The Demon King attacked with relentless ferocity.
Her spearmanship was transcendental. Even while encased in her armor of scales and carapace, she maintained a remarkable swiftness, and every maneuver she made seemed calculated to neutralize my swordsmanship.
The spear’s power was in a league of its own. Imbued with the power of a Holy Sword, even a glancing blow would begin to purify my form. That she could unleash such force with her peerless technique made her a most formidable opponent.
A swarm of light-chains snaked through every opening, attacking from all sides. Unlike those used by the Saint, these did not track me automatically; because the Demon King was controlling them with her own will, she wove them together with unpredictable, phantasmagoric fluidity.
The onslaught had already connected several times. My body was battered; without the miasma reinforcing my frame, my limbs would have long since been severed. Had I been flesh and blood, I would have died long ago.
(How ironic. Our roles have been reversed.)
The Demon King standing before me was cornering me by making full use of holy power. I, meanwhile, countered her with the depths of my wicked miasma. I couldn't help but feel a sense of fate in this reversal.
The Demon King’s martial prowess had surged far beyond what it had been a decade ago. Even without the power of the Holy Sword or the chains of light, she clearly surpassed her living self. If she were the same as she was back then, I would have defeated her already.
(It is likely due to the ritual used for her resurrection.)
I reached that conclusion based on the battle thus far. This Demon King had been granted a new reason for being by Barulk: the concept of "the one who defeats the Demon King." It was a trait extracted from the ashes, effectively making her the heir to the mission of the current Hero and the Saint.
She was a Demon King of old, yet she now possessed the essence of a hero. As a result, her power had been significantly boosted to match my own—reaching a realm that a mere Demon King could never attain.
"What’s the matter? I know you have more than this!"
The Demon King unleashed a non-stop flurry of attacks. Her spear swung freely in every direction. I parried the chains of light flying from my blind spots with magic. If I didn't keep my awareness focused everywhere at once, I would be killed in an instant. Such was the ferocity of her assault.
Honing my focus to its absolute limit, I did nothing but drive the keepsake sword forward. After exchanging hundreds of blows in that manner, the Demon King suddenly let out a small sigh.
She whispered in a low voice, "...I wonder... what would the Hero think if she could see you like this?"
"—!"
Her murmur was a blow I could not simply ignore. It was a thought I had fought to keep buried. Although I immediately tried to cast it aside, my movements faltered by a mere hair’s breadth.
The Demon King did not miss such a fluctuation.
"A gap."
Her spear lunged forward, aimed squarely at my right eye socket. Half of my vision was instantly dyed in darkness. A fierce pain scorched the back of my head. The rushing chains of light wound around me, pinning my limbs, and white smoke rose from where they touched. The agony of purification began to corrode my arms and legs.
Her prey secured, the Demon King tapped my shoulder with her spear and looked down at me. She let out a long, weary sigh.
"How soft. Even though you have become an immortal, it seems you have not overcome your weakness of heart."
"......"
I could not refute her. I was painfully aware of my own frailty. Even though I should have been beyond hesitation, my movements slowed at the most crucial moment. It was a failure I found uncontrollably vexing.
"It is the end. I shall have the title of Demon King returned to me."
The Demon King readied her spear, intending to pierce my soul. I would likely perish in an instant, without any further suffering.
(—But that would be problematic.)
I drew back the miasma within me. The purification from the light-chains accelerated, causing the bound areas to rot away all at once. As my limbs crumbled, I slipped free from the restraints.
In the corner of my vision, the keepsake sword fell toward the earth. I followed, collapsing toward the ground.
"Wha—!"
The Demon King was astonished, yet she did not check her attack. The spear was closing in on my face. Releasing my miasma, I caused it to erupt as black smoke from the stumps of my lost limbs, fashioning them into pseudo-limbs. They were brittle, but they only needed to hold for this single instant.
I grabbed the sword with one hand and kicked off the ground. Timed to her thrust, I twisted my torso back. The spearhead, pulsing with holy power, pulverized both my upper and lower jaws. It proceeded to shave away my cervical vertebrae and my collarbone. My ribs were smashed one after another; from the impact, my empty arm and hip bone were dislocated and sent flying.
However, that was as far as it went.
Due to my last-second evasion, the thrust failed to finish me. Weathering the blow, I mustered every drop of my remaining strength to launch a counterattack. Stepping forward in a low, leaning posture, I swung the keepsake sword upward toward the Demon King's neck.
"You...!"
The Demon King raised her shield of scales and carapace. The blade bit into it, scattering sparks as it shaved the shield's surface. Mid-swing, the tip of the blade bounced upward as the shield altered its trajectory.
The keepsake sword went wide, instead shearing off one of the horns protruding from her helm. It missed her neck entirely, swinging through the air without cutting anything else.
My miasma limbs reached their limit and vanished, and I fell forward. The severed horn rolled across the ground with a clatter. Before long, it was covered in cracks and shattered into pieces. That was the only result of my desperate attack.
Looking up, I saw the Demon King holding her spear aloft. She stood tall, looking down at me.
"How close. That last one sent a chill down my spine. Truly what I would expect from the Sage who saved the world."
Certain of her victory, the Demon King prepared to drive her spear down. Then, without warning, she went into a violent convulsion. Her arm shook so forcefully that the spear missed, piercing the ground beside me instead.
"Gu...!"
The scales and carapace armor the Demon King wore began to peel off and evaporate. Her true face, distorted in pain, was revealed. Her spear likewise crumbled, losing its form.
"......"
I used wind magic without an incantation, blowing her away with a sudden gust. The Demon King rolled across the ground, unable even to break her fall. Attempting to get up, she coughed violently, vomiting a viscous black liquid.
While she agonized, I regenerated my miasma limbs, making them more robust this time. In appearance, they were now largely indistinguishable from bone. I stood up, though every movement caused something within me to snap or break. I was covered in wounds; this body would not last much longer.
I looked down at the fallen Demon King. she returned a dark, hollow gaze.
"You... what did you... do...?"
"I simply struck a structural weakness," I answered. My jaw was ruined, but I could still force the words out.
A look of realization dawned on her face. "No... way...!"
"The horn I severed was the catalyst for your resurrection. Since you have lost it, the ritual inevitably collapses. It was a weakness you didn't have when you were alive."
I had been certain she would defend against my full-force slash. She was too skilled an opponent for it to be otherwise. Even with the element of surprise, I knew a direct hit was unlikely. Therefore, I had struck while anticipating that she would divert the blade. The Demon King had not betrayed those expectations; she had guided my blade toward her own weakness.
(However, it was a feat I could not have accomplished alone.)
The Demon King knew that person's swordsmanship, but I knew it as well. Within me resided her years of combat experience. Thus, I could intuitively understand exactly how the Demon King would use her spear.
I picked up the keepsake sword and gripped the hilt firmly. I still had enough strength for this.
I was the one who had prevailed in this life-and-death struggle. All that remained was to bring down the curtain. With the keepsake sword held firm, I began my approach toward the Demon King.