"Just vanished all of a sudden. I thought you'd run away. Doesn't seem like you're that much of a coward though. You did let your subordinates escape, didn't you?"
Upon spotting me, Makia placed a hand on her hip and let out a sigh.
Even from a distance, her contemptuous gaze was unmistakable.
She seemed determined to insult me at every turn.
She showed little interest in the fact I'd evacuated my followers.
To her, subjugating the Demon King was the priority above all else.
Everything else could wait.
"..."
In silence, I leveled my inherited sword toward her.
There was still considerable distance between Makia and me.
Enough to make a bow shot questionable, at best.
Though for me, distance wasn't a concern.
It could be overcome depending on the method.
"Hmph, ignoring me now? For an undead, you've got nerve."
Makia released killing intent.
Judging by her irritated tone, she was quite short-tilted.
She tilted her staff toward me.
A preparatory motion for holy magic.
Absolutely no room for complacency.
"You, an outdated Demon King, can die now. I'll destroy and take everything you built, so be prepared, alright?"
"If you seek to impede me, I will show no mercy."
I make the proclamation without raising my voice.
It was a statement directed at the entirety of the Holy Staff Nation's army.
I cannot overlook their atrocities.
If left unchecked, the Holy Staff forces will surely proceed to commit massacres within the Demon Lord's territory.
Unacceptable losses will be incurred.
I have chosen the path to become the enemy of the world.
I am prepared for my own forces to sustain damage in the ensuing battle.
However, I cannot stand by and watch innocent civilians be killed without reason.
Having sworn fealty, it is the Demon Lord's duty to protect them.
I will annihilate the Holy Staff army right here.
"Hmph, die uselessly."
Makia snorted and raised her staff.
Her mana surged, and countless chains of light materialized in the air.
Their number must have been in the hundreds.
I observed the sequence of the spell and the flow of mana closely.
I grasped its general mechanics.
"I see."
Immediately after, the chains of light were launched.
They shattered structures along their trajectory and bore down with ferocious force.
I sprinted toward a nearby building.
As I did, I layered concealment magic to negate detection via magical energy or miasma.
I burst through the door and into the room.
Several bodies were left inside.
The homeowners, perhaps?
Another atrocity committed by the Holy Staff Army.
As I examined the corpses, the wall exploded with a deafening roar.
Chains of light poured into the room.
(That's considerable power. A direct hit would probably shred me.)
I deflected them with my heirloom sword and moved on.
I transitioned into an adjacent building.
The following chains curved mid-flight and struck after me.
(Does it home in on its target?)
From inside the building, I was in Makia's blind spot—she shouldn't know my exact location.
Concealment magic should have hidden me from her senses as well.
Yet the chains of light attacked me with precision.
This must be a homing spell.
An exceptionally high-performance magic.
Standard offensive spells rely on visual targeting.
Homing types exist, but they typically require some kind of mark on the target.
These chains of light are targeting me without using them as a medium.
As expected of something called Holy Magic, its nature is fundamentally different from ordinary magic.
(For now, it’s better not to stop moving)
I leaped to the second floor of another building.
Shattering the approaching chains, I jumped again to yet another structure.
I’m refraining from using teleportation magic due to concerns over mana consumption.
This space is harsh for an undead being like myself.
It constantly drains my strength.
Even my physical protection was consuming mana.
Under normal circumstances, this would still leave me with enough leeway, but clearly, being within this city is having a detrimental effect.
I am being forced into a state of significant weakening.
Even my connection to the Valley of the Dead seems temporarily severed.
(It’s such a disadvantageous situation for me that it feels like some kind of joke)
When conditions align this perfectly, I don’t even feel anger.
I am keenly aware of how much I am despised by this world.
Saint Makia was indeed a being born to destroy the current Demon Lord.
But that doesn’t mean I should give up.
My role is to overturn this destiny.
The moment Makia defeats me, the world will return to its former state.
Until the next Demon Lord is born, a pointless conflict among humans will begin anew.
Above all, my tremendous devastation must not be in vain.
The purpose behind my relentless, wicked slaughter must not be lost.
I must prevent that at all costs.
Leaping to the next building while enduring numerous beams of light, I sliced a section of wall with my sword and rolled into the room.
Inside were Holy Staff soldiers.
Four of them, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Concentrating, they were casting a spell.
"Wha—!?"
"Uwah!?"
Upon noticing my intrusion, the soldiers panicked.
They immediately reached for their staves.
Before they could, I flashed my heirloom sword.
Four soldiers' heads slipped from their shoulders, blood spraying across the room.
Some of it splattered onto me.
The decapitated soldiers collapsed simultaneously.
They likely had no time to feel pain.
A small mercy, at least.
I will not raise these soldiers as undead.
The current city is saturated with holy aura.
Even if I increased my subordinates, they would serve no shield and merely be drained away for nothing.
I flicked the fresh blood from my blade and turned my awareness to the surrounding situation.
We were enveloped in an eerie silence.
The chains aren't coming. Did we escape beyond their range?
Or perhaps they realized that firing blindly would only result in being intercepted.
Either way, I was grateful for the reprieve.
Constantly destroying chains of that density was nerve-wracking.
I knelt down and touched the soldiers fallen before me.
Magical inscriptions had been carved into their bodies.
The same markings were carved into all four of them.
"...So it was as I thought."
With this chain of events, I had grasped the mechanism behind Makia's power.
First, her holy magic was genuine.
That efficacy itself was something she possessed as a saint.
It was pure, unadulterated power.
However, the case was different when it came to mana.
Makia was siphoning mana from the Holy Staff Nation's soldiers within the city.
She was using the collected mana to unleash those chains of light.
Casting spells of that magnitude repeatedly as an individual was extraordinarily difficult.
Without an exceptionally gifted constitution or some kind of supply source, it would be impossible.
In Makia's case, that was the Holy Staff Army itself. She solved the problem of magical power consumption by fielding numbers in bulk.
(If that's the case, countermeasures are straightforward)
To diminish her strength, the first priority is to reduce the number of her soldiers.
As usual, there's the option of using large-scale magic to attack directly, but if that's blocked, we're left with nothing.
In the current situation, I'm forced into disadvantages on multiple fronts.
Overconfidence in my own abilities and resorting to simple tactics would be unwise.
I must prepare thoroughly and corner her with certain means.
"...A thorough but gruesome method," I mutter self-mockingly in the room strewn with corpses.
Since becoming the Demon King, this was the first time I'd engaged in such gritty, cruel warfare.
Perhaps this was the very evil I sought.
(No choice but to do it)
To prepare for the battle with Makia, I'll conserve magic.
I will refrain from offensive magic, limiting myself to body protection and enhancement, concealment, and perception.
Some resistance from their side is to be expected, but I'll crush it.
I have that person's swordsmanship.
No one who can stand against me exists.
—I set off quietly, ready to slay the tens of thousands of soldiers led by the Saint.