CHAPTER FOUR

The Demon Lord Does Battle

Let us rewind time to just as Veltol was going out for his package.

Machina was preparing dinner at home. Her cutting board had all the ingredients she’d bought earlier, and her virtual retinal display had a cooking app open to a recipe that used each ingredient.

“I’ll make some curry tonight.”

The most important ingredient of all is love—so said the app whenever you booted it up.

And love had to be transmitted verbally. She fired herself up by saying the name of tonight’s dish out loud.

Machina opened the music app, and her Familia started playing a song directly into her brain. She hummed merrily to the tune.

“I have to say, my diet has truly come a long way from what it once was.”

Machina thought back on the past. When the wars and the Immortal Hunt and poverty were at their peak, it wasn’t rare for her to go an entire month without eating. Even after the wars, she had no stable income and no place to call home—she always had to cut down on food expenses. There was a period of time when she had to line up early in the morning for some insipid soy rations, a leftover surplus from wartime.

“Each city had their own specialties. Abashiri’s was the best… Though I think I ate a lot of Sendai rations, too.”

Machina reminisced about the soy rations and their sickening color that came from the food-grade cryoprotectant mixed in. Abashiri’s rations had just a semblance of flavoring, which made her reexamine exactly what counted as food. Now, that was only a pleasant memory.

Their diet had gotten much more luxurious thanks to Veltol’s earnings as a streamer.

And it wasn’t just a matter of luxuries—his mere presence was enough to bring color back to her life. Although she couldn’t tell whether this was due to the Demon Lord’s inherent charisma or a change in her own heart.

“All right, let’s do this!”

Just as Machina started putting on an apron, the cheap doorbell rang.

“Who could that be?”

Not Veltol. The door was locked with magic, and he had no reason to ring the bell. It couldn’t be Takahashi, either, since she always let Machina know beforehand when she was coming over.

Maybe a delivery? Some sort of proselytizer? A salesperson? Questions filled Machina’s head as she opened the door.

And that’s where she found the one person she was least expecting.

“Hello there, Machina. It’s been a long time.”

It was the CEO of IHMI, former member of the Six Dark Peers, traitor to immortalkind, and regicidal maniac: Marcus.

“—!”

She reflexively moved as soon as she saw him. There was no need to talk to the traitor and rebel. All surprise instantly turned to rage. The characteristic trait of the ignia people showed on her body. Her initialized mana ran through her hair and eyes, lighting them up like a bonfire of burning, vivid crimson, and the surrounding aether glowed like blazing sparks.

“Phoenix Blaze!”

That proclamation was her greeting.

She no longer thought of him as a fellow; she didn’t hesitate.

The Familia’s quantum processor reverse engineered the construction and expansion from the maginom’s proclamation.

Fire lit up at the tips of her extended hand’s fingers, immediately forming a line of flames that burned everything in front of her, blowing the housing complex’s guardrails away.

The words security deposit flashed through her mind, but she quickly shook them off.

With a wave of her hand, Machina was engulfed head to toe in flames that became the black armor made from her mana. It was armament forged from her soul, summoned in the same way as Veltol’s.

The aether reacted to the mana emitted by the armor, shining like the ifrista, a black stone with flames at its core, and a tiara of flames appeared on her head.

Lovely yet stern—such was the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze’s battle armor.

Machina took a step out the entrance into the hallway.

Marcus was standing on the empty parking lot outside the tofu apartments. He didn’t seem the least bit injured. Although, even if he had received the attack directly, mere flames weren’t enough to kill an immortal.

Machina jumped down to the parking lot.

The phoenix and the vampire stood facing each other—true crimson versus deep crimson.

“Marcus…!”

Machina glared at him, her scarlet eyes burning with wrath. Meanwhile, Marcus’s thin, collected smile stayed glued to his face.

“Not even a hello? My, how violent you’ve become. You used to be such a well-mannered young lady, remember?”

“Silence. You came to destroy me, yes? You betrayed the immortals; you betrayed our king! Even the most painful death won’t be punishment enough.”

Machina lowered her body like a beast aiming for its prey, then leaped. The ground exploded from the sheer force, while she kept on accelerating thanks to her mana-strengthened muscles.

Her Familia kept showing her message after message of it blocking attacks through the aethernet. Aetherhack warfare was already underway, and she wasn’t skilled in such combat. She could only defend herself, unable to put any resources into countering.

Machina cut connection to the aethernet, switching to standalone mode. She wasn’t backed up to the aethernet in the first place, so she didn’t have any need to stay connected.

Machina unleashed a swift attack. Marcus could take advantage of even the slightest bloodshed, so she couldn’t let this turn into a battle of attrition. She had to defeat him before he had a chance to react.

“Dragon Slasher!” Machina activated her magic while accelerating.

A magic circle expanded at Marcus’s feet, followed by pillars of fire that billowed sky-high. Marcus retreated before he could be engulfed by the flames.

“Bloodsword.”

Bloodied aether took the shape of thirteen swords.

“Moonlit Blade of Fire!”

Another thirteen swords emerged, this time from flaming aether.

The blades appeared simultaneously and clashed. A burst of fire erupted throughout the parking lot.

“Well done, Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze! It seems we are equally matched in magical warfare!”

Machina paid no mind to his frivolous chitchat. She slipped through the flames and reached her arm out to touch him.

“Burst, Safflower!”

An explosion erupted from Machina’s palm. It was supposed to blow up his entire upper body, Familia and all, yet it barely managed to incinerate his arm.

“That was close. Bloodrain.”

Marcus leaped backward with his remaining arm lifted up high, and he activated his magic.

It rained blood across a wide area, although the attack itself was basically harmless.

No…!

However, Machina knew this was preparation for a larger attack.

“Flame Shield Blossom!”

“Blood Bomb.”

They activated their respective magics almost simultaneously.

A fire barrier surrounded Machina, while Marcus made the blood rain around them explode.

“Ngh…! My house…!”

The flames engulfed the vicinity, destroying not only Machina’s house but the entire complex. All sorts of questions flashed through her mind—the safety of her neighbors, that she’d have to move earlier than planned, what had happened to her furniture, how she would even begin to explain this to the landlord and Veltol—but she shook them all off.

She couldn’t see through the smoke. The high density of mana had the aether in chaos, and she couldn’t scan the surroundings with her VRD.

While she was thinking what to do next…

“Dragon Blade: Chidori.”

…she heard that from above.

She looked up and found a woman in a suit—Kinohara—jumping down from a rooftop. She held her sheathed katana tight, aiming right at Machina’s neck. However…

“Flying Haze!”

…just as the blade was leaving its sheath, Machina disappeared.

“…?!”

Kinohara opened her eyes wide in shock. Machina had instantaneously moved above her head.

“I didn’t think for a second that the Duke of the Bloody Arts had come alone. I knew he’d have someone ready to ambush me, and it seems I was right.”

She managed to counter the surprise attack.

“Turn to ash!”

Machina reached out to roast Kinohara with her magic, but before it activated…

“Code Breaker.”

…Marcus’s brief proclamation shut down her Familia.

“What?!”

Everything on her VRD had been disabled; nothing was responding.

Kinohara saw an opening from Machina’s confusion and stabbed her heart.

“Argh…!”

Machina fell backward, pinned to the ground.

“Urgh!”

She grabbed the blade to try and get it off, but that did nothing but cut her hands.

Her Familia was still shut down.

“Director, please stop playing around…,” Kinohara grumbled as Marcus leisurely approached from within the smoke. “Had you allowed me to attack from the very beginning, then we would have wrapped this up much more quickly and tidily… I almost died back there.”

“Ha-ha-ha! Oh, so sorry. I couldn’t help myself from toying with her.”

“Mar…cus…”

His face broke into a nasty smirk as he heard Machina’s voice.

“Aaah… Aaaaaah!! Machinaaa, I never found you alluring, yet…seeing you down prostrated so pathetically on the ground is so, sooo…delightful…”

Marcus put a hand to his cheek as he let out a sigh of disgusting ecstasy.

“What…did you just…do?”

“Why, I simply shut down your Familia,” he answered as though it was obvious.

“You shut it down? But my Familia was on standalone mode… How could you even hack it when it was offline…?”

“My Familia’s not quite like others. It’s a prototype currently in development at our company. We call it the Familia Advance. I used it to bypass your backdoor.”

“Backdoor…?”

“The Familia’s base technic has a built-in backdoor. As director of IHMI, I can forcibly shut down any device made by my company. No one using a modern Familia can defeat me, nor can anyone without a Familia. You see what I’m getting at? I am the strongest person in the whole modern world.”

“That’s… Why would you…?”

“Because I will become the true Demon Lord.”

“What—?”

“Taking over the world through military force is so old-fashioned. Now you can conquer it by simply controlling information and technology…but that would be too boring. I need to become the absolute ruler—I must become the Demon Lord. Not Veltol. Me.”

Marcus was looking at Machina like she was an insect. It was a cold, derisive stare.

He approached her.

“Now then, Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze. I’ll have you become nourishment for this city.”

Machina lost consciousness after that.

Veltol had a bad feeling about the situation. He and Takahashi ran off.

Machina’s house wasn’t too far away from Ejyu’s apartment.

Veltol could see the smoke blowing from the tofu houses’ direction, but he tried not to think about it. He might stop running if he did.

What is this feeling?

The Demon Lord didn’t realize he was feeling more and more anxious the closer he got.

Machina’s home was destroyed. And not only hers. All surrounding houses and buildings were devastated.

There was a crowd of onlookers around the City Guard caution tape prohibiting entry. Veltol pushed his way through.

She still wasn’t answering.

His heart was beating faster the closer he got.

“Machina…”

Finally, Veltol realized his feelings. He realized as soon as he stopped.

Machina had become such an enormous part of his life. He already knew she was an irreplaceable and important vassal, but this was no matter between king and retainer. In just three months, his feelings toward her had evolved into something more.

This might have been the first time in his life he had felt this way about someone. And it was what made him stop then.

“Velly, you okay?”

“Haaahhh…” He heaved a sigh. “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Veltol rid his mind of any unnecessary thoughts. What he needed in this moment wasn’t anxiety or grief—he had to be calm in order to decide what to do next.

He approached one of the onlookers, a dwarf.

“Excuse me, could you tell me what happened here?” he asked.

“Hmm? No idea, man. I just heard an explosion, and the next thing I knew, this is what the place looked like.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Then Takahashi spoke up. “Velly, it’s all over the news: explosion in Shinjuku residential district. Seems they don’t know if it was an accident… There’s a lot of conflicting reports.”

“If only we could locate Machina…”

Machina wasn’t answering any Familia calls. They had no idea if she’d cut the aethernet connection or if she wasn’t able to answer for other reasons.

“Don’t worry,” said Takahashi. “I got this.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ve got eyes all over the city,” Takahashi answered as she pointed at the sky.

Veltol understood what she meant as soon as he saw what was flying overhead.

“The drones?!”

She nodded.

There were countless delivery drones in Shinjuku, and they all had security cameras. Locating Machina wouldn’t be hard if Takahashi could get their video data.

“But how are you going to access them?”

“Hee-hee-hee… Velly, don’t tell me you’ve learned nothing after all our time together.”

“…Of course—hacking!”

“Yep. There aren’t many security drones in Outer Shinjuku, but there’s plenty of delivery ones. And they, too, have cameras. We’ll use those.”

They left the area and headed to an empty alleyway. It was narrow and covered, so security drones couldn’t spot them.

Takahashi took a tablet with a bunny skull sticker out from her jacket’s inner pocket, put it on an old wooden crate, and booted up its holojector. She then took a U-shaped dongle and plugged it into her Familia’s socket. Finally, she connected the other end of the dongle to the tablet.

“All right, time to get serious!”

She put on her visual enhancement device—her trusty pair of sunglasses.

A 3D keyboard was projected in the air, and a telepathic keyboard also appeared in her Familia.

She then proceeded to hijack a delivery drone via the aethernet.

“Boot up Laughing Man.” She initialized the visual hacking program on her Familia through voice recognition.

Takahashi began operating, updating, and overwriting the technic fluctuation algorithm in the drone’s logic barrier in real time. Windows of all sizes hurriedly opened and closed one after the other. Once she broke through the barrier, Takahashi infiltrated the system and installed a virus, which gave the infected drone access to its company’s server before finally displaying video data on the holojector.

As the virus went to work, Takahashi simultaneously hijacked other companies’ drones and displayed more and more video feeds. Her Familia’s artificial spirit automatically closed any feeds that showed footage outside the immediate proximity of Machina’s house.

“There it is!”

Takahashi found the moment of the explosion from the pile of visual data.

“So the house was the epicenter, as I thought…,” said Veltol.

“Yeah… Let’s check out the before and after.”

She calculated the exact time of the explosion and further refined the data. Then a man appeared on-screen.

“Marcus?!” Veltol shouted.

The video showed Marcus and Kinohara going up the stairs to Machina’s house.

“The immortal behind the Immortal Hunt… I’d guessed he was involved in the Immortal Furnace’s construction, and it looks like I was right,” said Takahashi. “We’ve got our villain. But to think the CEO himself would come for Machina… Talk about thorough.”

“He must have concluded he needed to come here himself to fight one of the Six Dark Peers. The woman with him must be that secretary. Marcus, that son of a bitch… How did he even find Machina…? She wasn’t on the list.”

“Hang on, lemme connect the feeds.”

Takahashi edited the videos to form a timeline of events from different angles. They saw the moment Machina’s door exploded and the battle that took place afterward, although not in detail—the drones were likely destroyed in the aftermath. They did, however, see Machina being captured.

“Looks like they drove her to a restricted area inside the aether reactor,” said Takahashi. “They’re planning on feeding her to the Furnace.”

“Got it. I’ll go—”

“Wait. I get that you want to head there right now, but it’s too reckless for you to go alone.”

“…”

“The reactor’s in the most crucial section of Shinjuku, so it’s obviously heavily guarded by MGs. You can’t even get a drone in there. And I’ll bet security’s even tighter right now.”

Veltol understood what she was trying to say, but his desire to go help Machina was stronger.

“I can get you there, but I can’t help in battle. And there’s no one else I know who could measure up to you… Plus, you just got to this world a little while ago…”

“True, I don’t have many acquaintances in this modern age…even counting those who wouldn’t be of much help in battle…”

“Wh-what should we do? Machina’s gonna…” Takahashi anxiously scratched her head.

They had no way to get in contact with the other immortals, and the only ones Veltol knew in this age were Marcus and Machina, both already involved. It was anyone’s guess whether any others were safe.

“None of my old acquaintances can…”

Then, he realized.

“No—there is one person.”

His face came to mind. He knew just one of them. He had no idea if this person would be willing to help; in fact, it was more likely they wouldn’t. But he still had hope.

Veltol finally reached him with bated breath.

Takahashi stayed put, looking for a way inside the reactor.

He hadn’t even called him, but he knew he would be there. In a back alley where vagabonds slept, away from the eyes of society.

Veltol called the man’s name:

“Gram…”

The Hero Gram. The Demon Lord Veltol’s fated enemy and the only person he could rely on for battle in the current world.

Gram was sitting on the filthy ground, wearing a grubby hood and holding his rusty sword.

“Why are you here? I won’t answer any more of your questions,” he said coldly.

Veltol put his knees on the ground and lowered his head.

“Gram, I’m swallowing my pride to ask you this…” He pleaded with his head bowed all the way to the ground. “Could you please…help me?”

Veltol implored as earnestly as he could. Like a sinner repenting.

He told him all of it: about Marcus, the Immortal Furnace, Machina’s kidnapping, that he had no way to save her. He hid nothing.

“I beg you, Gram. I don’t have the power to save her alone. You’re the only one I can turn to. Please, help me…”

He showed the utmost sincerity he could muster.

“…Right.” Gram glared at him from beneath the hood. His eyes were full of contempt. “So that’s why you’re asking me for help, Veltol.”

Gram slowly stood up and looked down on the Demon Lord.

“…”

“Darklings killed my family, my friends, and countless other innocent people, but you, their king, want me to help save an immortal.”

“…”

“You spread war wherever you went, trampled over so many lives—so many nations. And now that the shoe’s on the other foot, you’re so quick to bow your head and beg for help? You’re pathetic.”

“…”

Veltol didn’t answer. He just kept his head low.

“Your vanity knows no bounds.” Gram sounded disgusted. “Look, I certainly can’t tolerate a society built upon the corpses of the innocent, even if those innocents are immortals. But the aether reactor is literally this city’s core. Even if what you said about the Immortal Furnace is true, you shouldn’t go barging into a fight just to serve your personal agenda. This isn’t a problem that needs solving because of your own ego. Shinjuku might perish if the Furnace stops.”

There was anger in his words. Five hundred years’ worth of ire.

“You mean to destroy this city so egoistically of your own accord? Strip its inhabitants of their happiness? Kill everyone else just to save one person?! Answer me… Answer me, Veltol!”

“Kill everyone else just to save one person? I didn’t expect you to say something so foolish, Hero.” Veltol lifted his head and glared back at Gram. “Don’t take me for some dullard. Isn’t it obvious? I will not only save Machina, but I will solve this city’s problems, too. That’s right. I won’t choose one over the other. I’ll take care of both.”

After all…

“…I am the Demon Lord Veltol, the one who rules over all of creation.”

He wasn’t weighing one person’s life against numerous others. He would take the entire scale. That’s the kind of demon lord Veltol was.

That was the worst possible answer he could give the Hero, and he knew it. But he nonetheless said it, for it was the truth.

“And yet…I…have nothing now. No kingdom, no vassals, no power. I can only bow my head before my former enemy like this. I am weak.”

“Veltol…”

“So I beseech you, Hero Gram… Join me!”

He was no longer begging—that was an order. The Demon Lord gave the Hero an order.

Gram’s eyes lit up at the Demon Lord’s words.

“You’ll…still call me the Hero?” he whispered so low it was more like he simply moved his lips. He then heaved a deep, deep sigh. “I guess I still want to stay a hero for as long as I can… All right, I accept.”

“…Thank you.”

“But don’t misunderstand, Veltol. I’m not helping you. And this doesn’t mean I forgive you, either. I’m only lending a hand to rescue a kidnapped woman. I have to answer the pleas of the weak and reach out when asked for salvation. And that’s because I…” Gram extended his hand. “…am the Hero.”

“…I never would’ve thought Hero and Demon Lord would join forces like this.”

“Me neither.”

And so, Veltol took his hand.

“I found a way into the reactor’s depths without going through the restricted area.”

After they formed their alliance, Veltol told Gram how to let his Familia receive Takahashi’s transmissions. It wasn’t long before they received a call from her.

Takahashi was waiting on the ground far away from the reactor, as Veltol had instructed.

The way into the lower depths that she had told them about was through the dungeon of the underground cathedral of Nelldor, at the former Shinjuku Station.

The Demon Lord and the Hero were standing before the station’s iron doors—the same ones Veltol crossed with Machina when he first came to the city.

The sky was already dark, only the bright aether neon illuminating the nightscape.

“Will we really get there through here?” Veltol asked Takahashi.

“But even so, the problem now is how we will reach our destination from here… I doubt we’ve got enough time to complete a full dungeon…”

“No, it’s not your fault. You did very well, Takahashi. Haaah… Truly, I’m sorry. I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Gram awkwardly observed their conversation.

“Never would’ve imagined seeing you lose your cool like that, Veltol. Sure, time is of the essence, but don’t go around making trouble for young ladies. I guess I should’ve expected as much from you, though.”

“I can say nothing in my defense…”

Veltol felt even worse at Gram’s wry comment.

“It’s not like clearing a dungeon takes that much time in the first place,” Gram added.

“What did you just say?”

“Hmm? Oh, right. You were always on the development side of things. Of course you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“I’m the Hero, which means I’m on the completion side. And your dungeons weren’t the only ones I cleared, by the way. I’m pretty much a pro at this,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Automap!”

Rays of light ran through the ground as he dictated the maginom.

“What sort of magic did you just use?” Veltol demanded.

“This right here.” Gram held out his right hand, above which was projected a three-dimensional map in the aether. “You run mana across a labyrinth’s walls and floor to create a map of it. It’s my own original magic I developed during my adventures.”

“What?” Veltol scowled. “You were an adventurer before a hero?”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you no pride as an adventurer?”

“What?!” Gram’s shoulders twitched. “Who needs pride? Better to just clear those pesky mazes as soon as possible.”

That made the Demon Lord lose his temper.

“You absolute cretin! Have you ever considered the creator’s feelings?! All that time and effort spent building passageways and placing treasure chests and monsters in the perfect spots!”

“How about you, then?! Have you ever considered how adventurers feel when they go through a dungeon?! We’re putting our lives on the line here, and with limited food and stamina all while keeping an eye on our party members!”

“Oh, shut it, you inconsiderate brute!”

“No, you’re the brute!”

They glared at each other, sparks flying, so close their noses were almost touching.

Takahashi did not sound amused.

“Oh, I’m not letting that slip by, Takahashi,” said Veltol. “Pals? With this buffoon? I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“I agree, Ms. Takahashi. That’s clearly a huge misunderstanding. We might be joining forces for now, but it’s only a matter of time until we’re trying to kill each other again.”

Takahashi clutched at her head at the sight of the two historical figures acting like a pair of scolded puppies.

They regained their composure and took a step back.

“So is that map really accurate?” Veltol asked Gram.

“Of course. It can locate any trap, physical or magical. Doesn’t look like there’s many in here, though. There’s no monsters, either, so we can take the shortest route.”

“Time is of the essence, after all. I’ll have to set aside my personal preferences for now.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

They passed through the door and entered the dungeon.

“But first—Takahashi.”

“The plan I told you about earlier—how are the preparations coming along?”

“Understood. We will have to risk it, but you have my trust. I’m counting on you.”

“Takahashi, do you know what you always have to keep on hand when the going gets tough like this?”

Takahashi sounded confused.

“You need an ace up your sleeve,” he replied.

They had surprisingly no problem advancing through the dungeon.

Entry into the dungeon wasn’t prohibited. There were countless other Alnaethian relics all over Shinjuku, and they also served as shelters during the City Wars.

Below the long escalators were hallways spreading like spiderwebs. Veltol and Gram followed the shortest and optimal route crossing the warped railways until they reached a tunnel. This was the path that led to the Immortal Furnace right below the aether reactor.

The tunnel was clearly in disrepair; ropes and tools were abandoned all over the place, and the only light to show the way was some old, faint aether neon.

They lost connection to Takahashi. The increased concentration of aether had jammed all long-distance aether communications.

They kept advancing, now relying solely on Gram’s map. Thankfully, the tunnel didn’t seem to have any bifurcations.

“I hope Machina’s all right…,” Veltol suddenly muttered despite himself.

“Veltol, you’ve gotten stronger,” Gram said.

“Ha! Ever the joker, I see. My faith is still extremely low; I’ve recouped almost nothing. I’m far, far weaker than I was five hundred years ago.”

“No, that wasn’t a joke.” Gram shook his head. “I’ve met you in person just a few times, and we’ve only spent a little while together, so obviously I don’t know everything about you. But I doubt that, hundreds of years ago, you would’ve come to me begging for help simply because one of your vassals got kidnapped.”

“…” Veltol tacitly agreed.

“Back then, you were far more ruthless, crueler…weaker.”

“Weaker? Ridiculous. Surely I’m weaker now.”

“No, you’re just different. Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to defeat you if you fought me now, even if I were as strong as I was back then.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I think you ought to look for the answer yourself. Actually, I’ll bet you already have it. Anyway, we’re gonna reach the end of the tunnel pretty soon…but it looks like we’ll have to put in some work first.”

Before them, at the end of the tunnel was one guard: a woman in a suit, Marcus’s secretary—Kinohara.

Behind her was the elevator used for transporting materials to the Immortal Furnace. The lift was already down, leaving the shaft empty.

“Oh my, you really came.”

Kinohara looked surprised.

She held her katana, Dragon Blade: Chidori, inside its black scabbard.

“Lord Marcus stationed me here to keep you from passing through, Veltol, but I didn’t think you would really come. And that you’d bring a friend, no less.” Kinohara looked closely at Gram. “Could you be…the Hero Gram?”

“You know about me? I’m honored.”

“You were in the database. The unaging Hero achieved many accolades during the second City War. Hmm…so the Hero has joined the Demon Lord. Interesting.”

Gram stepped in front of Veltol without bothering to reply to Kinohara. “I’ll take care of her. No need to worry about me, Veltol. My golden days may be long gone, but I’m still quite capable.”

“You fool. Why would I worry about you? Of course you’ll win.”

The Hero grabbed his sword without looking back.

“But be careful, Gram. That woman is likely as skilled as Zenol was.”

Veltol remembered his first encounter with Kinohara. Although he wasn’t in top shape, she was able to slash so fast he could barely see her movements.

However, Gram smiled in amusement at his warning. “Huh. So nothing special, then?”

His smug tone brought a grimace to Kinohara’s face. “What did you just say?”

“I defeated the Duke of the Karmic Sword, Zenol, in a duel. If you’re as strong as he was, then there’s no reason for me to lose.”

“Heh, I forgot about that. True, you were the strongest swordsman in all of Alnaeth,” Veltol said to the Hero.

And he felt so incredibly reliable before Veltol. The Demon Lord not only respected him as an enemy he had crossed swords with—he now trusted the Hero as a fellow comrade in arms.

“You decrepit specters of the past sure love to chitchat…!” Kinohara said. Then she disappeared.

A blue lightning strike followed. One flash, two slashing sounds. A pale silver and vivid blue glow.

Kinohara approached, and Gram repelled her two strikes, then they locked swords—all of which occurred in an instant.

The rusty silver sword and the blue lightning katana pushed against each other.

“Leave this to me, Veltol! You go save your friend!”

Veltol nodded and sprinted to the elevator shaft.

“You think I’ll let you go?!”

Kinohara fended Gram’s sword off and dashed to Veltol. She was quick enough to reach him in a matter of seconds, but Gram managed to catch up and stop her.

“Tsk… Get out of my way!” Kinohara clicked her tongue.

Gram turned on his right foot and cut in front of her before she could take a step farther. He brandished his sword, making Kinohara step back.

“I told him to go, and I won’t let you interfere.”

“You specter…! Your era is already over!”

“You’re right. But there’s still someone here who needs a hero.”

They had switched places. She had been blocking the Hero’s path, and now he was standing in her way and protecting Veltol.

“Swear to me, Gram! Swear to me that you’ll win—that you’ll survive!”

“I will,” the Hero replied.

“Shudder, O Heavens!”

Veltol enchanted himself with Vestum, then jumped straight into the shaft, falling to where the Immortal Furnace was located.

“So this is what it’s come to,” said Kinohara. “Very well.”

Gram noticed a change in her. She was no longer a guard but a warrior oozing cold malice.

“I simply have to kill you posthaste and return to Lord Marcus. That’s all I need to maximize our returns.”

She lowered her katana as she spoke, and her body grew limp. She was full of openings, but Gram didn’t attack. He’d sensed how incredibly strong she was from their earlier exchange. Most of all, his gut was telling him that he would die if he tried testing her any further.

“Initialize Zerobase.”

Kinohara’s body was enveloped in white light as soon as she finished speaking.

“—!”

Chills ran down the Hero’s spine. He hadn’t felt that in five hundred years. His body was moving well before his brain reacted to the familiar sensation.

The blade came swinging down.

He couldn’t react. In fact, Gram’s eyes could scarcely follow the blade’s movement.

Metal clashed against metal with a loud clang.

Gram had been blasted backward by the time he realized what he was seeing. He spun in the air and landed before finally getting a good look.

“Armor…?”

Kinohara was wearing pure-white armor.

The helm that covered her entire face had crimson dual sensors, like two big eyes. Her sub-armor covered her entire body from head to toe while her main armor was divided into sections: shoulders, chest, forearms, waist, and legs. An exhaust cloak hung from her waist.

The slim fit and no-frills appearance made the armor seem more like a suit. Its shape also brought to mind the exoskeleton of an arthropod.

And in her hands were the same katana and black scabbard.

Gram recognized this type of full-body armor, although it looked much different from what he was familiar with.

“An MG…?!”

“Correct.”

The main armor spewed white smoke as it let out excess heat and aether.

“This is the next-generation MG our company is currently developing: the prototype Zerobase. Similar to armament summoning, this MG is activated via a catalyst, allowing the user to equip it instantly.”

“A fifth-generation MG…”

“Indeed, as the most up-to-date model in use is the fourth gen. The Zerobase is smaller and more lightweight than its predecessor, and that’s not all—we enhanced its output and energy efficiency so that it’s lighter, stronger, and more durable. This model embodies true innovation that will revolutionize the industry.”

“I didn’t ask for a product pitch…”

“Granted, its one deficit is that operation time varies greatly depending on the user’s mana reserves, unlike the fourth gen. But we will fix that before long. You should feel honored; you will serve as valuable test data for this Zerobase.”

Even after the long explanation, Gram’s hands were still numb. He was unnerved; he hadn’t been able to hold himself against that first attack.

Fourth-gen MGs had never posed a real threat to Gram, but this fifth-gen Zerobase far surpassed the performance of the MGs he had fought during the City Wars.

“Your weapon, you yourself, even your Familia are all old relics of the past. Everything about you is antiquated. I, on the other hand, possess the latest machinery and training. I think that comparison speaks for itself, personally.”

“Spare me the speech. Novelty is just a single element in battle, and what decides the outcome isn’t who’s stronger or who’s weaker. It’s who wins and who loses.”

“Indeed. En garde!”

The Zerobase bounded forward.

It was faster than moments before—he had only just been able to see it the last time, but now it was so fast he could barely see its shadow.

The Zerobase had practically teleported to the spot. It was leaning forward, hips low, holding the katana in its scabbard, ready to unsheathe.

A bolt of lightning struck.

“Tsk…!”

He managed to fend it off, but before he could even start countering, the Zerobase was already in place for its next unsheathing.

How did Gram manage to defend himself against such a fast attack? Put simply: intuition. That was it. His more than five hundred years of battle experience helped him against this new foe, yet no matter how vast his well of experience was, Kinohara’s combat ability—even without the Zerobase—was more rigorous and fiercer than anything he’d seen before. He had no doubt about it: She was strong.

…Here it comes!

Gram’s thoughts and movements happened almost simultaneously. He leaned backward, and the lightning bolt scraped his nose.

Lightning truly was the best way to describe the Zerobase’s sword skills, for it was just as fast. No ordinary person would be able to evade it.

Unsheathing attacks were linear by nature. Gram was timing his actions by following the MG’s center of gravity and Kinohara’s breathing. She threw in several feints for good measure, of course, but he saw through those as well. Nonetheless, Gram still found himself at a disadvantage.

“I can’t get a single opening to attack… Technology has come so far in such a short amount of time. I’m glad I didn’t have to fight these in the City Wars.”

The Zerobase leaped.

“Haaah!”

Its blade fell straight toward Gram, but he deflected by receiving the tip with his sword.

He kicked the Zerobase in desperation and finally managed to open some distance. That kick was capable of breaking a dragon’s scales, but it didn’t even scratch the Zerobase.

Although the MG was facilitating Kinohara’s highspeed combat, only her unsheathing was as fast as lightning—the rest of her sword strikes were erratic, yet not quite as swift.

Then why isn’t she just sticking to unsheathing attacks? Can’t she base her strategy around that…? There has to be a trick behind this, then.

Pure technique wasn’t everything needed to perform these lightning slashes, so it was only natural to assume magic was involved.

Having to unsheathe the blade from zero was a magical limitation—a sort of ritualistic movement similar to an incantation or proclamation. In other words…

“The sword has to be completely sheathed beforehand for the magic to activate…!”

Gram didn’t need to see her face to tell that Kinohara was smiling under her helm.

“Correct.” Her main armor opened up to let the excess heat and aether out. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the veteran Hero’s sagacity. This is my magic: Lightning Unsheathe. It activates under the limitation of the movements involved in full unsheathing.”

A magic’s performance was improved by adding limitations or specializing its technic. For example, Marcus’s blood magic. By specializing the technic and limiting it to blood, he upped its power and accuracy, while lowering its cost. Expert users will customize their magic to accommodate their strengths and weaknesses.

“However,” Kinohara continued, “that knowledge alone won’t be enough to defeat me. My victory is irrefutable. The difference in strength with this fifth-gen MG and lightning-speed unsheathing on my side is clear as day.”

The Zerobase left a scorching trail of electricity in its wake.

“Come at me!” the Hero yelled as the streak of white lightning shot straight at him, ready to take his life.

Machina woke up with a terrible headache. It felt as if her skull was filled with solid lead.

Her eyes opened to see the brown earth before her; she was lying facedown.

Her black armor and red hair disappeared when she lost consciousness and her mana was cut. Now she was back to her usual white clothes and silver hair.

“Wh-where am I…?”

“In the deep underground of Shinjuku City, right below the aether reactor.”

She didn’t expect an answer, yet a certain shrill voice replied.

Machina looked in the direction the voice came from. Pure-white hair, brown skin, red eyes, and long ears. It was the crimson suit–clad man she knew all too well.

“Marcus…!”

She tried to leap up and attack him, only to realize her arms weren’t working. Both her arms and legs were restrained with an enchanted black cloth that inhibited an immortal’s power.

Right…they got me…

Machina then remembered what had happened. Marcus and Kinohara had ambushed her and struck her down. She didn’t recall much after that; the last thing she knew, some men in black had thrown her half-unconscious into a car.

“Please, don’t look at me like that. I just want to celebrate my reunion with an old friend.”

“You filth! An old friend?! Spare me your drivel! You have no right to call me that, you traitor!”

“Goodness, you’re scaring me. You see, Machina, I had my people do a bit of snooping around when Veltol returned, but I didn’t expect you to still be alive.”

Marcus shrugged as he toyed with her.

Machina fixed him with a murderous glare. “Where are we?! Why did you bring me here?!”

“I just told you. Right below Shinjuku’s aether reactor. They call this ritual magic facility for aether refinement the Immortal Furnace.”

“Immortal Furnace…?”

That phrase had been written on Ornared and Palmlock’s note.

“That is what we call the technic that converts immortal souls into aether. That aether produced by the Furnace is then pumped into the aether reactor and transformed into electricity and mana for Shinjuku.”

Machina looked around. She was in what appeared to be a massive cave. She would have never imagined a space big enough to hold an entire giant fortress existed directly beneath Shinjuku.

Right in the center of the cave was a giant slit from which tall pillars of light extended into metal tubes. The pillars were bright enough to illuminate the entire cave.

Machina knew right away what they were: pillars of aether so condensed they were visible to the naked eye. These pillars were being absorbed by the aether reactor. The slit they came from had to be the Immortal Furnace itself.

It’s so hot…

The aether concentration was so great it was radiating heat.

Immortals had a deeper spiritual connection to aether than other beings, hence why it felt so thick and viscous to Machina. It was as though the aether clung to her skin like glue, so thick she was having trouble breathing.

These were aether lines, akin to the planet’s veins.

Machina kept looking at the light pillars as she spoke.

“You’re using immortals’ souls…as fuel…?” She began to put all the puzzle pieces together—the immortal souls, fuel, the Furnace, the note left behind. “So you…killed Ornared and Palmlock?”

“They made excellent firewood. And they were oh so worried about each other until the very end. Their friendship—or rather, their love—was quite beautiful, I must admit. This city you’ve come to relish, its development, its peace and stability, your cozy home…all of it was built upon the corpses of good immortals like those two! Ha-ha-ha!”

“You—you bastaaaard!”

Machina was filled with white-hot hatred and wrath that once again turned her hair a fiery red.

Immortals, naturally, were undying. They didn’t experience death as their mortal counterparts did. However, once their souls became worn out, immortals decayed before reaching something of a spiritual death.

“Heh-heh-heh… Yes, your hatred is so delightful. I’ll tell you one more thing, then. Remember Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword? He served as the first firewood. I’ve thrown countless others of our fellows here, too.”

Zenol was the one who helped Machina escape the Immortal Hunt. She thought he had simply perished, but knowing the truth now, that would have been a much better fate. She never would have guessed he, Ornared, Palmlock, and many other immortals, too, had met such a vile end, being turned into fuel.

She thought back to Zenol’s final moments.

Take care of our king, he had told her, his body and soul injured.

“I can’t even begin to imagine the pain Lord Zenol must have felt as his body kept on burning and burning until his soul was consumed.”

“Marcus! I will kill you!”

“And what gives you the right to get so angry about it? Have you not been living in this city, using the energy they provided?”

“So you plan on feeding me to the fire, too?”

“Yes. It’s time for you to give back to Shinjuku. Only a few select members of IHMI know about the Furnace’s existence. You see, the people had grown meek after the wars, so we couldn’t convince them or even make this public, lest they’d start yapping about the immortals’ rights or whatever. I’ve been taking matters into my own hands to keep it confidential. We’re almost out of firewood now, so I’m very grateful we managed to find you. We can’t have Shinjuku’s heart stopping, can we? Fortunately, as one of the Six Dark Peers, the energy you provide should be enough to last us while we find another source.”

“…”

“Now then…we’ve talked for too long. The Immortal Furnace is ready. I only have to throw you in there, and it will automatically burn your soul into nourishment for this city. Perhaps you’ll show me a flame greater than those before you, little ignia…”

Marcus cackled as he reached out to grab her.

“I will rid this world of all its immortals and become the true Demon Lord!”

More than despair, she felt regret; more than regret, she felt wrath. Machina wasn’t afraid of decay. She had heard an immortal’s long life span meant they felt even greater fear when they realized their decay was close at hand, yet she didn’t feel a speck of dread.

Her sole regret was leaving her king behind.

Lord Veltol…

She prayed for her lord’s safety. She didn’t believe in a god, however—who was she praying to?

She wondered about trifling matters: Would he be able to feed himself? Do the laundry? Their reunion had been so brief, but so joyful nonetheless.

I loved you…

Her love for her king was not that of a vassal—somewhere down the line it had changed to the love of a single woman.

Then, as if to answer her thoughts…

…there came a gust of black wind.

She’d seen this somewhere before.

It was the beginning of it all. A memory still vivid in her mind.

She felt déjà vu as the wind spoke:

“You have a bad habit of giving up too soon.”

It was her king’s voice.

“Bloodshield!”

Marcus’s arm, reaching out for her, now moved away, deploying a blood barrier before them.

A black blade clashed with the shield of hardened aether blood, easily smashing through it like a cookie. The blade cut Marcus’s extended hand at the wrist, and immediately thrust toward his throat, but the trajectory aiming for the Familia stabbed nothing. Marcus had leaped backward.

A man stood before Machina, guarding her. He had long black hair and handsome jet-black eyes. Dressed in mana armor, he was holding the black Dark Sword, Vernal, in his hand.

Tears poured out of Machina’s eyes the moment she recognized him, the man who fought against the entire world and saved hers: the Demon Lord.

“Sorry I’m late. I’m finally here to rescue you, Machina.”

“Lord Veltol…!”

The Demon Lord tried comforting her with his gentle gaze as he said, “Wait just a little longer. Don’t worry; my body is starting to move how I want it to. I will get you out of here.”

Veltol’s dark eyes then burned with ire as he glared at his enemy.

“Marcus.”

His voice was cold, unlike the tone he used with Machina.

Marcus’s cut hand had already regenerated.

“Oh, so you’ve recovered a bit more of your strength. Ah yes, I watched your livestreams, too. You are quite the influencer. You must’ve had fun getting all that attention, huh? How nice to spend your days playing games. I wish I had it that easy.”

“Will you apologize for harming my vassal or not?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Or for sacrificing the rest of the Six Dark Peers and other immortals?”

“I don’t intend to.”

“One last question, then. Will you serve me once again?”

“No.”

“Fine. Then die.”

Having nothing else to say, Veltol once again rushed forward like a black wind.

“Bloodsword!”

The aether around Marcus turned to blood, then hardened with mana into the shape of swords.

Bloodsword at full power, optimized thanks to the Familia, was far stronger, faster, and greater in number than five hundred years before. He could now create fifty blades.

They made a beeline straight for Veltol.

“Haaah!”

He parried all of them with a swing of the Dark Sword, Vernal. The bloodswords shattered in midair.

“Blood Bomb!”

Countless drops of coagulated blood exploded upon Marcus’s proclamation, sending smoke everywhere.

Veltol instantly appeared from the smoke. He was dirty but not injured.

He approached Marcus and swung the Dark Sword.

Marcus responded by receiving the blow with a fortified bloodsword. The red blade and black blade clashed, fending each other off with the impact of their mana.

They locked swords so close their faces were practically colliding. The Demon Lord and the Duke of the Bloody Arts vied for power.

“Oh! Strengthening magic, of course! I can’t cancel out any magic you’ve already activated! Considering the logical strength of your technic, dispelling it would be quite the feat!”

Magic was sometimes compared with archery. Nocking an arrow, drawing the bowstring tight, and aiming was much like the steps needed for magic activation, with the arrow being the magic itself. Destroying the bow after the arrow had already been loosed would have no effect on the arrow. In other words: Canceling already activated magic was not possible.

“You betrayed the immortals! Your slight against us is far too heavy a crime!”

“And who will judge me for that crime?!”

“Me, of course!”

“You think you have the right?!”

“I do! I am the Demon Lord!”

“Your era is long gone, Veltol! It’s time I put you out of your misery, you fossil of a demon lord!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you peasant!”

They spoke with their blades as they yelled.

“Hya!”

Veltol’s bursting power cut Marcus’s body, bloodsword and all, straight through his shoulder. He then aimed at his throat.

Marcus swung his shield arm to change the trajectory of Veltol’s sword. However, he couldn’t stop all of its momentum, and it managed to pierce through his chin and shatter his glasses.

Marcus was still moving even with his head destroyed. He kicked Veltol’s torso, but the Demon Lord evaded by taking a step back.

“Hmph! You’re a ruthless one…”

Marcus’s head started regenerating. His flesh, muscles, nerves, bones, blood—everything reappeared in threads as if his head were sewing itself back together.

The moment the regeneration finished, the pieces of flesh around him turned to dust and vanished.

“It seems no normal attack will be enough to end this,” Veltol grumbled.

The priority in battle between immortals was restraining the foe. Fighting to the death solved nothing.

“Of course you would aim for my Familia!”

It was Marcus’s only weak point. Once destroyed, he would be unable to use constructless and expansionless magic, leaving Veltol at an overwhelming advantage with his own chantless technique. Marcus knew as much, hence why he didn’t care about receiving any other attack so long as he defended his neck.

“You won’t make it, no matter how many times you try!”

“Don’t think it will go like last time!”

“Oh, but it will! You cannot defeat me without a Familia!”

Although Marcus was fine getting injured as long as his Familia remained untouched, the same couldn’t be said for Veltol. One hit wouldn’t be enough to defeat him, but due to his slow regeneration, spells like Marcus’s Blood Bomb could easily incapacitate or restrain him. He wouldn’t be able to save Machina then and could even end up being fed to the Immortal Furnace himself.

Marcus merely needed to block Veltol’s magic with his Familia Advance and draw a single drop of blood. He had a huge advantage.

And that was where the Duke of the Bloody Arts’s true strength lay. He could freely control anyone’s blood when it came into contact with airborne aether. Whether his foe was mortal or immortal, the slightest bloodshed meant Marcus’s victory. His magic’s real value shone the most in battle against multiple enemies.

But even then, Marcus had to go through all the steps until incantation five hundred years before. An immortal’s wounds would regenerate and their blood would vanish before he could activate his magic. Now that the invention of the Familia had accelerated magical warfare, Marcus was at the top of the Six Dark Peers.

“You simply cannot defeat me. Let me show you proof.” His freshly regenerated mouth shaped a sneer. “Blood Bomb!”

The proclamation provoked a small explosion at Veltol’s right index fingertip.

“—?!”

Shit.

By the time Veltol thought that, it was already too late.

Marcus didn’t detonate Veltol’s blood; Veltol wasn’t wounded. Instead, Marcus had blown a drop of his own blood to Veltol’s fingertip and turned it into a bomb.

Blood Bomb’s power depended on the amount of blood in the airborne aether. The explosion hadn’t been especially large—only enough to peel his nail off. But that was all Marcus needed. The blood coming out of his foe’s fingertip became a further source.

“Gya-ha!” The vampire cackled. “Blood Bomb!”

The wound at Veltol’s fingertip exploded, blowing off his entire finger.

“Urgh…!”

“Gya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Blood Bomb!”

The following explosion blew his entire hand up to the wrist.

“Argh!”

“Blood Bomb!”

The blood from his wrist then blew his forearm off. Veltol was now covered in blood splatter.

“Lord Veltol!” Machina cried.

“Bloodburst!”

The explosion’s flames engulfed him.

Why can’t I defeat him…?!

Kinohara was getting annoyed at being unable to deal the final blow to Gram.

The man was strong, she had to admit. He had good judgment, analysis, and reaction skills—he excelled at everything.

Unlike Veltol, he did have a Familia, albeit an older, mass-produced model, and he was taking full advantage of it.

Kinohara had been trying to hack Gram’s Familia at every chance she got, but even without the extra security measures in place, his logic barrier was extremely solid—in fact, it was trying to use its Black ICE to fry her Familia.

A Black ICE was a type of firewall based on ancient Alnaethian sorcery, specifically black magic known as countercurses. This firewall was a counterprogram—more aggressive than a logic barrier, which merely blocked malicious attacks from the aethernet.

If one’s Familia got hacked and their Black ICE kicked in, worst-case scenario saw the hacker’s own brain fried through their Familia’s artificial nerves, killing them.

I can’t hack him.

Kinohara concluded her foe was knowledgeable in aetherhack warfare as well.

However, she was still sure she could defeat him.

Kinohara was an orphan, taken in by IHMI when she was young and raised in its elite personnel training facilities. There, she excelled at not only combat but everything else, drawing Marcus’s attention and getting appointed as his secretary at the tender age of sixteen. She’d also worked as a spy, a combatant, and a tester for new MGs—Marcus trusted her in many fields.

“I received the most cutting-edge combat training. Marcus chose me above everyone else. I can’t possibly lose to this decrepit old-timer!”

There was no doubt that Kinohara was keeping the lead at all times.

Quantitatively speaking, an MG-equipped Kinohara’s stats versus Gram’s stats was like comparing a dragon to an ordinary human.

And yet, she couldn’t overcome him; she couldn’t deal effective damage.

All her attacks were received, repelled, avoided, fended off.

“Earth Glaive!” Gram dictated a maginom.

The dungeon’s ground took the shape of many sharp spears, shooting up from Kinohara’s feet.

“Is this all you’ve got?!” she taunted.

The magic was so weak it couldn’t damage her sub-armor, let alone her main armor, but there was no reason to let it hit her. With a swing of her katana, Kinohara cut through the mana-fortified spears.

“Frostnova!” Gram immediately followed with a subzero gale.

The temperature instantly plummeted, the airborne moisture freezing into tiny, sparkling ice crystals.

“You think cold will work against a Zerobase?!”

It had no effect on the MG, which was built to resist subzero temperatures.

“No, of course I don’t,” Gram replied calmly.

“?!”

That was when it finally hit Kinohara.

Gram had momentarily restrained her by transforming the ground into spears with Earth Glaive, then freezing it with Frostnova.

Her Zerobase was powerful enough to break free, no question, but that combo attack had nonetheless managed to stop it for a millisecond.

“Haaaah!”

Gram gripped his sword tight and leaped all the way to her. He spun as he was quickly falling to strike, and the Zerobase was not in a stable position to receive it.

“Urgh…!”

Even the Zerobase couldn’t make up for being off balance.

Gram extended his left arm, and Kinohara was unable to react.

“Fireball!”

An elemental reaction caused the aether in Gram’s palm to heat up before concentrating in one point and taking the shape of a ball.

“Wha—?”

The compressed flames burst at point-blank range.

Fireball wasn’t typically an impressive attack, but in the Hero Gram’s hands, it was potentially lethal. His Fireball was hot enough to melt iron and burn a dragon’s scales—though small, it blazed like the sun.

The explosion sent the Zerobase crashing into the wall.

“You…pesky old…!”

And still, it received barely any damage. The armor was sooty and smoking, but nothing more. The shock absorbers kept Kinohara’s brain protected, too.

Not even the Hero’s magic was enough to damage the Zerobase.

“Wow, that’s some sturdy armor you’ve got… But my tactics are working.”

“Huh?”

“I was imitating a darkling I fought five hundred years ago. Guess it works even against someone with the most cutting-edge combat training.”

“You insolent fool…!”

Kinohara was physically unharmed, but Gram had dealt her a psychological blow.

She was in a next-gen MG and was fairly confident in her skills, yet she couldn’t defeat the decrepit Hero. Kinohara was frustrated. She was losing her cool, and that in turn was affecting the battle.

Gram had switched from sword attacks—his bread and butter—to magic attacks. He had found enough leeway to wield magic, and that was greater proof than anything that he was holding his own against Kinohara. That further annoyed and upset her.

“Why?!”

Kinohara held her katana high to receive Gram, then advanced and slashed down. The weight should have been enough to crush him, yet he parried it through pure technique.

“Why can’t I defeat you?!”

He easily parried a direct thrust.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He sounded as though he were talking to a child throwing a tantrum. “I wouldn’t be the Hero if I lost so easily.”

“You…bastard! Go back to the grave, you mummy!”

The Zerobase approached him in position to unsheathe, although its movements lacked the brilliance and mastery of the previous attacks.

That’s what Gram was looking for. He held his sword tight to put an end to the duel. He held it up high, proudly.

“You…you think I will lose?! To that rusty sword?! Me?! Think agaaain!”

The Holy Sword, Ixasorde, had lost its luster. There was no trace left of its name as the Silver Sun That Never Sets.

“That’s how it looks to you?”

He lifted the corners of his mouth into a gleeful smile.

Even if the sword rusts…

“As long as there are people out there who need me—who need a hero—this sword will shine again and again!”

…the Hero’s soul will not.

“Hear my call and shine…Ixasorde!”

Various ancient phrases appeared and disappeared on the Holy Sword’s blade.

Dinoah Luz: Verifying Hero.

A Stra Ros Aran: Unleashing Holy Sword of Salvation.

Lez Ixasorde: Unsheathing approved.

A crack appeared on the rusty blade, from which then leaked a blinding flash.

The cracks spread, and the rust crumbled and fell.

From within appeared the shining silver blade.

The dazzling Silver Sun That Never Sets—Ixasorde.

The Holy Sword answered the Hero’s call and regained the form it had when it defeated the Demon Lord.

“Listen well, white lightning! Burn this great strike that bested the Demon Lord into your memory! This is the shine of the Silver Sun That Never Sets!”

“Don’t think you’re better than meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

The Zerobase unleashed an electrifying sword strike—Lightning Unsheathe.

The Hero’s Holy Sword unleashed its silver glimmer.

The lightning ran through the earth and clashed with the Silver Sun.

The legendary Holy Sword’s special attack—Absolute Slash—made the surrounding aether gleam silver in response to the Hero’s mana, the light forming a blade that cut through anything. It was the ultimate shine that had rent the invincible Demon Lord’s soul.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!”

The slash of the Hero’s silver sword had turned into a beam of light that pierced the air, tore through the aether, and sliced the lightning—defeating the pure-white armor.

The duel was over.

The diagonal slash had broken through the many layers of armor, causing it to smoke. It had even reached Kinohara’s skin.

The massive damage forced the MG to unequip itself and switch to recovery mode, bringing Kinohara to her knees.

“Why…did I lose…to you?” she asked between coughs, lying facedown on the ground.

Gram’s breathing was heavy, but he didn’t appear completely fatigued. His silver sword was no longer shining, its color once again dull.

Kinohara then admitted utter defeat. She was heavily injured and couldn’t stand up, although she had no fatal wounds.

“Ixa’s as finicky as ever. It let me unleash it after all these years but only managed a single attack. Still…I’m impressed the MG could withstand that hit. It wasn’t as powerful as the one that destroyed the Demon Lord long ago, but still.”

“Huh…?” Kinohara was stunned. “You can unleash an even stronger attack?”

Gram replied with a smile. He then stabbed the sword into the ground and sat down beside her.

“Shouldn’t you be asking why I won instead of why you lost?”

“They’re the same thing… So why did you win?”

“Experience.”

“Preposterous…”

“No, really. You can’t overestimate five hundred years of experience.”

Indeed, that was the reason behind Gram’s strength and his victory.

“Man, it sure has been ages since I last did something heroic…,” he muttered while gazing into the distance.

“Shouldn’t you…be going to where Lord Marcus is?”

“Nah, Veltol will be fine.”

“He can’t win,” she warned, her voice thin. “Lord Marcus is strong, far stronger than me. And without a Familia, the Demon Lord doesn’t stand a fighting chance. He can’t defeat even me.”

“Ah-ha-ha! That’s ridiculous. And here I thought you were so clever.”

“…What are you laughing about?”

“Do you think he’s going in without a plan? Because if so, you’re seriously underestimating him. Oh, right—I’m the only one who knows about the ace up his sleeve.”

“Ace…? What does that mean?”

“Even Marcus probably doesn’t know about it. Veltol is strong. Take it from me, since I defeated you. The mere sight of it would make anyone despair.”

“…So…aren’t you going to kill me?”

“Me? Kill you?”

“Yes?”

“No, there’s no need. You’re in no shape to fight me at this point; killing you would be pointless. You survived against me in battle—consider that proof of your strength. My only role here is to stop anyone from getting in Veltol’s way, and that’s done. He’ll take care of the rest.”

“I…see…”

Then footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel. Not just one set, but many.

He looked in the direction of the sound and found MG reinforcements heading his way—IHMI’s security department.

“Well, guess it’s time for one more job.”

The Hero stood up.

He brandished his sword for his friend’s sake.

Marcus was an immortal vampire who had overcome his weakness to the sun. Long ago, he had reigned as king of the vampires, using his immense power to increase his following and territory and spread his tyranny as far as he could.

Until Veltol stopped him.

He infiltrated Marcus’s castle by himself, defeated all of his underlings, and reached him effortlessly.

Your power is great, but you do not wield it properly. Serve me, vampire. I will show you how to make better use of that power.

He could still remember. He could never forget.

He feared and trembled before Veltol’s power. He had to obey. But that was no longer the case—he had surpassed the Demon Lord.

“I didn’t expect your end to be so anticlimactic…,” Marcus muttered coldly.

Before him was the Demon Lord, reduced to a shell.

Both his arms had fallen off due to the explosion, and his wounds were carbonized, free of blood. His entire body was burned to a crisp, and his upper torso had a hole blown open. His handsome face no longer retained its former shape. It was bizarre how he was still able to stand on his legs.

Marcus was hoping the sight of the defeated Demon Lord would excite him further, but he felt only emptiness.

His first victory was inevitable. The old Demon Lord had only woken up after a five-hundred-year slumber and didn’t have or even know about the Familia. Marcus basically won thanks to the element of surprise. It was a dull victory, meant only to brag about the technology he had developed.

His second victory was piffling. Even if the Demon Lord had a plan, it wouldn’t be anything truly effective. There was no way for him to win with just close combat. In the end, Marcus won by a single drop of blood.

“Now, then.” He looked away from the defeated Demon Lord. “Let’s go, Machina. It’s time for you to warm this city up for me.”

The only thing he had left to do was throw Machina into the Immortal Furnace. The technic would decompose her physical body into spiritual matter, drag her pure soul into this dimension, then burn it into aether. Compared to the complex aether reactor, the Immortal Furnace was a truly primitive ritual magic, but thanks to that, it also needed no intricate maintenance.

Machina didn’t speak. She simply stared at the now motionless Veltol.

“Don’t worry,” said Marcus. “We can’t convert Veltol into aether now that he’s become a higher being, but at least we can still throw him in there to continuously die for all eternity. You’ll be able to stay with him for a little while.”

Marcus was CEO of IHMI and had responsibilities to attend to as such. Since he couldn’t make the Immortal Furnace Project public, he couldn’t leave it to other employees, either. He had already accepted this was part of his work, but every second he spent there was a waste of his time and a huge loss for IHMI. He had to go back to his actual duties as soon as possible.

He reached his hand to Machina, hoping to end things already, but she didn’t even turn to look at him. She kept on staring at Veltol.

The emotion on her face wasn’t despair or sadness—it was awe. Then, Marcus finally noticed the strange aura filling the surroundings.

It was intimidating, or maybe alarming, full of wrath and hatred.

“Lord…Veltol…?” said Machina.

Marcus felt chills running down his spine, and he trembled. His reaction was inexplicable, yet somehow familiar.

Although he no longer remembered it, that was the exact sensation he felt when he first met the Demon Lord.

He turned to look at the motionless Veltol, still lying on the ground just as before. Marcus had fried his nerves as much as he could without killing him and calculated it would take at least three minutes before he could move.

The Demon Lord should have been moribund, unworthy of attention.

Should have.

But his aura was causing the surrounding aether to vibrate. The air behind him seemed to be shimmering.

Cold sweat ran down Marcus’s cheek. He was instinctively frightened of the corpse before him.

“Well done…” The corpse spoke. “…I commend you for driving me to the wall like this. My sincerest congratulations, Marcus. I should have known you wouldn’t be so weak as to let me defeat you in this form.”

His right eye was burned and crushed. His left one was dried, fractured, and burning.

“You are the second person to drive me to this point. This feat—this strength—you have achieved in the modern world is all the fruit of your labor. You should be proud of that.”

He spoke with his scorched tongue.

“I ask you once more, Marcus.” His heart started pumping again. “I am bending my convictions here to ask you for a second time. Understand that this will be the last time I ask. There won’t be a third… Do you have any intention to join me and serve me once again?”

“Wh-what are you saying? I’ve already defeated y—”

“Well? Do you or do you not? Depending on your answer, I might even overlook the chaos you have caused.”

“Stop bluffing! Your age is over! It is now my era! I will rule the world! I will be the only immortal—the true Demon Lord! I don’t need any others! Just me! I will reign supreme! I and I alone!”

“I see…”

Veltol’s heartbeat echoed—not through the air, but by vibrations in the aether.

The pulsing rumbled through the enormous cave.

“Then die, immortal.”

Veltol’s body underwent a transformation.

The flesh around his wounds bulged, regenerating at drastic speed. No—he was evolving.

The mana that flowed from his body was clearly different from before—immense and alien, it was as immeasurable as the night sky itself.

Shit! Marcus thought. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s nothing good!

Marcus activated a spell, trying to shake off his fear of this unknown situation. He chose the spell he trusted the most: a form of blood magic he had been using extensively since ancient times. Though its name had since changed after many upgrades, it was still the same in essence. He’d used it so many times. It was as familiar as breathing.

“Bloodsword!”

But it didn’t activate.

His breath caught in his throat.

“Why…?”

The magic he excelled at wasn’t activating for some reason. As if it had been canceled by someone.

“Bwa-ha!” The Demon Lord couldn’t help from laughing. “Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

His cackling echoed throughout the underground.

“You should feel honored! Only the Hero Gram has seen me in this form! Despair, for your pitiful fate has brought you to witness it!”

Veltol’s body warped. His bones pierced through his flesh and were then covered in further flesh, the process repeating again and again as his body gradually loomed larger.

“Behold—my second form!”

Something happened in Shinjuku that night.

Every single one of the IHMI-manufactured holodisplays in Shinjuku—on the facades of buildings, on the screens at electronics stores, in bars, in every home—turned black, then showed a funky logo of a bunny skull.

The screens turned black again before showing a single man. Then a booming voice proclaimed:

The man’s face was so artistically crafted it attracted all gazes, and his voice so harmonious it shook the hearts of anyone who listened. He was wearing a T-shirt with the words Demon Lord printed in Japanese on it as he very seriously announced his arrival.

The screens began playing videos of him. Sometimes he laughed, sometimes he screeched with fury, sometimes he trembled with excitement—it was an effusive array of emotions.

“What is that?” someone wondered aloud.

“Whoa, that’s the dude who’s been getting popular lately!”

“Oh, so this is that Veltol guy? Is it an ad or something?”

A couple exchanged commentary as they stared at the giant holodisplay on the side of a building.

“Wha—? No way! Seriously? Lord Vel? What’s he doing here? God, he’s so pretty, and that voice…”

“Wow, it’s him… The Dark Lord…”

Two elf students looked intently at the screen in a bookstore.

“Hey, that’s the guy who sucks at games.”

“Yeah, the one who dumped all his stats into his looks and voice…”

“He always gets the worst starting hands in DCCGs. He’d be much better off playing poker.”

Several dwarf salesmen attentively watched the screen in a bar.

“Wait, something’s gotta be wrong here… Damn, the video’s everywhere.”

“Who’s that? What’s going on?”

“It’s a hacking job; remember that ad that got hacked a while ago? This is on a whole other level, though. Bet it’s gonna be all over the news.”

Orc, therian, and goblin security guards stared at their surveillance monitors.

“That bastard… What’s he doing now?” An ogre with a filthy prosthetic arm looked at the screens on display at an electronics store.

Everyone in Shinjuku City stopped to watch the videos. Some laughed, some were confused, some found it suspicious, some enjoyed it, and some were angered by it.

“It’s the Demon Lord,” someone said.

Police cars started racing through the streets, their sirens causing a racket.

Everyone watched the man on-screen and held some interest for him, either positive or negative.

This wasn’t an organized event—it was large-scale hacking, something that everyone noticed immediately.

News of the ridiculous incident spread through the aethernet, from person to person, from city to city, traveling throughout the globe. In that moment, people around the world noticed that man and felt some way about him.

None of them knew those feelings would power the Demon Lord.

Takahashi was standing on a rooftop, looking at the aether neon–illuminated nightscape of Shinjuku.

There were multiple PDAs around her, cables clumsily connected to an adapter that then plugged in to her Familia.

The lights shining in the city were a bit different from usual, since they were videos of her favorite livestreamer.

“Did I make it?”

Her job done, Takahashi lifted her sunglasses and unplugged the dongles from her Familia. Her hair swayed with the wind. It was cold outside, but she wiped off the sweat that had accumulated on her forehead.

“Ahhh, I’m pooped…”

She let out a hot, white breath.

The job was big—probably the hacking of the century.

Takahashi sat on the rooftop, letting the chilly air cool her body down. She recalled the conversation she’d had with Veltol and Gram just before arriving here.

“Takahashi, I order you to maximize faith in me,” Veltol had told her right after earning the Hero Gram’s support.

“Bwuh?” She made a strange noise, unable to comprehend the request. “Say what now?”

“Aha, I see what you’re getting at, Veltol,” said Gram.

“Indeed,” Veltol replied.

“W-wait a sec. I don’t get it. What do you mean, faith? What’re you talking about?”

“It would take too long to explain everything. Just understand that I need you to increase my popularity.”

“Hrm… And just how, exactly?”

“The method is up to you. I need all the recognition I can get. And I need you to get creative.”

“Seriously? You don’t care how I do it?”

“It’s all in your hands.”

“Like, for real, for real? ’Cause I’m just gonna do whatever I want, y’know.”

“That’s fine. Go all out.”

“Yessir! Oh, this is gonna be a blast. You really know how to put a hacker to work, Velly.”

So she hacked all the IHMI-manufactured holodisplays, which were a majority in Shinjuku. She took advantage of the fatal flaw in the network’s security to play an archived compilation of Veltol’s livestream highlights—throughout the entire city.

This feat wouldn’t be possible in such a short time even with multiple pro aether hackers and appropriate equipment. The fact that she achieved it all singlehandedly was proof of Takahashi’s technological mastery.

That was Veltol’s plan, although she hadn’t been told what purpose it would serve. But even without an explanation, she completed her friend’s request.

“Gee, feels pretty nice going all out for a friend.” She grinned like a voyeur. “You can do it, Velly. Get Machina back to safety.”

The only thing she lamented was not being able to see the surprised faces of the people on the streets.

A sphere of darkness enveloped the Demon Lord’s body.

Soon after, it started peeling off like scales, revealing the fantastical creature inside.

He had two crooked horns jutting from his draconic skull and was holding a single-edged sword the same color of his mantle, so black it appeared to exude darkness itself—the Dark Sword. His two horns seemed to pierce the heavens, and his draconic skull’s eye sockets gleamed enchanting red lights.

His thin, bony physique appeared to blend in with the shadows. His mantle looked like it was made from ripped darkness, wings spreading wide from his back.

He stood over five meters tall, and the Dark Sword itself had similarly grown in proportion.

This was the Demon Lord Veltol’s second form.

“What the hell…is that…?”

Marcus gulped.

More than its bizarre shape, it was its overwhelming aura that left him flabbergasted.

“What is that form?!” he screeched, unable to contain his fear.

“You foolish peasant,” the draconic skull spoke solemnly.

It was no voice, but rather something more closely approaching what in this world was known as omnidirectional aether communication.

“Have you never thought about why my Demon Castle was underground? Why it was constructed upside down? Did it never cross your mind why I could have chosen my keep and throne room to be the stage for my final battle against the Hero?”

“Wh-what do you…?”

“It was all so I could take this form. I can achieve it only by receiving a high concentration of aether directly from the aether lines, and high levels of faith. And here you have it. Marcus, your first mistake was making this place our battleground—nay, in truth, it was that you decided not to end me once and for all the day I woke.”

A million followers weren’t enough for him to reach his second form, even while standing in the high concentration of the aether lines, which was why he ordered Takahashi to make him famous.

And she did it with perfect timing. Veltol never would have come up with this plan of getting attention to him through large-scale hacking; and he wouldn’t have been able to realize it even if he did. It was all only possible thanks to her.

Having eyes on him made people hold emotions for him, which turned into faith. That was what he was looking for.

He had to get as many people as possible to notice him and feel something for him in order to secure enough faith to achieve this second form he had shown the Hero five hundred years before.

Information traveled throughout the planet in a matter of seconds, which also meant that people would forget about you and lose interest, excitement, and faith just as quickly. However, Veltol didn’t need long-lasting faith. He simply needed just enough to strike the rebel down right there and then.

“Are you afraid, Marcus?”

The Demon Lord cackled. He mocked the weakling’s poor choices. However, no one but him would laugh at Marcus. After all, the Demon Lord in this moment was the exact incarnation of man’s primal fear.

“Very well. Fear me. Tremble. That fright will only give me more power.”

“Enough!” Marcus howled as he foamed at the mouth, swinging both arms as if to shake the sneering away. “No matter how you change your appearance, you still lost to the Hero five hundred years ago! Don’t think for a second that this form will work for you in this new era!”

“Then go ahead—try it. I will personally correct that delusion of yours.”

Marcus stood ready.

He tried to remain calm by telling himself that his magic’s failure to activate earlier had to be some sort of error. Staying focused was the most basic of basics, and although machines took care of most of the processing in the modern era, magic was still affected by the user’s condition.

The Familia still had an advantage. He only had to keep on doing what he was already doing.

“Bloodsword!”

He initialized his mana and dictated the maginom so the Familia would run its activation program. The quantum core started working, processed the superposition, and reverse-engineered the magic, constructless, expansionless, and chantless.

The process all happened simultaneously with the proclamation, so the magic activated immediately…but it didn’t this time. Nothing happened.

The aether didn’t bind, it didn’t transform, it didn’t create a copy of his blood with it nor coagulated it into the shape of a sword.

“Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!”

It was absurd. Irrational. Bizarre and impossible to understand.

Marcus fell to his knees and hit the ground in frustration, tearing his hair out like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Why are you surprised? This is no different from when you canceled my magic back then.”

“…Huh?”

“Marcus, remember how you told me I was two steps behind?” The Demon Lord’s skull smiled. “Well, the same goes back to you now. You are one step behind, Marcus.”

“—!”

Marcus started thinking. What he meant when he said that months before was that the Demon Lord could only use chantless magic, while the Familia was two steps ahead by using constructless and expansionless magic. In that case, there was only one thing the “one step behind” just now could mean.

“P-proclaimless magic…?” he muttered despite himself.

“Indeed,” the Demon Lord replied calmly and nonchalantly, as if it was the obvious response.

He declared he had canceled his magic without the need for a proclamation. But that wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. Proclaimless magic was still a stage of magitech not yet reached even in the modern age.

Dictating the maginom was essential for defining and stabilizing the inherently unstable act that was manipulating the aether. This was an absolute rule, not upturned even by the Familia’s quantum processor.

If Veltol was telling the truth, then it might as well be an act of god, to bend such an absolute rule.

It wasn’t even possible to achieve constructless or expansionless magic without a Familia. One would have to calculate as accurately and quickly as the quantum processor on their own, and this was going even beyond what current technology was capable of.

“I was made aware once again of the abyss of magic in this new age. Aether is an omnipotent material. By freeing myself of the shackles of my body and more deeply intertwining with the aether in this second form, I’ve replicated the Familia’s operations and made possible the use of this superposition for magic on my own. Thankfully, we are not lacking in aether in this place. I no longer need words to create magic; I need only to think about it. I can cancel your magic faster than you can cast it.”

“Th-this can’t beee… You’re lying! That’s impossible! There’s no way you can do that!”

“It is all thanks to you, Marcus.”

“Huh?”

“Thanks to you developing magitech to such heights in order to overcome me, I have now reached the new peak of proclaimless magic. I must thank you. You did well working for my sake over these five hundred years. You have my praise, Marcus.”

“Y-y-you’re lying! It’s all lies! Lies! Lies! Liiies! You can’t possibly manage that! There’s no way you can defeat me without a Familiaaa!”

“Want to try it? I’ll show you the truth.”

“Bloodsword!”

Marcus immediately dictated the maginom, but nothing happened. Nothing was wrong with his Familia. It only showed a message in his VRD telling him it had been canceled.

“Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword! Bloodsword!”

Nothing happened. His screams echoed in vain.

“Whyyyyyyy?! Howwwwwww?! I surpassed you! I am far too great to kneel before you! I am the real Demon Lord! I hated you! I envied you! But I put it all on this project for the past five hundred years to become the true king! And now you! Youuuuuuuuuuu!”

“Oh my… You opposed me for such a petty reason?”

“Petty?! You call me petty?! Do you have any idea what I’ve been doing these five hundreee—?”

Marcus’s jaw was blown off.

“I’m tired of hearing your whiny voice. Be silent for a moment.”

Veltol had done it without a proclamation.

A gust of wind followed, tearing apart Marcus’s suit and body. His suit was made of aether, and as such was considered as part of him, so it regenerated automatically alongside his body.

Then, a black haze buzzing like a swarm of locusts enveloped his upper half, turning it to dust. He regenerated.

A pillar of fire burned his entire body. Then he regenerated.

A frigid wind froze him and shattered him. Then he regenerated.

Lightning struck him. He regenerated.

He regenerated again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

“Guh—! Ngh—!”

The Duke of the Bloody Arts didn’t have time to scream, let alone counter.

The Demon Lord kept on tormenting him for what felt like an eternity. Veltol was very clearly avoiding Marcus’s Familia.

He finally stopped attacking after the duke had died several hundred times.

“Proclaimless magic lacks some grace. Let us mix things up a little.”

Something appeared at Marcus’s feet.

“Wha—?!”

Corpses. Countless corpses crawled from the ground, grabbing his legs.

“What did you just do?! Necromancy?!”

“They call this vision hijacking. You infiltrate your foe’s Familia and take over their field of vision. What do you think? It’s not an illusion but a fake image directly sent to your brain. Much more convincing, yes?”

“Aether hacking?! You hacked my state-of-the-art Familia Advance?! How could you even penetrate its logic barrier?! Ahhh!”

The phantom corpses pulled at his legs, and he lost balance trying to fend them off, pathetically falling over backward.

Marcus closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, curling up on the floor.

“Stop it! Make it stop already!”

The Demon Lord laughed at the duke’s pitiful struggle.

“Fantastic! Now this is fun, Marcus! Keep it up! Entertain me some more! Perhaps your comical buffoonery will even make me change my mind! Bwa-ha! Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Stop it! Stoppp! Please! I’m begging you! I—I will serve you once again! So please! Mercy, please!”

The Demon Lord’s cackling came to an abrupt end. “I told you there would be no third time.”

He swiftly stabbed Marcus with the Dark Sword.

“Argh…”

The Demon Lord lifted him up from the ground, still impaled with the sword, and made his way to the Immortal Furnace at the center of the cave.

He got all the way to the cliff and stopped exactly one step before the Furnace.

“What…are you…?”

He held the sword above it, letting Marcus’s body hang in the air. At his feet shone the aether pillars coming from the Immortal Furnace. The Demon Lord had only to pull him off the sword to make him fall.

“A-are you really thinking of throwing me into the Immortal Furnace?! You’re trying to turn me into firewood?!”

“Indeed.”

“What do you gain by doing that?!”

“If I throw you, traitor, into the Immortal Furnace, this city will have enough fuel for a while, correct? Then take the loss with grace. It is your duty as leader to provide for this city. This Furnace does offer some good use, after all. It would be a shame to destroy it.”

“You’re no different from me, feeding a fellow immortal to the fire! Does it not bother you, committing such a heinous act?! And you call yourself a king?! I beg you reconsider!”

“Oh, you call me heinous?”

“Y-yes!”

“You fool. Have the centuries made you go senile? I am the most foul agent of darkness. The Demon Lord Veltol. Of course I commit heinous crimes.”

His icy words were utterly merciless.

Marcus looked at the Immortal Furnace below him. The swirling light made him hallucinate the corpses of all the people he’d sent to suffer as firewood.

“This can’t be happening to me! It’s not fair! You know nothing about this world! You don’t know the truth behind why things are the way they are now! I had no choice but to do this!”

The overwhelming power disparity turned to fear, and Marcus became frantic as he waved his arms to get a drop of his blood on the Demon Lord’s head.

“Dieeeeeeeeeeee! Bloodburst!”

The spell activated, and flames enveloped the Demon Lord’s head.

“Hee! Hee-hee! Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!”

Marcus laughed, unconcerned that the explosion was close enough to burn his face, too.

“Heh! Heh-heh…heh…?”

The smoke dissipated.

“Is that all you have for your last struggle?”

The Demon Lord was unharmed.

Marcus became speechless the moment he saw the Demon Lord’s dark eyes peering from within his uninjured draconic skull.

“Eek…!”

The duke instinctively understood that the darkness he got a peek of right then was but a fragment of the Demon Lord’s bottomless abyss.

“I will take your pathetic fright as your last offering to me. I won’t forget it.”

“Stoppppppppppp aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Farewell.”

The Demon Lord pulled his sword out.

The blade left Marcus’s flesh, and he fell into the Immortal Furnace.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhh…”

His body would likely decompose before it reached the bottom.

Veltol didn’t care to witness his fall.

“Good riddance, Marcus. We’ll meet again at the zenith of rebirth—Methenoel.”

Veltol then made his way to his one and only vassal.

His fantastical form crumbled away as he strode toward her until he returned to his earlier form.

“Machina.”

He kneeled and held his beloved tight.

You must have been so scared. You must have suffered so much. I’m so glad I didn’t lose you.

“Did you find my appearance frightful, Machina?”

“Yes…”

He’d asked her that same question long ago. She would never forget it even if her soul burned to ashes and decayed.

So she responded with the words she’d been too afraid to say back then.

“You were terror incarnate—perfectly fitting for a Demon Lord.”

Veltol nodded with satisfaction.

I now understand why I lost that day, he thought.

He closed his eyes and remembered what the Hero once said to him.

“…Life’s little glimmers, eh?”

The Demon Lord had found that in the people he cared about.

“Lord Veltol…?”

“I was able to see life’s little glimmers in the immortals—in you—because I was weak. That is why I won this battle. Yes…I understand now…”

It wasn’t until he put it into words that he at last realized why he won this battle and lost the one five hundred years ago.

“That’s what it was all about,” he said. “Machina…”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lord Veltol.”

The Demon Lord felt the warmth of love shining in his arms.