Kazalim was oblivious to the fact that she had stepped on a landmine.
Having gained power and grown arrogant, she never realized until the very end that the demon standing before her was a being who surpassed her.
Then, he stopped moving entirely.
"Footman, enough playing around. I'm going to kill every last one of them.
Get up quickly and finish off Leon's lackey subordinates!"
Kazalim issued her order, but Footman showed no sign of moving.
"Hey, Footman. What are you playing at? Hurry up and—"
Kazalim glared at Footman in irritation, and then lost her words.
Footman—nowhere near the rampaging force he had been moments ago—lay on his back with eyes rolled back and blood streaming from his nose.
After bouncing off the wall and tumbling about, his neck had been bent at an inexplicable angle.
His front teeth, both upper and lower, had been crushed flat. The shape matching that of a fist was surely no coincidence.
He had been locally immobilized in space, rendering even self-healing ineffective.
Turning her gaze toward Benimaru, Kazalim clicked her tongue in frustration.
In the great hall that had been plunged into silence in an instant, a figure casually approached Footman.
It was
Laplace walked past
Then,
"Sis, it's no use. That guy Footman is combat-ready no more after that hit.
Well, the only reason he's barely alive is because that guy over there didn't have the intent to kill."
Shrugging lightly, Laplace reported in a resigned tone.
"What did you say? Footman was taken down in a single blow!?"
The idea that a companion who surpassed her in durability had been felled by a single strike was utterly unrealistic.
"Tear, that's no good. Fall back. These guys don't take kindly to jokes.
From what I can see, you're not on their level. It'd have to be the boss and me together to have any chance...
But there's that gorgeous devil woman on Leon's side, so the odds aren't in our favor. What'll it be, sis?"
In a laid-back voice, Laplace confirmed the situation analysis with Kazalim.
The implication was clear: we should retreat now if we're going to.
Kazalim scoffed,
"Laplace, there's nothing to be afraid of.
Leon is already in tatters.
That lackey of his at most has Demon Lord-class power—nothing more than a nuisance.
A Demon Duke is certainly a high-ranking existence among demons, but she's inferior even to Tear, who's Demon Lord-class.
There are only two we need to worry about.
You and I can handle them easily enough."
She declared with unshakable arrogance.
Even Laplace had nothing more to say in the face of such certainty, and simply shrugged.
Kazalim was completely ignoring the fact that Footman—who was Demon Lord-class—had been rendered combat-ready in a single blow.
In Kazalim's mind, the only one worth being cautious of was Benimaru before her, and as for
Indeed,
"True, we haven't gone all out yet, but still..."
Laplace confirmed Kazalim's words.
He had been ordered by Kazalim to toy with Leon's subordinates, so it was true that he had been holding back and taking his time.
But even accounting for that, Laplace believed they should retreat.
Yes, Laplace's instincts had been keenly sensing the change in the situation, sounding the alarm.
As if to prove Laplace's instincts correct,
The injuries she had sustained moments ago had been regenerated in an instant.
All external wounds had vanished, her attire had been renewed and grown more ominous, and her presence had transformed into something that radiating an imposing dignity—even though her expression remained as blank as before.
"Sis, that woman's Existence Value just shot up.
She's Awakened Demon Lord-class, isn't she? She's still below you, but Tear wouldn't stand a chance against her..."
Indeed, just as Laplace had analyzed, Misery's magicule count had ballooned to Awakened Demon Lord-class.
Or rather, it felt less like a transformation and more like she had simply released the magic she had been suppressing all along.
"Yes.
Thanks to the power of Lord Rimuru, I have evolved to Awakened Demon Lord-class.
I thought firsthand combat experience would be the best way to master this power, and so I asked Lord Kazalim to be my sparring partner.
Though, I believe Lord Leon noticed that I was holding back—"
Saying this, Misery cast a brief glance toward Leon.
Leon nodded with a bitter expression.
"Of course I did. Someone who could erect a barrier capable of withstanding my attacks couldn't possibly be merely a Demon Duke.
I knew you were holding back and planning something.
I just never imagined you'd go so far as to call on Lord Rimuru for reinforcements. Guy—he really trusts Rimuru that much? He sees Rimuru as the key to ending this battle?"
"—Indeed.
I cannot presume to understand Lord Guy's intentions, but personally, I judged that trusting Lord Rimuru was the right course of action.
And that was also a decision affirmed at the Banquet of the Demon Lords."
To Leon's question, Misery answered after a brief moment of hesitation.
Her answer was factual, and Leon felt—as though he were being reproached—that he himself, despite speaking of cooperation, still couldn't fully trust Rimuru.
At the same time, he couldn't conceal his surprise that Misery—a devil—had spoken of trusting a Demon Lord other than Guy.
Especially because he knew Misery's true nature: a being of power that surpassed even the former Demon Lords, who had reigned as supreme for eons.
Misery maintained her polite tone with everyone, but once given an order, she transformed into a ruthless killer.
After all, she was the arch-demon who could be called Guy's chief subordinate.
"So what if a few more small fry showed up? So what if some insects gained a bit of power? They're still no match for me.
Leon over there is clearly half-dead already, and even if Misery's power has increased, she's still less than half of what I am. There's no problem at all."
Kazalim smiled fearlessly, dismissing the conversation between Leon and Misery.
In Kazalim's eyes, even an Awakened Demon Lord was still beneath her.
Staring coldly at such a Kazalim,
"Furthermore, allow me to provide some additional explanation.
A standard Demon Lord-class [EP: 200,000–400,000] varies widely in power.
Similarly, Demon Dukes [EP: 200,000–400,000] range from Baron-class at the bottom to Duke-class at the top.
Certainly, all of Lord Leon's subordinates have evolved and gained power, but at best they're Viscount-class [EP: below 250,000].
Your companions, Lord Kazalim, with the exception of Lord Laplace, are upper Demon Lord-class [EP: below 400,000] at best.
That's a bit lacking to call 'power surpassing a Demon Lord.'
The members of the Octagram are, with one exception, all Awakened Demon Lord-class [EP: 1,000,000+].
That being the case, the expression 'surpassing a Demon Lord' is an overstatement.
Now, taking this into consideration—I apologize for the presumption, but the fight between Lord Leon's subordinates and the Moderate Harlequin Alliance is essentially child's play.
It's at a level that can be safely ignored.
The order I received from Lord Guy was: secure victory.
While maintaining this barrier, I was to await reinforcements from Lord Rimuru.
The optimal strategy, ignoring everything below Awakened Demon Lord-class, was to take the best possible action to ensure Lord Kazalim's defeat.
Therefore, the only condition under which you could win, Lord Kazalim, was to eliminate us before the reinforcements arrive.
I bought time while conducting my analysis, and it appears that Lord Kazalim's primary ability is 'Automatic Reflection.'
It nullifies incoming attacks with force roughly twenty percent greater than the received attack, while accumulating damage exclusively on the opponent.
For someone possessing overwhelming Existence Value, it's an extremely effective method.
The fact that she possesses both holy and demonic properties made things more troublesome as well.
As long as her energy prevails, defeat is essentially impossible.
However, it seems that continuing to nullify attacks requires unconditional energy expenditure.
The attack against Lord Leon, the attack against me while I was suppressing my power—the condition was the same twenty-percent increase across the board.
The reason I waited for reinforcements was so we could gather enough power to exceed what Kazalim could nullify. Does that make sense now?
After I expend my full power to wear her down, Lord Leon, Lord Benimaru, and Lord Souei will be able to finish Lord Kazalim off.
Lord Kazalim, this battle—our victory is assured."
"Hey now, missy. What's with the 'except for me' part?"
"—Forgive my presumption, but I could not read your Existence Value.
In other words, I judge you to be my equal or above."
"You're overestimating me."
Laplace narrowed his eyes slightly, a sharp gaze cutting through his usual nonchalant demeanor.
Facing Misery, who never underestimated anyone, he exuded an air of exasperation.
Souei—who had been exposed despite never having revealed his name—wore a bitter expression but raised no objection.
Claude, the other knights of Leon's, and Tear—who had been declared disposable—swallowed their words of denial upon witnessing the imposing aura emanating from Misery before them.
They realized it was undeniable truth.
But even after hearing Misery's explanation and facing her overwhelming aura, Kazalim refused to drop her confident composure.
"Hah! You were hiding your power? I can see right through that!!
You small fry—lowly creatures who can only fight through petty tricks—don't you dare lecture me with such arrogance!!
Even if every last one of you combined your strength, you'd still fall short of me!
That gives you no reason to think you can defeat me!! I'll show you despair and terror!!!"
With that scream, she unleashed the power she had been restraining—the power she had been holding back to avoid killing Leon outright.
The pressure within the barrier grew so intense it seemed to warp space itself, and the hall was dominated by her sinister Demon Aura.
The aura radiating from Misery was engulfed in an instant.
It was truly a force that surpassed even an Awakened Demon Lord—an overwhelming torrent of raw energy.
Kazalim's words had not been empty boasts. A violence far exceeding Misery's calculations was raging forth.
"What!? Impossible... to this extent—"
This was enough to shake even the composed Misery, whose expression changed for the first time.
Kazalim was so overwhelmingly powerful that Misery could no longer maintain her composure.
Her own magicule count had reached Awakened Demon Lord-class. Leon was the same.
And yet, she could feel herself being overwhelmed by Kazalim.
The estimate she had given Leon—that Kazalim possessed roughly three times her original magicule count—had been far too optimistic.
"Exceeding my projections. I estimated over three times my power, but this is—"
Before she could finish, Kazalim's fist buried itself in Misery's abdomen.
Her arms, crossed in defense, were crushed along with the rest—shattered like dry wood—and Kazalim's fist punched clean through Misery.
"Ha ha ha ha ha! I was holding back so I wouldn't kill you, and that made you let your guard down, didn't it?
How naive, you small fry!! I, Kazalim, have obtained the ultimate power!!!"
Kazalim roared with laughter.
"Sis, you're going way overboard. Fine then—I'll commit too."
As he spoke, Laplace drew a rainbow-colored spirit gem from within his coat.
It was a Holy Spirit Jewel, containing energy equivalent to the souls of ten thousand humans.
Laplace shattered the jewel and replenished his energy.
He wouldn't be awakening, but he intended to support Kazalim with everything he had.
"You thought you were so clever, putting together all those plans, but it was all for nothing. That's the fate of the powerless!"
Kazalim cackled.
Misery said with anguish,
"At this rate, the mission will...
I apologize. My assessment was insufficient.
At the very least, I will attempt a self-destruction counter using the Extreme Magic Annihilation Method. As for what comes after—"
She would sacrifice her entire existence to whittle away even a fraction of Kazalim's power.
The rest she would leave to Leon, Benimaru, and the others—that was the intent behind Misery's words.
But—
"You said Misery, right? That drag queen over there was right—you're overcomplicating this.
You called for backup, and we made it in time.
That's all there is to it, isn't it?"
Benimaru stepped forward, passing by the fallen Misery.
Then,
"Souei, handle that clown over there. I'll kill this drag queen myself."
He declared as casually as if it were nothing.
"Very well. I'll yield, but make sure you finish her off.
She insulted Lord Rimuru, after all."
"I know. It's not like there's any intel I need from her, and no reason to keep her alive, right?"
"Indeed.
You might have forgotten, but that one seems to be
In other words—"
"She's the one behind that bastard
Benimaru and Souei exchanged words with that easy back-and-forth.
"Oh, what are you two—"
"Hey, you two—don't tell me you intend to fight that monster by yourselves!?"
Misery and Leon spoke simultaneously.
Misery had rapidly recovered through her regeneration and was ready to fight again.
Leon, too, intended to strike back at Kazalim, if only once, for the sake of his pride as a Demon Lord.
And yet, Benimaru and Souei were acting as though they would handle everything alone.
"Hmm? I already told you. 'Kill.'
That grotesque drag queen is mine. The injured should sit tight and watch."
"Indeed. I'll take care of that clown over there.
Lord Leon and Lord Misery, keep that dying fatso and the surviving clown girl in check."
"But—"
"How many times do I have to say it? Do you not understand the word 'nuisance' until someone spells it out?"
It was Benimaru's final word that settled it.
Ignoring Souei's warning that his mouth was far too sharp, Benimaru drew his blade.
The crimson-bladed katana "
Having been reforged countless times, every trace of the original steel had been completely transformed.
The blade had become so attuned to Benimaru that it could be called a part of him, and it now rivaled a Mythical-grade weapon.
Benimaru's aura had been refined beautifully, wrapping thinly around the blade.
As a result, it adorned the gleaming crimson blade in splendor.
Kazalim sneered.
"Small fry. Can't do anything without relying on a weapon?
Fine.
That rusty blade of yours won't so much as scratch me!"
"Hmm."
In a flash—
Benimaru blurred into a streak of crimson light.
In the instant of that flash, he appeared behind Kazalim.
The blurred afterimage vanished, and only then did everyone realize he had moved.
"Here, catch. Don't drop it next time."
With that, Benimaru tossed something toward Kazalim.
It was an arm.
A woman's arm, severed from the elbow.
"GYAAAA!!"
Kazalim screamed.
She had finally realized her own arm had been cut off.
"You—you—!! Why!? Why does it hurt!?"
Kazalim demanded of Benimaru.
She knew questioning an enemy was questionable, but she simply couldn't accept it.
As a Spiritual Life-form, Kazalim should have been incapable of feeling pain.
"Oh? That's what you're confused about?
Since you don't seem to understand, I'll explain.
It's the same even for Spiritual Life-forms.
Your body recognized danger because of me, and it sounded the alarm. That's all there is to it.
Something like that—make sure you control it properly before entering combat."
Benimaru explained with deliberate, patronizing politeness.
Truthfully, he had received the same condescending lecture from
He had attributed it to Diablo's grudge over losing to him in the fighting tournament and left it at that.
But that was beside the point now.
He would insist—purely for his own satisfaction—that he wasn't doing this because he had been irritated by the same treatment before.
"What? A danger signal? Don't be ridiculous.
Someone like you could never make me feel threatened!"
Kazalim converted her severed arm into energy, absorbed it, and regenerated from the elbow onward.
She had long since forgotten her earlier declaration that Benimaru couldn't so much as scratch her.
"I'll kill you. I will absolutely kill you!"
With that scream, she became a super-dense mass of hurtling energy and charged at Benimaru.
Benimaru deflected the blow and transformed his own body into a similarly flame-wreathed mass of energy.
And so, the battle between Transcendents began.