The Demon King closed in and unleashed a thrust.
Reading her movements, I attempted to parry with the Keepsake Sword.
Just before impact, the spear’s trajectory shifted. She used the spearhead to scoop my sword upward, then lunged forward to run me through.
(She’s reading my swordplay...?)
I understood the situation instantly. The Demon King was a Master of Spearmanship. She was the only extraordinary individual who had ever fought on equal terms with that person’s blade. If her experiences from her past life remained, it made perfect sense why my parry had failed.
I jerked my head back as I stepped into her reach. The spear's point grazed my forehead, accompanied by a sharp gust of wind. The sound of scraping and cracking bone echoed. A numbing pain shot through me, but it was damage I could ignore.
I was an undead. Unlike the living, it was nearly impossible for me to sustain a wound that was truly fatal. Even if my entire body were blown to smithereens, I could resurrect as long as I had a spare body.
Closing the distance, I lashed out with my sword.
"Hmph."
The Demon King defended herself with her tilted spear. A hard crack rang out as scales and carapace scattered. My strike had shattered the shaft of her spear.
"Then how about this?"
The Demon King remained unfazed by the loss of her weapon. She gripped the broken spear in a reverse hold and swung the butt end at me. I blocked the strike with a minimal Barrier, leaping back to put distance between us in the brief moment before the shield shattered.
The Demon King watched me, smiling as she toyed with her broken spear. She spoke with a hint of admiration.
"Impressive movements. Did you change professions and become a swordsman?"
"You should know," I replied resolutely, showing no emotion. "This swordsmanship is nothing more than a borrowed skill."
No amount of effort on my part would have allowed me to reach this domain. Even with the semi-eternal lifespan of an undead, it likely would have been impossible to reproduce. It was only because I had absorbed the techniques and experiences found in the Valley of the Dead that I could master it in this simulated manner.
The Demon King exhaled a long, deep breath. Behind her helmet, she seemed to have a distant look in her eyes. She spoke in a voice heavy with various emotions.
"...Ah, I could never forget it. The Hero's Swordplay that slaughtered me. You have mastered it well. Seeing how naturally you wield it, you must have cut down countless lives, have you not?"
"It was necessary for my objective," I answered.
The path I had walked until now was paved with numerous acts of unforgivable slaughter. I had turned even innocent humans into undead and selfishly squandered their lives. What I carried was no longer just a mission. I stood here on the foundation of tens of thousands of sacrificed lives.
I could never stop. I had to make the deaths I brought meaningful. That was my responsibility.
The Demon King stroked her chin as she observed me.
"Hmm. Come to think of it, I have not yet asked. You, who calls yourself the Demon King—what is your objective?"
"To become the Immortal World's Evil and suppress conflict between humans. Only then can I realize permanent world peace."
The Demon King went still at my response. She seemed lost in thought, and I could hear a low groan from behind her mask. Eventually, she muttered, "Intriguing. A magnificent objective. However, that path is boundlessly steep. Are you prepared to keep moving forward?"
"............"
I pointed the tip of the Keepsake Sword at her. Words were unnecessary. This was my declaration of intent. It was far too late to even ask such a thing. From the moment I became the Demon King, my mind had been made up. If it weren't, I would not have been able to make it this far. My mind would have broken long ago.
Seeing my reaction, the Demon King let out a chuckle. There was a clear sense of kinship in her voice.
"You have a good look in your eyes. Not bad."
A spear manifested in the Demon King's hand once more. It thrummed with a powerful Holy Attribute. I felt a sense of déjà vu; there was no mistake, that was the same power the current Hero had used. It had been a Holy Sword then, but the essence was identical.
(Did she gain these abilities by consuming their ashes?)
That was the only logical explanation. It seemed the ashes, which originally had no power of their own, had manifested these abilities after being incorporated into the Resurrection Art. It wasn't strange for such a phenomenon to occur. Above all, since the Demon King was using Holy Power right before my eyes, I could not deny the reality of it.
"Our break ends here—I am coming."
The Demon King took a charging stance. Taking too many wounds from that spear would be disastrous. For an undead like me, it could prove fatal, potentially leading to the destruction of my soul.
I unleashed a torrent of Miasma Flame before she could make her move. The flames incinerated everything in the vicinity, but the Demon King simply rotated her spear to entangle the black flames and snuff them out.
"A pity. Is that all you have?"
I used magic instead of a verbal response, firing a Lightning Strike and a Wind Blade from one hand. The Demon King generated a Shield of Scales and Carapace in her free hand, sprinting straight toward me while blocking the spells.
I fired a Miasma Stake at her. The stake embedded itself into the shield, but it did not wound her. I followed up with more, but the result was the same. The Demon King approached without losing a fraction of her momentum.
(I thought I had increased the piercing power considerably, but her defensive strength is incredible.)
This time, I firmly parried the upward thrust of her spear. The Demon King's posture broke ever so slightly. Utilizing that split second, I ran my sword along the length of her spear. I cleaved through the shield she moved to intercept me, then stepped in further to deliver a rising slash.
My blade bit into the Demon King's torso.
"...!"
The Demon King countered with Consecutive Thrusts of her spear, forcing me to dodge by teleporting backward. If I took those hits head-on, I would be at an immediate disadvantage. It was better to ensure a clean evasion.
Having teleported a short distance away, I checked the damage I had dealt. A diagonal slash remained on the Demon King's torso, and bright red blood was flowing out. I had hoped to cut her clean in two, but my step-in had been too shallow.
The scales and carapace she wore squirmed, closing the wound until it was invisible. She was already healing herself from within. She lightly stroked her blood-stained midsection.
"Pain... there is no moment where one can feel life more than this. Do you not agree?"
"If I can win without taking any wounds, that is for the best."
"Kuhaha! You truly are a stiff one. Even if your form has changed, your fundamental personality remains the same. You are still the Sage who supports the Hero."
Something appeared from beneath the laughing Demon King's feet. Spinning in the air with a clear metallic ring were chains composed of Holy Light. Dozens of them swirled around her like guardians. Just looking at them made my non-existent eyes ache.
That was the divine magic of Saint Machia. I could never forget it; those chains of light had caused me a great deal of trouble during our battle.
I had a feeling since the moment she used the Hero's power, but it seemed the Demon King could also use the Saint's abilities. Both were lethal powers to me. In terms of being "anti-Demon King," she was of the highest caliber. I wanted to complain that it was practically cheating, but there was no point in protesting.
The Demon King looked at her spear and the chains of light, giving a wry smile.
"With this much Holy Power, I can hardly call myself a Demon King anymore."
Fixing her gaze on me, she leveled her spear in a low, lunging stance. Her killing intent sharpened to a razor edge. Once again, the very air began to creak.
"I am growing even now. Do your best to keep up, lest you perish."