I observed John as he appeared.
The wearable golem armor enveloping his body glowed with magic.
It seemed he had already started it up.
From the box on his back, I could sense the reaction of a secret stone.
(Cunning. Hiding another strategy.)
I admired John's thoroughness, but surely this was the end.
It truly seemed like this reinforced armor was his last stronghold.
And even that wasn't his main armament.
It was nothing more than a desperate struggle.
I descended.
Landing where I could lock eyes with John, I quietly raised my signature sword.
I wouldn't move from this side.
There was no need to rush.
"Demon Lord!"
Driven by surging emotion, John charged toward me.
He channeled holy-element magic into both hands, forming broad blades.
Holding them aloft, he leaped in.
"Haaa!"
John swept both blades back, intending to thrust them at me.
Before that, I swung my sword in a horizontal line.
The magic blade shattered completely upon impact.
(How monotonous. The attacks are too wide.)
It was clear he was going for a one-hit kill.
John had realized he couldn't win a fight relying on skill.
But that didn't mean a sloppy approach was anything but a mistake, and I wasn't kind enough to point that out.
Too desperate, he was hurtling down the path of self-destruction.
I condensed mana in one hand.
I struck John's torso with a shockwave.
"Gu... gahhh..."
John's eyes flew open as he was sent flying.
He rolled across the ground, managed to get a hand down, and barely succeeded in standing up.
Then, he spat out blood with a hateful look.
The reinforced armor on his chest and abdomen was broken.
That damaged section peeled away weakly.
Clothes soaked in sweat and blood were exposed.
"Give up. You cannot defeat me."
"Shut up, you bastard!"
The enraged John drew his iron gun.
He tried to aim it at me.
"Useless."
I appeared before John using short-range teleportation.
Before he could fire, I severed his rifle and drove a palm heel strike into his face.
John lurched backward violently.
The impact split his helmet and sent it flying.
The only reason his neck wasn't severed was likely due to the protection of his enhanced armor.
"Guwaaargh!"
John, roaring, unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick.
I caught it with one arm.
My miasma-reinforced arm shattered, but I continued slashing at John.
"...augh"
John stumbled back, running a hand over his body.
His torso was split diagonally.
The wound had broken through his ribs and likely damaged his organs.
Blood began to spill out almost immediately.
"D-damn it!"
Panicking, John fumbled with the box on his back.
Then his enhanced armor glowed, completely covering the wound.
When the light faded, the bleeding had stopped and the wound was sealed.
Recovery magic.
He must have diverted the mana being supplied to his equipment.
Using the power of spirits directly would be suicide, but John currently had no room for hesitation.
If he'd wavered, he would have bled to death anyway.
He must have had no choice but to rely on it.
I supplement my shattered arm with miasma and point this out to the labored-breathing John.
"You're the dominant personality, aren't you? Or am I wrong?"
"..."
John didn't answer, merely glaring at me.
A fierce fighting spirit raged within that gaze.
He burned with a sense of justice.
Immediately after, John lunged at me, throwing a punch.
I caught his fist and pulled him in.
Then, as his posture faltered, I drove an elbow into his face.
"—Guh!"
John spurted blood from his nose but held his ground and headbutted me.
His forehead collided with my nose and upper jaw.
A sound of cracking bone echoed.
(Impressive tenacity.)
I grabbed John's face and, using his momentum, slammed him into the ground.
John groaned, covered in bloody vomit.
"Guh... ugh..."
John lunged at my leg, clinging tight.
His dirt-caked face was streaked with tears.
Yet his will to fight hadn't vanished in the slightest.
He drove the knife, held in a reverse grip, into my flesh.
The trembling blade tip dug, however slightly, into the bone.
The sizzling sound came from the holy attribute imbued in it, no doubt.
I kicked John away.
He collapsed onto his back, unable to resist.
Struggling to rise, he lacked the strength, merely scraping at the earth in vain.
"..."
Looking down at that sight, I cast my magic.
Behind John, the earth rose up, forming a cross as tall as a man.
Next, I extended chains of mana and bound him to it.
The restrained John thrashed desperately.
But neither the cross nor the chains broke.
All he accomplished was draining his own strength.
"Damn it, why am I—like this, no... yes! I had him cornered! If only the robot's adjustments hadn't been sloppy—No. Really, what should I do... what on earth..."
John screamed hoarsely, shaking his head back and forth.
He was completely deranged.
His expression didn't remain the same for even a second.
The content of his speech was incoherent, impossible to understand.
(Perhaps the two personalities existing within him are clashing?)
Maybe the balance had been disrupted because he was on the verge of losing his life.
That seemed like the only possible explanation.
"H-Have to go home soon... the show I watch every week on TV—I don't know— It's funny. Tonight I didn't record it... so..."
John continued to murmur, facing a different direction.
His eyes seemed to look at a place far from here.
The anguish that had been visible on his face moments ago was fading.
"John Doe."
As I approached and called out to him, his expression became blank.
His eyes focused and he looked at me.
It seemed he had returned to reality.
"What... Are you—going to kill me? Try it! The technology we create is revolutionary! Are you going to crush that potential?!"
John shouted, his eyes bloodshot.
Tied to the cross, he still desperately asserted his own worth.
His argument wasn't wrong.
The inventor John Doe was a turning point in history.
Pointing around, I asked him.
"Do you feel nothing looking at this city? Everything is destroyed. This is the result of technology that leaped too far ahead."
"That's because you invaded! We never intended to destroy the city! It's all the Demon Army's fault—we—"
I swing my sword to cut him off mid-sentence.
In that instant, John goes rigid.
A fine red line blooms around his neck, from which fresh blood erupts.
The light fades from John's eyes.
His head dips slowly forward, and he remains motionless.
I flick the blood from my blade.
Glancing at the crossguard now stained crimson, I address John.
"That's right. The responsibility is entirely mine. Hate me all you want. However, I killed you."
No matter how lofty one's ideals or convictions, one required the power to enact them.
Having a mouth that only spits pretty words was meaningless.
Indeed, I was the most despicable of demon lords, but I possessed sufficient violence to see my own objectives through.
The power to bow to no one, to even overturn fate.
That was the difference between me and all the humans I had slaughtered.
At that moment, the edge of my vision begins to brighten.
I look to see the sun's first light trying to peek over the far horizon.
Dawn has arrived.
Glancing at the corpse on the cross under the morning sun, I slipped my keepsake sword into its sheath.