Something had shifted within the demon.

Perhaps it was within the Apocryphal Demon Armament, 〈Vanish〉—something, undoubtedly, had changed.

Ziel could sense it, as could likely many others.

“Are you planning to die with me here—?!”

The surging magic, boundless and unrestrained.

One after another, beams of 〈Demonic Sword Release〉 shot toward Ziel.

There was no time to stop. The technique had an already expansive attack range, and even a mere graze could obliterate his body. How much the 〈experience〉 in the 〈Orchestra〉 battle had heightened his inner strength—he couldn’t afford to verify that by taking it head-on.

“What a nuisance—!”

Shouting, Ziel ran through the night city.

There was no time to circle around. Running along walls, leaping over rooftops, and at times even using the low-flying 〈Insto〉 as footholds, he evaded the relentless pursuit.

The city continued to crumble. The demonic blade, true to its name, left no trace of ash in its wake, reducing everything it touched to flat, barren land.

“Ziel!!”

The shout came from far behind the demon—high above the great cathedral.

It was too far for an ordinary voice to reach. It was easy to imagine that magic for transmission had been used.

The voice belonged to Eunice.

“Don’t spread your evasion range too wide! If you go any further, you’ll overlap with areas where evacuation hasn’t finished along the line!”

“Understood—!”

The situation became even more dire.

Ziel, who had been moving to the right, abruptly reversed his direction to the left, leaping over the beams as they streaked past.

He exhaled in a thin, long breath.

Skimming past death by a hair’s breadth, continuing an endless series of evasive maneuvers.

“What about reinforcements!?”

A word flew from Eunice.

“Unnecessary!”

Ziel replied as such.

This wasn’t a matter of ego or pride alone.

The number of 〈Insto〉 in the sky hadn’t yet diminished. Without a means of widespread attack himself, carelessly depleting Eunice’s magic here would result in a full-scale battle, even if the Apocryphal Demon Armament were defeated, and it was inevitable that much blood would be shed.

Thus, this was his task alone.

Ziel understood this clearly, rationally.

And so, there were two choices before him.

One was to aim for the Apocryphal Demon Armament’s depletion of magic power. Continuously unleashing such wide-ranging magical blade techniques couldn’t possibly be sustained for long. If he could maintain this distance, keep dodging the 〈Demonic Sword Release〉, and strike when its magic power ran dry, he might succeed.

However, there was a problem with this approach.

There wasn’t much time left until dawn.

He recalled the words of Liliria and Eunice—an impending total solar eclipse at dawn. It would greatly amplify the power of magical beasts. If so, the same likely applied to the Apocryphal Demon Armament. This overwhelming assault might even factor in that calculation.

As things stood, it was a stalemate.

With any new factor introduced, the balance could easily tip at once.

In that case, the other choice—

“With honor and valor—!”

Resolute, Ziel ran forward to strike.

A strange sound crackled inside his temples.

Was it an illusion born of extreme tension, or was it some sensory organ meant to detect danger? He didn’t know. But regardless, he ignored it and pressed onward.

Now he could see it.

The ignition glow of magic, which had only been a vague perception before the 〈Orchestra〉, was now vividly clear—its source, direction, and the timing of its release were all distinctly visible to him.

“Ooooorrrraaaa!”

He roared.

Faced with the overwhelming torrent of the incoming 〈Demonic Sword Release〉, he pressed forward, narrowly dodging it by a hair’s breadth.

The hem of his clothing sizzled with sparks.

But the speed of his sprint consumed them instantly, leaving nothing behind—not even for a second.

Once wasn’t enough.

Twice, three times, four times—Ziel continued to dodge the consecutive 〈Demonic Sword Release〉, drawing ever closer.

Terror that made him want to cry out.

Recklessness as though diving into death itself.

And at the end of it, Ziel—

On the fifth 〈Demonic Sword Release〉, just before it was unleashed—

“Zuh... eh... aaaaahhhh—!!”

In that split second when the massive blade swung down and magic was released, he seized the slight opening and struck upward at the demon’s right arm.

With a tremendous surge, the power of the demonic blade was unleashed into the night.

The sky seemed to crack—no, it felt as though the world itself might be torn in two. It was an ancient, mythical darkness, a pitch-black sun that made all who saw it believe in its apocalyptic potential.

But it claimed no lives, except for the magic birds in the sky.

It destroyed no forms, leaving nothing altered.

Redirected by the swordsman standing before it, armed with nothing but faint power.

After such a massive attack, there was naturally a large opening.

“I’ve got you—!”

Ziel closed in on the demon once again.

“Uooooooo!”

The demon roared.

But Ziel knew that the roar wouldn’t immediately lead to an attack.

So, in one swift motion, he swung his sword.

A single stroke.

Though the head flew,

“What—?”

He saw the massive right blade swing down toward him.

His thoughts couldn’t keep up.

He could only accept what he saw as it was.

Even without a head, the demon moved.

The true life force—the threads of life necessary to slay this demon—was not in the head.

It was only moments later that Ziel realized—the demonic blade had absorbed Godach, and repeatedly demonstrated its ability to repair its demonic form. He had been deceived into thinking the conditions for its defeat were the same as for a human. In truth, it was that massive right blade—that alone—which should have been his target.

However, in that split second, he could only grasp a single intuition.

They were lured in.

“Da—mn it!”

The great blade reversed its course, aiming directly at Ziel. Somehow, just barely, he collapsed to the ground as though his knees had given out, narrowly avoiding the blow.

When he raised his face, the blade was again positioned above, poised as though to cleave the night sky.

Death took shape and bore down upon him.

At that moment, Ziel—he did not know.

He did not know that Eunice, seeing the peril, was preparing to unleash another spell from above.

He did not know that Lililia was attempting to cast a defensive spell for him from a distance.

Nor did he know that Klaha and the other capable combatants had also begun to act—clumsily, but with all their might—to stop the great blade for even a moment.

Unaware of it all, he simply—simply chased after his own soul.

“Ah—”

When he had felled the Orchestra with a single strike, it had been the same. Now, his soul moved ahead of him.

Ziel had only one skill: to swing a sword. Thus, no matter the dire situation he faced, in truth, the only action he could take was always the same.

To swing the sword. To swing it and defeat his foe.

That was why, even before his body or his consciousness, his soul moved first. The soul that knew what must be done acted, driving him to cut down the enemy before him.

That sensation—at the brink of death, he remembered it once more.

This was not an experience. Nor was it an awakening.

He simply realized. So, that’s it...

“The sword—”

This is how it’s meant to be wielded.

Neither Eunice nor Lililia, nor, of course, Klaha or the others, managed to provide their support in time.

Even so, Ziel remained alive.

The demon’s great blade had fallen to the ground. It was as though it had simply missed by mistake, as if what was meant to split Ziel’s skull had somehow veered off course.

But of course, the sinister magical weapon could not make such an error.

“—!!”

A horizontal slash followed.

Ziel took another step forward, closing the distance in an instant and rising to evade it effortlessly.

He tapped the demon’s abdomen lightly with the hilt of his sword. When the demon attempted to kick him with its knee, he accepted the impact without resistance.

Placing his hands against that knee, he channeled the force through his elbows, shoulders, and back, flipping himself away to create distance.

The demon once again raised the great blade and leapt toward him. This time, Ziel did the same thing once more.

He lightly adjusted his sword against the belly of the blade. With the slightest effort, the blade’s trajectory veered off course, crashing to the ground with a thunderous roar.

“Gii—gaaaaaah!!”

The clash of weapons filled the air. The demon’s massive blade glimmered seven times in the dark night, yet none of its attacks could so much as scratch the fragile skin of the swordsman before it.

Instead, on the pitch-black blade that had struck the ground once more, a glowing scar ran like a beam of light tearing through the darkness.

“Still too shallow...”

Smoke billowed from that wound.

At last, the opponent cast aside all pretense.

Magical energy began to infuse the great blade. It was undoubtedly for the Demonic Sword Release.

The blade was never swung again. That was likely the final stratagem of the sinister magical weapon known as Vanish.

Every bluff it had used during prior Demonic Sword Release—creating the illusion that the technique could not activate without swinging the blade—was now revealed as the ultimate trap.

Without any preparatory motion, it began the DemonicSword Release, ready to unleash all its monstrous power in an explosion that would consume the city, the nation, and possibly even itself—to obliterate the swordsman before it.

Or so it tried.

“Secret Sword—”

But Ziel’s sword moved. Faster than the light of the spell itself.

Too fast to be called a counter. Like the moon that shines before the sun has even risen, long before its birth.

“—Moonlit Dream.”

Every living creature has a tender spot, and even every inanimate object has a brittle point.

Ziel simply, directly, cut that point down.

The sound of the sword being sheathed echoed. A burst of smoke erupted from the demon—or rather, from its accursed sword.

This was utterly unlike the signs of regeneration seen until now. It was the signal that its life had ended.

The demon collapsed to the ground, its body disintegrating. From within, the unconscious Godach and the broken halves of the cursed sword Vanish emerged.

Looking to the sky with his sword still sheathed, Ziel saw the great mage continuing to fell the magical bird with meteor-like spells, a fearless smile on their face.

Lowering his gaze to the distance, he saw the saint smiling gently as well.

Beside her, Klaha, the adventurers, and the holy knights stared in disbelief, their eyes wide.

Through his glasses, Ziel observed them all. Then, with a soft exhale, he began to walk.

“Victory—or perhaps... If I’m still causing others to worry...”

He murmured to himself, “I still have a long way to go.”

Eventually, the sounds of victory cries filled the air.

Twenty minutes after the defeat of the sinister magical weapon, every magical beast—the ghosts that had crawled out from ancient times—vanished from the city.

It was a triumph for the humans of the present age.