This was but an inevitability, Beelzebub thought.
A massive mushroom-shaped cloud of fumes rose in the air, almost like a massive explosion had occurred.
“After adding hard work on top of my overwhelming talent, I’ve reached the absolute peak of both magic and physical ability.” His words weren’t conceit but the hard, objective truth. “Now that old age has taken its toll on you, our strength is worlds apart.” Another objective fact.
Alan had nothing left to stand against Beelzebub. Even his mana of light was powerless against Beelzebub’s magic. Not only did the demon lord possess highly dense and practically endless mana, he’d also polished his skills at magic to the utmost level.
“Yet, how? How do you still stand?” Beelzebub asked.
The smoke cleared to reveal Alan standing there, panting heavily. He’d been fighting Beelzebub—who’d transcended to a different realm of strength—for quite a while. Injuries peppered his body and he could hardly breathe properly, but he was still standing.
It would’ve made perfect sense for our fight to be decided in only a few moves. In fact, that should’ve been the natural outcome, Beelzebub thought. Nonetheless, his opponent stood on his feet. He’d been beaten ragged and grown frailer with age, yet he remained in Beelzebub’s way.
“Hey, Beelzebub. Have you ever swung your sword until you vomited blood?” Alan asked between bouts of heavy breathing. His body had undoubtedly grown much weaker than his youth, but it hadn’t given out yet. “Have you ever run until you passed out? How many times have you challenged an enemy you thought you could never defeat? Have you knocked at death’s door?”
Beelzebub could say nothing in response. Silently, he stood and stared at Alan, as if to burn the image into his memory.
“I pity you. You were born a prodigy, so you can’t push yourself beyond a certain point.”
Alan shaped his empty left hand into a tight grip as a shining sword of light appeared in it. At the same time, he covered his entire body in bright mana. He had the ornate sword he’d received from Empress Margaret in his right hand, and the sword of light he’d made from his mana in his left. He adjusted his posture until his head was held high and stood imposingly before Beelzebub.
That was the Champion of Light.
“I’m going to show you something you can’t understand. The thing that lies at the end of true effort you can only achieve by pushing yourself to the utmost limits. I’ll show you the force of will of us humans! Come at me, demon lord!” the Champion proudly declared.
Oh. Beelzebub was amazed.
A brilliant light shone in Alan’s eyes. It didn’t matter if he was older and covered in wounds; he still had the same indomitable light he’d possessed twenty-five years ago. Despite the overwhelming disadvantage he was in or how hopelessly stronger his opponent was, he didn’t care. His courage and determination burned hotter than the sun itself and fueled his certainty of his victory.
“Magnificent,” Beelzebub said in delight as he absorbed the sight of Alan. He couldn’t help but feel great joy at this development. “This is why I find value in challenging you, Champion! Here I go!”
He roared as he propelled himself through the air toward Alan.
✦ ✦ ✦
Beelzebub had felt numb as long as he could remember.
As someone born with everything, he felt nothing about this world where everything always went his way. Nevertheless, he eventually tasted his first defeat at the hands of a feeble human, even though the two of them were like night and day in terms of aptitude.
At that moment, Beelzebub felt passion for the first time in his life. He wanted to defeat that person. To challenge that weak yet strong contradiction of a man to a rematch, and to emerge victorious this time!
As luck would have it, he was miraculously granted that opportunity. His reborn blood seethed with excitement as he thought about challenging that man again! This time, he wouldn’t be the king waiting imperiously upon his throne, but an ordinary challenger! Nothing could be more thrilling!