Hundreds of supernatural powers surged toward the hero.
Yet she met them all with but a single blade.
Dazzling enough to mesmerize, lethal techniques were cut down one after another.
She continued to charge forward undeterred.
Had this been the old me, I would have been backed into a corner by now.
But at present, I had achieved a certain kind of awakening.
At a speed rivaling her swordsmanship, I activated ability after ability.
Evading the reach of her blade while deploying multiple versatile techniques simultaneously.
(Thoughts are clear. Is it really this different?)
As I bombarded the area ahead, I marveled at the sensation.
Through our exchange, all hesitation and doubt had been purged entirely.
Mentally fulfilled and fortified, that was what was releasing my true power.
I was in a state that drew out my full, genuine strength.
Billowing clouds of dust rose from the bombarded ground.
From within, she burst forth.
A bit soiled, but without any noticeable wounds.
Her breaking through had been well within expectations.
(No problem. Just keep firing.)
I launched cursed chains toward her.
The chains split into dozens, surging forward in a wave that crept along the ground.
She weathered it with her sword, swept in every conceivable arc.
Sparks from clashing blows and the shriek of metal never ceased.
A single chain that could have annihilated an army was shattered effortlessly by the hero.
At that sight, I unleashed an additional spell.
Yet she did not stop.
She broke through hellfire descending upon her, lightning erupting from the ground, even blades that cleaved space itself.
The more unreasonable the attacks she endured, the brighter her sword shone.
Meanwhile, my own movements accelerated without limit.
It was the effect of the forbidden time-manipulation spell.
Though the world around her seemed frozen, she alone moved at her normal pace.
Warding off the deluge of unreasonable magic with naught but her sword, she drew ever closer.
(—She’s coming. She’s coming. The hero is coming.)
A nameless joy welled up within me.
It was the first time in my life I had felt such a sensation.
Even if I were to die here, I would have no regrets.
That was how exhilarating it felt.
Of course, I had no intention whatsoever of losing.
Here, I would surpass her.
I am no sage who merely follows.
I will reign over the world as the Demon Lord who defeated the hero.
Finally, as she closed the distance right before me, she abruptly shifted to the offensive.
I parried on instinct, threading counterstrikes between her blows to try and break the battle's momentum.
Though her body was shattered at the edges, she refused to retreat, fighting on.
(Still too slow. I have to go further. I must surpass her...!)
By integrating these borrowed powers, I would sublimate them into my own strength.
Compensating for the gap in skill with every trick, I clung to the ultimate swordplay.
My consciousness focused solely on the hero before me.
I abandoned all other sound and light, immersing myself continuously in this struggle.
At last, my strike deflected her sword.
I caught that fleeting instant—a moment that could hardly even be called an opening.
Her sword spun high into the air.
"..."
Her eyes widened in surprise.
Not wasting the perfect opportunity, I lunged with a thrust.
She dodged it with a leap, snatched the airborne sword, and charged with a slash.
(—There's only one way)
Watching the hero descend toward me, I knew what I had to do.
Using spatial magic, I teleported a certain object to my hand.
Emerging from the empty air was a single, decaying arrow.
Its wooden shaft was rotted and discolored, so brittle it seemed it might snap in a gentle breeze.
I launch it with magic.
Of course, she reads the arrow's trajectory and tilts her blade to block.
The released arrow strikes the edge and is easily deflected.
Yet, with an unnatural motion, it corrects its course and gains propulsion, accelerating.
The arrow, as if pulled, sank deep into her chest.