Kuro circled and devoured the sky. A flash of lightning, wielded with the dead weight of a large sword, roared around Richard's hand.

　A normal person would be out of breath just swinging the black sword, but the old man seemed to be used to it and let it fly in the air. It was the fruition of all that he had accumulated, the very footprints of his past.

　It's a great way to get to the top of the game.

　The black sword left a line and bit into the limb of the wizard Drigman. The iron lump gouged out the flesh with sobs, but the wounds were all minor, and even after several blows and slashes, there was no end in sight. Moreover, these wounds would continue to regenerate immediately on the spot.

　There was no hint of frustration in the demon's face. Just a slightly twisted brow.

　Perhaps this sword would not kill the monster. Richard half understood that. He could not take the life of a deer with something that could only gouge out its skin at best. It's like facing a giant with a rasp in your hand. You can wound it, but you can't kill it.

　But of course there have been such things in the people Richard has opposed in the past. Demons with metal-impenetrable skin, hexenbiests that spread madness, demons that corrode even iron.

　He'd killed them all.

　Richard was sure of it. Giants, spirits, demons. And demons. Nothing in this world is mortal. They will always be killed and destroyed. In fact, this one in front of him was killed by Artius in mythical times.

　--Then he too can be killed. It has to be.

　The tip of the black sword swings into Drigman's right hand again. The mage lightly flips his wrist and flicks the iron lump with ease. The result of the swing was only a slight scratch on the Fiend's skin. That was all.

　But that was all that mattered.

　At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw the demon's left hand approaching. He took a quick step back, and the next thing he knew, the floorboards were shattering and stone chips were flying.

　The battle between the two was a repetition of this.

　Richard dodged Drigman's crushing attack by the skin of his teeth, and struck out with a desperate blow. Richard was the one attacking from the outside, but there was no such thing as dominance there.

　If he missed even one of his predictions, he would die in agony. Flesh and bone would be shattered, he thought to himself over and over again. First, there was still an overwhelming difference between the two.

　It wasn't the strength of their bodies or their armor, but their biological endurance. Drigman would never run out of breath, not even for a moment, but Richard, who was forced to keep moving, would soon reach the end of his strength.

　That's why Drigman doesn't take any action in this strangely competitive situation. He knows that this is only for a moment, and that it will be over soon. It was just like the behavior of a man chasing down a winged insect. Not many people would go to such lengths to do so.

　Richard's nose twitched slightly as if searching for a scent. It hadn't been that long since he had swung his sword. And yet, in that short time, he's been through the line of death many times.

　It's a tricky business. At the very least, it's good if it buys me some time, but even so, I'd like to be a little more comfortable. Richard felt a dull ache in his still-healing belly.

　There were a few clicks of steel and the sword fights continued. It was all too close, too close to call. Flesh and blood splattered slightly.

　--And then, of course, it came.

　A moment later, a great deal of blood danced around and stained the throne room. The owner of that blood wasn't a demon. The only human here. Richard Permiris's.

　The black sword spills out with a distorted sound. No, that wasn't all. At the same time as the black sword, Richard's right arm was flying. Blood and flesh flew apart, bone marrow burning pain piercing Richard's brain.

　No, he was lucky that was all that happened. If his brain ever faced reality, it would be hellishly painful.

　That is, of course, if you live long enough.

Let's get this over with. It is not the place to make a lot of noise and sob. There is a certain beauty in dying gracefully.

　Drigman opens his palm and holds it out to Richard. It was clear that there was nothing more he could do. Those were words that came from the heart.

　Losing an arm is not the same as losing an armor. Your body will be out of balance, and it will be difficult to walk properly until you get used to it. Picking up a sword and swinging it again right now is a story only found in heroic tales.

　Losing an arm on the battlefield, where everything is decided in a split second, meant death. Drigman understood this, and so did Richard. So Richard didn't pick up the black sword again, he just exhaled and said.

I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to kill you. I've thought about it a lot.

　Richard did not make a single move. That's the attitude of someone who's already accepted death. And there's no way to resist it now.



　That is why Drigman also listened to the words of the last days. He doesn't like it when people imitate his words, but he is tolerant enough to listen to the words of the brave ones. For a demon, that was a rare thing indeed.

　Besides, Drigman felt a strange sensation crawling down his throat.

　How could this human be so calm at the point of death? Any human being would be frightened and confused before death. I didn't feel that from this person. That bothered Drigman.

"Slashing won't kill you, magic won't work. To kill such a cheating bastard, there's usually a rule. Set them on fire and let them burn. Or set them up in a trap and let them destroy themselves...

　His cunning beard swayed and his wrinkles deepened into a smile. Shiro teeth were visible in his cheeks.

　Drigman's fingers bounced numbly.

"Or poison it.

　Richard said, his eyes hardened. The blood had drained away so much that his vision was starting to blur slightly. I'm going to lose consciousness soon.

　He said it, but Richard didn't really know what the poison on his beloved sword actually meant. He had never devised a poison that would work on a demon before. Such a thing existed only in mythology.

　But Richard remembered what Leu had said. Drigman, the demon, would have taken a human's body.

　I don't know how much of that was rewritten. But Richard had seen a number of demons that could take away a person's consciousness and body.

　They don't usually take everything right away. It takes a certain amount of time, years in some cases, to usurp a body. Until then, even if you become a demon, the human part of your body will still remain.

　Then, if the demon who is in control still has a small part of humanity left, then... The poison would make sense. For that possibility, Richard was willing to smear poison on his beloved sword.

　That's why he persisted in damaging it, even slightly. So that it would run in his blood.

　And there's one more thing to strike. Oil and fire. The smell of soot was beginning to reach Richard's nose. The soldiers he'd sent to separate them were finally doing their job.

　The royal castle has always had a large amount of oil. Oil is a necessity for daily life and is also a military supply. In the event of a siege, it must be secured along with water.

　So, soon this place will be a sea of fire. I told the men to pour all that oil in. No more or less.

"Magical fire won't work. Then how about oil fire? I'm ready to try everything I can.

　 I'm sorry but I'm not clean you witch. Drigman's eyes narrowed as he heard Richard mutter this. His face was beginning to show a hint of emotion.

Human beings have become so strong, so powerful. But no matter how hard you try, you will die here.

　Drigman listened with his palms open. He was beginning to notice a slight numbness in the tips of his hands.

　I'm just honestly impressed. He had always thought that humans were fierce, but he had never imagined that they could be so obsessed with killing others.

　Richard opened his mouth much more freely than he had done with his missing right arm.

"We're all going to die at some point or another. Then we should use it when we need it. That's the value of life, isn't it?

　The words trailed off, and just as Drigman was about to clasp his palm.

　The footsteps of a spirit stepped into the throne room. At the same time, purple lightning flashed.