The lightning magic I had unleashed began to rain down bolts like a torrential downpour.
Soldiers standing in formation were incinerated where they stood. Because they were so densely packed, the casualties ballooned in an instant.
Before long, defense magic was deployed. Translucent barriers rose to intercept the bolts, and as soon as one layer buckled, new defense magic was stacked on top. Multiple casters were likely working together to maintain the protection.
(Their movements are sluggish overall.)
I evaluated the soldiers' response as I watched. In addition to the chaos of the surprise attack, the blinding glare of the lightning strikes seemed to have damaged their vision. Although they were struggling to reorganize, it would take some time before they regained any semblance of order.
Next, I turned my attention to where Macchia had been standing. A sphere woven from chains of light now occupied the spot. It seemed she had retreated inside, opting for absolute defense by coiling the chains around herself.
Macchia was prioritizing her own survival above all else. She was likely bracing for a potential surprise attack, her bravado replaced by caution now that she truly grasped the threat I posed. For me, this was ideal. If she were to stay constantly on the offensive, I would be at perpetual risk of a fatal wound. While I had the chance, I wanted to weaken her by slaughtering the surrounding soldiers. If Macchia chose to remain passive, I would move the situation to my advantage without hesitation.
I used Visual Teleportation to blink into the very center of their ranks. I immediately began to spin, sword outstretched, carving through the crowd. Amidst a spray of blood and a chorus of screams, I broke into a full sprint.
"Gueh... oh..."
"H-Hiee!?"
"Hey, someone—attack him quickly—!"
I lopped off heads, severed limbs, and pierced hearts before they could even register my presence. I moved with singular focus, ensuring I never stayed in the same spot for more than a heartbeat.
Having been suddenly dragged into a chaotic melee, the soldiers' confusion reached its breaking point. Most were unable to grasp the situation, and lightning magic was still pouring down from the sky above. The defensive barriers were trapped in a cycle of being shattered and recast, which inevitably began to drain the casters.
Even those trying to respond to my assault were unable to strike. I was moving through the thick of their own ranks; to attack me was to risk killing their comrades. That hesitation created fatal openings, and many were cut down while they wavered. I could understand the desire to avoid friendly fire, but in this instance, their indecision only resulted in more sacrifice.
On the other hand, my objective was simple. Everything other than myself was an enemy. I only needed to focus on cutting them down, without a single extraneous thought.
(Hm...?)
As I was dismantling their resistance, I sensed a powerful magic reaction from above. In the corner of my vision, I saw the chains of light. They undulated like serpents, emitting a sharp holy light. Macchia, who had been hiding in her defensive shell, had finally decided to counterattack.
The chains of light lashed out soundlessly. I snatched a nearby soldier and swung behind him, using him as a shield. I gave his armored back a firm shove.
"Eh?" the man let out a pathetic, confused grunt just before the chains of light skewered his stomach and hoisted him into the air.
"O-bo-oe-aaaaAAAAAHHH!"
The soldier shrieked, spewing blood. His limbs thrashed in agony, but the movement achieved nothing. Eventually, his eyes rolled back and he went limp.
As he died, the defense magic overhead flickered and weakened. I hadn't targeted him intentionally, but it appeared he had been one of the casters maintaining the barrier against my lightning.
Witnessing the gruesome death of their comrade at the hands of their own leader, the soldiers froze. They stood paralyzed, at a loss for words, staring up at the impaled corpse. An attack from Macchia—the woman who was supposed to be their savior—had just brutally murdered one of their own. Even if they understood it was an accident, the psychological impact was devastating.
The sight forced each of them to realize that they might be next.
I seized upon their agitation to resume the slaughter. There was no reason to let this opportunity pass. I carved my way through the crowd with blunt efficiency.
The chains of light did not strike again. Perhaps Macchia had retreated back into her defense. Realizing she had killed an ally might have made her lose her nerve. Her judgment, even by a generous estimate, was far from adequate. Her resolve wavered far too easily depending on the circumstances.
She likely had no real experience as a commander. Macchia had claimed her status rose only after she acquired Divine Magic; she was undoubtedly a newcomer to power. If she had possessed any true leadership experience, I suspect I would have faced a far more difficult struggle.
Soldiers rushed at me from all sides. I swept through them like a gale, kicking them aside and slashing them away. With every swing of my sword, limbs and heads were tossed into the air.
"Demon King, prepare yourself!"
A soldier with a shield charged me bravely, intending to sacrifice himself to halt my advance.
(Not a bad decision.)
If he could stop my momentum, the others could swarm me. In terms of sheer numbers, the Holy Staff Army held the advantage. If they could pin me down and overwhelm me, it would be their victory.
(...However, it is naive.)
I increased the output of my Physical Enhancement and accelerated. I brought my sword down in a massive overhead strike, cleaving the soldier in half right through his shield. I stepped past his collapsing remains without slowing down.
"Die!"
Another soldier thrust a spear at me. It was a clean, refined attack, accurately aimed from outside my sword's reach. However, it still failed to reach me. I ran my blade along the shaft of the approaching spear, parrying the thrust just enough to shift its trajectory. The spearhead grazed my cheekbone and plunged into the eye of a soldier standing behind me.
"Wha...!?"
I grabbed the throat of the man who was reeling from having blinded his comrade and slammed my pommel into his face. I snatched the spear from his failing grip. A single eyeball remained impaled on the tip, but I didn't have the luxury of time to clear it.
"—Pierce."
Stepping over the growing pile of corpses, I channeled Magic Power Enhancement into the spear and hurled it with everything I had.
With a thunderous roar, the spear tore through the air, skewering every soldier in its path. The spiraling shockwave of its flight caught those who had avoided a direct hit, throwing them aside like dolls. Every man in its way was reduced to an expendable resource.
By the time the spear embedded itself into the distant church, the formation of the Holy Staff Army had completely shattered. The earth was gouged out in a great fan-shaped arc starting from my feet; the soldiers who had once occupied that space were reduced to mere scraps of meat. That single throw must have claimed over a thousand lives.
I heard the sound of the defense magic overhead finally giving way. With so many casters dead, the remaining men could no longer hold it. The lightning resumed its carnage, descending upon the lucky few who had survived thus far. No one had the presence of mind left to fight back.
Even so, I showed no mercy, scattering fire magic across the field. While its immediate power was lower than the lightning, the spreading flames would ensure continuous casualties. Before long, men were collapsing from smoke inhalation or writhing on the ground as the heat scorched them. I moved through the dying ranks, driving my blade into their skulls with cold impartiality.
This relentless cycle of slaughter had broken their morale. Finally, the first few men began to run. This wasn't a strategic retreat; it was a desperate rout born of pure terror.
I immediately cast a barrier around the entire Rubble Zone. They were Macchia’s magic power supply source; I could not allow them to flee the battlefield.
With their escape route cut off, I went back to work. I systematically harvested their fleeting lives with my sword.
(This is hell. And I am at its center...)
The thought was bitter and self-deriding. Drenched in the lifeblood of men, I continued to swing the keepsake sword.