I watched John as he emerged.
The wearable golem enveloping his body glowed with the light of magic power. It appeared to be fully operational already. I could sense the resonance of the Secret Stone emanating from the box on his back.
(Tenacious. To think he had yet another scheme hidden away.)
While I admired John's thoroughness, this was surely the end of the line. This enhanced armor was undoubtedly his last bastion. Even then, it wasn't his primary armament; it was little more than a final, desperate struggle.
I descended.
Landing directly in front of John, I quietly readied my Keepsake Sword. I would not make the first move. There was no need to rush.
"Demon King!"
Driven by surging emotions, John charged at me. He channeled Holy-Attribute Magic Power into both hands, manifesting wide blades. He leaped toward me, brandishing them high.
"Haa!"
John drew back the blades in both hands, preparing to thrust. Before he could, I swung my sword in a single horizontal arc. The Magic Power Blade shattered effortlessly under the weight of my slash.
(His movements are monotonous. His swings are too wide.)
It was painfully obvious that he was fishing for a single-hit kill. John must have realized he couldn't win a battle of pure skill. That said, resorting to such crude maneuvers was a fatal mistake, though I wasn't kind enough to point that out to him. Blinded by impatience, he was rushing headlong down the path of self-destruction.
I condensed magic power into one hand and slammed a shockwave into John’s torso.
"Ga, ah...!"
His eyes flew wide as he was blown backward. He managed to plant his hands while rolling across the dirt, barely succeeding in pushing himself back up. Then, he spat out a mouthful of resentful blood.
The enhanced armor was damaged at the chest and abdomen. The plating peeled away brittlely, exposing clothing soaked in sweat and blood.
"Give up. You cannot defeat me."
"Shut up!"
Enraged, John drew his gun and tried to level it at me.
"It's useless."
I used short-range teleportation to appear directly in front of him. Before he could pull the trigger, I sliced the gun in half and slammed my palm into his face. John recoiled violently. The impact shattered his helmet, sending the fragments flying. The only reason his neck hadn't snapped was likely the residual protection of the enhanced armor.
"Uoaaah!"
Shouting a war cry, John unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick. I blocked it with one arm. Even as my Miasma Arm shattered under the blow, I cut into John without hesitation.
"...Ah."
Staggering backward, John clutched at his own body. His torso had been sliced diagonally. The wound had severed his ribs and likely shredded his internal organs. Blood immediately began to pour out.
"D-Dammit."
Panicking, John fiddled with the box on his back. The enhanced armor glowed, enveloping his body and covering the wound. When the light faded, the bleeding had stopped and the wound had closed.
Recovery Magic. He must have diverted the power being supplied to the suit. Using Spirit Power directly like that was a suicidal act, but John didn't have the luxury of hesitation. If he had wavered, he would have bled out and died anyway. He had been forced to rely on it.
I reformed my mangled arm with miasma and looked at the gasping John.
"You're the Primary Personality now, aren't you?"
"......"
John didn't answer; he simply glared at me. Fighting spirit seethed in his eyes, burning with a sense of justice.
Suddenly, John lunged with a punch. I caught his fist and yanked him toward me, then drove my elbow into his face as his balance broke.
"—ng!"
Blood sprayed from John’s nose, but he held his ground and lunged forward with a headbutt. His forehead collided with my nose and upper jaw. I heard the distinct sound of bone cracking.
(Impressive guts.)
I grabbed John by the face and slammed him into the ground with all my strength. Smeared in blood and bile, he let out a low groan.
"Guku... gh, uuu..."
John clung to my leg. His dirt-streaked face was wet with tears, yet his will to fight hadn't diminished in the slightest. He gripped a knife in a reverse hold and thrust it into me. The trembling tip of the blade bit into my bone, if only slightly. The sizzling sound told me the blade had been imbued with the Holy Attribute.
I kicked John away. Unable to resist the force, he landed on his back. He tried to stand, but his strength seemed to have failed him, and he could only claw fruitlessly at the dirt.
"......"
Looking down at his pathetic state, I exercised my magic. Behind John, the earth heaved and rose, forming a cross the height of a man. I then extended chains of magic power, binding him tightly to it. The restrained John struggled desperately, but neither the cross nor the chains would budge. He was merely draining his remaining strength in a vain effort.
"Dammit, why am I—this is, no... wait, that's right! I had him cornered! If the Robo's tuning hadn't been so lax—no, it's no use. Really, what should I have done..."
John raved at the top of his lungs, his head thrashing from side to side. He was completely deranged. His expression shifted every second, and his words were so incoherent they were impossible to follow.
(Are the two internal personalities clashing...?)
Perhaps facing a life-threatening crisis had shattered whatever mental balance he had left. It was the only logical explanation for his behavior.
"I-I have to get back soon... the TV, the show I watch every week—I don't... know... It’s so much fun. I didn't... record it... tonight..."
John continued to mutter, his gaze fixed on some distant, unseen point. His eyes seemed to be looking somewhere far away from this place. The look of agony that had been etched into his face only moments ago was beginning to fade.
"John Doe."
When I stepped closer and spoke his name, his expression became sober. His eyes focused, locking onto mine. It seemed he had returned to reality.
"What is it... Are you—are you going to kill me? Go ahead! The technology we've created is revolutionary! Do you really intend to crush that potential?!"
John howled, his eyes bloodshot. Even bound to a cross, he desperately argued for his own worth.
He wasn't wrong. As an inventor, John Doe represented a turning point in history.
I gestured to our surroundings as I questioned him.
"Do you feel nothing when you look at this city? It has been utterly destroyed. This is the fruit of your runaway technology."
"That's because you invaded! We had no intention of destroying the city! This is all the fault of the Demon King's Army, and we—"
I swung my sword, cutting his words short.
In that instant, John froze. A thin red line slowly appeared across his neck, followed by a sudden spray of fresh blood. The light faded from John's eyes. His head drooped forward, and he grew still.
I flicked the blood off my blade. Glancing at the cross stained in crimson, I spoke to the corpse.
"Yes. The responsibility is mine alone. Hate me to your heart's content. Nevertheless, I am the one who killed you."
No matter how noble one's thoughts or claims might be, one required the power to back them up. A mouth that spoke only of ideals was meaningless without strength. I was certainly the lowest, most vile Demon King, but I possessed the violence necessary to see my goals through to the end. It was a power that yielded to no one—a power that could overturn fate itself.
That was the difference between me and the humans I had slaughtered.
At that moment, the edge of my vision began to brighten. Far in the distance, the morning sun began to peek over the horizon. Dawn had arrived.
With one final glance at the body on the cross bathed in the morning light, I sheathed my Keepsake Sword.