Dawn arrived.
The sky began to lighten at the horizon, and the morning sun cast its rays across the rubble-strewn wasteland.
I pulled the hood of my robe down low over my face.
It wasn't as though I would disintegrate in sunlight, but in my current state, it stung.
If I had to compare it to something, it felt like saltwater being poured over an open wound.
Quite unpleasant, really.
As the light grew stronger, the surrounding scenery was laid bare.
Countless corpses lay heaped upon one another in every direction.
They were painted in dark, clotted blood.
Those emitting black smoke had likely been incinerated by fire magic.
Covered head to toe in blood, I stepped forward over them like a specter.
With every step, I felt death.
I was reminded, utterly and against my will, of what I had done.
My body felt heavy.
This was no mere psychological weight.
The magic I had expended in rapid succession had left me with depleted reserves inside my body.
My exhaustion was far greater than usual, and my recovery speed had slowed dramatically.
Normally, I would have recovered to full almost instantly.
In truth, this level of magic use should never have exhausted me in the first place.
I wanted to teleport outside the city and recover in peace, but I couldn't afford to rest here.
That would only buy Makia more time.
Her limits were unknown.
After all, she was someone backed by the will of the world itself.
If given even the slightest chance of survival, some freak coincidence could restore her in the blink of an eye.
It sounded far-fetched, but Makia had the precedent of having mastered sacred magic before.
If I stepped away from here even briefly, it was entirely possible that by the time I returned she would have awakened to yet greater power.
If it meant destroying me, the will of the world would skip over reason and process alike to produce a miracle.
Everything about this had been unpredictable.
Even if it meant pushing myself, I had to kill Makia right here and now.
Up ahead, I spotted Makia in a crouching posture.
Her blank, vacant expression made her look full of openings at first glance.
But several beams of light in the form of chains circulated around her.
I tossed a small pebble at her to test, and one of the chains reacted and knocked it away.
The chains apparently served for both offense and defense automatically.
Quite a handy technique.
I would have liked to analyze it and learn to use it myself.
I studied Makia carefully.
Her mana level had settled to roughly that of an ordinary person.
The chains of light she had deployed were being maintained only barely.
There was no way she could unleash hundreds at once like she had in the beginning.
Her sustained combat ability was virtually nonexistent.
Just as I had intended, Makia had been drastically weakened.
"..."
I advanced toward her.
The closer I got, the more intense the holy aura became, and the greater the toll on my body.
Every bone in my skeleton creaked, their surfaces gradually crumbling away.
This holy aura did not originate from magic.
It was something Makia's own body was emitting naturally.
Since reducing her mana wouldn't stop it, I had no choice but to endure.
I halted at a certain distance.
Close enough that my voice would carry if I raised it a little.
Facing the Holy Maiden, I spoke without inflection.
"I've killed every last soldier. You're next."
"...You really are insane, you know that?"
"I know."
I replied solemnly.
I hadn't needed to be told. Tonight's actions were the very definition of madness.
No matter how many times I was condemned for it, there was no way to argue otherwise.
"You..." Makia rose to her feet, her expression deadly serious. "Does this scene not bother you at all?"
Her gaze swept across the countless corpses.
Every single one had died by my hand.
They were victims of an injustice beyond reason.
I followed Makia's example and looked around, then after a brief pause, I answered.
"My heart aches. But it was something that had to be done."
"Oh, so you're justifying it now. You really are the lowest scum there is," Makia spat.
This was, of course, a perfectly fair opinion.
Words I should accept without complaint.
Makia coughed lightly.
Blood clung to the hand she had pressed to her mouth.
Her body was screaming from the overuse of sacred magic.
With a click of her tongue, Makia wiped her hand on her pure-white cloak.
"I was going to crush the army of undead and the current Demon Lord, then rise to glory as the Holy Maiden. And you've gone and ruined all of it."
Makia's eyes burned with fury and hatred.
She readied her staff and began manipulating the mana within her body.
"The hero who defeated the previous Demon Lord was a swordswoman, you know. If I kill you here, I can call myself a hero too."
"So you'd be the hero, would you..." I murmured almost to myself.
Makia scowled, clearly annoyed.
"What? Got a problem with that?"
"That title is a heavy one."
I lunged forward even as I spoke.
In response, Makia deployed her chains of light.
There were six of them.
The more she committed to offense, the thinner her own defense became.
I read the trajectory of the chains as they shot toward me simultaneously.
I slipped in between them, stepping forward to meet the incoming chains with a slash of my blade.
The deflected chain struck another chain, sending sparks flying.
I dashed through the narrow gap created by the collision.
The chains of light were homing weapons.
They could attack without requiring a clear line of sight to the target at range.
Judging from their behavior so far, they possessed the property of locking onto undead creatures specifically.
The fact that they had fixed onto me and attacked relentlessly even while I was concealing myself with stealth magic was proof enough.
She could most likely sense the existence of undead as beings.
I had hidden my miasma and mana, so that was the only explanation.
It was certainly an impressive technique.
Because it didn't depend on the caster's skill, it could be wielded without training.
However, given their homing nature, the chains moved in predictable linear patterns.
With careful observation, they were simple enough to counter.
I deflected the chains that assaulted me from every direction as I advanced steadily forward.
"Stay away from me!"
Makia screamed and began chanting, conjuring an arrow of light.
This was just ordinary holy magic.
And it was terribly clumsy.
She had fumbled the incantation, and it produced only a single arrow.
I tilted my head to avoid the light arrow that was fired at me.
Then, in a flash of my blade, I destroyed the light chains that were still darting around me.
The severed chains dissolved into particles of light and dissipated.
The chains that had been protecting her had vanished as well.
She no longer had enough mana to sustain them.
"You— you— damn you!"
Panic-stricken, Makia chanted repeatedly, stumbling over her words but still managing to cast magic.
The light arrow she produced this time shot past me without coming close.
There was no need to dodge this one.
She hadn't even bothered to aim properly—that was why it missed.
"Uuuaaahhhh!"
Driven into a corner, Makia discarded her staff and charged forward with a short sword in hand.
The blade bore a sacred-attribute enchantment.
It was a magic weapon designed for killing undead.
And a first-rate one at that.
But its wielder was another matter.
I sidestepped the thrust short sword and struck Makia under the jaw with the heel of my palm.
Makia gasped and lurched backward.
In that instant, I swung my sword and severed the fingers gripping the short sword.
Blood sprayed in an arc as the blade swept through.
"AAAAHHH!"
Makia screamed, clutching the hand that had lost its fingers.
She dropped to the spot and desperately began gathering the severed fingers that had rolled away.
I looked down at her, my expression unmoved.
(Poor girl... Is this the end of a modern hero?)
Makia, had she dedicated herself to training, should have been able to wield a variety of sacred magic.
She could have possessed the very splendor befitting the title of Holy Maiden.
She might have even become a being capable of slaying an immortal Demon Lord.
But Makia had grown arrogant in her own power.
She had neglected the practice of sacred magic and relied entirely on the easy-to-cast holy magic.
She had abandoned the choice of spending time to grow her strength.
Trapped in baseless confidence, blinded by immediate achievements and glory, she had launched the invasion of the Demon Lord's territory.
All of that had been the cause of her defeat.
"Heh... hehe... ahahahaha..."
Makia cradled one arm and laughed like something had broken inside her.
Her face was hidden as she hung her head, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
(In a situation like this, does she still have some chance of winning?)
I kept my sword raised, wary.
Makia had no mana left, and she clearly had no aptitude for close combat.
There was zero possibility she could cut me down.
From this proximity, the holy aura Makia emitted was intense.
I felt as though my body were being burned to the core.
But it wasn't enough to incapacitate me immediately.
It wouldn't affect the outcome of the fight.
"I've... lost. There's no way I could win something like this..."
With those words, Makia slowly raised her face.
A distorted, tearful grimace was plastered across it.
It was already the face of someone who had given up on life.
(Have her nerves finally snapped after being pushed to the absolute limit?)
Makia showed no sign of making any further move.
It really did seem like nothing more than tears and complaints.
I raised my sword—the blade that served as my keepsake.
Makia stared at me with bloodshot eyes.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Just as I steeled my resolve and began to bring the blade down, Makia whispered in a hoarse voice.
"...You really do hate humanity, don't you. You look like you're enjoying killing me."