Slightly—just slightly—Yui’s blade grazed Grist’s back. It had to just be a coincidence.
Grist clearly wasn’t happy. In fact, he was furious.
“So, that’s how it is,” I muttered. I was starting to understand the nature of Grist’s mana armor, even if only a little. At a glance, it seemed impenetrable. But the more he used it—that is, the more damage he dealt and attacks he suffered—the more it faded.
That explosion hadn’t been meaningless, but it was still best to assume that Yui landing an attack had been a coincidence. The armor had suffered heavy damage from bearing the brunt of Silica’s full-force explosion. That meant Grist had been forced to expend the mana needed to repair it while his mana barrier was focused on his fists to attack Silica. Those two simultaneous conditions had allowed Yui to land a blow, but even that had only left a scratch.
“How can we possibly defeat this guy?” That very glimmer of hope was proof of just how mighty Grist was. “We can’t just stall for time against an enemy like him. If we don’t fight with intention to kill, he’ll kill us first.”
Daggers was still holding up his shield. “You’ve got to be kidding! If he’s just one of the Four Fiends, then the demon army must have three other guys who are just as strong, right?!”
“Hard to believe, huh? They’ve apparently been kingless ever since the Great War, but it makes you wonder just who these Four Fiends are serving,” commented Yui.
If the Four Fiends were this strong, then how strong could the Demon King they serve possibly be? I couldn’t even imagine.
“Anyway, it’s about time I take your lives and take back Claira. I’d have a tough time fighting a group of Heroes on their turf.” Grist once again kicked off the ground, flinging his fists at dizzying speeds. Daggers blocked with his shield, but just as Grist was about to overpower him, Silica attacked with her magic.
Meanwhile, Yui and Cross were doing their best to stay near Claira and attack when there was an opening. As for me, I focused wholeheartedly on casting my buffs.
However, this was still a defensive battle. We were clearly overpowered, and unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Grist would be running out of MP anytime soon.
This was bad. Soon enough, we’d be killed, and Claira would be kidnapped. All hope was lost. I had never even imagined that Yui and the others could be backed into a corner like this.
“Damn it! Is this the end for us?” I muttered.
That’s when I was assaulted by a sudden chill—one that didn’t seem natural considering the climate. I turned toward the source of this oddly cold wind to find a beastman with light blue hair and a ferocious look in his eyes.
Obviously, I didn’t know this guy. Abel had never mentioned a helper who matched his description.
“Jeez, are all adventurers this weak? I wasn’t expecting a damn thing from you guys, but you really look like you’ve been through it,” he said before glancing around. “Well, if Claira’s safe, I guess I can overlook that.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Wow. They’re sure going at it, I see...” muttered a green-haired demon watching Grist’s battle from within the fog. This snickering onlooker was the man behind this mana-filled mist, Mischel. Not only could he create this fog, he could manipulate it to freely detect what was within it, as others’ mana would disrupt his. Despite being out of practice, he had once been the Demon King’s right-hand man, and his skills were still sharp.
“Even Grist seems to be having trouble. Perhaps I should lend a hand,” he muttered as the wheels in his head still turned. Naturally, he was using his fog to detect disruptions. However...
“Whoa, there. What are you doing up here, watching this battle alone?”
Mischel took a panicked step forward before turning around to find an alchemist dressed in a black robe. It was Wil.
“How odd. My fog didn’t pick up on you. In fact, it still hasn’t. How did you manage that?” Mischel wasn’t afraid. Instead, he was curious. He was well-versed in magical research and had done plenty of his own, making him quite knowledgeable even for a demon. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by this man beyond all understanding.
“Hmm... I dissected your magic. Does that give you a clue?” asked Wil, grinning. “I’ve long had you figured out.”
“And what do you mean by that, exactly?”
“I mean what I said.” Wil clearly had no intention of answering.
“Well, perhaps I don’t know where you got this intel, but this will be your end. Eradicating those in my way is just part of the job.” A sharp bloodlust suddenly formed around Mischel, along with a purple miasma. The fog rotted all that it touched, and in just a few moments, the tree Mischel was standing on had withered.
“Well, that’s scary.” The fog of decay was quickly closing in on Wil.
“I suppose it’s time I showed you what I’ve really got,” said Mischel as he took up a strange pose. Immediately, the fog did something completely unnatural, as if it had a mind of its own. In a flash, Wil was surrounded and captured by the purple mist. “I do hope you entertain me!”
The toxic gas slowly consumed Wil, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He stood there perfectly still, which was enough to ensure Mischel he had won. He was a tad disappointed. “So that was it...”
Even the strongest man alive would perish after being defenselessly subjected to that miasma. Wil had failed to even notice the nature of the fog and couldn’t run in time, thought Mischel, perhaps too lightly.
“And I thought this man might entertain me. I overestimated him, I see...” said Mischel as he dispelled the miasma to ensure Wil had decayed. However...
“Who are you to decide I’m dead?” came Wil’s voice from beyond the mist. Once the fog had cleared, there stood Wil, looking as if nothing had happened at all.
Mischel’s eyes flew open. He clearly didn’t understand what was happening. “How did you...? Explain yourself. This miasma killed a former S-rank adventurer with ease. This is quite odd.”
Had he missed? It was tempting to assume that, but the foliage had properly rotted, which proved otherwise.
Mischel had properly activated his miasma, and Wil had been completely defenseless—he had no weapons or armor. He just couldn’t understand. It confused him.
“Huh? Like I said...” Wil walked forward, not the slightest bit wary. “I’ve got you figured out. Your skills are a terrible match against mine, don’t you think?”
Mischel’s magic hadn’t worked at all. He was panicking. “Just who...are you...?”
“Me? Well, I guess,” Wil snickered. “I’m just a lowly alchemist.”