Those More Heroic Than I
Flame after flame streaked through the air, and the High Demon smashed every last one of them aside with its fists as it charged.
A normal blow would have been eaten alive by the fire—but the mana coating that body was anything but ordinary. The volume of power packed into those fists, especially, was absurd.
If I took even a single clean hit, calling it a critical wound would have been an understatement. In the worst case, it could kill me the instant it landed.
The sensation of a fight to the death, after so long, was hardly pleasant. And yet I could feel my heartbeat settling, my mind growing calmer with every passing second.
"A Spiritist, are you? How interesting."
The mana is ridiculous—but it's not without weaknesses.
The physical reinforcement that mana provided was formidable, but the creature seemed to have almost no other tricks. It hadn't used a single ranged attack since the fight began—just kept hurling itself in to strike me directly.
It had likely poured everything it had into pushing its body to the absolute limit. Any ranged techniques it might possess wouldn't be worth much, if they existed at all.
In other words: keep my distance, and I wouldn't die immediately.
The problem was that it was fast. And strong.
True to its rank as a High Demon, it was papering over its weaknesses with those outrageous physical specs. If a weak point were that easy to exploit, it wouldn't have been a High Demon in the first place. Demons and humans alike, once they reached a certain level, always had some means of responding even when their openings were targeted.
I pressed a hand to my chest.
In the worst case, it's not as if I have no options.
I didn't want to use it. Not if I could help it.
A thunderous crash exploded between us.
"Ghk—!"
"What's the matter? There's no one in East Port stronger than you. If you die, the rest of them will get to taste the terror of a High Demon firsthand."
"Demons are pretty good at trash talk, too."
"Blood and slaughter are the laws of monsters. Survival of the fittest is instinct."
"Yeah. I suppose so."
They had simply been born that way.
That was why humanity generally classified monsters as evil—but I thought of them less as evil and more as beings with which coexistence was impossible. They did not cherish their own. They were savage. They behaved with what any human would call malice—but that was a judgment rendered by human morals and human ethics.
It was more accurate to call them lifeforms with which one could not coexist than to call them wicked, or absolutely evil.
If a monster attacked a human, the human had no choice but to kill it. Even the cutest puppy, if it mauled someone to death, would have to be put down. That was what it meant to be a being with which one could not coexist.
They saw humans as nothing but food. To this High Demon, even this fight was probably closer to a bit of exercise before a meal.
"Hup—!!"
Fire roared to life in both hands.
Intermediate Spirit — Double
The flames split to either side, then fused back into one and crashed over the High Demon. A tremendous roar filled the air.
The mana packed into those fists was no joke, so I couldn't deal any meaningful damage to the fists themselves—but that also meant everything else was fair game.
The High Demon burst out of the fire and threw a punch.
The blow grazed past my cheek. Skin split. Blood sprayed.
"Hot. Yes—this is how a fight should be!!"
I wiped the blood from my cheek with the back of my hand and managed an awkward smile.
"I really wish those reinforcements would get here."
I wonder if the Hero is all right.
No. This isn't the time to be worrying about someone else.
"Aaaaaah!!"
"A demon! It's a demon!!"
"Mom! Where are you?! ...Mom! Please, answer me!!"
Screams. Pain. I don't want this. Don't let me hear it. I don't want to hear it.
I have no power. I don't have the power to save you. Don't pour those cries into my ears. Don't let those screams begging to be saved spill into my hearing.
I gasped, coughed, choked on my own breath. Even running this slowly, my lungs were screaming. It was agony. I couldn't even breathe properly; my head felt like it was coming apart, and my legs might as well have had lead weights lashed to them.
It hadn't been this hard even when I'd lost a dangerous amount of blood. I could feel it with every step: the poison circulating through my body, killing me in the most literal sense of the word. Every breath I took sent it deeper. The God of Death Poison was steadily trying to take my life.
"Kyaa!!"
"A demon...!"
One of them came at me while I was still running. I had no sword, no strength, no mana. There was nothing I could do.
It was the same sensation I'd felt when I met the Black Bear—that paralysis starting from the tips of my legs, death's terror locking my body in place. And at the same time, the words that had been ringing in my ears for so long—die as a Hero—crashed against that fear and tore my thoughts to pieces.
"Hup—!!"
A man in armor slammed his shield into the demon charging me and drove it back.
"Go! Leave this to me!"
"Th-there are too many of them. You're going to die...!"
"That's what I'm here for."
The soldier said it like it was nothing, then raised his greatshield and sword and charged the demons. One or two Lower Demons would have been one thing. At those numbers, there was nothing a single soldier could do.
"Go! Get to the shelter, now!"
I clenched my teeth and ran.
The fact that all I could do was run was unbearable. I was pathetic. What kind of Hero was I? What kind of brave soul? I had no courage. I had nothing. I was just a coward who'd happened to be born strong and talked herself into believing she was a Hero. Even ordinary soldiers were fighting out there knowing they were going to die.
They fought even knowing they were fated to die helplessly.
Lois was the same. He was by no means weak—but that versatile power of his was closer to supporting the people who fought than to fighting himself. His wide field of view and his judgment suited that strength, which was why he'd been so capable. But that also meant his power didn't amount to much in a head-on fight. He could probably handle a Black Bear—the so-called Rookie Hunter—or a Lower Demon easily enough in a direct confrontation. A High Demon, though? There was no way he could win that fight from the front.
I knew that. And I ran anyway.
From the person who'd saved me. From the person who was still trying to keep me alive even after I'd abandoned him. I was abandoning him all over again.
"Ah—aah...!"
My head hurt. It felt like everything inside me was collapsing.
I ran until I couldn't anymore, until my breath gave out, and I leaned against a wall and tried to breathe. Smoke was rising. Screams rang out. From every direction came the sound of weapons swinging and flesh being cut.
"Stop...! Please...! I don't have any strength left, or any courage! So please...!"
I can't save them. I can't help them. I'm powerless.
"Hey! You're the girl who was with Lois, aren't you?!"
"...! M-Madame Florence."
"You calling me Madame too? Fine by me."
Lois had called her that, so the name had slipped out of my mouth before I could think. Fortunately she didn't look angry. She just studied my face in silence. I was wearing a mask; there was no way she could tell who I was. But those deep, time-worn eyes of hers felt as if they were looking straight through me, all the way in.
Maybe it was because she'd raised him, but Lois had those same eyes. Eyes that seemed to know everything without a word being spoken—and they felt even more like a Sage's than Alex's, which somehow made me wilt.
"L-Lois told me to find you..."
"Right. If you're an acquaintance of Lois's, I can't just look the other way. Come with me. As for a weapon... you won't be able to hold one. Not in that body."
"...This is my fault. I talk a bit rough. That's probably why Lois grew up so polite... though the things he actually says can be pretty rude sometimes."
Madame Florence smiled.
"I don't know the whole story, but don't make that face. This mess isn't your fault, and it isn't anyone's. Why are you wearing a look like you've got to take responsibility for all of it?"
"I—no, I have to... protect everyone..."
Madame Florence swept a Lower Demon aside with a burst of wind magic.
"Even a Hero can't do that! Who the hell protects everything? Now run!"
Her words overlapped with Lois's, and the echo of them made my head ache.
Something came tearing across the street toward us. It wasn't a Lower Demon.
"Ghk—!"
"Madame Florence! ...Ugh— cough, cough—khah!"
The mask hit the ground. Blood spilled from my mouth. It wasn't just my mouth—I'd run too hard. The wounds that had been stitched shut were starting to throb. It didn't show yet, but I could feel them tearing open, blood beginning to seep through.
I sank to the ground where I was. Madame Florence, wounded by the Mid-tier Demon, scowled.
Madame Florence is no weakling—but I don't think she has the kind of magic that can beat a Mid-tier Demon.
The gap between a Lower Demon and a Mid-tier Demon was enormous. There were plenty of people who could drop a Lower Demon in a single blow and still couldn't win against a Mid-tier. Demons, in particular, had a strong resistance to magic, which made them difficult to handle with spells alone.
"It's all right. Keep going that way and you'll find the shelter. You can make it, can't you?"
"...Why. Why would you go that far."
Bleeding, Madame Florence smiled.
"You're the child my boy tried to protect. Do I need another reason? You don't need some grand excuse to save a person, little one."
"Go. Now!"
I ran.
My legs wouldn't move properly, and the sounds rising behind me were unbearably cruel.
Lois's voice rang through me.
My father's voice rang through me in the same breath—the father who had struck me and told me he loved me, always.
The two of them collided in my head until I thought I would come apart. My pace kept dropping. I thought I was running. In truth I was barely walking.
"Ah—ngh!"
Something caught my foot and I went down hard. Even falling hurt. It was agony. I thought I might start bleeding again.
I turned my head. A soldier was lying there.
"H-hey. Cough... h-hey."
Blood was pouring out of him. He didn't move. This person, too, had died to protect someone. The soldier who'd saved me earlier was probably dead as well.
And Madame Florence?
Lois?
I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared of dying. I'm scared of dying like this, for nothing. I'm scared of everything I've been becoming meaningless.
More than anything else—
I'm scared of being told I'm not a Hero.
A sword caught my eye.
It was the soldier's. Demon blood was caked along the blade; he'd died fighting them. The demon corpses nearby told me as much.
Those words had been hope.
They had turned me from a Hero back into Olivia Reinhardt. They had made me a person.
My fingers closed around the hilt.
Why... I...
I grabbed the soldier's sword. And then what? What was I supposed to do with this body? If I went back I'd just die like a dog. Not even a Hero's death. A dog's death, plain and simple. Nothing more, nothing less. If someone recognized me, even the honor of "the Hero who died with the Demon King" might vanish.
And yet.
Why.
Am I—
I ran.
Something in my body creaked and groaned, and I was several times faster than I'd been when I was fleeing. I made it back to where I'd come from.
Madame Florence was there. The Mid-tier Demon had its hands around her throat, and it was smiling.
A fiend that laughed while it tortured people. This woman was not someone it got to torment like that.
The blade tore through.
"Y-you...!"
I coughed up blood.
I'm dying. I'm going to die. But these people—these people can be Heroes more than I ever could. They're more like Heroes than I am.
The Mid-tier Demon shrieked and lunged. I stepped inside its reach and cut.
A terrible cracking ran through my whole body. At the same time, the Mid-tier Demon came apart and pitched forward, and did not move again.
"You."
I tore off the mask and threw back the hood of my cloak. The skin of my face was exposed—the bandages, the ruined flesh. Madame Florence's eyes went wide.
"Stop. You're going to fight in that body? Anyone with eyes can see you're walking to your death."
"There were Heroes."
"What?"
"People braver than I was."
"I didn't want them to die."
There was no other reason. That was the only one. That was the only reason my body had moved.
In the moment I'd stepped in and cut down that Mid-tier Demon, I had forgotten my father, forgotten being a Hero, forgotten the world—forgotten all of it. I didn't know what that meant. I didn't even know if it was a good thing or a bad one. But I knew what I had to do now.
I lifted the sword. Blood ran down the blade and dripped from the point. My body was telling me it was over.
That was all right. Making it work anyway was what the position of Hero was for.
"I..."
Nothing came to mind. Right now, there was only this.
For people far more heroic than a coward like me.