(She’s strong. Stronger than I imagined.)
I groaned inwardly as I desperately parried her relentless attacks.
Even I had to admit that I had gained power incomparable to my days as a human. Since becoming the Demon King, I had overcome countless formidable foes, reaching a level where I could trample even the beasts that crawled Outside the World.
Yet, despite the entity I had become, she was on the verge of surpassing me. She had seized the advantage, and at this rate, she would soon overwhelm me entirely.
She had even performed the extraordinary feat of dispelling my miasma with nothing but a sword strike. Ordinarily, cutting through miasma would be a futile gesture; it should have simply eroded her blade and her arm alike. Instead, the miasma had simply vanished.
Logic had been cast aside in favor of an impossible result. The Will of the World embedded within her was likely manifesting its unique traits, elevating the Hero’s swordplay into the Absurd Realm.
I cast Physical Enhancement upon myself and accelerated my thought processes, struggling to weather her fierce onslaught. I attempted to weave magical counterattacks into the fray, but each one was severed and neutralized before it could manifest. Her instincts were abnormal; she countered my spells before they could even take form.
(This is grueling...)
A thrust lunged at me from a sharp angle. I managed to deflect the strike, but the tip of her blade grazed the bone of my neck. I only avoided decapitation by throwing myself backward with everything I had.
In that split second, she released one hand from her hilt and gripped the scabbard at her waist. Realizing her intent, I reflexively attempted to use Teleportation. But her scabbard flashed out with a speed that exceeded even a Chantless spell.
The blunt impact of the scabbard shattered my wrist, forcing me to drop my sword. I looked up, and she was already there, her blade held high.
(—Too fast.)
The sword swept down, cleaving me vertically through the skull. Darkness swallowed my vision. In the next instant, I was watching her from a distance.
I silently looked down at my body. The rot clinging to my bones was burning away, and the bones themselves were turning a charred black. Destroyed by that single strike, I had resurrected into the body of one of the Undead standing on the perimeter of our duel.
Through the falling rain, she stared at me.
"Shall we continue?" she asked.
"...Naturally," I replied. I stepped forward, manifesting a new sword in my hand.
In a comparison between our current selves, I still held one distinct advantage: the ability to resurrect. She was a mere human. Though her soul was immortal and capable of regeneration, her physical body was still susceptible to death.
I, however, had an endless supply of bodies at my disposal. I had no reason to fear death. It was time to show her a fight befitting an Undead.