The royal capital on the brink of dusk.
The Demon King's army had assembled in the square.
They were setting out to slay the Hero.
The defense of the royal capital was left to the remaining monsters.
Multiple layers of defensive magic had been applied, so there would be no issues.
Hundreds of thousands of undead wandered this land alone.
Capturing it would be nearly impossible.
Thanks to the scouts, the Hero's current location had been pinpointed.
He was resting in a fortress belonging to a domain army.
The fortress sat at a central position within that territory.
He was likely prepared to sortie from wherever we appeared.
The domain army had reportedly grown somewhat worn from their repeated engagements with the undead.
The number of casualties was not negligible either.
The Hero may have been there, but at the end of the day, he was only a single combatant.
When viewed as a whole, they had likely been scraping by with narrow victories.
We intended to strike that weakness with a surprise attack.
(It's finally time...)
I became aware of the keepsake sword hanging at my waist.
My mind was calm.
My resolve had long since been set.
Nothing could shake my resolve.
The new Demon Lord would annihilate the Hero.
I cast a glance over the demon army forming its ranks.
Every soldier stood in silence, awaiting the moment to march forth.
I could see them struggling to contain their surging spirits.
I activated teleportation magic.
At that moment, I sensed a faint resistance.
As I suspected, a barrier to disrupt teleportation had been erected at the destination.
However, it was terribly fragile.
It was clearly a hastily erected construct.
Most of the kingdom had already fallen under demon lord territory.
They perhaps lacked the time to gather sufficient mages.
I increased the output of my magic, forcibly shattering the barrier's function.
Immediately after, I felt a brief sensation of weightlessness, and the scenery around me changed.
It was a grassland where the red of the setting sun mingled with the dim darkness of approaching night.
On a gentle rise ahead, a fortress loomed.
Countless bonfires had been set up around it, their flames kept burning brightly.
Several soldiers, seeing me, scrambled in panic.
A deafening clanging of metal on metal echoed through the air.
It was likely the alarm signaling an enemy raid.
The clamor of activity echoed from within the fortress.
They were shifting into battle formation.
(So the hero is in there.)
He must be resting, preparing for the next fight.
I'd have to teach him that such consideration was unnecessary.
This place would be his grave.
"Henry."
I called the name of my subordinate.
The man bearing the dragon bow stepped forward, radiating confidence.
"Leave it to me."
Henry nocked an arrow without any fuss, aiming it squarely at the fortress.
A fearless grin played on his lips as he murmured, "I'll give 'em a wake-up call."
The shot flew with a whistle, piercing the sturdy fortress.
Centered around the hole it punched through, part of the fortress began to crumble.
Screams and angry shouts rose from within.
They belonged to soldiers caught in the unfortunate crossfire.
The damage was far beyond what a single arrow should have caused.
(For a first strike, it was excellent.)
The opponent was a hero wielding a holy sword.
It was better to whittle down their forces without getting too close if possible. If I kept up this one-sided barrage, they would inevitably make a move on their own. We were watching like tigers, waiting for that moment. Once the fortress walls seemed to have stabilized their collapse, the soldiers launched fire arrows. A multitude of them rained down from the sky like a storm. Fire was an effective attack against the undead. It was simpler than holy magic and also provided a source of light. However, it was a tactic that had been used to exhaustion in previous invasions. As the one leading the undead army, I had naturally prepared countermeasures for it. I held out my hand and conjured a sudden gust of wind. As it scattered the fire arrows, I issued my command. "Grom, you're next." "Yes! Understood!" Grom responded immediately, stepping forward to take Henry's place. A black haze began to drift up from the ground, as if crawling its way to the surface. It was concentrated miasma. The miasma controlled by Grom flowed toward the fortress of its own accord. The campfires it enveloped were extinguished one after another. The entire fortress was swallowed by darkness. The soldiers inside were undoubtedly breathing in the poisonous miasma as well.
That should take them out of the fight.
"Good. Well done."
"What a tremendous honor!"
Grom pressed his hand to his chest.
The flames in his eye sockets blazed upward with joy, engulfing his entire skull.
"My Dark Lord, shall I proceed with the sabotage operations?"
"Yes. Carry on as planned."
Just as I was exchanging words with Luciana, a white light burst forth from the fortress.
The spreading miasma was swept away in the blink of an eye.
Ordinary holy magic could never accomplish such a feat.
Moments later, a glow of magical energy lit up.
The mages must have set it up to replace the extinguished bonfires.
(That light just now...)
As I watched, a figure emerged from the fortress.
Bearing a sword wreathed in holy light, he looked down upon us.
"So you've come."
I strained my eyes.
Was he perhaps a little past twenty?
Or perhaps still in his late teens.
Younger than I'd expected.
The young man with golden hair and blue eyes wore armor of noticeably higher quality than the common soldiers.
His gaze, set with resolve and a sense of justice, burned with a core of righteous anger.
His face, burdened with mission, bore a striking resemblance to that certain person.
He was the hero.
The chosen champion of the world, sent to slay the great evil that was me.
The hero raised the Holy Sword high.
By common sense, the blade should not reach from this distance.
Yet, as a fact, he was taking his stance.
His intent was clear.
The hero swung the Holy Sword downward.
What burst forth from the blade was a slash of white light.
It tore through the ground as it flew toward the demon king army.
I deployed a defensive barrier infused with miasma ahead of me.
Rather than perpendicular to the ground, I angled it deliberately.
If it took the strike head-on, it risked shattering.
Moments later, the slash of light collided with the barrier.
After a few heartbeats of stalemate, the slash was deflected upward.
It exploded far overhead, brilliantly illuminating the sunset sky.
The light vanished swiftly, and darkness returned.
Having confirmed this, I turned back to face Grom.
"I will separate you from the hero. You all focus on taking the fortress. Call me if anything goes wrong."
"Understood! We pray for your victory!"
I used visual teleportation to move directly in front of the hero.
The hero looked at me, stunned.
"Y-You are...!?"
"So you're the hero. I have some business with you."
I cast my magic.
From my torso, I extended an ethereal hand and seized the hero.
Then I began binding him with sheer force.
"Guh, what—!?!"
The struggling hero began channeling the Holy Sword's power.
He intended to sweep me aside with a slash of light.
Receiving it at this close range would indeed be unpleasant.
Therefore, I stated flatly.
"Fighting here would cause too much damage. I'll have us change location."
Before the slash was released, I hurled the hero away.
I threw him toward a direction far from both the Demon Army and the fortress—an empty stretch of grassland.
The hero, still airborne, swung his Holy Sword as he fell.
The launched slash of light aimed precisely for me.
(Quick thinking, and well-executed. He's accustomed to battle.)
I parried the slash with defensive magic.
The deflected beam of light shot past me.
Its wake left deep cracks in the ground below.
"So this is the Demon King...!"
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
"We can do this!"
Soldiers poured out from the fortress, ready to strike.
But I had no time to deal with them.
I had to face the Hero.
I couldn't let my guard down for even a moment.
"Obstructing me."
I swung one hand to activate a spell.
A spear woven from miasma impaled more than a dozen soldiers.
They rotted where they were pierced, leaving only skeletal remains.
The corpses began to move, jaws clacking.
The soldiers transformed into skeletons charged into the fortress wielding their miasma spears.
At the base of the hill, the Demon King's army was advancing.
I could leave the rest to them.
The fortress would soon fall.
(In other words, the rest is up to me.)
I cannot afford to fail.
I swore to defy fate, no matter what.
Having steeled my resolve, I made my way toward the hero who had fallen in the grasslands.