Yield equals justice; the bigger the yield, the greater the justice. That was one of his life creeds.
He didn't understand the specifics of mana usage, but through trial and error he'd learned that 1 point of mana plus 2 points did not equal 3. The growth was closer to a doubling of mass.
So when a 10-point enchantment amped the grenade's blast, and the mana itself detonated on top of that, York had no idea how powerful the result would be. This was his first attempt.
After all, he usually relied on physical, traditional means of exorcism.
With that thought, York yanked the ring out of a grenade that took several kilograms of force, then hurled it with everything he had at the woman ten-odd metres away.
Strike while the iron's hot—use the split-second buffer before a demon makes its move.
Frankly, York couldn't understand it, and finally concluded the demon must see him as an ant. Apparently it had never heard the Eastern proverbs: enough ants can bite an elephant to death, or that lion or elephant, going all-out against a rabbit, still uses full strength.
Bang!
Boosted by the strength of a 27-point physique, the grenade shot toward Abigail with an explosive hiss.
Just as York expected, Abigail didn't even move; she simply held the grenade motionless in mid-air.
"So very demon-like."
A trace of dark mockery flashed in York's eyes as he murmured.
"Blow."
As the whisper fell—
BOOM!!!!!
In the instant of detonation, a volcanic gout of fire and a crushing shock-wave erupted, racing outward to shatter everything in their path.
Mana flooded the area; flames filled York's vision. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"That strong?"
Feeling the rubble-laden blast roll toward him, his mana rose on its own while his hands busily reloaded.
He half feared the demon was about to rampage.
As expected: the only reason the damage hadn't been lethal was insufficient yield. While the corridor was demolished and dust filled the air, the demon's furious roar rang out.
"Human!!! You dare—"
A violent surge of power exploded, scattering the dust to reveal the woman hovering in place.
Her appearance was no longer human: two curved horns, pitch-black eyes bisected by vertical red slits, and a dark, ominous mask covering the lower half of her face, its pattern continuing down her body like veins binding an enormous mass of flesh and stretching all the way to her feet.
In addition, the natural corruption of a demon spread like a domain, turning the entire area into a gloomy expanse filled with black mist—an illusion born of Spirit and pressure.
"So this is your true form?"
With 83 points of Spirit, York felt no pressure; instead, surprise flickered in his eyes.
This demon's true body was nothing like the grotesque horrors he'd imagined; it retained a human shape, possessing a strange, almost artistic beauty—like the demons he'd seen in comics in his previous life.
Surprise aside, York's free left hand was already gripping another grenade.
[120 mana consumed]
[...]
Ten points had only broken the skin; might as well go bigger and finish it in one shot—no point dragging it out.
One-hundred-and-twenty mana vanished in an instant, leaving him with 3.5; two minutes later it rose to 5.5, and with another 20 points ready to allocate he'd barely have enough.
[Mana 27.5/159.5]
Whether it was imagination or not, under the 120-point enchantment the grenade in his hand already felt hot.
At the same time—
Sensing what he was about to do, the hovering Abigail's red-slit pupils narrowed. She raised her right hand, and a vast, dark, clearly sinister arrow formed, large enough to fill the corridor.
"Die!"
The arrow shot to York in a blink.
"That fast?"
With no time to throw, York flicked the winchester m1897 to his belt, switched the linebaugh to rapid fire, and fired.
Bang-bang-bang-bang!
The first two shots only slowed the arrow; the next two chipped a bit of its energy.
Four shots bought him a heartbeat—nothing more.
"Damn, it's tough!"
Cursing, he holstered the linebaugh, drew the Knights Sword in one back-hand motion, channeled ten points of mana along the blade, and slashed at the arrow now in front of his face.
[10 mana used]
[Mana: 17.5/159.5]
A flash of cold light—clang!—and the massive arrow shattered, but the residual force sent him flying backward into the wall.
In that instant, back slamming against stone, York's face stayed calm; the grenade he'd never released shot out in that same moment.
It all happened within seconds. The grenade, carrying 120 points of enchantment, slipped within three metres of Abigail before she noticed.
Abigail's red-slit eyes stayed unruffled; she again froze the grenade in mid-air, preparing to shove it aside.
But at that moment—
She saw the priest aiming a rod in her direction.
"Blow."
Pinned to the wall, York grinned and squeezed the trigger of the winchester m1897 in one smooth motion.
The bang rang out. A single 1-point-enchanted Slug punched through the hovering energy, shattered the grenade's pinned striker.
Abigail's jet-black eyes widened. A torrent of power surged around her—but too late.
As if someone had pressed pause on time, the next second—
BOOM!!!!!
A detonation even greater than before thundered out.
In that instant everything became blinding, radiant,
as though an immeasurable hand had seized the entire world—a light that, after piercing the dark, drowned everything in its glare.
Every effect outshone the previous grenade's.
"Raaaah!"
For the first time the composed demon screamed in pain.
Dust and fire filled every line of sight; York couldn't see what had become of the demon—he had to deal with the aftermath first.
The 120-point blast really had been a bit much. A titanic shock-wave rushed toward him; even the outer edge drove his body deeper into the wall.
This time was different. Eyes widening, York urgently channeled mana to meet the incoming fire-laced surge that threatened to swallow him.
"Looks like I overdid it!"
Only now did he realize this was someone else's high-rise, not his own building or some open lot.
[8 mana used]
[...]
Eight points of mana surged out to collide with the blast, but it barely slowed; the shock-wave shattered the makeshift mana wall.
"Good thing it's midnight, or else—"
That last thought flashed through his mind before the residual blast flung him through the wall and sent him crashing deeper inside.