Mock Demon King Battle (Part 2)
They had separated them rather than merged them.
From that single keyword alone, I could deduce why the ring hadn't reacted to the plague. In short, because it was a pure plague untouched by an authority, the ring had ignored it.
Sukra's plague was remarkable enough that the Authority of Life recognized it as living matter, but on its own, it hadn't met the criteria for the ring's activation. The blight spreading among the elves, the rot polluting the World Tree, and the diseased attacks Otiliv had thrown at us up to now... The only reason the ring could target those was because an authority had been imbued within them.
"Tsk...!"
So that meant from here on out, we had to counter the plague, the authority, and the demonic energy separately. This might actually prove trickier than dealing with the real Demon King Otiliv.
"Cecilia. Can you keep blocking the plague and demonic energy?"
"...I'll try!"
Cecilia clutched her necklace with a resolute look. The legendary relic, Holy Divinity of Early Dawn.
She had grown considerably, and with an artifact that drastically boosted the potency and efficiency of holy arts, she should be able to manage on her own. Besides, this wasn't the Demon Realm but the Divine Realm, and our opponent wasn't the genuine Demon King, merely an avatar. That gave us some breathing room.
Then all that remained was the authority.
Fortunately, I had prepared a countermeasure in advance: the legendary artifact I stole from the northern barbarian tribe, Kubel's Claw—the Kubel's Soul Totem.
True to its name, the Kubel's Soul Totem was a pillar-shaped relic about the size of my forearm, intricately carved with various beasts.
"...It should activate if I drive it into this, right?"
I scowled down at the Great Forest's soil, ruined by plague and the demonic authority. The relic had to be driven into the earth to work, but with the ground steeped in a high demon's abilities and a Demon King's authority, I felt a twinge of unease.
"Hup!"
I slammed the totem down with all my might. With a sickening, squelching resistance, the totem sank deep into the earth.
Flash—!!
"Gah!?"
"Sir Alzen!?"
"Brother!"
A blinding radiance exploded right afterward, forcing my eyes shut on instinct. I felt Lampon Pashtra and Vivian cry out in shock, throwing their arms around me.
"...Looks like it activated properly, thank goodness."
By the time I blinked my vision clear, the blinding light had subsided. Tilting my head back past the obstacles obstructing my view, the relic's true form loomed in all its majestic glory.
A trunk as thick as an ancient oak, soaring high above the canopy, carved with beasts so vivid they looked ready to spring to life. Curiously, it was impossible to tell what beast the carvings actually depicted. At times it resembled a wolf, then a bear, a fox, or a serpent. It shifted depending on the perspective, the angle, and the passage of time, defying identification. Yet its carved eyes shone with an unblinking luminescence, gazing down upon the mortal world.
Shhh, shhh.
The transformation wrought by the totem began slowly, but unmistakably.
"Ah..."
"This is...?"
The plague and authority festering in the earth and trees drained away. A crisp, invigorating scent and a soothing tranquility relaxed my tense body. The horribly warped flora didn't return to its original form, but it found a calm, quiet peace in death.
The ability of the legendary relic, Kubel's Soul Totem, was 'Fair and Square Duel'.
Status ailments, mental attacks, poisons, magic, and even authorities. Across a radius of several hundred meters centered on where the totem was planted, every supernatural power unrelated to close-quarters combat was entirely stripped away. Thus, Kubel's Soul Totem forged a battleground strictly for warriors, by warriors.
No wonder those barbarians had chased us foaming at the mouth.
"Wh-What...!? My, my power...!"
"Hmm..."
Still, apparently even this totem couldn't completely erase a Demon King's authority; faint traces of it still leaked from Otiliv's body. Even so, it was at a level we could easily endure.
"Haaah!"
"Just die already!"
Spotting an opening, the Master-rank warriors drove their Aura Blades mercilessly into the creature's flesh.
"G-Gwaaaagh!? Aaaaargh! It hurts, it huuuuuurts!"
With the plague and demonic energy held at bay by Cecilia's holy power and the authority heavily suppressed by Kubel's Soul Totem, the creature was reduced to little more than a living punching bag.
"Kyyyaaagh! Aaaaargh!"
The avatar thrashed wildly to turn the tables, but having relied on brute strength and overwhelming might for so long, it was helpless against sword techniques honed to razor perfection. It was cut, slashed, and carved apart again. Sliced, severed, and ripped to shreds without end.
Yet despite all that, Otiliv tenaciously regenerated and rose again.
"Now it's a war of attrition..."
Collapsing where I stood, I tipped the liquor bottle with my twisted right hand.
A day passed.
"Aaaaargh! Unforgivable! I won't forgive you! I'll slaughter you all! Humans! Filthy, insignificant humaaaans!!"
Astoundingly, Otiliv was still full of vigor. Ramping about with a physical body rivaling a Master, the creature endlessly spewed torrents of plague, demonic energy, and suppressed authority. Like a living natural disaster, it repeated the cycle ceaselessly. Tireless, devoid of sanity, going on and on.
"Huff, huff...!"
"Damn it...! Seriously, she's disgustingly stubborn...!"
Fortunately, our frontline fighters were holding up reasonably well. Free of serious wounds, they showed little physical exhaustion befitting Masters. But the mental fatigue was clearly setting in, casting shadows over their faces.
Slash! Craaaack! Thwack! Rrrrrip!
Even the sounds of flesh and bone cleaving beneath their blades took on a dull, dreary drone. Where every strike against a Demon King had once carried heart-stopping tension, it had now degraded into background white noise.
"Cecilia. You doing all right?"
"Huff, wheeze...! Yes! I'm fine! I can hold out longer!"
"...Right."
Only Cecilia, who had been constantly warding off the massive flood of plague and demonic energy, was clearly hitting her limit, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for breath.
Two days passed.
The state of battle remained unchanged. Otiliv raged like a mad beast, puking out sickness, dark mana, and authority, while our vanguard methodically butchered, diced, and slashed the monster apart.
Yet despite maintaining a clearly advantageous battle for so long, not a single soul smiled. The atmosphere grew darker and bleaker by the hour, until it was impossible to tell whether our warriors were battling a Demon King or acting as cold, mechanical slaughterhouse machines filleting meat and bone.
"Ah..."
Meanwhile, Cecilia had plainly reached her absolute limit. Sitting slumped on the ground, pale as a corpse, she struggled just to squeeze out a trickle of holy power.
"Time to rest, Cecilia."
"N-No... If I'm not here... what will you do..."
"Don't worry and get some sleep. I'll handle it somehow. You still have an important role to play later."
"You're... you're going to do that again, aren't you...? N-No. I'll... I'll endure it. Somehow... Ah...?"
Mid-sentence, the light spilling from Cecilia cut off abruptly, and her frail frame slumped limp onto the grass.
"...Good work. Leave the rest to me."
"I... I can still..."
"Just go to sleep, will you? Who's worrying about whom here?"
I activated the crimson-glowing scroll relic: the Shroud of Sacrifice.
From now on, all damage inflicted upon the party by the plague, demonic energy, and authority would be transferred entirely to me.
...Of course, I had no intention of taking all that damage raw. If I did, I'd probably drop dead in seconds. I knew better than anyone how pathetic this body was.
"...In the name of the Goddess, I grant unto myself the 'Trial of Opportunity'."
The moment I whispered the words, the Goddess's divine authority poured forth from the world's underside—or perhaps the seams of space itself—and enveloped me.
"Phew..."
From this moment on, all external interference directed at me was completely shut out.
"...It doesn't dissipate, though."
Unfortunately, the plague, demonic energy, and authority transferred to me didn't vanish; they circled me like predators stalking their prey. They periodically lunged forward in a frenzy, only to bounce off an invisible barrier every single time. But seriously, will all this crap disappear when the Demon King dies?
If it doesn't, I'm dead meat... Eh, whatever. I'll cross that bridge when I get there.
Three days passed.
"Humans... Kill, I'll kill youuuu...!!"
The Demon King's fervor had waned slightly. Even an avatar had its limits. The trouble was that our frontline fighters were even more exhausted than the Demon King... But fortunately, we had the ultimate support: Arpe.
"Arpe. You've rested enough, right? I'm counting on you."
"Phew. Yes! ──!!"
As Arpe struck her chords and began to sing, the warriors' sluggish movements instantly regained their vitality. Thank goodness Kubel's Soul Totem didn't block party buffs.
"...Hey, is that thing ever going to die?"
From a distance, Weller—dark circles heavily bruised beneath her eyes—called out to me. Right now, no one could approach me. The concentrated mass of plague, demonic energy, and authority swirling around me was so dense that space itself appeared distorted.
"It'll die. It's just an avatar. And because it's an avatar, it's killable."
"...Fine. What about my part?"
"Hold on a bit longer. When I give the signal, step up."
"......"
Weller nodded silently, her grip tightening around her staff.
Four days passed.
"......"
I almost nodded off, but after guzzling down alcohol and biting my tongue hard enough to tear off a piece of flesh, chewing it like jerky finally jolted my sluggish brain awake.
"Aaaargh! Currrrse you! Why! Why do you make me suffer like this! What did I ever do?! Die! Every last one of you, dieeeeeee!"
The Demon King's tantrum hadn't changed in the slightest. The sheer, monotonous repetition had carved deep expressions of disgust and weariness onto everyone's faces.
"...S-Sir Alzen. I've recovered now. I'll take over warding off the demonic energy and plague."
"No. It's fine. Save your holy power."
I flatly rejected Cecilia, who was fidgeting nervously with an anxious face as she looked at the virulent storm swirling around me, then turned my attention back to the Demon King and our fighters. They were still relentlessly raining down attacks, but the exhaustion was unmistakable. Arpe's buffs had reached their limit long ago, meaning no further reinforcement was coming.
"...This isn't good."
Time to create a window for some rest.
"Pashtra."
"Ah, yes!"
"Get ready to pull out that totem."
"Yes! Uh, wait, what? Is it really okay to pull it out?"
"It's fine. But you have to pull it the exact moment I give the signal. And you have to plant it back down just as precisely."
"Yes! Understood!"
Seeing the resolute determination on Pashtra's face, I let out a faint chuckle and turned to Weller.
"Your turn, Big Sister."
"Whew... I was sick of waiting. So, what do you need me to do?"
"Use that relic to cast the 1st-Class spell: Prison of Myriad Thunder."
"Fine. Does it cast instantly?"
"No, it'll take a bit of time. The Masters will have to buy you an opening."
"...Won't that just make that swarm around you even thicker in the meantime?"
Weller's expression darkened as she gestured toward the miasma of plague, demonic energy, and authority churning violently around me. A smirk crept onto my lips.
"Are you worrying about me?"
"Who's worrying about you? If you drop dead, the rest of us are wiped out. That's all I care about."
"Don't sweat it. I'm not dying until this thing does. Pashtra. Pull it."
"Yes!"
The instant the words left my mouth, Pashtra wrapped her arms around the massive totem and yanked it straight out of the earth as effortlessly as plucking a radish. Monstrous strength. Barbarian blood was truly something else.
"Focus, Sister Weller."
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing...!"
Weller gripped the staff relic, Stubbornness of the Foolish, and channeled her focus. Immediately, colossal arcs of black lightning began to surge and swirl. Terrifying as it looked, this was merely the preparation stage.
"How long will it take?"
"...Three minutes. No, about two."
With every surge of mana she pumped in, the bolts grew thicker and the tempest widened.
"Phew..."
Exhaling a plume of cigar smoke, I monitored the front lines.
"Gwaaaaargh! I'll butcher you all!!"
The moment its authority flooded back, Otiliv went wild like a fish back in water. But since all damage dealt to the fighters was redirected to me, the scene remained largely the same: the avatar being ruthlessly butchered, slashed, and carved apart.
"...Fuuuuh."
Beyond the billowing haze of smoke, the swirling vortex of plague, demonic energy, and authority grew ever thicker, denser, and more suffocating. If that whole payload dumps on me at once, it's instant death.
"...Prison of Myriad Thunder."
A moment later, cold sweat dripping down Weller's temple, her low chant echoed across the clearing. Torrential cataracts of lightning surged from the earth toward the heavens, violently coiling around Otiliv.
"Gyaaaargh!? Aaaaargh!!"
A bloodcurdling shriek pierced the air, but no one batted an eye.
"Everyone, come over and rest. Drink your potions and eat something."
"Pant, pant...! S-Sir Alzen... are you all right?"
I shrugged at Muriel's haggard inquiry.
"I'm fine. Skipping meals for a few days won't kill me."
"That isn't what I meant... Actually, now that I think about it, that is also a problem... Haah..." Brushing back her disheveled hair, Muriel parted her lips as though she had a mountain of things to say, then pressed them tightly shut. "...For now, I shall focus solely on the battle."
"Yeah. Good call."
As Muriel retrieved potions and rations from the Subspace Pouch, the vanguard collapsed onto the ground, ravenously wolfing down the food.
"How long will that spell hold?"
At Rebecca's question, every eye turned to Weller. Weller answered without looking away from her spell.
"...Two hours... No, three. I'll hold it that long no matter what."
"...Understood. Thank you, Lady Weller."
After scarfing down their food, the women snatched a brief nap, replenishing what little stamina they could before stepping back into formation.
"Pashtra. If you would."
"Yes!"
Since I couldn't move an inch, Pashtra drove the Kubel's Soul Totem back into the soil. Instantly, like mist evaporating in the sun, the lightning spell dissolved.
"Huff, wheeze...!"
Having fulfilled her role to perfection, Weller collapsed where she stood, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.
"Good job, Sister."
"Huff, huff. It was nothing. A walk in the park..."
I chuckled at her stubborn bluster, then turned my gaze back toward the battlefield.
Eight days passed.