I manipulated the magic power within my body, sharpening my focus.
I shifted my consciousness into a state meant for battle.
Before me, she wore a serene smile.
"You look prepared. It is a fine mindset. Had you been as you were when you were alive, you surely would have hesitated. You would have sought a way to avoid fighting me."
"I cannot deny that."
When I was human, I possessed a fair amount of softness. I have not completely cast it off even now, but it was far more prominent back then. I likely would have found a situation like this unbearable, seeking a resolution through dialogue instead.
Now that I am the Demon King, I can accept the reality of the situation with cold clarity. It isn't that I have lost my heart; rather, I have become capable of prioritizing my sense of purpose over my personal feelings.
The days since my transformation into an undead have granted me the mental strength to press forward, even through the haze of doubt.
"I can feel the weight of your experience through your sword," she said with a fleeting, fragile expression. "You have clearly overcome numerous hardships and saved the world many times over. As your former comrade, I am proud."
She had likely relived my journey as the Demon King. Taken at face value, her words were filled with kindness, but the reality was far different. She did not fully affirm my path. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
Her eyes betrayed a resolute sternness. There were parts of me she could never condone. I didn't need to dwell on specific deeds; my hands were already stained with an unthinkable amount of blood.
"Take up your weapon. Let us settle this here."
"Yes."
I nodded and manifested a jet-black sword. Forged from a blend of magic power and miasma, it was a perfect replica of the blade she held. Having swung that sword countless times myself, imitating the form was effortless.
As if by silent agreement, we raised our blades in unison. A fair amount of distance still separated us, but physical distance was a triviality. For warriors such as us, that gap could be closed in the blink of an eye.
"A strange sensation. It feels as though I am facing a mirror," she murmured, her voice tinged with curiosity.
The swordplay I utilized was a style borrowed from her and no one else. It was only natural that our stances were identical. I had spent my life watching her from the side or from behind. Never in my living years did I imagine I would face her head-on.
To the human I once was, this situation would have been nothing short of a nightmare.
A heavy silence settled over the field. Before making her move, she spoke one more time.
"Dwight."
"What is it?"
"Give me your all. There is no need for either of us to hold back," she said, her voice firm and brooking no argument.
Understanding her intent, I immediately invoked my magic.
I teleported millions of undead to the battlefield. This was the surplus force I had kept on standby throughout the Demon King’s Domain. They formed a perimeter around us—a literal wall of bone and rotting flesh. They stood like silent spectators at a grand arena.
Surveying the hellish vista, she seemed impressed.
"As expected of the Sage. Your skill remains... no, it seems you have further improved your craft."
Her gaze returned to me. The air grew even more stifling, and a paralyzing tension thrummed through my body. I suppressed it with sheer willpower.
Radiating ambition, she questioned me.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, I am fully prepared."
I tightened my grip on the hilt. She gave a small nod and, having waited for the perfect moment, made her declaration.
"Then, let us begin."