"Since you vanished so suddenly, I thought you'd tucked tail and run. Though I guess you aren't quite that much of a coward. You were just helping your lackeys escape, weren't you?"
Recognizing my presence, Machia placed her hands on her hips and let out a sigh. Even from this distance, I could tell she was looking down on me. She seemed intent on insulting me at every turn.
She appeared to have little interest in the fact that I had let my subordinates escape. In her mind, the Demon King Subjugation likely took precedence over all else. Everything else could wait.
"............"
I wordlessly readied the Keepsake Sword. A fair distance still remained between Machia and me—about as far as an arrow could fly. However, distance meant nothing to me. Depending on the method I used, I could close it in an instant.
"Hah, ignoring me? For a piece of walking carrion, you've got a lot of nerve."
Machia radiated bloodlust. Judging by her irritated tone, she was remarkably short-tempered. She tilted her staff and leveled it at me. It was the preparatory motion for Divine Magic. I could not afford to drop my guard for a second.
"It's time for you to die, you outdated Demon King. I'm going to dismantle everything you’ve built and claim it for myself. Are you ready?"
"If you intend to stand in my way, I shall show no mercy," I declared, my voice low and steady.
My words were directed at the entirety of the Holy Staff Army. I could not overlook their outrages. At this rate, they would carry out a massacre within the Demon King's Domain, resulting in untold casualties.
I had chosen the path of becoming the World's Enemy. I was prepared for my own army to suffer losses in battle. However, I could not ignore the senseless slaughter of the powerless commoners. Since they had submitted to me, it was my duty as the Demon King to protect them.
I would annihilate the Holy Staff Army here and now.
"Hmph. Then die like the dog you are."
Machia snorted and raised her staff. Her magic power surged, and a massive number of Chains of Light manifested in the air. There must have been hundreds of them. I watched the sequence of the magic formulas and the flow of her magic power intently until I understood the general mechanism.
"—I see."
Immediately after, the Chains of Light were fired. They closed in with overwhelming force, pulverizing the buildings in their path. I sprinted toward a nearby structure. As I moved, I employed Stealth Magic to nullify any detection through magic power or miasma.
I burst through the door and dove inside. Several corpses lay abandoned in the room—perhaps the homeowners. The Holy Staff Army likely had a hand in this as well. As I observed the bodies, the wall exploded with a thunderous roar. The Chains of Light came flooding into the room.
(Incredible power. A direct hit would easily tear me apart.)
I moved constantly, parrying the chains with the Keepsake Sword as I transitioned into an adjacent building. The trailing chains swerved mid-air, pursuing me.
(So, they track their target automatically.)
Since I was within the building’s blind spots, Machia should not have been able to pinpoint my position. My Stealth Magic should have rendered me undetectable. And yet, the Chains of Light struck with unerring precision. They were clearly a self-targeting spell—a remarkably high-performance magic.
Ordinary offensive magic required visual aiming. While tracking-types existed, they usually required a pre-existing mark on the target. These Chains of Light were locking onto me without any such medium. As expected of something called Divine Magic, its nature differed fundamentally from standard spells.
(For now, I'd better not stand still.)
I leaped to the second floor of another building. Destroying the approaching chains as I went, I jumped to the next structure. I refrained from using Teleportation Magic out of concern for my magic power consumption.
This environment was harsh for an Undead. I was being constantly drained, forced to allocate a portion of my magic power just to maintain Body Protection. Under normal circumstances, I would have plenty to spare, but being inside this city meant I was not at my best. I was being subjected to a significant weakening. My connection to the Valley of the Dead also appeared to be temporarily severed.
(The situation is so stacked against me it feels like a cruel joke.)
When the conditions align this perfectly, I don't even feel anger. I simply realize the depth of the world's hatred for me. Saint Machia was truly a being born for the sake of destroying the current Demon King.
Even so, I will not give up. It is my role to overturn this fate. The moment I am defeated by Machia, the world will revert to its previous state. Until the birth of the next Demon King, the cycle of pointless human conflict will begin anew. Above all, the immense damage I have wrought would be for nothing. The significance of my devotion to evil and my path of slaughter would be lost.
That is the one thing I must prevent at all costs.
While warding off dozens of Chains of Light, I leaped to the next building. I sliced through the wall with my sword and tumbled inside.
Within the room were four soldiers of the Holy Staff Army. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, their focus entirely on the spells they were maintaining.
"Wh—!?"
"Wha—!?"
Noticing my intrusion, the soldiers panicked. They scrambled for their staves, but I was faster. I swung the Keepsake Sword in a single, fluid arc.
Their heads slid from their necks in unison, and a spray of blood painted the room crimson, showering over me. The headless soldiers collapsed. They likely didn't even have time to feel the pain. It was a small mercy.
I would not subject these soldiers to Undeadification. Currently, the city was saturated with Holy Aura. Even if I increased the number of my subordinates, they wouldn't even serve as shields; they would simply be consumed for nothing.
I flicked the fresh blood from my blade and focused on my surroundings. An eerie silence had descended.
(The chains have stopped. Did I escape their range?)
Or perhaps they realized that firing them indiscriminately was a waste of energy. Either way, I was grateful for the pause. Constantly intercepting chains of that density was taxing on the nerves.
Crouching down, I touched the fallen soldiers. Their bodies were marked with a Magical Brand. All four of them bore the same engraving.
"……Just as I thought."
Through this encounter, I had grasped the mechanism behind Machia's power. First, her Divine Magic was authentic. The effect itself was a gift she had obtained as a Saint—a pure, genuine power.
However, her magic power was a different story. Machia was siphoning magic power from the soldiers of the Holy Staff Army stationed within the city. She was firing the Chains of Light using that collective energy. Rapidly firing a spell of that caliber individually would be nearly impossible for a single person. One would need an incredible constitution or a massive external supply. In Machia's case, the Holy Staff Army was her battery. By gathering them in such numbers, she had bypassed the limitations of magic power consumption.
(If that's the case, the countermeasure is simple.)
To sap her strength, I had to prioritize reducing the number of soldiers. I could have attacked directly with Large-Scale Magic as I usually did, but if that were blocked, I would be left with nothing. Currently, I was at a disadvantage in almost every aspect. It would be a fatal mistake to overestimate my abilities and make a reckless move. I had to ensure success through cold, calculated means.
"……A tedious but gruesome method."
I mocked myself in the room strewn with corpses. This was the first time since becoming the Demon King that I had fought in such a gritty, mud-caked manner. Perhaps this was the exact kind of evil I had been seeking.
(Regardless, I must move.)
I would keep my magic power consumption to a minimum in preparation for the final confrontation with Machia. I would forgo Offensive Magic, limiting myself to Body Protection, enhancement, stealth, and detection. Although I expected resistance, I would simply crush it.
I possessed his sword techniques. There was no one who could stand against them.
To slaughter the tens of thousands of soldiers led by the Saint, I began my silent walk.