The woman was split in two.
The cross-section was far from clean, like a fruit cut with a paring knife. The axe blade tore into the woman's body from top to bottom with dull, merciless force.
Pale white and vivid red clumps and liquids splattered everywhere. Among them, what caught on the axe with a thud, thud, thud were the woman's bones. Beleth felt the vibrations transmitted through his palms with pleasure. Before long, the flesh was grotesquely split from skull to groin.
The greatswords receded back into shadow. With that, the two halves of her body could no longer support each other — one fell to the left, the other to the right, collapsing limply. Like a red flower in full bloom, Beleth thought. He had no other sentiments to speak of.
"Heh-heh-hmph, hee-woo. Kroof kroof, kroo-hoof, kroo-hoo. Kroo-la, kroo-hoof."
Beleth hummed a little tune. He walked between the two severed halves of the woman's body. Squelch — his bare foot stepped on entrails. Heading toward the dust that had bloomed when the gate collapsed, Beleth advanced as though strolling through a neighborhood.
The swordswoman met a wretched end. For one bearing the honor of Sword Master, it was utterly pathetic. But it was not a meaningless death. She had managed to hold back the Demon Lord Beleth, if only slightly. Thanks to that sliver of time, the Imperial army had assembled before the gate.
"Form ranks!"
The fortress commander had also descended from the wall. The Demon Lord had come. If he, the master of the sword, did not step forward, it would be impossible to hold. He steadied his warriors as he fixed his gaze on the gate.
"Kroof kroof, kroo-hoof. Kroo-hoo. Kroo-la, kroo-hoof."
The cloud of dust had grown thicker than before. From within the pale haze, singing could be heard. The sound was slow but steadily drawing closer with each step. And with every footfall, the voices multiplied — until what had been a single person's humming spread into an eerie choral hymn.
Through the dust, dark silhouettes began to emerge faintly.
— Kroo-hoof. Kroo-hoo. Kroo-la, kroo-hoof.
— Kroof kroof, kroo-hoof. Kroo-hoo. Kroo-la.
— Laila parlia, kroo-la kroo-li.
It was an ancient military song.
From an era before instruments had been invented, when the human voice was the world's sole instrument — a song the Demonkin had sung in ancient times, when there were neither sheet music nor notation. The melody, woven in a single unadorned line, was as sacred as the hymns of a temple, yet at the same time so rough that note clashed against note. At that primal military song, the Imperial warriors that the Habsburg Empire prided itself on tensed up.
Thud.
From beyond the dust, a foot emerged. It was the Demon Lord's foot.
After that, tens, then hundreds of feet pierced through the yellow dust. The Death Knights — their entire bodies clad in black armor — stood in formation without a single gap. Even the clouds of dust failed to find a seam, drifting harmlessly past their armor.
"……."
"……."
The two sides faced off. The Imperial lines, the Demon Lord's lines — silence flowed between them.
The fortress commander was overtaken by a strange feeling. Above all, the expression on the Demon Lord who stood at the fore — that monstrous figure, enormous as an Ogre — was bizarre. The Demon Lord was scrunching his face with evident pleasure, like a man reaching climax in the middle of intercourse.
"I am Biopelt von Ragentz, first-rate warrior of the great Habsburg Empire."
The fortress commander shouted to change the mood.
"You — I judge you to be a Demon Lord more than worthy of crossing blades with. State your name!"
"Tch. What a pathetic sight. Are all Imperial warriors this sorry-looking?"
Beleth shook his head.
"Whether you belong to the Empire or hold some first-rate rank, none of that matters in the slightest. You're a warrior too, aren't you? A warrior is—"
Beleth raised his left hand — the one not gripping his axe — toward the sky.
"A man who is satisfied so long as there is sky above his head, earth beneath his feet, and a weapon in his hand. Fame, honor, etiquette — those are nothing but cumbersome trappings."
"……."
"I had already forgotten that I am the Demon Lord. My name is Beleth. I am the one who will fight you, who will cut you down, and who will humiliate you! Kwahahaha!"
Beleth charged like a wild boar. His massive frame became a projectile unto itself as he hurtled forward.
Hundreds of Death Knights surged after Beleth. They ran like a flock of seabirds dive-bombing their prey with savage cries. Refusing to be outdone, the Imperial warriors roared and charged in turn. The soldiers formed tight ranks and surged into the dust-choked arena.
"Kwaaaaah!"
"Push through! Cut them down!"
The narrow passageway before the fortress gate became a battlefield in an instant. Spears crashed against shields, swords clashed against swords, and the shrieking of metal tore through the air.
The warriors shoved their enemies back with their shields while screaming with rage. The air trembled at the humans' battle cries, and mana surged and flickered at the roars of the Demonkin. Their ears rang, and every muscle from the bulkiest to the finest trembled with excitement.
"I'll take you on, Beleth!"
The fortress commander straightened his iron club. He had come here with the express purpose of facing the Demon Lord. If the opponent was swinging a colossal axe, he needed something other than a sword to match it. Filled with mana, the commander's voice shot straight forward and boomed inside Beleth's ears.
"Kuh!"
Beleth roared with a laugh. He had just crushed a swordsman's breastplate with his elbow. Even though the man had defended with blue-tinged Aura, the armor was grotesquely mangled. The swordsman vomited blood and toppled backward to the ground.
"So you call me Beleth — human!"
Beleth wore no armor. His copper-colored upper body was bared for all to see. Several red gashes had already been carved across his skin, yet the wounds healed almost instantly. The Demon Lord's terrifying regenerative power served as armor enough for Beleth.
The fortress commander and Beleth — the two warriors charged at each other. Distance meant nothing to them. A single stride and they collided. Axe and club each drove into the other's body, sending sparks flying.
"Ahhahahaha! Wonderful!"
Beleth cackled wildly. When the axe blade was blocked, he deftly slid past the club and thrust the axe's haft forward. The fortress commander jammed his elbow into it before the haft could build momentum. The gap between them closed in an instant.
Beleth screamed right in the fortress commander's face.
"Hate me! Loathe me! No one else — bare your fangs at me, Beleth, and me alone!"
"Shut your mouth!"
The fortress commander drove his right fist into Beleth's abdomen. Muscles hard as iron blocked his fist — just as he had expected. This was a monstrous body. Beleth didn't even scream; he kept bellowing with laughter. Realizing his attack had been stopped, the fortress commander quickly took half a step back.
"I feel most alive when I am hated by you humans!"
Beleth shouted like a lovestruck girl making a passionate confession. He raised his axe and brought it down with all his might. The fortress commander hurriedly planted his club upright to block. The axe became a landslide in its own right, hammering into the club. The commander was forced to take two steps back to shed the impact.
"Guuhk!"
"Across all heaven and earth, only you humans hate me! Only you come at me head-on with pure hatred and pure defiance!"
The Demon Lord is a sovereign who receives the emotions of others and judges them impartially.
A human, yes — but in front of humans, the meaning of the Demon Lord ceased to exist. He could not read their emotions. It was an absolute confrontation between other to other. After learning that a species called humans existed in this world, Beleth swore he would devote himself to war against them for all eternity.
Humans do not submit to him. Therefore, they are worth conquering.
Humans do not flatter him. Therefore, they are worth breaking.
Humans do not obey him. Therefore, they are worth killing.
Humans were nothing like the Demonkin. The only reason Beleth had joined the Plains Faction was that it was the most hostile toward humans. Compromise with humans! What a laughable notion. In Beleth's eyes, humans and Demonkin existed for one reason alone — to face each other in battle.
Otherwise, why would both Demonkin and humans exist in this world?
"Ah! How truly I love humanity!"
A Demon Lord could not read the emotions of a Demon Lord. A Demon Lord could not read the emotions of humans. In other words — to Beleth, every single human was essentially another Demon Lord. They were beings on his own level. Subjugating the Demonkin held no joy, no thrill.
Only in conquering humans lay the meaning of his existence.
At the gate, corpses piled upon corpses. Screams of slaughter crisscrossed, shaking the air to its core. The roar of the victors shouting until their throats went raw, the wretched moans of the vanquished wrung from their very guts — these wove together into a vision of hell on earth. Hell itself was the homeland of the thirteenth-ranked Demon Lord, Beleth.
Beleth brought his axe crashing down like a storm.
"Is that all you have, humans! Is that the extent of your hatred?!"
"Guuargh!"
"I will raze your homeland to the ground! Children, elders, women — from the weakest to the strongest, I will slaughter every last one without exception. The fields you harvest will be burned, the villages you built over centuries will crumble to ruins. Ah! I swear it!"
Beleth bellowed.
"I will destroy everything you hold dear! I will violate your wives, and I will carve out the innards of your children to display them on pikes! Your lord — I shall make a special offering of him to the swine!"
The fortress commander blazed with Aura from head to toe and met the axe with his own weapon.
"Be—leth—!"
"If you wish to save them, then come at me with everything you have, human! Kill me!"
The commander swung his mace. The impact was incomparably greater than before, numbing Beleth's hand with a violent shock. The commander was burning through every last reserves of Aura he had held back. The three-day deadline Princess Elisabeth had ordered him to hold — he had cast it aside.
Beleth laughed like a madman.
This was it. This was the kind of war he had longed for. He knew full well how much effort it took for a single human to become a Sword Master. They must have thrown themselves into it with desperate resolve. Their muscles must have ruptured thousands, tens of thousands of times. And yet, they had kept their minds unbroken and swung the sword, finally reaching that state.
In other words, every blow he was taking now was carrying someone's entire life within it.
It was heavy!
So life could be this heavy!
"Kuhahahaha!"
What dawns and what nights had you endured? Had you ever doubted your own talent? Had you felt elation in your loyalty to your lord? Were you astonished by the revelation that a single stroke of the blade could bring enlightenment? Was that your life?
Beleth raised his battle axe with all of that weight channeled into it.
"Vipalt von Ragranz! I will end that life of yours!"
Perhaps it was surprise at being remembered by name. The commander's eyes widened.
Beleth swung with everything he had. The fortress commander blocked it. But that was all — one block, barely managed.
"Shatter!"
From top to bottom, from right to left, at angles and head-on, Beleth swung his axe ceaselessly. The fortress commander deflected blow after blow. He was not predicting and blocking in advance. He was barely managing to lift his arms in time to intercept by the narrowest margin.
This frail human was withstanding the weight of a Demon Lord who had lived fifteen hundred years.
He had never known whether a day would truly come when a human could endure a Demon Lord's full strike. When both sides staked the weight of their lives and clashed, perhaps a day would come when the human walked away victorious. He had never known.
But —
"Shatter, human!"
The mace snapped at the aura-reinforced shaft. Before the fortress commander's face could fill with shock, the axe buried itself in his skull. The blade crushed the head with gruesome finality and, carrying that momentum, carved through neck and chest.
" — Rraaaaaaah!"
Beleth tore the axe free and roared like a beast.
But the day of human victory had not yet arrived. As it had been fifteen hundred years ago, so it was now. The survivor today was not the human but the thirteenth-ranked Demon Lord, Beleth. The earth trembled, sending terror and reverence toward the Demon Lord's triumph.