At the location Starnassila Alzen had indicated, a filthy, loathsome nest of black mages had coiled itself.
An altar crusted with dried blood and flesh, heaps of corpses reeking of decay, magic circles glowing dark red, and black humans emanating eerie, ominous auras.
"H-Huh!? Sword Master...!"
"How did the Duke get here!?"
Toward them in their panic, Urtega swung his sword without a word.
"...!!"
They resisted with all they had, in their own way.
They raised black magic barriers, summoned familiars, and triggered every trap and attack in what they called their domain—even if it was makeshift.
—!!
But that desperate flailing was futile. A dazzling flash of sword light silently obliterated everything.
"...Hm."
Dozens of humans, traps, magic circles, and even black magic.
In the now utterly empty space, devoid of any trace, Urtega let out a short breath and gazed down at his sword, as if dissatisfied with something.
Shing! Whoosh!
The treasured sword only the head of the Duke's Family could wield traced a perfect arc through the air.
That beautiful trajectory, like a sword dance or a mere flourish, soon returned to its sheath alongside his increasingly furrowed brow.
"...Still not quite there."
A sigh laced with regret and disappointment.
Within him loomed a massive wall only he could see and feel.
It was a barrier he'd long since given up trying to surpass with his genius intellect and intuition, but now it had thinned and lowered by about half.
The realization and awakening sparked by the words of the Duke's Family third son, Starnassila Alzen, had made it possible.
Yet it was incomplete, still insufficient to glimpse the next realm.
"..."
Even so, he was more exalted now than ever before.
Like in his youthful days brimming with vigor, when he'd burned everything in pursuit of strength without regard for peril, a blind aspiration and yearning for power boiled uncontrollably within him, almost heartbreaking in its intensity.
It burned even fiercer because it was a path he'd once abandoned.
And the remnants of Cambello's curse, still half-remaining, only fueled that desire.
"Sigh... Hooo..."
He wanted nothing more than to cast everything aside and refine his incomplete enlightenment, but his reason remained cold and heavy.
First, he had to save the Duke's territory in crisis.
He understood better than anyone that it was his duty, his right, his qualification—and so he forcibly suppressed the surging desire.
"Impressive. They were decent enough for humans, yet you wiped them out in a single blow. I never expected that."
At that moment, along with quiet applause, a bizarre figure emerged as if peeling away a chunk of the darkness itself.
Its overall silhouette resembled a human, but as it stepped into the light, its utter otherworldliness became starkly apparent.
A single spiraling horn, bat-like wings, a lizard tail, beastly green eyes, and green hair.
The instant their gazes met, Urtega's body stiffened excessively, and alien noise and terror invaded his mind.
Even as a transcendent being who'd reached lofty heights.
"Sigh... Hoo..."
He knew this wasn't due to the curse on him.
As if its very existence was inconceivably superior, it merely stood there, exerting an inexplicable influence on body and mind.
Though milder than at their first encounter.
Because his own stature had risen slightly? He instinctively doubted it.
It wasn't about power or difference in stature—it stemmed from something more fundamental.
'...It's weakened? Why?'
It didn't take long to realize that "something" was a fragment of the Demon God.
The creator and ruler of all demons and demonkin.
A divine being on the opposite side from the Goddess.
The Demon God fragment that had dwelled in Cambello felt small and faint now, for some reason.
Hee hee hee.
Savoring Urtega's reaction, it stretched its arms exaggeratedly and spoke.
"But... why did you attack them? Should I take this as a refusal of my offer?"
"..."
Urtega silently glared at it, habitually gauging the distance out of habit.
Yet strangely, it felt hazy like mist, distant like the horizon's edge.
A phenomenon even he, a Sword Master, had never encountered.
But intuition and instinct soon told him: this wasn't the main body, but an avatar.
An avatar incredibly close to the true form.
One he couldn't slay even with a sword swing, hence the haziness and distance.
Cunning and cautious, as rumored.
Suppressing his anger inwardly, he pondered with tightly pursed lips.
"..."
Come to think of it, that ungrateful son had suggested putting on an act.
"Hm? What's wrong? You're unusually silent."
Slithering forward with a snake-like face and forked tongue flicking, it circled him with a grin.
"Kuhuhu. You still seem conflicted. Of course—the temptation must be so sweet. So hard to resist. The craving for power, the desperate longing for higher realms... Rest assured. You're still ensnared by the curse."
"..."
Urtega didn't put on any particular act.
But seeing it draw its own conclusions, he decided to stay still.
"Frankly, I was quite surprised. To think a mere human could dispel half my curse... How did you do it? It's not something mere mental fortitude can overcome."
"..."
"Ah, talking won't help. By now, your mind must be a mess of reason clashing with desire, clouding your judgment... Kuhuhu."
It drew a grotesquely twisted skull from its bosom and stroked its top. A sinister, eerie light bloomed from the abyss-like eye sockets.
It was awakening the grudges and souls imprisoned in his Soul Gear, the Pit of Souls.
"Now, stop suffering and accept my offer. I'll help you."
Immediately after, horrific screams—as if from thousands or tens of thousands—burrowed into his soul.
"..."
Urtega's eyes dimmed, forgetting even that he'd heard such screams.
The freshly overlaid curse permeated his body, mind, and soul perfectly.
"Kuhuhu... Hahahahaha! Finally! Finally, it's mine! That was a razor-thin gamble!"
Unlike his feigned composure, his inner self brimmed with anxiety and impatience.
Numerous meticulously laid plans had capsized one after another, as if someone knew them in advance.
This had led to a shortage of sacrifices, weakening the curse—and risking total failure.
"Hoo... Starnassila Urtega! First command! Destroy the Duke's Family with your own hands!"
"..."
Lifeless eyes turned to Cambello.
Kaboom!
The next instant, Cambello—throat gripped—was slammed into the wall.
Crashing with a roar, he flailed his legs in panic but couldn't even touch the ground.
"Guhk!? H-Huh...!?"
Unable to track Urtega's movements, he gaped in shock.
"W-What...? The curse clearly... penetrated...!"
"...The price."
"What...?"
"...The price."
As the toneless words repeated, Cambello's mind raced until realization dawned, and he barely caught his breath.
"O-Of course! Power beyond any human's worth! Immense authority never meant for mortals! A fragment of the great Demon God! It shall dwell in you without deceit!"
"...Good."
Murmuring softly, Urtega released the throat and gripped his sword hilt.
"Huff, huff...!"
"The deal... is struck, so I'll overlook... your insolence... this once."
"...What?"
Shing.
Though an avatar, Cambello vividly felt death imprinted in his mind.
"Next time... come in the flesh."
His body splintered into dozens, leaving only the head rolling. Amid dizzying vision, he heard a dimly echoing voice.
With that, the avatar's consciousness ceased completely.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
I've completely crushed it.
I sighed as I stared down vacantly at the entity that had cleaved through the barrier atop the walls.
The distance was great, and its presence hazy to begin with, making identification a chore—but its distinctive features made it unmistakable soon enough.
A ghostly, indistinct presence, movements like gliding rather than walking, an angular, elongated body like a tree.
"High demon Deacon..."
"Alzen. You know what that demon is?"
"Enough to get by. More importantly, haa... Father? Can you hear me? This is urgent."
No response came from the communication artifact, no matter how long I waited.
One of two things, then.
Either he's in the middle of his act, or he's genuinely fallen to the curse.
Here's hoping it's the former.
"...I'll assume you're listening. Another high demon has appeared before the ducal castle. Please keep that in mind and act accordingly."
Ending the call, I glared at Deacon with exasperating frustration.
"Alright... now to stall for time. Hm..."
Possible? But how?
I tapped the calculator in my head.
"Yeah. This is bad."
Maybe, just maybe, if we threw the entire knight order, mage corps, and church forces at it, we could take down Deacon.
Higher chance of total annihilation, but still.
But then, how do we handle the remaining 20,000 undead horde?
Thanks to the Mana Frequency Blocker, the black magic-based forces would be severely weakened, but blocking that without knights was impossible.
In other words, even if stalling, it had to be without combat—without casualties.
"..."
I sifted through the vivid info in my mind, pulling out Deacon-related data.
"...Might work. Mother."
"Uh, yes? What is it?"
She, peering seriously out the window, flinched and hunched her shoulders at my call.
Still awkward around me after earlier events.
I gave a wry smile and nodded toward Deacon.
"Can you use amplification magic? To make sure that thing hears my voice."
"Not too difficult. I can do it. Plenty of mana left."
"Perfect. Cast it now."
"You have a plan?"
"Well... we'll see. No other options anyway."
Gazing at Deacon standing like a tree before the walls, I pondered what to say to grab its attention.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A barren, desolate silence like ruins hung over the area near the ducal castle's main gate.
Partly from fear and dread, but mainly from the bizarre presence emanating from the otherworldly figure.
"...Bring... the Sword Master."
Its staccato voice, not particularly loud, drilled into every ear.
"U-Ugh..."
"W-What the hell is that...!"
"G-Goddess, protect us with your light...!"
Merely standing there, its alien presence crushed fighting spirit and scattered courage to the winds.
Just looking or listening induced nausea and inexplicable mental noise.
Instinct screamed.
That thing didn't belong in this world.
Resistance was futile against a superior being.
To survive, grovel and beg for mercy.
"H-Huff...!"
As someone finally paled and knelt, unable to endure, the ducal castle's skies boomed.
"—Welcome to the ducal castle! High demon Deacon! Your lovey-dovey date with Sisili looks delightful!"
Twitch.
Deacon, who had woodenly repeated only the demand for the Sword Master, showed its first big reaction.
Its hollow eyes locked onto Alzen—leaning on the window sill, arm draped casually, laughing drunkenly and flippantly.