How many swords have I made, I wonder.
How many techniques have I copied, I wonder.
Each time, how many corpses have I piled up, I wonder.
I do not know, but there is one thing I am certain of.
In the wasteland inside my heart, countless swords must already be stuck into the ground. What Linie possesses copies not only the swords themselves, but even the magical effects imbued in them.
Among them are not only magical effects, but also numerous weapons created by demon warriors, composed of substances not of this world.
At the same time, they were gravestones for the warriors Linie had buried, regardless of whether they were human or demon.
Linie was aware that those replicas were certainly stored within her.
Just like the many Noble Phantasms of heroic spirits that he had stored, those things were also stuck into her wasteland, and as long as Linie continued to fight, their number kept increasing.
…And yet, Linie could not imagine that world that should exist within her. She could assume that the swords of the warriors she had buried so far were stuck into the wasteland, but she could not grasp the landscape formed from her own mental image that contained them.
Other than the fact that swords were likely stuck there, the surrounding scenery would not come to mind, as if it were covered in noise.
Magic is, in other words, a world of images. That is why, if one cannot understand one's own mental image, that world cannot be completed. Simply imagining infinitely embedded swords makes it far too incomplete to be called a world.
What is the sky like in a world that contains such infinite swords? What exists in the background? What kind of ground are the swords stuck into in the first place? So-called ultimate self-understanding. Unless one reaches that point, Linie's sword creation will never emerge as a mental world.
There were no countless giant gears floating in the sky to represent his despair.
Nor was it the powerful, crystal-clear red sky he had before becoming what he is now.
One should understand one's own way of being better than anyone else.
To deny his own powerlessness, he continues killing demons.
To completely erase from his mind that scene which proves his powerlessness.
And yet, despite being aware of his own way of being, Linie still could not envision that mental world.
Because of that, Linie only becomes more unable to stop.
The child who wandered into the hill of swords knows nothing but the hill of swords, and cannot recognize the foundation that forms the surroundings—herself.
Even though the taste of the flesh of those two people that lingered in her mouth kept telling her of that mistake, kept sounding the alarm… even so, inside Linie, who could not understand even that, there was no choice other than to keep walking that path.
Therefore, Linie's execution continued and accelerated.
Although her face was unknown, the upper ranks on the human side were aware of Linie's existence as she infiltrated the Demon King's army and continued killing demons. Linie herself was also aware that they recognized her existence.
If Linie leaked information through various channels, they would immediately send soldiers who knew nothing into the targeted demon forces. While those soldiers fought them, Linie would stab those comrades from behind.
Those days continued.
Each time it continued, Linie felt her methods becoming more refined. Those who sensed Linie's existence began to willingly offer sacrifices to her. Offering their own soldiers as sacrifices to someone whose face they did not even know—it was a vicious act where one could not tell who the real demons were, but even so, the human side chose to make use of Linie.
Linie, as if to say it was convenient for her as well, willingly made use of what they offered. Originally, Linie believed that being sensed at all, even if her face was unknown, was forbidden, but seeing their ideal behavior of not informing the lower ranks and only offering sacrifices to her, this way was rather more efficient.
Before long, between Linie and them, despite never seeing each other's faces, there was an understanding to mutually use one another.
Their gears meshed together perfectly.
Linie wanted to kill demons, and the human side wanted to reduce their sacrifices as much as possible.
The human side offered sacrifices, and in exchange, Linie reliably annihilated demon armies. Such a vicious and strange relationship had been built before anyone realized it.
Like an employer and an assassin, yet with the strangeness that neither knew the other's face.
Convenient.
They could send more this way. She would simply bury the target along with them.
Contrary to that taste which kept sounding the alarm, from the outside, Linie's execution activities were riding a smooth wave.
Even today, they offered sacrifices, and she buried the demon forces along with them. Such days.
However, only today was different.
"Sorry, but I won't let you go any further."
Amid a scene where the corpses of humans and demons were scattered, with the few surviving humans behind him, a man stood before Linie.
From his clearly muscular build, there was no doubt he was a warrior, and facing him, Linie had no choice but to stop moving.
She could tell at a glance that he was strong. His skill was likely on a completely different level from any human or demon warrior she had encountered so far. Proof of that was that even before the bloodstained Linie, he showed not the slightest agitation, and there was no sense of tension one would feel before a formidable enemy.
He was relaxed and natural, yet there were no openings to be found.
More than that, Linie widened her eyes at the shape of the man's pointed ears.
"…An elf… man?"
Linie muttered suspiciously.
While holding the "Giant Spinning Axe Belwind," Linie watched the man closely.
Pointed ears characteristic of elves, and black vestments reminiscent of a priest. Yet she could not sense the distinctive flow of magical power like that of a mage; instead, the flow was that of a warrior.
From the knowledge she had gained by blending into human society, a single conclusion was drawn within Linie.
A warrior imitating a priest. Unable to use the goddess's magic, yet possessing only deep faith toward the goddess like a true priest—a half-baked being who could become neither priest nor warrior.
Linie judged that this man was probably a monk.
(…How many years has this guy lived?)
She had heard that the elven race had mostly been exterminated by the Demon King who now led the demons.
The mere fact that he had survived that and was still standing here forced Linie to be wary of him.
An elven warrior who escaped the Demon King's purge and continues to live. Just writing out that title alone made how strong he was obvious at a glance.
Even the techniques of the warriors Linie had copied—perhaps even if they were imitations of that warrior Eisen—she did not know if they would be enough.
"…You're not rushing in recklessly. At your age, it seems you've been through quite a few battlefields yourself."While saying that, the man's eyes as he looked at Linie held pity. Linie, being a demon, could not perceive that, but she felt vaguely uncomfortable.
"Girl who kills both humans and demons. I won't ask why you walk such a path of slaughter. But if you value your life, disappear. Even if you are a demon, I do not pursue those who turn their backs."
"..."
That was not a proposal she could accept.
Even if the opponent was a warrior stronger than anyone she had ever seen, Linie would not retreat for such a reason. Behind the elven man were human soldiers looking at Linie with frightened eyes. Those humans had already seen Linie's hunting ground.
Her face, her methods, her cards—she had exposed all of them to those people.
If so, Linie had no choice but to kill them.
And yet, facing this man, Linie could not imagine a vision of victory.
Then she had no choice but to think of a way to somehow eliminate them without fighting this man.
"..."
Then Linie decided to act like a demon.
She lowered her axe, turned her back to the elven man, and began to walk away.
With slow steps, she put distance between herself and the elven man.
Even without looking, Linie could feel relief spreading among the human soldiers behind her.
And the moment she reached a distance that the man could not close in a single step—
——Mimic Blade, transformation off.
At some point, Linie had transformed the great axe into a white western bow, and as she turned around, she loosed an arrow.
A movement without hesitation. A speed of switching that could not even be perceived.
The sword fired as an arrow flew past the elven man at high speed and was supposed to strike the humans behind him.
"——!?"
But seeing a scene different from what she had imagined, Linie involuntarily widened her eyes.
"A shallow trick. Did you really think I would fall for it?"
What entered Linie's widened field of vision was the elven man catching all of the swords that should have flown at high speed, stopping them with the fingers of one hand.
Impossible, Linie screamed in her mind.
If they had merely been blocked, she could understand. If they had been dodged, she could understand.
Their power was not something that could normally be blocked, nor their speed something that could be dodged. It was a magic bow using Valheit's archery techniques, with replicated threads wielded by a certain demon as the string, combined with Linie's eyes. It was not something that could be so easily blocked or avoided.
Even so, she could still accept it. Because if it were this man, it would not be strange for him to manage that. That was why she had taken the shot.
And yet, to be caught with one hand—only with fingers.
"You soldiers there, run now."
"…Huh?"
Ignoring the stunned Linie, the elven man called out to the human soldiers frozen behind him.
"It seems she has no intention of sparing you. I'll handle this, so get out of here quickly."
"A-ah…"
"H-hey! Let's run, now!"
"…Understood. Nameless monk, thank you."
Saying so, they turned their backs and retreated.
Snapping back to herself, Linie felt an urge to chase them immediately, but someone stood in her way.
The elven monk, unlike before, clearly directed hostility toward Linie and raised his fists.
"I believe I said I wouldn't pursue you if you did nothing. You seemed different from other demons. That's why I thought, perhaps—but—"
With a whoosh, the elf vanished from Linie's sight.
"!!"
Her reaction came not from seeing it, but from instinct alone.
As Linie bent her upper body backward, a gust of wind passed right beside her.
The aftershock of the monk's palm strike passed just next to Linie.
Unable to hold back, Linie transformed the arrow into a treasured sword, rotated her body from the bent position, and unleashed a sword slash and a roundhouse kick toward the man's feet.
She shifted from evasion into a flowing counterattack, but the man leapt slightly to avoid it. At the same time, he brought down a crushing blow, trying to stomp Linie's head with one foot.
In an instant, Linie transformed the treasured sword into a great axe, released it on the spot, and jumped away.
Not to use it as a shield, but to deflect the attack by changing the weapon's shape while withdrawing. Even so, she had already let go of the weapon before that.
She had an instinct that if she took the impact of that attack even through a weapon, she would not come out unharmed.
At that superb magic and body control, the elven man could not help but feel admiration.
"…You're used to fighting. At that age, just how many battlefields have you survived?"
While looking at Linie who had taken distance, he relaxed his stance, softened his tone slightly, and asked her again. Linie was young as a demon, but her appearance and age did not correspond the way they did for humans. Even so, from the perspective of an elf who lived far longer than demons, Linie was no more than a newborn girl.
Despite that, to move like this in such a brief exchange was not just a matter of the number of battles survived. It required both density and quality. Without both, such movement would be impossible.
And it was movement that went in to win against opponents of higher rank, the elven man sensed instinctively.
"I worship the Goddess."
"…?"
At the elf's sudden monologue, Linie frowned slightly.
"I entered this path because I want to be praised by the Goddess waiting at the end of this long life someday. …That's why, even if the opponent is a demon, I won't throw my fists at someone who turns their back."
"..."
While listening to the man, Linie did not take her eyes off a single one of his movements."Are you saying that it wasn't you stopping me to let them escape, but that I was being held back so that you wouldn't go after them, even by chance?"
"..."
At that question, Linie closed her eyes and remained silent.
What the man said was both correct and incorrect.
She could not let them escape. Even so, once she had allowed them to flee to a distance where she could no longer pursue them, she decided to hold back the man in front of her for the sake of the next move.
That had not been the case from the very beginning.
It was simply something she had also assumed as a possibility.
Before the battle took place, she had planted swords replicated through mimicry along the routes they were likely to flee. If she ended up letting them escape, she would detonate the magic imbued in those swords one after another, cause a cave-in, and wipe them out in one sweep.
She had not thought she would actually make the mistake of letting them escape, but Linie thought it was right to be thorough.
After taking a painful blow and becoming calmer instead, Linie soon began to think about something.
Until now, driven by the sense of danger that her methods might be exposed, Linie had tried to eliminate the man in front of her.
But thinking it over carefully, she realized the risk of fighting this man was far greater.
Even if she could not kill this man, she concluded that the disadvantages would be small.
Therefore—
"With this, there is no longer any need for me to keep fighting, nor any reason for you to stop me."
"—!"
At Linie's flat statement, the man ground his teeth, but as if resigned, he closed his eyes.
This should be fine.
Letting this man go was certainly dangerous. There was indeed a risk that through him, her true identity might be exposed to either the demon side or the human side.
However, Linie realized that she could not envision winning against this man at present, and that compared to other options, the disadvantages were small.
If a warrior of this caliber were active in the public eye, his name should already be well known among both humans and demons. And yet, Linie had never once seen any rumors or information about the man before her.
That meant he had cut himself off from worldly affairs for a very long time.
The probability that her information would quickly leak from this man was low.
Then she settled on the conclusion that it was enough to achieve her objective to a minimum extent while eliminating the man's reason to fight.
With this—"(This guy… saw through it!?)"
Renier realized that his real weapon was not his bare hands, but the sword.
From his experience of having mimicked the movements of many warriors and by mimicking and actually moving with the man in front of him, Renier saw that the man's martial arts were adapted from sword techniques.
Every step, every swing of his limbs, could be converted into sword movements.
With this, Renier once again exceeded the man's expectations.
Now, he had to do something else to exceed expectations again without giving the man a moment of rest.
"(This guy is a monk. Like a priest, he 'believes' in that goddess. Then, I'll use that.)"
The word "goddess" came to mind, and Renier thought of a weapon connected to it.
That weapon was not here, but theoretically, Renier could create it on the spot with his sword-making ability.
"(The problem is, I've never tried duplicating that before.)"
After all, it was more a magical attack than a weapon.
Still, what was unleashed could conceptually be a weapon, since it was called a "spear."
If he had seen it once before, he should be able to do it.
"I am the bone of my sword. My body is made of a sword."
He recited this phrase.
In Renier's mind came the scene from that day.
The day he watched and mimicked Warrior Aizen's technique.
Next to Warrior Aizen was a priest.
The priest had used one of the goddess's magic spells.
It was improvisation, but he had no choice but to mimic it here and now.
The black orb of magical power concentrated in his hand transformed into a divinely radiant light.
"N-no――――"
The familiar warmth of the light caught the elf's attention.
Could a demon really release that?
Something that even a half-hearted warrior like himself couldn't use through faith, now being wielded by the demon girl in front of him?
"Pseudo-Goddess's Three Spears."
The light soon transformed into a single spear.
The spear split into three, moving at high speed to attack the elf from three directions.
The elf was slow to react, which was natural.
Because that light spear was the same as the one his old partner used when they saved the world together.
And now it was being unleashed without even using the sacred scripture given by the goddess.
Everything about it was unbelievable.
"T-But――"
The elf quickly regained his composure.
Indeed, it was surprising.
To see a demon release this. It was rare, maybe even the first time in his long life.
But that was all.
After all, it was still just an imitation.
"Hah!!"
With a shout, the elf swung his body and easily deflected the three incoming spears of light.
The deflected spears struck the surrounding terrain, exploding and sending dust and smoke into the air.
(This still isn't enough――)
Watching this, Renier gritted his teeth internally.
Even a duplication of the priest Haiter's "Goddess's Three Spears" wasn't enough?
Perhaps because it was originally magic that released spears, not spears themselves.
No matter how well he duplicated the flying light spears, it wasn't magic duplication, so the precision inevitably fell short.
Renier, needing to exceed expectations once more with his next move, had no more cards left to play in his mind.
(Then what? Think, in this instant.)
If he couldn't do it, he would keep trying until he could. Whenever necessary, Renier had always done just that.
From the many moves he had mimicked and stored, he could create a new card. He had done this countless times before.
All he had to do was do it in this single moment.
Renier organized the situation in his mind.
He guessed that the man in front of him was not originally a martial artist but a swordsman. It was easy to imagine that, because he had been able to immediately convert the man's moves into sword techniques.
It was fortunate that the man did not have a sword.
If he had, Renier would have been helpless――――.
(Wait… if I let him hold a sword on purpose――――)
One thought progressed.
(To make him hold a sword, I need to strike with a blow strong enough that I have to hold a sword myself――――)
Then, how should he deliver that strike?
Carelessly approaching would be foolish. Among the long-range attacks he had, the most powerful was the "Pseudo-Goddess's Three Spears" he had just duplicated.
But since it was not a true magical duplication, it was inevitably just a degraded version.
Then, what could he do?
He had no more powerful long-range attacks――――
"――――Ah."
And then he realized.
Why was it called "Three Spears" in the first place?
It made sense if the goal was to trap the opponent with no escape, but splitting concentrated magical power into three for no reason made little sense.
Goddess magic was not created by humans but given by the goddess.
Therefore, it couldn't be fully understood and had no potential for development. Using it required a sacred text.
Goddess magic was like that. There was no way to modify it.
Even if the spell "Goddess's Three Spears" existed, there was no technique to bind them together.
That was normally the case.
"――――This is it."
Then Renier realized.
This was not about using the spell "Goddess's Three Spears" itself, but about what he could do as someone who treats the duplicated version of the spell as a weapon.
Because it was only a degraded duplicate, there was a method possible that could not be done with the original spell.
If it was a spear made of magical power, then:
With his experience in controlling magical power due to his limitations, he could do it.
This, too, was improvisation.
But this was the only way left to exceed the man's expectations and win.
If this failed, Renier's life as a hunter would finally end.
He focused black magical power into his hand again.
As before, the black magic gradually transformed into a divine, radiant light.
From it appeared three light spears.
"…The same trick again. I won't be surprised this time."
The elf squinted in exasperation, but Renier ignored him and leapt into the air.
The three spears that should have attacked the elf were still floating in Renier's palm.
(...He's not releasing the spears?)
The elf, suspicious of Renier's action of jumping without launching the Goddess's Three Spears, tensed, wondering what she was thinking――――
Then the elf saw something even more unbelievable."I am the bone of my sword. My core is layered and bursts."
The same line as before.
However, the meaning contained within it was completely different.
At the same moment Renier recited that line, the elf man witnessed the "Goddess's Three Spears," which had been floating near Renier's hand, overlap once again and merge into a single beam of light.
"…No way!?"
An act of forcibly binding together what should originally exist as three separate spears.
For the elf man, who deeply worshiped the goddess, it was the most impossible sight he had seen in his entire life.
After all, it meant making drastic changes to something that was supposed to have been bestowed by the goddess—without faith in the goddess, and without the goddess's permission.
To bind the three streams of magical power together, even more violent magic continued to surge within Renier's palm.
Enduring the intense pain, Renier showed no expression of agony and looked down at her current target.
Eventually, the three spears of light transformed into a single sacred spear of light.
It was an object created by forcibly merging the three spears that were originally meant to be launched by magic.
This would no longer fly toward its target on its own.
The magic imitation had not been properly achieved to begin with, and by interfering directly with the spear itself, it became nothing more than a bomb that would remain in her hand.
But for Renier, that was enough.
If this thing could not be fired.
Then she would forcibly launch it with a bow, or—throw it manually.
"Divine Spear of Three Bundles."
At the same time she spoke the name of the newly formed spear in her hand, Renier hurled that spear of light toward the elf man with all the strength she could muster.
The combined technique of the spear-throwing master she had once faced, and a spear of light formed by binding together the Goddess's Three Spears.
It now rushed straight toward the elf man, becoming a high-speed meteor.
(This is bad!!!)
That cannot be deflected.
If he tried to meet that barehanded, even at full power, he would not escape unscathed.
It was an unconscious reaction.
The elf man reflexively grabbed the sword that entered his field of vision.
It was the sword he had deflected earlier after Renier had thrown it.
A counterfeit of the "Hero's Sword" used by the hero Himmel—an even further duplicate of that imitation.
Grasping it, the elf man prepared to intercept the incoming spear.
Although he had not fought with a sword for many years, he faced it with firm confidence that this time, he could deflect it—
At that moment."I—You held onto that, didn't you?"
Renier's voice seemed to mock him faintly.
The elf had forgotten one crucial fact: the sword he now held was not the one he had wielded himself, but a creation of Renier's magic.
"Magic that turns mana into an explosion… Ex Phantasma."
At the same time, the replica of the Hero's Sword the elf had taken in hand erupted into black magic and exploded.
"―――――!!?"
Pain shot through his right arm.
――――Damn it!?
The elf immediately regretted his snap decision. He had fallen into a trap, losing his weapon, and now the true attack was about to strike.
The spear of light, a condensed manifestation of pure killing intent, surged toward him.
He could not block it with a weapon, nor could he parry it with bare hands.
At best, he could try to evade a direct hit.
The elf stepped back.
The light spear struck the ground where he had just been standing, and――――
"G-GOOOOOOAAAH!!!"
The impact unleashed a massive explosion that engulfed the surrounding area. The elf's scream echoed through the chaos.
But it wasn't over yet.
A demon girl, holding twin great axes, descended in a spinning fall.
The "Spinning Great Axes" in her hands had absorbed all the magical power she could muster through repeated rotations.
She unleashed techniques that formed the foundation of her combat style.
Even though the elf in front of her was a warrior far beyond the skill of her original mentor, Renier ultimately relied on the axe techniques of Eisen, the warrior who had trained her.
Stopping mid-spin, she raised the axes into a high stance as she fell, and then released――――
"Heavenly Slash!"
The downward strike became a shining arc of energy and shockwaves, raining down on the elf.
Immediately afterward, Renier released the "Spinning Great Axes" without even converting them back into magical energy and ran, turning her back.
She had already expended most of her magical power; her body was battered, worn down by pain and overuse of magic.
As for her opponent――――she couldn't tell.
She had felt some impact, but she had no sense that he had been defeated.
Staying any longer was dangerous. He might be temporarily immobilized, but she no longer had the capacity to continue fighting.
Driving herself forward despite her overworked, pain-wracked body, Renier chose to flee at full speed.
And then――――a voice came from behind.
"…I don't understand what drives you to go this far."
The tone had shifted from hostile to calm once again.
"…But if you continue like this, who will remember what you've done…?"
The elf's quiet words, filled with both sorrow and pity, struck Renier like a dagger in the back.
Even so, she did not stop.
From before and into the future, propelled by something she could not even name, Renier continued on her path of execution.