Chapter 58 – Evil Star

To restore its power, the Demon absorbed all the magi it had stored, as well as the magi that maintained the labyrinth’s form.

Three centuries’ worth of magi gathered, but it didn’t feel wasteful.

It felt exhilarating. The bloodline of a hero. The descendant of the cherry blossom.

That detestable pink. An impossibly pure mana, and a strange aura emanating from that small figure.

If it could consume her, claim that girl, it could regain all of its strength. Thus, it willingly cast aside the magi accumulated over the last 300 years.

With that, it healed its wounds and recovered a fraction of its former power. Its appearance transformed as well.

No longer the grotesque, melted form abandoned by Labyrinth, but the torso of a beautiful woman and the sleek lower body of a snake.

A lamia form.

“Haa… Aha-ha…!”

The Demon, now returned to the prime form it had long forgotten over 400 years, let out a radiant, wide smile.

Its body tingled with an overwhelming sense of omnipotence.

Its lower half grew damp, and soft moans escaped its lips.

The thick magi spread from deep within, reaching its fingertips, to the tip of its tail.

With this power, it could tear apart the despicable cherry blossom’s descendant standing before it.

As it gazed at its own beautiful form, the Demon looked straight ahead.

Around it were people, foaming at the mouth and unconscious, crushed under the sheer pressure of the Demon’s presence.

The two pitiful girls who had dared to oppose it were slumped in terror, and the platinum-haired girl who had suddenly appeared could only remain upright, unable to move.

For any human facing a once high-ranked Demon, this was the expected response.

Thinking this, the Demon chuckled and turned its gaze to the one whose reaction it was most curious about—Eliaernes.

Eliaernes was—

Smiling.

It wasn’t a laugh of fear.

It wasn’t a bitter smile, nor one of self-mockery.

She was smiling brightly, like a child who’d received a gift, like a cherry blossom in spring.

“Aha-ha! You’re completely out of your mind.”

Eliaernes has lost her senses, the Demon thought. She’s been driven mad, unable to withstand her fear.

Convinced of this, the Demon slowly approached Eliaernes, studying her body with interest. Her white skin, her sweat-dampened neck, her moist lips, her clear eyes, and that detestable cherry blossom-colored hair.

The slender frame, the skin that looked soft to the touch, and the subtle fragrance wafting from her stirred the Demon’s hunger.

“I can’t wait to hear the moans you’ll make, the blood you’ll spill, and the expression on your face… Ahaha!”

A chilling laugh echoed throughout the museum. At the same time, a joyful laugh rang out as well.

It was Eliaernes’s laughter.

She spoke.

“I can’t wait either.”

She reached back with one hand.

At that moment, the Demon felt an inexplicable unease.

It must not let her wield a weapon.

This instinct jolted through its entire body, stripping away its confidence, filling the void with urgency.

Why? Before it could ponder the reason—

“You’re screwed now.”

In an instant, the girl had closed the distance and whispered. At the same time, the small dagger in her hand slashed forward. Just a dagger, barely a palm’s length, yet it aimed for the Demon’s neck.

The Demon dismissed it as insignificant. It sharpened its claws to deflect the dagger.

But—

Crack—

“…What?”

Its claw broke. Not only that, but the tip of its finger was also sliced off.

Though the dagger shattered and the wound quickly healed, a mere dagger had cut through the Demon’s flesh.

Of course, it wasn’t impossible.

Wasn’t this the same girl who’d burst through its skin and shattered its bones with her fists?

So it rationalized that a dagger would be just as effective.

But something… something was off.

The aura emanating from this girl—

Reminded it of something long ago.

The dread from 400 years past.

The Demon’s eyes narrowed. It ground its teeth, forcing magi to flare up. Crack. Two additional arms sprouted from its back like wings.

With all four hands, it picked up weapons scattered on the ground, surrounding itself with magi.

Ordinarily, it could have used the Authority of the Lamia, but its body was not in perfect condition. Thus, it begrudgingly wielded ill-suited weapons.

Two swords, a spear, and a great shield.

“Imitating a human, how pitiful.”

Eliaernes kicked off again, closing the distance.

“If you’re a Demon, act like one, you moron.”

With that crude insult, the small girl swung a massive hammer. Bam―! The hammer struck the shield. The impact rattled the Demon’s mind.

The shockwave shattered glass cases around them, filling the air with dust. Amidst the chaotic scene, cherry blossom-colored mana glimmered quietly.

The sight stirred an eerie familiarity within the Demon.

A primal fear, etched into its instincts, made it tremble.

Its teeth chattered, its breathing grew constricted.

Clenching its jaw to stop the tremor, the Demon forced itself to ask.

“…Who the hell are you?”

Eliaernes, chuckling, replied.

“After all that beating, you still don’t know?”

***

Hearing my response, the Demon let out an unnatural scream and launched an attack. But it couldn’t even move properly, let alone attack. I didn’t allow it.

Throwing the hammer into the air, I picked up an old sword and swung it at the Demon’s neck. It raised its shield hastily, but it was pointless.

Flash―!

The cherry blossom-colored mana flickered.

And in a moment too brief for the Demon’s eyes to perceive, the sword thrust between its ribs.

“…What is this?”

It muttered absently.

Its face contorted at my strange movements, but I didn’t stop. I left the sword embedded and picked up the hammer once more.

I swung. Bam―! The colossal impact shook the space. The recoil pushed me back.

No matter.

That’s exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed an axe lying on the ground and dashed forward. Swinging down from above, the Demon responded. Two arms, cloaked in magi, rose to block.

And then—flash!

Once more, the cherry blossom-colored mana raged, altering the axe’s trajectory from right to left.

Crunch―! The axe bit into the magi-coated arm.

“What is this—”

A look of terror dawned on the Demon’s face.

“This… this movement—”

Realizing something, it looked horrified. Ignoring it, I tore the sword from its side. Black blood spurted out. Without sparing a glance, I swung the sword.

In that brief moment, countless thoughts seemed to flash through the Demon’s mind, as if it were contemplating how to block the attack.

“Idiot.”

A mere Demon could never catch up to my movements, no matter how much it analyzed them.

I gathered mana and infused it into the old sword. Crack, the sword shattered. With my now-empty hand, I grabbed the Demon’s head. With the other, I picked up a weapon lying on the ground.

I didn’t discriminate. I’d grab it, assess it, decide, and wield it wherever it was needed.

It was an instant judgment.

A combat style that would mean immediate death if a mistake were made, but I’d fought this way for half my life.

This time, I grabbed a dagger.

Not bad. Swoosh! I reversed the grip and drove it into its forehead. Twisting it out, viscous brain matter spurted upward as I released the dagger and brought my knee up to its forehead.

Simultaneously, a burst of aura exploded.

“Kiiaaaak!!”

Crack! With the sound of shattering thunder, the Demon staggered. Seizing the opportunity, I ripped the axe from its arm and brought it down.

Crunch―! The axe embedded deeply in its shoulder, I reached for the spear I had prepared beforehand.

“You insolent, insolent wench!!!”

As I grabbed the spear, the Demon backed off.

Out of reach of the spear. In that case, I’ll throw it.

Changing my stance, I stepped back.

Right arm extended back. Left arm out front.

The spear beside my face, the tip aligned with my gaze.

Then, twisting my waist and tightening my thighs.

In that tense, drawn-back posture, my entire body became like a bowstring.

Crackle—the mana, pushed to its limit, imbued the drawn bowstring. It flowed, concentrating in one place.

From the shoulder to the arm, from the arm to the forearm, from the forearm to the wrist, and from the wrist to the hand.

Upon reaching that moment—

Thud. I took a large step forward and hurled the spear.

Whizz―!

With a tearing sound, the spear shot forward.

I picked up two daggers on the ground and followed in its wake.

Crunch! The spear lodged in the Demon’s abdomen.

Simultaneously, I threw the daggers. One lodged in its hand, the other stabbed into its wide-open eye.

Now, my hands were empty.

But with weapons strewn all around, I reached down, grabbed a mace, and kept moving. Closing the distance rapidly, I swung the mace.

Thud―! The heavy mace struck the Demon’s skull. The mace began to crack, but I swung it again, smashing aside the Demon’s arm and grabbing another weapon at hand.

This time, it was a simple bow.

“Tsk, damn it.”

I swung the bow, jamming it into the Demon’s mouth, and stepped back. I kicked up another weapon from the ground and grabbed it—a hand axe. I swung it upward, aiming from below. The Demon reacted, trying to wrap a tentacle around my wrist as it emerged from its mouth.

I couldn’t let it touch me.

Flash—mana flared, altering the axe’s trajectory once more, from an upward swing to a horizontal one.

Crunch—the axe tore through its flesh, breaking ribs, and drawing thick, dark blood before shattering.

I moved closer, swinging a sword. When distance widened, I thrust a spear.

I swung a poleaxe wide, slammed with a shield, sliced through tentacles with the hand axe, shattered defenses with a battering ram, and struck its skull with the mace.

If no weapon was available, I used my knee, my elbow, or my fists.

If distance widened abruptly, I fired arrows, threw javelins, or used a crossbow or sling.

When the Demon responded up close, I forced mana to explode within my joints, shifting my trajectory unpredictably.

I held my breath to the limit, avoiding any thoughts. I didn’t block attacks, for blocking would only lead to being overwhelmed. Besides, my body couldn’t endure even a single blow.

So—

I dodged and struck. I evaded and swung. I dodged and thrust.

I focused solely on attacking, leaving no chance for counterattacks.

I read the Demon’s frantic movements, deflecting attacks, picking up weapons, swinging, attacking, dodging, sidestepping, throwing, twisting, and slicing.

If a single hit wasn’t enough, I repeated it two, three times.

It wasn’t about choosing a weapon to fit the situation—it was about creating the situation for the weapon I wielded.

It was like dancing on the edge of a finely honed blade. But I was used to it.

Ten, twenty, thirty strikes.

When all the weapons in the museum had shattered, with barely five remaining—

The Demon, its four arms severed, half of its lower body torn away, finally stopped moving. Its magi dissipated, and the barrier around us began to thin.

The end was near.

“Haa…”

Forcing myself to steady my ragged breath, I looked around.

The museum’s interior was an utter wreck—a disaster beyond the word “ruin.”

And there, right beside me, lay a suitable weapon to finish off this wretched Demon.

I picked it up and drove it into the Demon’s heart, which was barely clinging to life, its body riddled with wounds.

“It’s exhausting. Just die already.”

***

“…You… who are you… really…?”

The Demon looked at the human who had just stabbed a dagger into its heart. Even after nearly an hour of fighting, not a drop of blood stained her.

Since the moment it had lost its rhythm, it had been on the defensive.

Whenever it attacked, she evaded, deflected, and countered. And whenever it tried to read her movements, that pink mana would flash, shifting her trajectory.

It couldn’t predict her. There was no pattern.

No habits. No routine.

Her face was calm and filled with composure, her breath steady.

Cunning, meticulous, relentless.

She knew precisely how to fight a Demon.

And she had the ability to execute it.

To her, this was just the natural order of things.

“You… who in the world… are you?”

With an arrogant smile, she wielded the axe.

Surrounded by ominously flickering mana, she approached.

The Demon felt an unsettling familiarity in her demeanor.

The arrogant smile, the ghostly gaze.

The endless array of weapons. The overwhelming force.

The unreadable patterns, movements, speed.

“Could it be…”

The memories of 400 years ago overlapped with today’s events.

The memory of its broken horn, interlaced with today’s sight.

The memory before it was forsaken, merging with today’s battle.

The flames of purgatory.

The raging star.

“…Ah.”

A thought dawned upon it.

The star that wielded the sacred sword symbolizing death.

The star that burned Demons with holy fire.

The star that summoned magical disasters.

The star that brought forth overwhelming violence.

The star that led four heroes and brought calamity to Gevihenum.

Ronan Lujarak.

Every Demon knew him as—

The Evil Star.