The Fall of the Hellfire King
The Four Flames under Belial's command. As long-time loyalists to their lord, they possessed strength far beyond what one would expect from subordinates of the 67th-ranked Demon King. Compared to Decarabia's Five Stars, they were on an entirely different level—save for the first star, Balthazar, it would have been an insult to even draw the comparison. These were women of exceptional martial prowess, strategy, and experience.
Yet two among them, Florence and Eltria, now faced the greatest crisis of their lives.
Chaeng!! Sword met sword and rebounded with a resounding clash. Dozens of exchanges had passed without a decisive blow, but only one side was ever forced back. Florence, the Flower Flame among the Four Flames, had blood trickling down her cheek. She wiped it away with one hand and muttered, “…The title of Seir's Four Swords was not given lightly.”
Her opponent was the swordswoman with striking cat ears revealed beneath her removed helm—Rin El Laza. Even if the Four Flames matched the caliber of mid-tier Demon King officers, facing one of Seir's legendary Four Swords changed everything. Rin El Laza had been one of the four strongest generals under the second-ranked Demon King.
Florence had held out longer than expected, preventing an immediate end, yet Rin had dominated the entire duel. “Meaningless resistance. Give it up, General Florence.”
“Oh my… You remember my name. What an honor.” Florence calmed her mount and steadied her stance even as she spoke. “But telling me to stop resisting means you want me to surrender, doesn't it?”
Her gaze sharpened. Mana swirled around her blade, igniting into flames that resembled flower petals scattering in the wind. “I cannot do that.”
“…I respect your courage.”
The bison snorted fiercely. Florence could only laugh at the sight of such a magnificent beast. Rin raised her sword; Florence did the same. While Florence cloaked her blade in her signature flames, Rin left hers bare.
“You would do well not to underestimate me!!”
“Underestimate you? You think too little of me.”
As Florence charged, Rin closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. Her gaze, serious from the very first exchange, met Florence's. “I have been fighting in earnest from the start, General.”
Swish─────. Florence's mount carried her far past Rin, while Rin's bison had taken only two steps. By all logic, Florence's strike should have carried greater force. Yet the outcome was the opposite.
“Ah…” Blood erupted from Florence's throat. The flames around her sword died. Her blade clattered to the ground. She tried to stem the fountain of blood with both hands, but it was useless. Even as her palms turned crimson, the blood kept pouring forth.
“Kuh… Kehek…”
“I did not underestimate you, General. You were simply stronger than I expected.” Rin herself was not unscathed—her armor was torn and blood ran down her forearm—but her wounds were shallow compared to Florence's. She flicked the blood from her sword and spoke quietly. “A pity. Had you been on our side, you would have made a fine comrade.”
“……Kuhuk…!”
Her life was fading. Florence was dying. She turned her bloodshot eyes backward. “I… Kuh… can't… go… Kehek…”
“…I will grant you a swift end.”
Rin turned her mount. With a soft whoosh, a woman's head flew into the air and fell to the ground. She regarded the severed head for a moment before addressing a nearby soldier. “Take it.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Meanwhile, Eltria's situation was no better. Her opponent was not a monster on the level of Rin El Laza, yet he was clearly superior. Recognizing him, Eltria spoke with visible shock. “Y-You… How are you still alive…?”
“That is not something you need to know.”
Belcarus, the Grand General. The sole surviving loyal retainer from Sitri's days as a mighty Demon King, now serving her under a changed identity. He swung his axe with overwhelming physical strength, striking Eltria's sword. Barely deflecting the blow, Eltria wheeled her mount away and bit her lip. “The dragonkin Elias…!”
At the mention of his old name and identity, Belcarus's brow furrowed. “My appearance has changed considerably since then. It is surprising you recognized me.”
This was possible because Eltria possessed a demonic eye capable of perceiving an opponent's true nature. Belcarus studied her eyes and realized. “I see. A demonic eye. Unusual for one not of our race to possess such a thing.”
“Did Sitri deceive the Council?!”
“…Deceive them?”
Belcarus's face transformed. His skin hardened into reptilian scales, his pupils became vertical slits, and a large finned membrane appeared on his back. His already massive frame grew even larger. “I would prefer you speak plainly.”
The Basilisk race—rare even among demons, a mysterious “dragonkin” tribe whose entire species possessed powerful petrifying eyes. That was Belcarus's true identity. He bared his enormous fangs. “We were not the ones who deceived them first. The Council did. Do you have any idea how deeply that absurd affair wounded my lord, how great an insult she was forced to endure?”
Belcarus's eyes flashed. The horse Eltria rode gradually slowed, then turned to solid stone. She leapt clear with agility, but Belcarus was far faster. “I will reclaim what was taken. And I will uncover the truth.”
“When…!”
Kwaang─!!! Belcarus's axe descended. Eltria summoned her signature azure flames to block the strike, but her calculations were wrong. The raw power of the Basilisk race far exceeded her imagination.
“To return to my lord the power and glory of those days.”
The axe cleaved through the flames. Though the azure fire engulfed Belcarus, he paid it no heed, his gaze fixed on his target. Crack!!! The axe struck home. Brain matter and blood spilled from between Eltria's blue locks, soaking the ground. Belcarus wrenched the axe free, severed the enemy's head, and roared, “I have taken the enemy commander's head! All forces, crush Belial's army!!”
#
Kwaang────!!! The sword of the fire giant Surtr crashed down upon the young Demon King. A thunderous roar and flames erupted at the center of the battlefield, the shockwave reaching even the distant main forces on both sides. Nahen, who had been directing his troops, shot to his feet in alarm at the sight.
“……”
After observing the clash between the two Demon Kings for a moment, Nahen exhaled softly and sat back down. Sitri asked, “…Nahen, is that all right?”
“…Yes. Fortunately.”
“All right…? You call that all right?”
Sitri knew exactly what Belial's fire giant was. The great magic Surtr. Like Andromalius's Hydra, it was an extremely difficult spell with almost no counter. Unless the opponent could directly dispel it, everything would burn—soldiers, civilians, even the floor itself. Yet confronting it directly meant the one facing it would burn instead. The only option was to destroy the giant before being consumed.
Nahen was not ignorant of this. As someone versed in ancient magic, he would certainly recognize Belial's signature spell. Yet after his initial surprise, he had calmly declared it fine. Though he had looked startled moments ago, he now wore a faint smile. “It seems she understood what I taught her.”
“What?”
“I did not have time to explain in detail, but it appears that was enough.”
Sitri's eyes widened. Nahen's words meant he had taught Seere how to counter Surtr. How? The question filled her mind, and the answer came not from Nahen, but from the distant battlefield.
Seere stood unharmed. The mana she had drawn forth was gone, but so was more than just her own power. She gripped her sword with a serene expression, standing tall. Both Sitri and Belial were stunned by the sight.
“……What trick did you pull?”
Belial was shaken. For the first time, uncertainty clouded the eyes of a man who had never lost confidence. Like frost on glass, the emotion refused to fade. It was understandable—Surtr's sword, perfectly intact until the moment of impact, had vanished.
“A trick? That is rather hurtful to hear.”
It was not only the sword that had disappeared. The crack that began where the blade had been spread, causing the giant's arms to collapse. Belial's great magic, Surtr itself, was gradually vanishing.
“Magic.”
This was what Nahen had taught Seere—a spell that could erase any magic whose mana cost was lower than the caster's available reserves, regardless of type. It required exhausting one's entire mana pool and holding a mana advantage, both demanding conditions, yet Belial's Surtr had consumed less mana than Seere's total reserves. This was possible because Surtr was not Belial's ultimate finisher that poured out all his power. While it was his most powerful and useful spell, Belial was a Demon King who fused with Surtr to wield his own devastating fire magic. Thus Surtr ultimately served to amplify his spells. Even after using it, Belial had needed to retain sufficient mana for further magic. That had been his undoing. Had Surtr demanded more mana, Seere might have lacked the reserves and failed.
Belial could not believe his great magic had been countered by another spell. “Magic?! Nonsense…!”
“Believe it or not, that is your choice…”
The Sword of Blood Tears moved. Holding it diagonally, Seere kicked off the ground. “Now we fight without magic, on equal terms.”
Seere closed the distance with unexpected speed. Belial hurriedly raised his arms, but his body, fused with Surtr, was no longer free. Only the giant's ruined arms twitched. “Damn it!!”
The moment the blackened sword reached his face, Belial finally abandoned the fusion. Tearing himself free from Surtr, he drew his own blade. The forced separation shattered every circuit in his body. Even this mighty Demon King screamed from the agony. “Kuaaaak!! You wench!!”
Crack──!! Despite his ruined condition, Belial's strength and swordsmanship remained formidable. Feeling herself slightly outmatched in raw power, Seere responded fluidly. “Hmph.”
She kicked his sword aside, spun, and retreated. Landing lightly, she reset her stance and faced him. While Seere appeared light on her feet, Belial—his circuits destroyed and body in shambles—staggered down to the ground. The fused fire giant had vanished, leaving the Demon King unable to use even basic magic. His state was pitiful.
“…So you have exhausted all your mana as well.”
Yet Belial still saw a path to victory. By abandoning his mana to escape Surtr, he had forced Seere to do the same. “I can no longer sense any usable mana from you! In the end, you and I are… in the same state…!”
He gripped his sword tightly, radiating murderous intent as he pointed it at Seere. “From now on, I will teach you what a sword truly is, little one.”
“…How amusing. Who exactly do you think you are teaching?”
Seere smiled thinly. “Have you forgotten I am a Devata? It seems senility has already set in.”
“You… insolent…!”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Belial kicked off the ground and lunged. Demon Kings possessed physical abilities far beyond ordinary demons. Even the lowest-ranked Andromalius had threatened Rin's life with his strength. Among them, Belial was a powerful Demon King whose personal combat ability ranked above average. Closing such a distance was trivial for him.
Ka-ga-ga-ga-gak─!!! Their swords clashed. Belial unleashed heavy, threatening strikes that belied his damaged state. Though powerful, they were not slow, forcing Seere to remain vigilant. She parried calmly and countered, while Belial fought with everything he had, knowing retreat meant defeat. Each clash sent shockwaves that reached the surrounding soldiers. When Belial pressed, his troops' morale rose; when Seere seized the initiative, hers surged.
“Slay the enemy!!”
“Do not let them break through!!”
Even as their blades met, Seere observed Belial closely—his breathing, expression, gaze, arm movements, the tremor in his fingers. Having studied everything, she acted. Thud!!
“Kuh…!”
She uppercut his jaw with her fist and leapt back, creating distance. Watching her retreat, Belial snarled, “Running away like a rat…!”
It was not flight. She had withdrawn because she judged the moment had come to end the battle with a single decisive strike. Seere brought the Sword of Blood Tears before her eyes, centering it on her body, then gripped the hilt with both hands instead of one. The world seemed to fall silent. Arrows flew, swords clashed, shields shattered, helms broke, and screams of pain rang out—yet Seere heard nothing.
“…I will admit it.”
“What?”
“I tried to hold back for the sake of the future, but you are not an opponent worth sparing.”
Dozens of Seere's red strands lost their color, turning pure white. Then… “How…?”
Mana gathered into the Sword of Blood Tears, resembling a constellation against a night sky. Seere recalled the pinnacle of swordsmanship she had witnessed in her ignorant days—the ultimate ideal. The greatest among Seir's Four Swords, a genius who had once defeated a high-ranking Demon King as a mere demon, not a Demon King himself. The Divine Sword, Altair. She attempted to reproduce his technique, however faintly.
Belial could not hide his panic. “Your usable mana is gone—how can you still use magic…!!”
There was no time. If he failed to stop that sword, even he would not escape unscathed. He kicked off with every ounce of speed he could muster. But it was too late. Though his body was not slow, his judgment had been. A fraction faster and he might have blocked it. Yet time once passed could not be reclaimed.
Before Belial's sword could interfere, Seere narrowed her eyes. Raising her blade high, she chanted simply. “Shatter.”
『 dīrúptĭo 』
She brought the sword down.
Kwaaaaaang───────!!!
#
The shockwave along the sword's path swept the front lines. Both main forces on the battlefield saw it, as did the flanking units under Rin and Belcarus. Rin shouted upon witnessing the sight, “The Demon King has fallen! All forces, break the enemy!!”
The outcome of the Demon Kings' duel matched her prediction. Only Seere's snow-white hair fluttered across the battlefield. The Sword of Blood Tears in her hand wept crimson tears—not from its wielder's blood, but the enemy's. Belial's body was half-severed from the chest upward. Even in that state, a Demon King's tenacious vitality clung to life.
“Impossible… How… could you…”
“You may not have known, but this battle was decided from the very beginning.”
“What… do you mean…”
“Because I knew the optimal way to face you.”
She meant forcing Belial to expend his mana on Surtr, then preventing him from using magic again. “Had you not used Surtr, I would have been at a disadvantage… but you were never going to hold back, were you?”
“……”
Belial coughed up blood. Even with his body already half-cut and bleeding profusely, he still had more to spill. “I see… In cunning, you… were far superior…”
The flames that had always burned in his crimson eyes faded. With them, his faint breathing ceased. The Demon King of Fire had finally lowered his head before the young Demon King.
Seere spoke to the now-silent Belial. “Well, that last statement may not be entirely accurate. This was not my cunning.”
She flicked the sword to her waist and turned, gazing toward the one most precious to her. “I had an excellent teacher you do not.”