Her posture broke mid-air, and she touched down without attempting another strike.
Staggering slightly, she looked down at the arrow buried in her chest. A look of sudden realization washed over her face.
"I see. So this is..."
"It is the very arrow that brought about your death once before," I said, forcing the words out.
The arrow I had fired at her was the same one used during her execution over a decade ago. Before this battle began, I had searched the Valley of the Dead to recover it. To an ordinary person, it was nothing more than a decayed arrow, but to her—the one whose life it had taken—it was an object of profound karmic connection.
The arrow was imbued with the concept of "slaying the Hero." In a magical sense, this acted as a powerful curse. The arrow and the Hero were bound together by the threads of causality. Once loosed, it possessed a certain-hit power, fated to pierce her life once more. It did not matter if her soul was immortal; the karmic connection of death was absolute, manifesting its effect regardless of any spiritual attributes.
I had refrained from using this sure-kill arrow until now because I feared she might still find a way to deflect it. I had waited for the moment when we were both pushed to our absolute limits, the instant when her composure was at its thinnest.
I had saved it for this very moment.
"...I've grown a little tired," she said, finally lowering her sword.
Her fighting spirit had vanished. It seemed she had accepted her defeat. She touched the arrow lightly and offered a faint, gentle smile.
"What a precise countermeasure. Looking back, your foresight saved me countless times. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I tasted it myself..."
She spoke with a sense of nostalgia, likely reminiscing about the days of our journey together. Back then, I had served as her strategist. As we fought the Demon King's Army, I had drafted every plan and operation, and she had executed them with brilliant success. Even when facing the most formidable demons, I never let us enter combat without thoroughly devised measures. In that way, I had ensured the Hero's victory from the shadows.
She looked at me, her voice steady as if she felt no pain from the wound.
"You've grown strong. As your former comrade, I couldn't be prouder."
"It is only because of you. This is a height I could never have reached alone."
The only reason I could ever claim the title of Sage was because she had been by my side. She was the one who had raised me up to be a hero, just as she was the catalyst for my becoming the Demon King. My entire existence was predicated on hers.
I had finally reached an answer because I was able to hear her true heart. This battle had changed me. The conflict that had been smoldering in the depths of my soul was finally extinguished; I had finally surpassed the woman I had spent my life chasing.
I let my sword vanish into mist and steeled my resolve.
"...Lady Claire."
"Yes?"
"Thank you... for everything."
I bowed my head deeply. As memories flashed through my mind, I offered her my final gratitude. I strained every nerve to keep my voice from wavering, clenching my trembling hands with all my strength.
"No, it is I who should thank you. I put quite a burden on your shoulders, didn't I?"
When I looked up, her expression was filled with kindness. Her clear eyes shone with sincerity.
"I entrust the future of the world to you. Do not be bound by the ideals of a dying Hero; walk the path your own will dictates."
"I will... I understand."
I nodded. The battle had been decided by the Demon King's victory. Therefore, I had to see my principles through to the end. That was the responsibility of the victor.
She looked up at the night sky and let out a small, soft breath. When her gaze returned to me, it was filled with genuine joy.
"I was never fond of the idea of being brought back to life, but this wasn't so bad after all."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
I knew she hadn't desired resurrection, so hearing her call it a good thing caught me off guard. Seeing my confusion, she gave me her honest confession.
"Dwight Harvelt—my dear Dwight. I was able to see how much you've grown. I could ask for no greater happiness."
The moment the words left her lips, her eyes welled with tears. She quickly looked down to wipe them away and turned her back to me. Bathed in the silver light of the moon and stars, she spoke one last time.
"I shall watch your journey from the Netherworld. Let us not meet again."
"Of course. I understand."
"I see—"
A moment later, she collapsed onto the wasteland. She did not move again.
Her soul drifted from her body and scattered into the night mist. Having witnessed the Hero's end, I knelt in the dirt and offered a silent prayer.