Chapter 13

“Sorry… There weren’t any accurate maps left…” “No, it’s not your fault. You did very well, Takahashi. Haaah… Truly, I’m sorry. I think there’s something wrong with me.” “Nah, man. That’s only normal.” Gram awkwardly observed their conversation. “Never would’ve imagined seeing you lose your cool like that, Veltol. Sure, time is of the essence, but don’t go around making trouble for young ladies. I guess I should’ve expected as much from you, though.” “I can say nothing in my defense…” Veltol felt even worse at Gram’s wry comment. “It’s not like clearing a dungeon takes that much time in the first place,” Gram added. “What did you just say?” “Hmm? Oh, right. You were always on the development side of things. Of course you wouldn’t know.” “Know what?” “I’m the Hero, which means I’m on the completion side. And your dungeons weren’t the only ones I cleared, by the way. I’m pretty much a pro at this,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Automap!” Rays of light ran through the ground as he dictated the maginom. “What sort of magic did you just use?” Veltol demanded. “This right here.” Gram held out his right hand, above which was projected a three-dimensional map in the aether. “You run mana across a labyrinth’s walls and floor to create a map of it. It’s my own original magic I developed during my adventures.” “What?” Veltol scowled. “You were an adventurer before a hero?” “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?” “Have you no pride as an adventurer?” “What?!” Gram’s shoulders twitched. “Who needs pride? Better to just clear those pesky mazes as soon as possible.” That made the Demon Lord lose his temper. “You absolute cretin! Have you ever considered the creator’s feelings?! All that time and effort spent building passageways and placing treasure chests and monsters in the perfect spots!” “How about you, then?! Have you ever considered how adventurers feel when they go through a dungeon?! We’re putting our lives on the line here, and with limited food and stamina all while keeping an eye on our party members!” “Oh, shut it, you inconsiderate brute!” “No, you’re the brute!” They glared at each other, sparks flying, so close their noses were almost touching. “Yeah, yeah. I can tell you guys are real pals. Let’s go already.” Takahashi did not sound amused. “Oh, I’m not letting that slip by, Takahashi,” said Veltol. “Pals? With this buffoon? I wouldn’t even dream of it.” “I agree, Ms. Takahashi. That’s clearly a huge misunderstanding. We might be joining forces for now, but it’s only a matter of time until we’re trying to kill each other again.” “And you call yourselves the Demon Lord and Hero of legend?! Shut up already!” Takahashi clutched at her head at the sight of the two historical figures acting like a pair of scolded puppies. “Now’s not the time to be arguing. We gotta save Machina, right?” They regained their composure and took a step back. “So is that map really accurate?” Veltol asked Gram. “Of course. It can locate any trap, physical or magical. Doesn’t look like there’s many in here, though. There’s no monsters, either, so we can take the shortest route.” “Time is of the essence, after all. I’ll have to set aside my personal preferences for now.” “Good. Let’s go.” They passed through the door and entered the dungeon. “But first—Takahashi.” “What’s up?” “The plan I told you about earlier—how are the preparations coming along?” “I’m goin’ as fast as I can. Whether we can make it is all on you, though. I want you to be as fast as possible but also give me plenty of time. I’ve got lots to take care of here.” “Understood. We will have to risk it, but you have my trust. I’m counting on you.” “Roger that, Mister Demon Lord Sir. This is the first time I’ve done something on this scale, so I’m pretty antsy.” “Takahashi, do you know what you always have to keep on hand when the going gets tough like this?” “Wh-what? Where’d that come from?” Takahashi sounded confused. “You need an ace up your sleeve,” he replied. They had surprisingly no problem advancing through the dungeon. Entry into the dungeon wasn’t prohibited. There were countless other Alnaethian relics all over Shinjuku, and they also served as shelters during the City Wars. Below the long escalators were hallways spreading like spiderwebs. Veltol and Gram followed the shortest and optimal route crossing the warped railways until they reached a tunnel. This was the path that led to the Immortal Furnace right below the aether reactor. The tunnel was clearly in disrepair; ropes and tools were abandoned all over the place, and the only light to show the way was some old, faint aether neon. “I’m getting more noise in the transmission. The aether concentration’s higher since you’re getting closer to thelinescommunicationsgetting cutplan prep—” They lost connection to Takahashi. The increased concentration of aether had jammed all long-distance aether communications. They kept advancing, now relying solely on Gram’s map. Thankfully, the tunnel didn’t seem to have any bifurcations. “I hope Machina’s all right…,” Veltol suddenly muttered despite himself. “Veltol, you’ve gotten stronger,” Gram said. “Ha! Ever the joker, I see. My faith is still extremely low; I’ve recouped almost nothing. I’m far, far weaker than I was five hundred years ago.” “No, that wasn’t a joke.” Gram shook his head. “I’ve met you in person just a few times, and we’ve only spent a little while together, so obviously I don’t know everything about you. But I doubt that, hundreds of years ago, you would’ve come to me begging for help simply because one of your vassals got kidnapped.” “…” Veltol tacitly agreed. “Back then, you were far more ruthless, crueler…weaker.” “Weaker? Ridiculous. Surely I’m weaker now.” “No, you’re just different. Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to defeat you if you fought me now, even if I were as strong as I was back then.” “…What do you mean?” “I think you ought to look for the answer yourself. Actually, I’ll bet you already have it. Anyway, we’re gonna reach the end of the tunnel pretty soon…but it looks like we’ll have to put in some work first.” Before them, at the end of the tunnel was one guard: a woman in a suit, Marcus’s secretary—Kinohara. Behind her was the elevator used for transporting materials to the Immortal Furnace. The lift was already down, leaving the shaft empty. “Oh my, you really came.” Kinohara looked surprised. She held her katana, Dragon Blade: Chidori, inside its black scabbard. “Lord Marcus stationed me here to keep you from passing through, Veltol, but I didn’t think you would really come. And that you’d bring a friend, no less.” Kinohara looked closely at Gram. “Could you be…the Hero Gram?” “You know about me? I’m honored.” “You were in the database. The unaging Hero achieved many accolades during the second City War. Hmm…so the Hero has joined the Demon Lord. Interesting.” Gram stepped in front of Veltol without bothering to reply to Kinohara. “I’ll take care of her. No need to worry about me, Veltol. My golden days may be long gone, but I’m still quite capable.” “You fool. Why would I worry about you? Of course you’ll win.” The Hero grabbed his sword without looking back. “But be careful, Gram. That woman is likely as skilled as Zenol was.” Veltol remembered his first encounter with Kinohara. Although he wasn’t in top shape, she was able to slash so fast he could barely see her movements. However, Gram smiled in amusement at his warning. “Huh. So nothing special, then?” His smug tone brought a grimace to Kinohara’s face. “What did you just say?” “I defeated the Duke of the Karmic Sword, Zenol, in a duel. If you’re as strong as he was, then there’s no reason for me to lose.” “Heh, I forgot about that. True, you were the strongest swordsman in all of Alnaeth,” Veltol said to the Hero. And he felt so incredibly reliable before Veltol. The Demon Lord not only respected him as an enemy he had crossed swords with—he now trusted the Hero as a fellow comrade in arms. “You decrepit specters of the past sure love to chitchat…!” Kinohara said. Then she disappeared. A blue lightning strike followed. One flash, two slashing sounds. A pale silver and vivid blue glow. Kinohara approached, and Gram repelled her two strikes, then they locked swords—all of which occurred in an instant. The rusty silver sword and the blue lightning katana pushed against each other. “Leave this to me, Veltol! You go save your friend!” Veltol nodded and sprinted to the elevator shaft. “You think I’ll let you go?!” Kinohara fended Gram’s sword off and dashed to Veltol. She was quick enough to reach him in a matter of seconds, but Gram managed to catch up and stop her. “Tsk… Get out of my way!” Kinohara clicked her tongue. Gram turned on his right foot and cut in front of her before she could take a step farther. He brandished his sword, making Kinohara step back. “I told him to go, and I won’t let you interfere.” “You specter…! Your era is already over!” “You’re right. But there’s still someone here who needs a hero.” They had switched places. She had been blocking the Hero’s path, and now he was standing in her way and protecting Veltol. “Swear to me, Gram! Swear to me that you’ll win—that you’ll survive!” “I will,” the Hero replied. “Shudder, O Heavens!” Veltol enchanted himself with Vestum, then jumped straight into the shaft, falling to where the Immortal Furnace was located. “So this is what it’s come to,” said Kinohara. “Very well.” Gram noticed a change in her. She was no longer a guard but a warrior oozing cold malice. “I simply have to kill you posthaste and return to Lord Marcus. That’s all I need to maximize our returns.” She lowered her katana as she spoke, and her body grew limp. She was full of openings, but Gram didn’t attack. He’d sensed how incredibly strong she was from their earlier exchange. Most of all, his gut was telling him that he would die if he tried testing her any further. “Initialize Zerobase.” Kinohara’s body was enveloped in white light as soon as she finished speaking. “—!” Chills ran down the Hero’s spine. He hadn’t felt that in five hundred years. His body was moving well before his brain reacted to the familiar sensation. The blade came swinging down. He couldn’t react. In fact, Gram’s eyes could scarcely follow the blade’s movement. Metal clashed against metal with a loud clang. Gram had been blasted backward by the time he realized what he was seeing. He spun in the air and landed before finally getting a good look. “Armor…?” Kinohara was wearing pure-white armor. The helm that covered her entire face had crimson dual sensors, like two big eyes. Her sub-armor covered her entire body from head to toe while her main armor was divided into sections: shoulders, chest, forearms, waist, and legs. An exhaust cloak hung from her waist. The slim fit and no-frills appearance made the armor seem more like a suit. Its shape also brought to mind the exoskeleton of an arthropod. And in her hands were the same katana and black scabbard. Gram recognized this type of full-body armor, although it looked much different from what he was familiar with. “An MG…?!” “Correct.” The main armor spewed white smoke as it let out excess heat and aether. “This is the next-generation MG our company is currently developing: the prototype Zerobase. Similar to armament summoning, this MG is activated via a catalyst, allowing the user to equip it instantly.” “A fifth-generation MG…” “Indeed, as the most up-to-date model in use is the fourth gen. The Zerobase is smaller and more lightweight than its predecessor, and that’s not all—we enhanced its output and energy efficiency so that it’s lighter, stronger, and more durable. This model embodies true innovation that will revolutionize the industry.” “I didn’t ask for a product pitch…” “Granted, its one deficit is that operation time varies greatly depending on the user’s mana reserves, unlike the fourth gen. But we will fix that before long. You should feel honored; you will serve as valuable test data for this Zerobase.” Even after the long explanation, Gram’s hands were still numb. He was unnerved; he hadn’t been able to hold himself against that first attack. Fourth-gen MGs had never posed a real threat to Gram, but this fifth-gen Zerobase far surpassed the performance of the MGs he had fought during the City Wars. “Your weapon, you yourself, even your Familia are all old relics of the past. Everything about you is antiquated. I, on the other hand, possess the latest machinery and training. I think that comparison speaks for itself, personally.” “Spare me the speech. Novelty is just a single element in battle, and what decides the outcome isn’t who’s stronger or who’s weaker. It’s who wins and who loses.” “Indeed. En garde!” The Zerobase bounded forward. It was faster than moments before—he had only just been able to see it the last time, but now it was so fast he could barely see its shadow. The Zerobase had practically teleported to the spot. It was leaning forward, hips low, holding the katana in its scabbard, ready to unsheathe. A bolt of lightning struck. “Tsk…!” He managed to fend it off, but before he could even start countering, the Zerobase was already in place for its next unsheathing. How did Gram manage to defend himself against such a fast attack? Put simply: intuition. That was it. His more than five hundred years of battle experience helped him against this new foe, yet no matter how vast his well of experience was, Kinohara’s combat ability—even without the Zerobase—was more rigorous and fiercer than anything he’d seen before. He had no doubt about it: She was strong. …Here it comes! Gram’s thoughts and movements happened almost simultaneously. He leaned backward, and the lightning bolt scraped his nose. Lightning truly was the best way to describe the Zerobase’s sword skills, for it was just as fast. No ordinary person would be able to evade it. Unsheathing attacks were linear by nature. Gram was timing his actions by following the MG’s center of gravity and Kinohara’s breathing. She threw in several feints for good measure, of course, but he saw through those as well. Nonetheless, Gram still found himself at a disadvantage. “I can’t get a single opening to attack… Technology has come so far in such a short amount of time. I’m glad I didn’t have to fight these in the City Wars.” The Zerobase leaped. “Haaah!” Its blade fell straight toward Gram, but he deflected by receiving the tip with his sword. He kicked the Zerobase in desperation and finally managed to open some distance. That kick was capable of breaking a dragon’s scales, but it didn’t even scratch the Zerobase. Although the MG was facilitating Kinohara’s highspeed combat, only her unsheathing was as fast as lightning—the rest of her sword strikes were erratic, yet not quite as swift. Then why isn’t she just sticking to unsheathing attacks? Can’t she base her strategy around that…? There has to be a trick behind this, then. Pure technique wasn’t everything needed to perform these lightning slashes, so it was only natural to assume magic was involved. Having to unsheathe the blade from zero was a magical limitation—a sort of ritualistic movement similar to an incantation or proclamation. In other words… “The sword has to be completely sheathed beforehand for the magic to activate…!” Gram didn’t need to see her face to tell that Kinohara was smiling under her helm. “Correct.” Her main armor opened up to let the excess heat and aether out. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the veteran Hero’s sagacity. This is my magic: Lightning Unsheathe. It activates under the limitation of the movements involved in full unsheathing.” A magic’s performance was improved by adding limitations or specializing its technic. For example, Marcus’s blood magic. By specializing the technic and limiting it to blood, he upped its power and accuracy, while lowering its cost. Expert users will customize their magic to accommodate their strengths and weaknesses. “However,” Kinohara continued, “that knowledge alone won’t be enough to defeat me. My victory is irrefutable. The difference in strength with this fifth-gen MG and lightning-speed unsheathing on my side is clear as day.” The Zerobase left a scorching trail of electricity in its wake. “Come at me!” the Hero yelled as the streak of white lightning shot straight at him, ready to take his life. Machina woke up with a terrible headache. It felt as if her skull was filled with solid lead. Her eyes opened to see the brown earth before her; she was lying facedown. Her black armor and red hair disappeared when she lost consciousness and her mana was cut. Now she was back to her usual white clothes and silver hair. “Wh-where am I…?” “In the deep underground of Shinjuku City, right below the aether reactor.” She didn’t expect an answer, yet a certain shrill voice replied. Machina looked in the direction the voice came from. Pure-white hair, brown skin, red eyes, and long ears. It was the crimson suit–clad man she knew all too well. “Marcus…!” She tried to leap up and attack him, only to realize her arms weren’t working. Both her arms and legs were restrained with an enchanted black cloth that inhibited an immortal’s power. Right…they got me… Machina then remembered what had happened. Marcus and Kinohara had ambushed her and struck her down. She didn’t recall much after that; the last thing she knew, some men in black had thrown her half-unconscious into a car. “Please, don’t look at me like that. I just want to celebrate my reunion with an old friend.” “You filth! An old friend?! Spare me your drivel! You have no right to call me that, you traitor!” “Goodness, you’re scaring me. You see, Machina, I had my people do a bit of snooping around when Veltol returned, but I didn’t expect you to still be alive.” Marcus shrugged as he toyed with her. Machina fixed him with a murderous glare. “Where are we?! Why did you bring me here?!” “I just told you. Right below Shinjuku’s aether reactor. They call this ritual magic facility for aether refinement the Immortal Furnace.” “Immortal Furnace…?” That phrase had been written on Ornared and Palmlock’s note. “That is what we call the technic that converts immortal souls into aether. That aether produced by the Furnace is then pumped into the aether reactor and transformed into electricity and mana for Shinjuku.” Machina looked around. She was in what appeared to be a massive cave. She would have never imagined a space big enough to hold an entire giant fortress existed directly beneath Shinjuku. Right in the center of the cave was a giant slit from which tall pillars of light extended into metal tubes. The pillars were bright enough to illuminate the entire cave. Machina knew right away what they were: pillars of aether so condensed they were visible to the naked eye. These pillars were being absorbed by the aether reactor. The slit they came from had to be the Immortal Furnace itself. It’s so hot… The aether concentration was so great it was radiating heat. Immortals had a deeper spiritual connection to aether than other beings, hence why it felt so thick and viscous to Machina. It was as though the aether clung to her skin like glue, so thick she was having trouble breathing. These were aether lines, akin to the planet’s veins. Machina kept looking at the light pillars as she spoke. “You’re using immortals’ souls…as fuel…?” She began to put all the puzzle pieces together—the immortal souls, fuel, the Furnace, the note left behind. “So you…killed Ornared and Palmlock?” “They made excellent firewood. And they were oh so worried about each other until the very end. Their friendship—or rather, their love—was quite beautiful, I must admit. This city you’ve come to relish, its development, its peace and stability, your cozy home…all of it was built upon the corpses of good immortals like those two! Ha-ha-ha!” “You—you bastaaaard!” Machina was filled with white-hot hatred and wrath that once again turned her hair a fiery red. Immortals, naturally, were undying. They didn’t experience death as their mortal counterparts did. However, once their souls became worn out, immortals decayed before reaching something of a spiritual death. “Heh-heh-heh… Yes, your hatred is so delightful. I’ll tell you one more thing, then. Remember Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword? He served as the first firewood. I’ve thrown countless others of our fellows here, too.” Zenol was the one who helped Machina escape the Immortal Hunt. She thought he had simply perished, but knowing the truth now, that would have been a much better fate. She never would have guessed he, Ornared, Palmlock, and many other immortals, too, had met such a vile end, being turned into fuel. She thought back to Zenol’s final moments. Take care of our king, he had told her, his body and soul injured. “I can’t even begin to imagine the pain Lord Zenol must have felt as his body kept on burning and burning until his soul was consumed.” “Marcus! I will kill you!” “And what gives you the right to get so angry about it? Have you not been living in this city, using the energy they provided?” “So you plan on feeding me to the fire, too?” “Yes. It’s time for you to give back to Shinjuku. Only a few select members of IHMI know about the Furnace’s existence. You see, the people had grown meek after the wars, so we couldn’t convince them or even make this public, lest they’d start yapping about the immortals’ rights or whatever. I’ve been taking matters into my own hands to keep it confidential. We’re almost out of firewood now, so I’m very grateful we managed to find you. We can’t have Shinjuku’s heart stopping, can we? Fortunately, as one of the Six Dark Peers, the energy you provide should be enough to last us while we find another source.” “…” “Now then…we’ve talked for too long. The Immortal Furnace is ready. I only have to throw you in there, and it will automatically burn your soul into nourishment for this city. Perhaps you’ll show me a flame greater than those before you, little ignia…” Marcus cackled as he reached out to grab her. “I will rid this world of all its immortals and become the true Demon Lord!” More than despair, she felt regret; more than regret, she felt wrath. Machina wasn’t afraid of decay. She had heard an immortal’s long life span meant they felt even greater fear when they realized their decay was close at hand, yet she didn’t feel a speck of dread. Her sole regret was leaving her king behind. Lord Veltol… She prayed for her lord’s safety. She didn’t believe in a god, however—who was she praying to? She wondered about trifling matters: Would he be able to feed himself? Do the laundry? Their reunion had been so brief, but so joyful nonetheless. I loved you… Her love for her king was not that of a vassal—somewhere down the line it had changed to the love of a single woman. Then, as if to answer her thoughts… …there came a gust of black wind. She’d seen this somewhere before. It was the beginning of it all. A memory still vivid in her mind. She felt déjà vu as the wind spoke: “You have a bad habit of giving up too soon.” It was her king’s voice. “Bloodshield!” Marcus’s arm, reaching out for her, now moved away, deploying a blood barrier before them. A black blade clashed with the shield of hardened aether blood, easily smashing through it like a cookie. The blade cut Marcus’s extended hand at the wrist, and immediately thrust toward his throat, but the trajectory aiming for the Familia stabbed nothing. Marcus had leaped backward. A man stood before Machina, guarding her. He had long black hair and handsome jet-black eyes. Dressed in mana armor, he was holding the black Dark Sword, Vernal, in his hand. Tears poured out of Machina’s eyes the moment she recognized him, the man who fought against the entire world and saved hers: the Demon Lord. “Sorry I’m late. I’m finally here to rescue you, Machina.” “Lord Veltol…!” The Demon Lord tried comforting her with his gentle gaze as he said, “Wait just a little longer. Don’t worry; my body is starting to move how I want it to. I will get you out of here.” Veltol’s dark eyes then burned with ire as he glared at his enemy. “Marcus.” His voice was cold, unlike the tone he used with Machina. Marcus’s cut hand had already regenerated. “Oh, so you’ve recovered a bit more of your strength. Ah yes, I watched your livestreams, too. You are quite the influencer. You must’ve had fun getting all that attention, huh? How nice to spend your days playing games. I wish I had it that easy.” “Will you apologize for harming my vassal or not?” “No, I won’t.” “Or for sacrificing the rest of the Six Dark Peers and other immortals?” “I don’t intend to.” “One last question, then. Will you serve me once again?” “No.” “Fine. Then die.” Having nothing else to say, Veltol once again rushed forward like a black wind. “Bloodsword!” The aether around Marcus turned to blood, then hardened with mana into the shape of swords. Bloodsword at full power, optimized thanks to the Familia, was far stronger, faster, and greater in number than five hundred years before. He could now create fifty blades. They made a beeline straight for Veltol. “Haaah!” He parried all of them with a swing of the Dark Sword, Vernal. The bloodswords shattered in midair. “Blood Bomb!” Countless drops of coagulated blood exploded upon Marcus’s proclamation, sending smoke everywhere. Veltol instantly appeared from the smoke. He was dirty but not injured. He approached Marcus and swung the Dark Sword. Marcus responded by receiving the blow with a fortified bloodsword. The red blade and black blade clashed, fending each other off with the impact of their mana. They locked swords so close their faces were practically colliding. The Demon Lord and the Duke of the Bloody Arts vied for power. “Oh! Strengthening magic, of course! I can’t cancel out any magic you’ve already activated! Considering the logical strength of your technic, dispelling it would be quite the feat!” Magic was sometimes compared with archery. Nocking an arrow, drawing the bowstring tight, and aiming was much like the steps needed for magic activation, with the arrow being the magic itself. Destroying the bow after the arrow had already been loosed would have no effect on the arrow. In other words: Canceling already activated magic was not possible. “You betrayed the immortals! Your slight against us is far too heavy a crime!” “And who will judge me for that crime?!” “Me, of course!” “You think you have the right?!” “I do! I am the Demon Lord!” “Your era is long gone, Veltol! It’s time I put you out of your misery, you fossil of a demon lord!” “Don’t flatter yourself, you peasant!” They spoke with their blades as they yelled. “Hya!” Veltol’s bursting power cut Marcus’s body, bloodsword and all, straight through his shoulder. He then aimed at his throat. Marcus swung his shield arm to change the trajectory of Veltol’s sword. However, he couldn’t stop all of its momentum, and it managed to pierce through his chin and shatter his glasses. Marcus was still moving even with his head destroyed. He kicked Veltol’s torso, but the Demon Lord evaded by taking a step back. “Hmph! You’re a ruthless one…” Marcus’s head started regenerating. His flesh, muscles, nerves, bones, blood—everything reappeared in threads as if his head were sewing itself back together. The moment the regeneration finished, the pieces of flesh around him turned to dust and vanished. “It seems no normal attack will be enough to end this,” Veltol grumbled. The priority in battle between immortals was restraining the foe. Fighting to the death solved nothing. “Of course you would aim for my Familia!” It was Marcus’s only weak point. Once destroyed, he would be unable to use constructless and expansionless magic, leaving Veltol at an overwhelming advantage with his own chantless technique. Marcus knew as much, hence why he didn’t care about receiving any other attack so long as he defended his neck. “You won’t make it, no matter how many times you try!” “Don’t think it will go like last time!” “Oh, but it will! You cannot defeat me without a Familia!” Although Marcus was fine getting injured as long as his Familia remained untouched, the same couldn’t be said for Veltol. One hit wouldn’t be enough to defeat him, but due to his slow regeneration, spells like Marcus’s Blood Bomb could easily incapacitate or restrain him. He wouldn’t be able to save Machina then and could even end up being fed to the Immortal Furnace himself. Marcus merely needed to block Veltol’s magic with his Familia Advance and draw a single drop of blood. He had a huge advantage. And that was where the Duke of the Bloody Arts’s true strength lay. He could freely control anyone’s blood when it came into contact with airborne aether. Whether his foe was mortal or immortal, the slightest bloodshed meant Marcus’s victory. His magic’s real value shone the most in battle against multiple enemies. But even then, Marcus had to go through all the steps until incantation five hundred years before. An immortal’s wounds would regenerate and their blood would vanish before he could activate his magic. Now that the invention of the Familia had accelerated magical warfare, Marcus was at the top of the Six Dark Peers. “You simply cannot defeat me. Let me show you proof.” His freshly regenerated mouth shaped a sneer. “Blood Bomb!” The proclamation provoked a small explosion at Veltol’s right index fingertip. “—?!” Shit. By the time Veltol thought that, it was already too late. Marcus didn’t detonate Veltol’s blood; Veltol wasn’t wounded. Instead, Marcus had blown a drop of his own blood to Veltol’s fingertip and turned it into a bomb. Blood Bomb’s power depended on the amount of blood in the airborne aether. The explosion hadn’t been especially large—only enough to peel his nail off. But that was all Marcus needed. The blood coming out of his foe’s fingertip became a further source. “Gya-ha!” The vampire cackled. “Blood Bomb!” The wound at Veltol’s fingertip exploded, blowing off his entire finger. “Urgh…!” “Gya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Blood Bomb!” The following explosion blew his entire hand up to the wrist. “Argh!” “Blood Bomb!” The blood from his wrist then blew his forearm off. Veltol was now covered in blood splatter. “Lord Veltol!” Machina cried. “Bloodburst!” The explosion’s flames engulfed him. Why can’t I defeat him…?! Kinohara was getting annoyed at being unable to deal the final blow to Gram. The man was strong, she had to admit. He had good judgment, analysis, and reaction skills—he excelled at everything. Unlike Veltol, he did have a Familia, albeit an older, mass-produced model, and he was taking full advantage of it. Kinohara had been trying to hack Gram’s Familia at every chance she got, but even without the extra security measures in place, his logic barrier was extremely solid—in fact, it was trying to use its Black ICE to fry her Familia. A Black ICE was a type of firewall based on ancient Alnaethian sorcery, specifically black magic known as countercurses. This firewall was a counterprogram—more aggressive than a logic barrier, which merely blocked malicious attacks from the aethernet. If one’s Familia got hacked and their Black ICE kicked in, worst-case scenario saw the hacker’s own brain fried through their Familia’s artificial nerves, killing them. I can’t hack him. Kinohara concluded her foe was knowledgeable in aetherhack warfare as well. However, she was still sure she could defeat him. Kinohara was an orphan, taken in by IHMI when she was young and raised in its elite personnel training facilities. There, she excelled at not only combat but everything else, drawing Marcus’s attention and getting appointed as his secretary at the tender age of sixteen. She’d also worked as a spy, a combatant, and a tester for new MGs—Marcus trusted her in many fields. “I received the most cutting-edge combat training. Marcus chose me above everyone else. I can’t possibly lose to this decrepit old-timer!” There was no doubt that Kinohara was keeping the lead at all times. Quantitatively speaking, an MG-equipped Kinohara’s stats versus Gram’s stats was like comparing a dragon to an ordinary human. And yet, she couldn’t overcome him; she couldn’t deal effective damage. All her attacks were received, repelled, avoided, fended off. “Earth Glaive!” Gram dictated a maginom. The dungeon’s ground took the shape of many sharp spears, shooting up from Kinohara’s feet. “Is this all you’ve got?!” she taunted. The magic was so weak it couldn’t damage her sub-armor, let alone her main armor, but there was no reason to let it hit her. With a swing of her katana, Kinohara cut through the mana-fortified spears. “Frostnova!” Gram immediately followed with a subzero gale. The temperature instantly plummeted, the airborne moisture freezing into tiny, sparkling ice crystals. “You think cold will work against a Zerobase?!” It had no effect on the MG, which was built to resist subzero temperatures. “No, of course I don’t,” Gram replied calmly. “?!” That was when it finally hit Kinohara. Gram had momentarily restrained her by transforming the ground into spears with Earth Glaive, then freezing it with Frostnova. Her Zerobase was powerful enough to break free, no question, but that combo attack had nonetheless managed to stop it for a millisecond. “Haaaah!” Gram gripped his sword tight and leaped all the way to her. He spun as he was quickly falling to strike, and the Zerobase was not in a stable position to receive it. “Urgh…!” Even the Zerobase couldn’t make up for being off balance. Gram extended his left arm, and Kinohara was unable to react. “Fireball!” An elemental reaction caused the aether in Gram’s palm to heat up before concentrating in one point and taking the shape of a ball. “Wha—?” The compressed flames burst at point-blank range. Fireball wasn’t typically an impressive attack, but in the Hero Gram’s hands, it was potentially lethal. His Fireball was hot enough to melt iron and burn a dragon’s scales—though small, it blazed like the sun. The explosion sent the Zerobase crashing into the wall. “You…pesky old…!” And still, it received barely any damage. The armor was sooty and smoking, but nothing more. The shock absorbers kept Kinohara’s brain protected, too. Not even the Hero’s magic was enough to damage the Zerobase. “Wow, that’s some sturdy armor you’ve got… But my tactics are working.” “Huh?” “I was imitating a darkling I fought five hundred years ago. Guess it works even against someone with the most cutting-edge combat training.” “You insolent fool…!” Kinohara was physically unharmed, but Gram had dealt her a psychological blow. She was in a next-gen MG and was fairly confident in her skills, yet she couldn’t defeat the decrepit Hero. Kinohara was frustrated. She was losing her cool, and that in turn was affecting the battle. Gram had switched from sword attacks—his bread and butter—to magic attacks. He had found enough leeway to wield magic, and that was greater proof than anything that he was holding his own against Kinohara. That further annoyed and upset her. “Why?!” Kinohara held her katana high to receive Gram, then advanced and slashed down. The weight should have been enough to crush him, yet he parried it through pure technique. “Why can’t I defeat you?!” He easily parried a direct thrust. “You don’t get it, do you?” He sounded as though he were talking to a child throwing a tantrum. “I wouldn’t be the Hero if I lost so easily.” “You…bastard! Go back to the grave, you mummy!” The Zerobase approached him in position to unsheathe, although its movements lacked the brilliance and mastery of the previous attacks. That’s what Gram was looking for. He held his sword tight to put an end to the duel. He held it up high, proudly. “You…you think I will lose?! To that rusty sword?! Me?! Think agaaain!” The Holy Sword, Ixasorde, had lost its luster. There was no trace left of its name as the Silver Sun That Never Sets. “That’s how it looks to you?” He lifted the corners of his mouth into a gleeful smile. Even if the sword rusts… “As long as there are people out there who need me—who need a hero—this sword will shine again and again!” …the Hero’s soul will not. “Hear my call and shine…Ixasorde!” Various ancient phrases appeared and disappeared on the Holy Sword’s blade. Dinoah Luz: Verifying Hero. A Stra Ros Aran: Unleashing Holy Sword of Salvation. Lez Ixasorde: Unsheathing approved. A crack appeared on the rusty blade, from which then leaked a blinding flash. The cracks spread, and the rust crumbled and fell. From within appeared the shining silver blade. The dazzling Silver Sun That Never Sets—Ixasorde. The Holy Sword answered the Hero’s call and regained the form it had when it defeated the Demon Lord. “Listen well, white lightning! Burn this great strike that bested the Demon Lord into your memory! This is the shine of the Silver Sun That Never Sets!” “Don’t think you’re better than meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” The Zerobase unleashed an electrifying sword strike—Lightning Unsheathe. The Hero’s Holy Sword unleashed its silver glimmer. The lightning ran through the earth and clashed with the Silver Sun. The legendary Holy Sword’s special attack—Absolute Slash—made the surrounding aether gleam silver in response to the Hero’s mana, the light forming a blade that cut through anything. It was the ultimate shine that had rent the invincible Demon Lord’s soul. “Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!” The slash of the Hero’s silver sword had turned into a beam of light that pierced the air, tore through the aether, and sliced the lightning—defeating the pure-white armor. The duel was over. The diagonal slash had broken through the many layers of armor, causing it to smoke. It had even reached Kinohara’s skin.