As she lay there, the Demon King’s physical form began to disintegrate.
It was because she had lost her horn, the catalyst for her resurrection. Having lost the anchor that tethered her to this world, she was already returning to the realm of the dead.
Sensing the change within herself, the Demon King let out a self-deprecating laugh.
"I have lost... once more... How utterly... shameful..."
I stopped a short distance away and posed a question to her.
"If you had succeeded in killing me, what would you have done with the world that followed?"
"...The restoration of the Demons. It was the same ten years ago... We have always been oppressed... Humans, reigning as the dominant species, bring nothing but calamity. That is why I had to... eliminate them..."
"A race that brings calamity, is it?"
I muttered the words, letting them sink in. The Demon King’s claim was not entirely wrong. After all, the current me was a product of the choices made by the people. I had no intention of shifting the blame onto them, but they were certainly the catalyst for my transformation.
"History has proven... that humans are fools... I intended to wipe the slate of human history clean... and from then on, carve a new history for the Demons..."
The Demon King bared her true heart. I hadn’t known she harbored such convictions. In my previous life, we had fought and ended it all without ever speaking like this.
She fixed a hollow gaze on me, words spilling from her blood-slicked mouth.
"Current Demon King... kill me. It is the victor's privilege... Surpass my corpse and move forward."
"...I see. Very well."
I nodded and raised my sword. This Keepsake Sword was a fatal weakness for her. The Previous Demon King, the current Hero, and the Saint—all three shared one thing in common: they had all met their end by this blade.
Because she was a being manifested from the Factors of the Three, she was inherently vulnerable to this sword’s edge. It was, in essence, a conceptual weakness. Any wound inflicted by it could not be easily regenerated, and the destruction of her brain or heart would mean certain death, regardless of her immense vitality.
Left alone, the Demon King would eventually vanish as her catalyst failed, but there was no telling what she might do in her final moments. I had to deliver the killing blow here.
"The world you will weave, hm...?" she murmured deliriously.
Her eyes were turned toward the sky. She wasn't looking at me.
"What of it, so suddenly?"
"No... I simply found myself wanting to see how it ends... How pathetic of me... to harbor regrets at this final hour. Truly... miserable..."
The Demon King gave a troubled smile. She looked so frail now, a stark contrast to the power she had displayed moments ago. Perhaps she had found some measure of peace as death approached.
I wondered if this was her true personality. A Demon King is an existence that can never show weakness. One must suppress their true feelings and act with cold ruthlessness. It was a reality I felt keenly every single day.
"Sage Dwight, was it...? I shall be cheering for you... from the bottom of the Netherworld..."
With those words, the Demon King closed her eyes. Her expression was peaceful.
"O predecessor... sleep in peace."
I spoke quietly and brought the sword straight down. The blade pierced her heart, and her entire body hardened like cold ceramic before crumbling away. All that remained was a heap of ash.
Every trace of her was gone. A sudden gust of wind caught the pile of ash, scattering it into the air.
I pulled my sword from the ground. As I did, a groan reached my ears from a short distance away. I turned toward the sound.
"Guoo... agaga... giiii..."
Barulk was struggling to stand, letting out guttural cries. Drenched in blood, his breathing was ragged and forced.
So, he was still alive. I had thought him dead for sure, but he had somehow endured. The wound from the Demon King's Spear had closed, and the bleeding had stopped. He appeared to possess some form of regenerative power.
I approached him, sword in hand.
"Guu...!"
Barulk glared at me with a hideous expression. He fumbled frantically in his clothes and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a purple liquid.
Was that the Magical Beast Drug?
I guessed the contents immediately. Cornered, Barulk was prepared to use his final trump card. The man was nothing if not persistent. Even with the Demon King defeated, he hadn't given up on killing me.
He unsealed the vial and downed the liquid without a second thought. Grimacing as he swallowed, he threw the empty bottle aside and glared at me.
"DWIGHTTTTTT!"
His scream warped into a low, distorted roar. His slender frame bloated unnaturally, his skin shifting to a sickly green. His clothes, unable to contain his expanding muscles, burst apart. Wings tore through his back, and a tail whipped out behind him.
"UGOOAAAAAAAA!"
Horns pierced through the skin of his forehead. When he opened his mouth, it was filled with rows of jagged fangs. His magic power spiked, surging to a level far beyond anything he had possessed before. In the blink of an eye, the human named Barulk had transformed into a creature that was neither Demon nor Magical Beast, but something altogether more monstrous.
"I won't... forgive you! Not you...!"
Barulk compressed his magic into his arms. He squared his fists and lunged at me, his intent to kill radiating in waves.
I swung the Keepsake Sword twice, severing both of his fists in a single motion. The heavy thud of his hands hitting the dirt echoed in the silence.
"GUOOOOOOO!?"
Blood sprayed as Barulk shrieked. As his body lurched backward, I slashed his knees. I reversed the blade and tore through his thighs and flanks. His tendons severed, Barulk collapsed. Even then, he lunged forward, trying to sink his teeth into me.
With a single flash of the blade, I took his eyes. Leaving him to writhe in agony, I unleashed a flurry of strikes. There was no mercy in my movements. I methodically stripped away every ounce of his ability to resist.
"Giii... guu..."
Barulk groaned, now completely at my mercy. His arms hung limp and useless, and his wings and tail had been hacked away. Dark, turgid blood poured from his wounds, staining the earth.
It was over. The Magical Beast Drug had been nothing more than a final, desperate struggle. He had cost me some effort, but it didn't look like he had any more tricks up his sleeve. Just as I prepared to finish him, Barulk screamed.
"W-wait! Stop! Let's... make a d-deal!"
"............"
I halted my sword. Barulk, his voice warped and strange, managed a grin with his monstrous face.
"I... I can resurrect the Hero! I brought back the Demon King, didn't I? You can... trust me!"
The words tumbled out of him—a pathetic plea for his life. It was a trite tactic, but a logical one. He was trying to buy time by using the one name he knew would pique my interest.
It wasn't a bad move, but...
I looked down at him, unresponsive. He swallowed hard and raised his voice even further.
"Ah, Dwight! Don't you want to see her again? I know you do! You're desperate to see the Hero! So... be smart about this—"
"I refuse."
I swung the Keepsake Sword. Barulk’s head left his shoulders and spun through the air before hitting the ground. A fountain of crimson erupted from his neck as his torso collapsed, his internal magic dissipating into a mist.
Stepping back to avoid the blood, I lowered my sword. There were no more hostile presences nearby. I flicked the blood from the blade and slid it quietly back into its sheath.
And so, I brought this long string of chaos to a final close.