Unbearable Fury
The reality before their eyes was impossible to comprehend.
From atop the ramparts, those forced to face the brilliant, blinding spectacle of despair could only weep, wail, and surrender to resignation.
"Why! Why would Lord Stanasila Urtega do this?!"
"Your Grace! Please, snap out of it!"
"Why are you obeying a demon's orders?! Please, by the gods, come to your senses!"
"It's over! We're all going to die!"
Even as those agonizing, desperate shrieks echoed through the air, Stanasila Urtega did not budge an inch. With a face completely devoid of emotion, he simply continued to expand the length and width of his Aura Blade.
"Gwahahaha! Kuhahaha! Delirious! Absolutely delicious! Look at them, groveling and begging even after being betrayed! Is it not truly a pitiful sight to behold?!"
Stirred up far beyond reason by the threat to his life and the thrill of battle—events that could not help but shake one's composure—Cambello's booming laughter rang across the field.
"...Inhale."
Whether paying heed to the demon or not, Urtega drew in a measured breath just as his Aura Blade seemed about to scrape the heavens, and then, slowly, he began to shrink it back down.
"Hehehe... hm? What are you doing, Urtega? Why shrink it... wait, no. That's not it, is it?"
Having immediately raised his guard at Urtega's abnormal behavior, Cambello's mouth split into a jagged grin.
"Haha... kuhaha! You're compressing it?! That Aura Blade is already absurdly pure and dense, and you're condensing it further?!"
Startled enough to raise his voice without realizing it, Cambello peered intently at the blade, frantically analyzing it with his senses and knowledge. "O-Oho... Remarkable. That energy is astronomical. With that kind of power, you could obliterate the entire Duke's Castle right through its barriers...!"
"Ssshh... Exhale..."
At last, the colossal Aura Blade had been compressed until it rested on the surface of the steel like a single drop of morning dew. Although it flickered unstably, having not yet been seamlessly refined, its sheer destructive potency was beyond all earthly comparison.
Shhhk!
Leveling the tip of the blade toward the Duke's Castle, Urtega slowly raised it above his head.
"At last... I have surpassed it."
It was a faint murmur. No one was close enough to hear it, but had anyone seen Urtega's face at that moment, they would have been struck speechless with shock—for resting upon his lips was a smile so bright and serene it seemed impossible for him to wear.
"Heheheh, magnificent... hm?"
The very next instant, Cambello felt the curse entwining Urtega's inner self and soul suddenly waver. The moment the demon felt that jarring discrepancy and tried to bolster his defenses, the curse split into hundreds of microscopic fractures before evaporating without a trace.
"...!!"
Sensing imminent catastrophe, Cambello frantically flared his demonic energy. But the honed instincts of a high demon were already screaming that it was too late. Even though Urtega's sword remained raised, pointing in the opposite direction without shifting a millimeter, it was late. Far too late.
Something was coming. No—it had already achieved its purpose and passed through.
"Kugh...!?"
Cambello had prepared three distinct life-saving measures for an emergency.
The first was a secondary demonic energy reserve implanted within his heart. In a crisis, it allowed him to wield twice his usual output, and because a magic circle was pre-engraved into it, a powerful barrier remained permanently active while it discharged.
The second was the Shamanic Eye embedded in his right socket. Packed with countless curses and vengeful spirits, activating it would trigger a cataclysmic detonation capable of scorching the surrounding landscape to ash.
And the third, his ultimate resort, was the Soul Road. If death became unavoidable, his soul would abandon his flesh and flee across a spiritual conduit into a pre-fashioned avatar. It required a prepared corridor anchored by Soul Gears and demanded that an avatar be situated relatively nearby, but provided it succeeded, it guaranteed absolute survival and escape.
"...!? ...??"
Yet Cambello could not trigger a single one of those three safeguards. His physical body, his Soul Gears, and even the metaphysical path of the Soul Road were already disintegrating into dust, scattering on the wind.
Just... when...? How...?!
Even accounting for a surprise attack, being reduced to powder before he could register a response defied all known logic. Desperately clinging to his unraveling consciousness, Cambello looked at Urtega and was seized by even deeper horror—because the Aura Blade Urtega had spent so long compressing had not diminished in the slightest.
He didn't cut me with that Aura Blade?! Then what on earth did he...
Slick.
The finishing stroke. Clean, flawless, and chillingly serene, a conceptual trajectory cleaved right through Cambello's consciousness. Denied even the time to finish his question, Cambello met absolute, irreversible death.
KABOOOOOM! ROOOOAAAR!
"...Well, look at him having the time of his life."
Watching Urtega annihilate legions of undead with that compressed Aura Blade, I let out a dry, hollow laugh. Is that kind of firepower honestly something a single human being is allowed to possess?
"Brother! Father won! He saved Terabaon!"
"Yeah, yeah. Ugh. If you're going to jump around like a manic rabbit, do it in Mother's arms."
I practically tossed the bouncing Vivian over, and Pitora caught her with practiced ease, letting out a sigh of relief tinged with complicated emotions.
"Is it really all over?"
"Yeah, pretty much... There's the whole cleanup nightmare, but that's none of my business." Ignoring her stern glare, I slouched over and threw myself onto the bed. "I'm exhausted, so I'm going to sleep."
"Haaah... Very well. Get some rest."
"Will do... Oh, right. Tell Father... the coordinates..."
As soon as my muscles went limp, my consciousness was yanked under like an anchor in deep water. Right after mumbling the coordinates, I passed out cold.
Well, at the very least, I'd managed to keep my primary shield intact: the ducal household. The scale of destruction was far too massive to claim we'd walked away unscathed, but even so, House Stanasila's prestige wouldn't drop an inch. In fact, it was poised to shine brighter and grander than ever before.
Why? Because Stanasila Urtega had shattered the ceiling of Sword Master and ascended to the realm of a Demi-God.
It was a state emancipated from the physical concept of a blade. A realm where one could sever anything in creation with pure intent alone. The pinnacle of a demigod.
What had erased Cambello without leaving a trace behind was Urtega's Mind Sword, a feat tantamount to divine authority. Returning to the Duke's Castle after vaporizing every last undead minion while I slept, Urtega had reportedly undergone another internal breakthrough to solidify his ascension into that transcendent realm.
Knock, knock!
Right then, accompanied by a timid knock, a head of soft brown hair peeked into the room.
"U-Um... Lord Aljen. M-May I clean the room...?"
"What...?"
"Eek! I-I'm sorry...!"
"Oh... Everil, is it? You actually survived."
"Ahaha... Y-Yes... I was very lucky..."
When I nodded at the awkwardly smiling young maid, she scurried inside on quick, dainty steps, promptly setting to work smoothing out the bedding and gathering empty liquor bottles. Watching her through half-lidded, mildly drunken eyes, I couldn't help but think that she worked terribly hard. It was certainly a far more upright and noble way to live than mine.
"Hmm..."
Gulp.
Tipping back a swallow of booze, a sudden thought crossed my mind. I rummaged through the nightstand drawer and pulled out a leather pouch. It was heavy, clinking with a satisfying metallic rattle. This world was bizarrely modernized in some respects, yet hopelessly backwards in others. Just how long did they plan on hauling around heavy, bulky metal coins?
"Hey."
"Y-Yes?!"
Startled mid-sweep, she whipped around with wide eyes, and I gestured for her to come closer.
"W-What is it, my lord...? Did I do something wrong...?"
I hadn't even said a word yet, but she looked ready to burst into tears if I so much as tapped her shoulder. Granted, given the original Stanasila Aljen's horrific track record of tyrannical abuse, her terror was understandable, but even putting that aside, her mental fortitude was made of tissue paper.
"Take it."
"Huh?! W-Whoa...!"
I dumped a handful of coins straight into her hands. Fumbling clumsily, she barely managed to catch them, her eyes bulging the moment she looked down. What I had handed her wasn't copper or silver—it was a hefty pile of solid gold coins.
"U-Um... I-Is this for an errand...?"
"No. It's yours."
"B-But I haven't done anything remotely worthy of receiving this much gold..."
"Just take it. Think of it as a bonus for surviving."
"B-But still..."
A flare of irritation sparked in my chest. Ah, I'm so relaxed that moving my jaw is already a chore, and she's forcing me to keep talking. Can't she just pocket the cash and shut up?
"Just take the damn money... You looking to die?"
"Eeeek?! Y-Yes! Yes, sir! Thank you so much!"
The second my tone dropped into a threatening growl, she finally registered the mood and bowed frantically until her forehead nearly brushed her knees.
"Phew... Right. If you're done cleaning, get out."
"A-Actually, I'm not quite finished with..."
"......"
"I-I'm leaving now...!"
Watching her scurry out the door with a tearful expression, I leaned back and took a long drag from my cigarette. Beyond the window, distant sounds drifted in faintly on the breeze: mourners wailing, voices shouting commands, the noisy clatter of debris being hauled away, and the muffled explosions of condemned buildings being demolished.
"......"
It would take House Stanasila quite some time to rebuild from all this devastation, meaning I'd probably have to fall asleep to that racket for the foreseeable future. It wasn't something I needed to lose sleep over, but perhaps because of the alcohol, useless thoughts kept drifting through my head—like ways I could have protected the duchy with fewer casualties. It was all pointless hindsight now, of course, but it wasn't a bad way to pass the time while comfortably buzzed.
"Lord Stanasila Aljen."
"Whathuh—?!"
A deep, gravelly voice had sounded from right beside me, nearly sending me into full-blown cardiac arrest. I was so blindsided that 'What the hell?!' had crumpled into a mangled mess on my tongue.
"W-What the... Who the hell are you?"
Clutching my pounding chest, I scrambled back a step to find a man kneeling on one knee before me. Dressed entirely in black, boasting a visibly chiseled physique, sharp eyes, and an unmistakable aura of lethality—he was, without a doubt, no ordinary human.
"My name is Kamishen. As of today, I have been assigned to oversee Lord Stanasila Aljen's personal security and attendant duties."
"Security and attendant...? Ah. Aaargh... A shadow operative Father sent?"
"......"
He didn't answer, but his silence was an admission.
Gulp!
Staring dumbly at the man named Kamishen, I tossed back another mouthful of liquor—and suddenly, an uncontrollable surge of rage welled up from the bottom of my soul.
"No, what kind of bullshit is this... This is completely absurd!"
Raising my voice, I kicked back my chair and marched straight toward the patriarch's office. Kamishen watched me quietly for half a second before melting into the shadows and vanishing without a trace.
Oh... that is pretty neat. So that's the Shadow Arts?
Wait, no, this is no time to be admiring flashy techniques. I had to vent this blazing fury immediately, or my stomach was going to ulcerate.
"There's a limit to how much a man can take... How could he do this to me?!"
SLAM!
I kicked open the grand doors of the ducal office. Stanasila Urtega, as impassive as stone as always, looked up from his desk. Judging by the sea of retainers crowding the room, he was evidently in the middle of conducting a council while plowing through paperwork.
"Father!!"
"...You are loud. What is the meaning of this, Stanasila Aljen?"
"What is the deal with this Kamishen guy?! Do you honestly think this is an acceptable arrangement?!"
"Haaah..."
Lifting his hands from his desk, Urtega leaned back against his chair and gave a small wave. Taking the cue, the retainers bowed and filed out in absolute silence. Once the office cleared, the only sound left in the room was the ragged huff of my indignant breathing.
"Aljen. It is a rational measure. Naturally, I will not hide the fact that there is an intent to keep watch over you. However, it is also for your protection. Given your current circumstances..."
Cutting off his uncharacteristically wordy explanation, I shouted at the top of my lungs.
"If you're going to assign me a Shadow Knight, it shouldn't be some grim, brooding bloke in pitch-black spandex—it should be a drop-dead gorgeous, slender, stacked babe! Isn't that just common sense?! How could you subject me to such cruel and unusual punishment?! Swap him out right this instant!"
"......"
Urtega's mouth clamped shut. Slowly, deliberate and tight, he squeezed his eyes shut.
It was such a vanishingly rare display of human emotion from the man that, despite my fury, I found myself genuinely impressed.