart.
"What...!"
The Hero was left speechless. He grimaced as if in physical pain. If he succumbed to despair, death awaited him. Even knowing that, it was difficult to rouse the spirit once it had begun to falter. Human willpower is a fragile thing.
I had been the same. During our quest to slay the previous Demon King, the only reason I hadn't died halfway through was because she was by my side.
But this Hero was alone. No one was coming to save him. On the contrary, in the fortress behind him, the soldiers were likely praying for the Hero to save them.
As the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon, I looked the boy in the eye.
"This is what it means to face a Demon King. I will show you the meaning of true despair."