“Normally, a situation like this would be impossible. The Will of the World would manifest in some form before such an expansion of power could reach a critical state. The fact that it hasn't suggests a malfunction of some kind.”
“...It’s likely because I have defied fate time and time again.”
“Most likely. It seems the distortion that has been accumulating due to your resistance has finally reached its breaking point.”
The Great Spirit’s deduction was surely correct.
In principle, the Will of the World is an irresistible force. If it marks a target for elimination, even high-level entities like Defense Mechanisms are erased.
I alone was the exception, thanks to the Blessing of the Valley of the Dead.
Looking back, numerous upheavals had occurred since I claimed the mantle of the Demon King. I had resolved every crisis through sheer force, but those malfunctions must have been stacking up beneath the surface. Now, they had finally bubbled to the top.
“The Imaginary Savior will continue its systematic destruction of the Demon King's Army,” she warned. “Eventually, it will set its sights on you.”
“I suspect as much.”
I acknowledged her assessment; our conclusions were largely the same.
Though the Imaginary Savior was currently a rampant threat, its massacres were confined to the borderlands. This was likely because the people's attention was focused on the local segments of the Demon King’s Army. Everyone wanted to eliminate the threat right in front of them first. Consequently, rather than targeting me directly, the entity was working through immediate dangers in sequence.
However, as it began to carry the weight of human expectation, the scale of the destruction was destined to grow. Once the strength and deeds of the Imaginary Savior became legend, the people would heap further desires upon it. Namely, my death.
For now, they likely didn’t dare hope for that much. It was a testament to the sheer weight of the current Demon King’s influence. But once the Imaginary Savior was perceived as a power capable of rivaling my own, it would undoubtedly bare its fangs at me.
When that time came, would I truly be able to resist?
Truthfully, I didn't know. I might be cut down without any way to strike back. It was a very real possibility.
Despite this grim prognosis, I remained calm. There was no reason to be shaken. I had suspected as much even before our conversation. Noticing my composure, the Great Spirit sought to confirm my resolve.
“Do you truly intend to fight against Formless Justice?”
“Naturally. I am not so complacent as to be slaughtered in silence.”
If I were the type to accept death, I would never have become Undead in the Valley of the Dead. I’ve always been poor at giving up. If anything, I harbor a stubbornness that borders on the inhuman.
“Physical destruction of this opponent is an absolute impossibility,” she reminded me. “It is fundamentally different from any hero you have faced.”
“I am aware. Even so, I have no intention of surrendering.”
“...It seems you have a plan.”
“I only just conceived it. There are many variables at play, but I believe it will succeed.”
I had formulated a strategy during our talk, and the odds of success seemed fair. It would require careful preparation and extensive testing, but it was a gambit worth taking. With my thoughts in order, I gave the Great Spirit a slight nod.
“Your information was invaluable. You have my thanks.”
“I have only stated the facts as I see them. Whether fate changes now depends entirely on your efforts.”
“Precisely. And I fully intend to overcome it.”
As I spoke, the Great Spirit vanished without a word. She would likely continue her work in the shadows, fulfilling her duties as a Defense Mechanism. I felt a pang of gratitude—despite her own burdens, she had taken the time to offer me her counsel.