I'm not sure what to make of this. The treasure sword shone even more brightly beside Roseau's dusky flames, and with a presence that seemed to swallow even the flames, it simply followed its master.

　And then I thought. It's this kind of thing again. The treasured sword wriggled as it sniffed, still in the hands of its master.

　The demons, the demonkind. Beasts and wraiths, wheels and witches.

　If a hexenbiest is just a beast or a man affected by a demon, these demonkind are the direct descendants of the great demon. A beneficiary of the great demon.

　I see. Then of course people are no match for them. Not to say they're our dependents, but they're beings whose hearts are gripped by demonic nature itself. Their bodies are no longer human.

　So no matter how hard we try, we are no match for them. It always takes a miracle to kill them. A miracle that no mortal should ever be able to grasp.

　Only a hero chosen by fate or a brave man favored by God can perform such a miracle and seize glory. Until the time when they are chosen by the world, people will only be trampled down by them.

　Then, thought the sword as it drew a line of purple light in the air.

　--Then of course my lord will cut it down. Easier than killing a sleeping beast.

　I have myself because I am a hero, and I kill this because I am a hero. Nothing could be clearer or more straightforward than this.

　There is now something very, very pleasing to the jeweled sword that calls itself the Hero Slayer. It is that he and his master have become one, and he is finally on the path to being called a hero.

　However, the way he walks with his eyes narrowed and looking so dazzling is not safe at all. This time, if he were still a mere man, his organs would have been burned by the heat and he would not have survived. The fact that the Lord is here now is proof that he wants his body to become a hero as well. Well, it's a little annoying that some strange magic was reaching out to you. Still, I'm glad. I'm proud to say it.

　Never again will anyone, not even the Lord himself, call you mediocre. I won't let you speak such nonsense. I'll perform miracles for you.

　The treasured sword wavered. The blade drew an arc and sliced through the sky. The sparks of fire flickered and faded from its body.

　Besides... After all, this thing in front of me is just one seed sown by Altius. Then why can't I kill him?

　I am the very mystery and miracle that the great demon Altius once wove with his magic. So to speak. How can I be defeated by something that's been given only a vestige of evil at best?

　--My Lord. Rejoice, the miracle is here.

　It's the only one who can.


　◇ ◇ ◇ ◇.


　--Whoosh.

　It started with a heavy sound that cut through the air. It was an axe, hurled unexpectedly from behind Roseau.

　Although he couldn't see it clearly, it must have been Vestalinu. Behind the flames, I could see the shadows moving with a will of their own. So I knew how to move after I stepped forward.

　In a slumped position, I stepped forward briefly and thrust out my shoulders. Leaning fully forward, he moved forward. In front of him, the flames wailed with the ferocity of a snake, trying to entangle its prey. Roseau himself was also in the act of swinging out his right arm.

　If he were to be enveloped by the searing heat of the flames, he would be finished, perhaps before he could even take a breath. Your throat will burn, your lungs will burn, your limbs will turn to charcoal.

　So to kill this thing. The only way to kill this thing is to kill it without a pause, without even a blink of an eye. Kill it, crush its belly, rip out its heart.

　I took a step. The flaming snakes that touched me burned my skin. At the same time, a throwing axe was approaching the back of Roseau's head, wielding its heavy body to the hilt.

　Vestalinu was probably aiming to strike a blow to attract Roseau's attention, but not to pierce my body. I don't know if I'm being sincere or what. Of course, he was grateful.

　Even if you are a demon, if your body is gouged out by the armor, you will have to let go of your consciousness for a moment. I understood that from the surprise blow. That's why Vestalines aimed for the back of the skull, where it would be most effective, I think. Even though Roseau had become a blazing fire itself, he would still be somewhat effective if the skull was flicked off.

　In the darkness, I keep my eyes open and anticipate Roseau's movements. He predicted, assessed, and placed the sword on the line he had drawn.

　There's no way to know if that trajectory is correct. There is no way to be sure. The only thing I know for sure is that in the next moment, one of us, me or Roseau, will be dispersed. There's nothing to believe in.

　And yet, I believed it. Yes, but I couldn't become anything if I only shrunk in fear of losing it. In the end, there was nothing left in my hands.

　If I'm going to die, I want to die within the script I've drawn. I don't want to die on someone else's stage.



　The rich purple color of the fire splattered. The sword traced the trajectory that my eyes had imagined, as if it were a simple task. A smooth line was drawn, as if the sword itself had a lively will. It was a blow that would split Roseau's left side, and then cut out his heart.

　--G, cha.

　There was a heavy sound. That's the sound of the axe blade snatching away Roseau's skull. It was the sound of something that could not be called flesh or flame being shattered.

　As soon as it touched Roseau's body, the heat of the fire quickly devoured the axe. But still, the impact of the heavy blow, which was deadly by nature, was not easy.

　His knees shook, shaking. It was less than a second, but I could see that Roseau's flame was indeed shaken. His eyes, which had been glowing with a piercing light, were now shifting between black and white.

　It was a blow that should have brought even this demoness to her knees, I believe. It's a good idea to have a good idea of what you're looking for.

"----Gah--aahhhh!

　And yet, he . Roseau swung his right arm, which had become a pillar of fire, with all his might. He must have thrown away everything, the shock, the agitation, everything, and swung with fire.

　It was truly supreme. A demonic strike that Roseau, an amateur in the art of war, unleashed without a care in the world, just to kill his opponent, to burn up his enemy. If swallowed, it would surely disperse a person's body.

　It's a great way to make sure you're getting the most out of your time with your family. My eyes narrowed slightly. I'm not sure what to make of this.

　The way he wielded his mighty power with no regard for the blow that fell on him. The twisted way he swung his arms to kill his enemy, even after being shot through the skull.

　--Yeah, I'd do that if I were you, Roseau. See you, buddy.

　At the end of a dizzying moment, the heat of the fire collapsed without a sob.