While remnants of the Demon King's army were beginning to gather in the northern regions, completely unaware of this, the opposite southern nations were on the verge of seeing conflicts among humans intensify.
There exists a spell known as "Zoltraak, the magic that kills people."
The nature of this spell is extremely simple: it compresses the caster's mana until it becomes visible, then fires it at the target. In other words, it is pure, unadulterated killing intent given form. It does not convert natural phenomena such as fire or lightning into an attack; from the very beginning, it outputs mana itself as a weapon for the sole purpose of killing.
What makes this magic truly terrifying is that it can effortlessly pierce through humanity's existing defensive magic and the magic resistance granted to equipment, destroying the human body itself.
The one who created this magic was not human.
It was devised by a demon, one of humanity's natural enemies—specifically, the great demon known as Qual, bearing the epithet "The Corrupt Sage."
However, Qual, who had wreaked havoc with this magic, was sealed away through the efforts of the Hero's Party, and at the time, everyone likely believed that the threat posed by "Zoltraak, the magic that kills people" would be postponed for at least several centuries.
But merely postponing it solved nothing.
Thinking this way, mages across the continent eventually became obsessed with analyzing Zoltraak and creating countermeasures against it. One who contributed especially greatly to this research was Frieren, the mage of the Hero's Party and one of those who had carried out Qual's sealing.
Up to this point, the story could still be wrapped up as a fine tale of humanity uniting to struggle against a demonic threat.
The problem begins here.
Zoltraak, the spell in question, proved to have an exceptionally refined spell structure—so refined that even humans could understand and handle it. As a result, without waiting for Qual's resurrection, this weapon began to be unleashed across the world. Even with Frieren's cooperation, humanity rapidly made Zoltraak its own, and before long, turned that weapon against fellow humans.
Naturally, the Empire—eager to militarize magic—adopted it, but in particular, the southern nations where the flames of war were spreading became battlefields filled with this weapon even sooner than the northern regions where the Empire lay.
And it was not only humans who gathered on such magical battlefields.
The influence of Zoltraak did not stop with humanity. The same was true for the demons. While powerful demons were steadily assembling in the north, for weaker yet more cunning demons, regions where humans were fighting one another became ideal places to hide.
Moreover, the demons who witnessed Zoltraak flying across those battlefields each sought to overcome it in their own way, further refining their magic. Demons focus on developing the single magic they possess; thus, unlike humans, few of them directly absorbed Zoltraak itself. In exchange, however, their pride in their individual magic and their obsession with honing it far surpassed that of humans. Precisely because of this, they would not allow their magic to fall behind that of humanity. Refusing to lose, they strove to overcome it.
While the north was becoming a clear front line of opposition between humans and demons—
In the south, where humans slaughtered one another, a similar cat-and-mouse struggle between humanity and demonkind was being waged behind the scenes.
Furthermore, as war eroded human morals and ethics, even if demons left behind horrific devastation, humans would accept it as an ordinary sight, without suspecting demon involvement.
Though the structure of conflict differed, hells scarcely different from the days when the Demon King's army roamed freely were being mass-produced.
Ah, truly.
Both Qual, the developer who created Zoltraak, and Frieren, the merchant of death who refined and spread it—
"Honestly… you've caused nothing but trouble…"
Looking down at the corpses of demons lying before her, crumbling away into motes of mana, Lynne muttered to herself.
◇
Several decades after Hero Himmel defeated the Demon King, Lynne—who in her days as an Executor had fought on the northern battlefields where the Demon King's army had once been active—now found her battlefield in the regions lined with the southern nations.
Though she had resolved to return to the path of an Executor, she could no longer control her mana as she once had, and realizing that execution would not go well in her current state, Lynne abandoned the idea of heading north.
Instead, she chose to hunt demons lurking in the south, hidden amid conflicts between humans. Unlike the era of the Demon King's army, southern demons concealed themselves inconspicuously, and with weaker ties between demonkind, communities were difficult to form. As such, armies would not arise. At most, there might be only meager, individual connections.
Precisely because of that, there was no longer any need to adopt her former style of hunting by infiltrating enemy forces.
Sniping with a bow from a distance where her mana could not be detected, striking without being noticed—
That was the hunting style Lynne had now settled into.
However, this fluctuation never went away, and Lynne was growing impatient.
For several decades now, as she continued her hunts, Lynne had been searching for a way to eliminate this instability in her mana.
Everything was for the sake of returning north and once again acting as an Executor; no matter what, she had to erase this fluctuation. Yet even now, no method had been found.
To begin with, Lynne's mana control was not something she had "trained" in the usual sense. Rather, it was honed under extreme conditions—while infiltrating demon armies, where even the slightest fluctuation was unforgivable.
It was only natural that after that hell had ended, such control would deteriorate. But that was not the only cause.
The true root of this mental instability—the underlying cause—still eluded Lynne.
She lived a life of hiding from human eyes, continuing to cut down demons who were likewise in hiding, almost out of sheer inertia.
Though her mana control had weakened, her ability to sense mana remained fully intact. The efficiency with which she unilaterally located and eliminated her targets had not declined since her days as an Executor.
In fact, by changing her hunting style and primary armament, Lynne's sniping ability had been refined even further compared to her Executor days.
Had the Demon King's army back then not been organized as true forces, but merely a rabble of individuals acting independently, this hunting style would have been more than sufficient even in those days.
And today as well, she continues to kill.
She nocks a sword as an arrow, and fells her target.
Using mana detection to gauge the enemy's strength, she replicates a sword suited to that power, then fires it as an arrow.
There are no fierce clashes of blades, no shocks of colliding mana.
Everything ends in silence.
…How many times has she repeated this by now?
Yet no matter how many she killed, the answer she sought—the cause—never revealed itself, and she spent her days in constant frustration.
There were even times when she was seized by the urge to take up a sword again and rampage about as she had on that day.
If she did not, it felt as though she would be crushed by something unseen.
"Gah!!"
"W-What the—A…!"
Thin swords flew in from beyond the range of mana detection, piercing the demons squarely between the brows. Unable to even perceive their enemy—indeed, unaware that an enemy existed at all—they perished.
And the one responsible—Lynne—watched the scene calmly, bow in hand, from the shade of a tree atop a cliff.
With narrowed eyes, she observed to ensure every last target had been completely finished.
...
There was nothing.
The usual sight.
Lynne was always wary of irregularities—such as unexpectedly encountering that monk elf—but this time as well, nothing of the sort seemed likely to occur.
…Or so she thought.
"—"
Lynne's eyes widened as she looked at the killing field she herself had just created, now visible from afar.
Descending upon that scene was a single, small-statured woman.
Though she appeared to be a woman, the two horns protruding from her forehead spoke unmistakably of her being a demon, not a human.
(That mana… a great demon? And among them, upper-class?)
Sensing the woman's demonic mana, Lynne's body stiffened for an instant—an instinctive reaction of her demon nature. But immediately, she replicated a sword with even greater killing power and nocked it as an arrow.
This was her chance. If she let it slip, she might never get another.
She didn't know who the demon was.
But she had to be a famous one.
Thinking so, Lynne began to squeeze the trigger—
The demon who had been looking down at the corpses only moments ago suddenly turned toward her.
At a distance beyond the reach of detection. And despite Lynne maintaining high-precision mana suppression—though slightly unstable—there was no way she should have been detected.
The female demon smiled softly.
For a human, it would have been the most ordinary of smiles—the kind one gives upon meeting a friend again.
Maintaining that smile, Lynne could see immense mana gathering in the demon's raised hand.
"Tch, Mimic Trace—!"
A chill ran through her. Acting on reflex, Lynne reverted the sword and arrow she had nocked back into a single mass of mana, then overlaid it with twice as much mana as before. Like a mirror image of the demon, she raised and condensed her own mana toward the distant foe.
And then—just as she muttered, "Start on," an overwhelming wave of mana surged toward her, swallowing her whole.
"—!!"
Clutching her numbed right hand, Lynne emerged from the smoke and hurriedly left her original position.
She leapt, then sprinted at full speed. Without looking back, she chose to flee.
That had been close. Just a little more—if her deployment had been delayed by even a fraction of a second, who knew what would have become of her.
(Even if it was a hastily made, incomplete replica… for there to exist magic in this world that could break through that…!)
Fortunately, she had managed to cancel it out, so Lynne herself suffered almost no damage. Still, the reckless, hurried projection and the shock she failed to fully negate left her right hand numb.
Even so, she had survived.
Realizing that her location had been exposed to a vastly superior opponent, she judged that this was the time to withdraw—
—and it was at that moment that—
—A rain of swords poured down from above.
Greatswords with long, triangular blades rained mercilessly down upon Lynne from overhead.
The instant she noticed, Lynne generated her treasured sword in her hands and reflexively knocked every blade away.
And then—catching sight of the swords as they flew off—her eyes widened once more.
Analyzing their structure and the information she gleaned from them,
Lynne arrived at the identity of their owner—and felt a chill run through her.
"Don't be so tense."
A gentle voice called down from above.
She looked up.
There stood a great demon descending slowly before her, hands clasped at her chest, wearing the same unchanged smile as before.
A calm, gentle smile.
And yet, the stench of death clung to the air, assaulting her nose no matter what.
"...!"
Gripping her treasured sword, Lynne fixed a sharp glare on that presence.
"Since mana detection doesn't work on you, I traced your general position from how the corpses fell and the placement of their wounds. Looks like I was right."
Lowering herself to the ground one foot at a time, the female demon gazed at Lynne.
Her indigo hair fell to about knee length. Aside from the horns growing from her forehead, her appearance was no different from that of an ordinary human woman—beautiful enough to captivate the eyes of any passerby.
"Nice to meet you, 'Nameless Executor.'
I am Solitaire, also 'Nameless.'
Come now—let's have a little talk, sister."
Lynne desperately suppressed the shudder threatening to run through her body.
It was not fear born from understanding the difference in their power.
It was the fact that her identity as an Executor had been named outright.
Why? She should have left no traces at all.
She had left no bodies, and aside from a single exception, she had not allowed a single witness to live.
—Could it be that monk elf had let something slip?
"You look like you're wondering why. Very well—let me start by telling you how I arrived at you.
…It was certainly exhausting, tracing the remnants of battlefields that seemed to be your handiwork. You didn't leave corpses, weapons, or survivors behind.
Searching every battlefield with no certainty that you were even the one responsible was a mind-numbing task."
"..."
"Still, we demons have an abundance of time anyway. So I thought I wouldn't give up.
Even though we're both 'nameless,' my name has spread among my own kind. But you—your identity couldn't be grasped even by fellow demons. Your thoroughness in remaining nameless surpassed even mine, and I simply couldn't help but become deeply interested.
So—I followed the traces of mana left at the battlefields where you must have rampaged. Even the faintest residual mana, I gathered without missing a single grain, and analyzed it over a long span of time."
Lynne's grip on her treasured sword tightened.
The fact that she had drawn the interest of this great demon precisely because she had remained nameless.
"It wasn't something that could be done on a whim. Your concealment was that perfect.
But thanks to it, I learned something fascinating—that while suppressing your mana and pretending to be weak, you systematically slaughtered your comrades within the same forces."
"..."
"Seeing it with my own eyes, I can agree. It's utterly fascinating. You don't look like you've lived for several hundred years yet. And yet, your mana control is far beyond what could ever be achieved through mere centuries of training.
If time wasn't an option… then density must have made up for it.
And what formed that density was likely this: an extreme environment where, while infiltrating demon armies for a long time, you were never allowed to show even the slightest fluctuation in mana."
"Am I right?" Solitaire asked, studying Lynne's face.
Lynne did not change her expression as she raised her sword.
She listened calmly only to grasp her own mistakes and make use of them next time.
"What incredible mental strength. From the very beginning, you infiltrated the ranks with the sole purpose of betraying demons.
Like slowly administering poison, you learned each individual's habits one by one, and then carried out their annihilation.
After crystallizing blood and tears, you eventually even used humans—used them and discarded them—and thus, you completed yourself as the nameless Executor."
Clap, clap, clap. Solitaire applauded gently.
"And to think all of that was done by a fellow demon… But still, something feels odd."
"...?"
"Your mana control is nearly perfect even now. But compared to what I investigated beforehand, I can see some roughness—some cracks."
A faint twitch ran through Lynne's brow.
"So tell me—what exactly are you wavering over?"
"—That's enough."
Before she realized it, Lynne's figure had already vanished from Solitaire's field of vision.
She had already heard what she needed to hear.
If she kept indulging in questions with no answers, she felt her mind might break.
She reshaped her treasured sword into the 'Whirling Strike Great Axe' and slashed in from the side.
As she closed the distance, she spun the haft with one hand, packing the blade with immense mana—
and unleashed the technique of Eisen, the strongest warrior.
However, it was blocked by a sword that appeared from nowhere.
Not just one—layer upon layer of blades intercepted Lynne's axe, shattering as they did so, and at the same time canceling out her all-out strike.
"—!"
"That ambush just now was splendid. If it were the old you, even I would have been taken down without noticing.
But with the clumsy state you're in now, it's a different story. For a great demon of my class, it's easy to see through."
The moment she finished speaking, swords attacked again from all directions.
Lynne immediately leapt away from Solitaire to create distance, and as the blades flew at her from every angle, she moved as if dancing, batting every one of Solitaire's swords aside.
(…Just as my analysis showed. Incredible sharpness, but the durability isn't all that high. Still—if one hits, I'll be cut down instantly.)
If this were Eisen, he wouldn't even need to dodge—his steel-like skin would simply repel them. But Lynne lacked both that kind of physical toughness and the sheer mana to nullify them outright.
"Amazing. As expected of someone who's fought on alone for so long. But—did you know? I can increase the numbers much, much more."
As Solitaire said that, twice as many sword strikes rushed toward Lynne.
Continuously manifesting swords around herself, Solitaire moved her hands to one-sidedly suppress Lynne, never allowing her to close the distance.
Lynne parried them all, and though only little by little, she steadily drew closer to Solitaire.
But just as she was about to knock aside a sword that loomed right before her—
At that very instant, the sword shattered, and from behind it a torrent of light surged forth.
"—!?"
The moment Lynne realized what that light was, her eyes widened in shock and she instinctively took a defensive stance.
Her sword didn't shatter and managed to deflect the light, but the diverted beam grazed her left shoulder.
"It can't pierce the magic resistance on your weapon—so you've already overcome Zoltraak too, I see."
Is this woman insane? Lynne thought in disbelief as she rolled with the impact and sprang back to her feet.
Lynne's sword replication even mimicked the magical effects bestowed upon the blades.
Over the past several decades of human-on-human warfare, countless Zoltraaks had flown across battlefields, and in response, the magic resistance enchantments applied to human equipment had rapidly evolved.
By copying those constantly updated resistance formulas engraved into such swords, Lynne had overcome the threat posed by Zoltraak.
But what was this woman?
Using even the swords she created with magic as mere feints, then unleashing refined human magic—was she truly a demon?
So this was Solitaire. True to the rumors, a genuine "oddity among demons."
"But if I keep hitting you with that over and over, even you will have a hard time, won't you?"
Solitaire spoke while looking down at Lynne clutching her injured left shoulder.
"I didn't come here to kill you. I just want to talk with you. Come on—let's continue our conversation, sister."
She said it without losing her smile, yet all the while maintaining an overwhelming number of manifested greatswords around her—an arrangement that could turn Lynne into a pincushion at any moment.
What a mouth you have, Lynne cursed inwardly.
This woman had openly declared herself a "nameless" great demon earlier.
And Lynne, who was likewise "nameless," understood all too well what that meant.
Which was why this woman had no intention whatsoever of letting her go.
This was a battle where, unless one killed the other, neither could remain nameless.
That was the nature of this fight.
Lynne pierced Solitaire with cold eyes, making it clear she had no intention of entertaining her talk.
"I thought I'd shown you the difference in our power well enough. And yet—you won't break?
Even if we're both 'nameless,' going along with me might extend your survival time, you know?"
There was no meaning in that. In that span of time, the other side would steadily cut off every escape route—because Lynne herself had done exactly the same.
"Mimic Trace, start."
"I'm done indulging you," Lynne muttered, ignoring Solitaire's words.
The moment she spoke, multiple black spheres of mana began to manifest around her.
As if opposing the countless greatswords floating around Solitaire, they gradually took on the shapes of something else.
At this rate, she would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. With her weakened mana suppression, ambushes no longer worked.
Then—
She would have to answer quantity with quantity.
"Spell structure added. Processing complete."
"Sequence complete, rollout. All mimic bullets, standby cleared."
As she finished speaking, the countless black spheres floating around Lynne each manifested into swords of different forms.
"…Amazing."
Forgetting even the smile she had pasted on, Solitaire stared, transfixed by the sight.
"…Amazing—this is incredible! I've never seen anything like this before! Because every single one of these is—"
Solitaire examined the weapons floating around Lynne one by one.
'Dach's Sacred Sword'
'Medrojiubalt, the Blade That Turns Attacks into a Whirlwind'
'Van Spiele, the Sealing Fang Spear'
'Dark Dragon Bone Blade'
'Thunderflash Hammer Bee'
'Divine Art Shatterblade'
Even just the weapons visible nearby—so many famed arms were gathered in one place.
And beyond them, an overwhelming number of swords, axes, and spears—each with a different shape—hung motionless in the air, all of their tips aimed squarely at Solitaire.
"I thought you'd been using weapons I recognized for a while now, but Schreck of 'Thunderflash', even the sword of Revolt of 'Divine Art'… It's like I've walked into a museum! What kind of trick is this, I wonder? Big sister is very curious!"
"Incredible, incredible!" Solitaire exclaimed in excitement.
She could tell. It wasn't just that they looked the same. From the mana emanating from each weapon, down to their structure and effects, they were likely identical in every respect.
Masterworks forged by humans, and numerous demon swords composed of materials not of this world.
Especially the latter—some of those blades should have been destroyed by the Executor Lynne's own hands, swords that should never again be born into this world. And yet, without exception, they were here.
Just what kind of mechanism, what sort of spell structure, made such a feat possible?
Could this girl truly be claiming to grasp the complete structure of every single one of these swords?
Had she even plagiarized the weapons created through a lifetime of refinement by demon warriors, as though mocking their devotion and training?
"Truly, meeting you here was sheer luck. I never imagined I'd actually find you."
This is the worst, Lynne spat back inwardly as she let mana course through her entire body.
"Stop, thaw—freeze out—!"
"Fine. Big sister's starting to feel like trying a little too."
They each raised a hand, pouring mana into the swords they had manifested around themselves.
Solitaire did so while indulging in thoughts of the spectacle that was about to unfold.
Lynne did so with an empty mind, fixing her gaze solely on the one she had to kill—Solitaire.
"All mimic sword barrels—continuous sweep fire, full open."
At the signal to begin, the swords standing by around both of them launched all at once, each targeting the other.
Vast numbers of blades, fired indiscriminately and without discrimination, collided with the intent to annihilate one another, and countless sparks came to dominate the battlefield.
An unending clash of blades.
This was not a number of sword strikes that could ever be produced by warriors in combat.
Yet it was also not the kind of sight seen when mass-based spells collided between mages.
What existed there was, in a sense, a battlefield itself.
A "battlefield" of just two beings—formed by the collision of innumerable swords created by the magic of two demons alone.
"Fuh, hehehe! I've had more conversations and experiments than I can count, but this is the first time in my life I've ever had a bout like this! Show me more, big sister! What kind of sword comes next? Or a spear? An axe? Anything is fine—show me more!"
Solitaire thought to herself:
This was truly fortunate.
For Solitaire, whose theme was the study of humans, the southern nations—being a battlefield—were both the perfect hiding place and a treasure trove of excellent samples.
Because it was a war zone, even abducting humans would be dismissed as the work of an enemy nation, drawing little suspicion toward her own existence. It was an ideal environment to conduct careful "talks" and "experiments" in a hideout.
She had also come here partly with the thought that the Executor might be present—but she had never imagined she truly would be.
Had she not whimsically decided to observe the corpses of demons she happened upon, she would never have encountered such a miracle.
A demon who kills demons is not, in itself, rare.
But the methods and mentality required to skillfully exploit humans while continuing to do so were, if anything, more fascinating to Solitaire than most humans themselves.
And on top of that, this demon adhered to the same policy of remaining nameless.
Perhaps even more thoroughly than Solitaire herself.
They were the same kind of heretic, and on top of that, they used similar magic—magic that created and controlled swords. Somewhere in her heart, Solitair even felt something close to fate.
Yet at the same time, despite sharing that heresy, Solitair sensed clearly that the vector of their aberration was fundamentally different from her own.
She herself was infamous among the demons as a heretic, but even so, the fact that she was still accepted by her kin meant that, in the end, she remained within the bounds of demonkind.
But the girl before her—there was a feeling, a premonition mixed with curiosity, that even that very foundation had collapsed. And that feeling drove Solitair onward.
(But this is… am I about to be pushed back, after all?)
While blocking Reenie's swords with magic as they grazed her body, Solitair ran through her calculations.
In terms of sword generation speed alone, Solitair held the advantage.
However, the moment her swords collided with Reenie's, they shattered almost instantly. Solitair's greatswords prioritized sharpness; their durability was never particularly high. That had always been their defining trait.
She could produce as many as she wanted, so she had never cared when they broke.
But when faced with the same scale of numbers—and worse, when outmatched in quality—that was a different matter entirely.
Solitair's swords were, in essence, mass-produced items created through a single spell formula.
Reenie's swords, on the other hand, were each unique—individual weapons that included demon arms no longer existing in the world, as well as masterpieces forged by humanity.
That was why Solitair had to neutralize each of Reenie's swords by throwing multiple of her own against a single one.
(Even so, the difference in total mana is obvious. And she must be consuming no small amount of mana every time she creates swords of that quality. In contrast, I can keep producing the same sword, at the same quality, with a stable generation cycle. If this continues, I'll be the one who wins.)
Without slowing her sword production, Solitair fixed her gaze on Reenie.
As if to say she didn't care about the storm of flying blades, Reenie advanced straight toward Solitair, sword in hand.
(She understands that too. That if this continues, she'll lose due to the difference in mana. That's why she has no choice but to take some risks and come directly for me while I'm full of openings. And then—)
Without interrupting her sword generation and firing, Solitair released Zoltraak from her body without any visible motion.
The Zoltraak dispersed in all directions, arcing to surround Reenie as it assaulted her—but every single one was intercepted mid-flight by Reenie's swords.
(As expected, Zoltraak doesn't work. Judging by the fact that they have magical resistance updated to modern standards—something the original swords shouldn't have had—it seems she can even improve them beyond their original state.)
The more she saw, the clearer it became: this girl was far more specialized than Solitair herself when it came to "swords." To compete on that front was obviously a losing proposition. If their total mana had been equal, Solitair would have already been defeated.
"Very well."
Maintaining her smile, Solitair spoke to Reenie, who had slipped through the rain of swords and Zoltraak to close in right before her.
Seeing the swords that had been protecting Solitair crumble and fall apart one by one, Reenie frowned suspiciously.
"In honor of those crystallizations of your blood and tears—
I'll face you with my magic."
At that moment, Reenie's eyes flew wide open.
The flow of mana within Solitair's body had changed.
And Reenie recognized that flow.
'Magic that collides mana with mana.'
An enormous amount of mana converged in Solitair's hand and, wielding the violence of pure directionality, threatened to swallow Reenie whole.
The terrain before Solitair was gouged out, and everything along the line of fire—the ground, trees, rocks—was blown away without exception.
"Oh my, I missed."
From within the smoke, Reenie emerged and leapt at Solitair again, attacking from her blind spot.
Avoiding a spell after sensing it in advance—especially one she had already seen once—was practically Reenie's specialty.
"I would've liked you to reveal how you blocked it the first time, but oh well. It can't be helped."
Solitair spoke lightly.
The first time, she had fired this spell as well when trying to pinpoint the girl's position.
She had felt it being blocked alongside a strange magical reaction, and thanks to that, she had been able to find Reenie—but the method used to block it had remained a mystery.
"I'd really like to see that again up close, but perhaps it consumes too much mana?"
"———"
Ignoring Solitair's words, Reenie slashed at her with the treasured sword.
No matter how powerful the opponent's magic was, if you could see the flow of mana before the casting motion, there were countless ways to deal with it.
That understanding underpinned her advance.
"Then how about this?"
"———!"
Reenie's stepping foot stopped short.
The massive amount of mana that had been converged for the previous attack—this time, it was present in both of Solitair's hands.
Realizing with a chill that this demon could fire that attack multiple times, even simultaneously—
Reenie immediately retreated to create distance.
"Come now, come now—if you don't hurry and dodge, it's a one-way trip straight to hell, you know?"
A continuous torrent of mana tore through the terrain.
Released almost without any preparatory motion, it carried a force capable of scattering even the strongest defensive magic like scraps of paper.
This wasn't something that could be countered by swords with anti-Zoltraak magical resistance.
The previous clash of blades and Solitair's utterly abnormal magic had already transformed the surrounding terrain into something unrecognizable.
Shattered, collapsed trees, gouged and crumbling earth, pulverized rocks—all scattered across the battlefield, forming an unnatural battlefield scar that could never be produced in human combat.
Ignoring all of that, Solitair unleashed her attack, while Reenie desperately dodged, looking for the slightest opening.
With her current imperfect mana restriction, a complete surprise attack was no longer possible. All she could do was find a weakness in Solitair and strike with a single blow.
"I study humans, you know,"
Solitair spoke casually, as if chatting with a friend, while firing magic that collided mana with mana, which Reenie nimbly avoided.
"That's why I've talked with all sorts of people. About their favorite foods, the environments they grew up in, what kind of work they do… even their families. That was particularly interesting, since family is a concept that doesn't exist for us demons."
At the word family—just for a brief moment—Reenie's control over her mana visibly wavered.
Sensing it keenly, Solitair's smile deepened, and she continued.
"And then there are the words at the moment of death. My theme is to study humans—their customs, their culture, their magical techniques—through conversation.
And somehow… even though you're supposed to be a demon, I can't help but feel that my interest in you is the same as my interest in humans."
"———!"
"That's why I want to talk with you too. About your extraordinary magic. About the upbringing and environment that shaped you into an Executioner. If my guess is correct… perhaps I should bring you before Mahat."
A chill ran down her spine.
Not because the demon before her possessed overwhelmingly greater mana.
But because of words that seemed to mock her iron will, striking at a core even she herself had not fully understood—words that made Reenie feel she might lose herself.
"And that… wavering of yours. That might be why you've been lingering here in the South."
"———"
This time, Reenie's feet froze.
At the truth of those words.
The nameless great demon did not let that moment pass.
"Your wavering is fatal. You're full of openings."
"———ah."
As the whisper reached her ears, the mana converging in Solitair's hands entered Reenie's field of vision.
And this time, Reenie was swept away by the overwhelming torrent of mana.
Beyond the gouged terrain, near the fractured rocks marking the end of the path, Reenie lay sprawled on the ground.
Her body was soaked in blood, and her clothes were darkened with blood and dust.
"Hah… ah———"
She barely managed to exhale.
Perhaps by the slimmest chance, her evasion had been enough; the torrent of mana did not instantly kill her.
"Good… you're still alive. I was worried you might have misjudged the strength."
The nameless demon descended beside Reenie.
Even in the state where she could almost be called dying, Solitair approached without letting her smile fade.
"Gah———Soli, Te—air…."
Recognizing Solitair's advancing presence, Reenie forced herself upright with sheer determination.
Her eyes had not lost their fighting spirit. Behind her cold, violet-dark gaze, the flames of determination still burned.
Raising her upper body, Reenie prepared to stand…
"Ah, ugh――――ah!"
As if refusing to allow it, the greatsword that Solitaire manifested pierced Rinie's limbs as though sewing them together.
Kneeling, Rinie had no choice but to face Solitaire directly.
"Now, we can finally have a proper conversation. Your fate is sealed. But――――I think your life might last a little longer if you indulge me and listen to my story."
"Hah, ah."
"Perhaps the damage was worse than I expected. Very well, I'll wait until you can speak."
At the same time, Solitaire manifested countless more greatswords around her.
Without letting her guard down. Without hesitation.
Whenever Rinie showed the slightest sign of resistance, Solitaire made sure to remind her of the difference in power.
Solitaire waited. For Rinie's lips to move.
And then――――.
"―――――"
Rinie murmured something.
"Hm?"
Her voice was small, almost inaudible to Solitaire.
Yet, Solitaire, judging from Rinie's state, predicted what words would be spoken and asked brightly, her eyes sparkling.
"Could it be… a plea for your life? Very well, say it louder, let your elder sister hear you. The life plea of a demon who has wiped out countless of her kind――――I wonder what that will sound like――――?"
At that moment, Solitaire had forgotten one thing.
She had indeed been vigilant. She had manifested her swords around herself, combining offense and defense, keeping watch to react at any moment.
And yet, she had forgotten why the girl before her was called an Executor.
――――
Then, Solitaire's ears caught Rinie's words clearly.
"Freeze-out, thawing stopped."
In an instant, Solitaire's expression changed as if she had noticed something—but it was already too late.
Several of the greatswords that had been surrounding Solitaire suddenly shifted their tips――――and, unbelievably, attacked Solitaire herself.
"――――Oh?"
Solitaire's body was pierced from all sides by the very swords she had created.
Even her magically diminished defenses were shattered, and a jagged pain assaulted her.
(Why… are my swords moving on their own… No, this can't be――――)
Solitaire realized.
The swords that had pierced her were not ones she had truly created—they were counterfeits that the girl before her had sneaked in.
In that moment, as Solitaire manifested her surrounding swords, Rinie had quietly replicated the same swords and slipped them in without being noticed.
She never missed an opportunity to set up a counterattack. That was exactly what made her an Executor, a lone hunter of demon armies.
And the Executor did not let the chance slip.
She released her magical power to blast away the swords sewing Solitaire's body and glared at her.
The distance between them was now that of warriors in combat.
Witnessing Rinie rise, Solitaire, ignoring her wounded body, fled upward to create distance.
At the same time, she attempted to fire swords, but Rinie moved like a butterfly, spinning and dodging like a spinning top, advancing forward.
Before Solitaire knew it, Rinie held a white Western-style bow, mimicked through magic, in her left hand, and a sword in her right.
――――
Seeing this, Solitaire's pasted-on smile crumbled.
Her eyes were caught by the sword in Rinie's right hand.
(That sword…)
Solitaire instinctively understood at a glance.
――――That sword was of an entirely different caliber from any the girl had ever created before.
And, she realized, creating distance had been a mistake.
Rinie, having evaded Solitaire's counterattack, landed on one knee, fitted the sword as an arrow into the bow, and aimed it at Solitaire in the air.
"────I am the bone of my sword. Pierce and shatter!"
It was a sword said to have once crushed mountains in the age of myth.
Though much inferior to the original, it was far superior to any "imitations that merely bore the name of the divine blade."
Rinie, whipping her battered body with her last reserves of magic, drew the sword tightly as an arrow.
Immediately, the magical pressure released from it dominated the surrounding space.
Drawing the string to its limit, Rinie fixed her gaze on the target and spoke its name.
'────"Pseudo-Mythic Shattered Sword, Schweer Volke"'
She would let Solitaire taste a fragment of myth firsthand.
With that thought, kneeling, Rinie unleashed all her strength.
The sword, wrapped in a magical storm, flew straight at Solitaire.
Its speed was beyond even Zoltraak's comparison.
Evasion was nearly impossible.
Unconsciously, Solitaire poured all her magic into creating a shield in front of her.
That must not, under any circumstance, be struck.
The instinct of a demon, intimidated by the glory of a myth, screamed.
The arrow-sword approached.
The magical shield created with all her power shattered as if mocking her full strength, and its fangs reached her body.
"―――――――!!!"
With a voiceless scream, Solitaire's body was consumed by the immense magical power.
When the magic cleared――――Solitaire was gone.
◇
"Ugh, hah, hah!"
Rinie, confirming the threat had vanished, vanished her bow and collapsed to the ground.
Yet, despite eliminating the immediate danger, her complexion was grim.
Her hands clenched the earth in frustration.
"…I let it escape. Even after cutting with the mythical sword…"
Rinie had seen it.
Even though the "Mythic Shattered Sword" she fired as an arrow hadn't struck directly, the residual force alone had inflicted massive damage on Solitaire.
At that impact, it would take decades for her strength to return.
Yet, she had let her escape.
This battle was never meant to end with either of them surviving.
For both Rinie and Solitaire, to maintain their anonymity, neither could afford to let the other go.
And yet, she had escaped.
From now on, neither Rinie nor Solitaire would remain unknown.
――――
Rinie rose.
Her heart in turmoil.
Her iron resolve beginning to fray.
The lingering unease still not settled.
"Why… why is this happening?"
Why did it not go smoothly, like in her Executor days?
Why did everything seem to slip through her hands?
"She won't move for a while. But――――"
When they faced each other again, could she defeat that demon?
As one who also clung to anonymity, Rinie realized it would be difficult to track that demon down.
Even if she was lucky enough to find her weakened, given her skill, she would likely escape again.
"…I have to leave now."
Deciding thinking was useless, Rinie departed on unsteady legs.
At that moment, she still did not know.
The true tragedy that would come from losing her anonymity.
If only it were only her suffering, how much better it would have been.
The thing corroding her still did not stop.
If it rusted, she would sharpen it again.
Eventually, her body and soul would be worn down like a whetstone, and what tragedy awaited her in the end, she did not yet know.