The Abyss's minions rarely clashed directly with each other, even when serving different demons. This was partly due to the material world being vast enough that there was plenty to share.
Of course, this alone wasn't enough to prevent conflicts between Abyss creatures. While having sufficient prey without fighting was one reason, the other was the catastrophic consequences such battles would bring.
One of the few powers that could completely banish the Abyss from the material world was another Abyss creature. Attacking another Abyss minion risked one's own expulsion from the material world.
And Criel was an exception to all of this.
He neither served a demon nor cared about corrupting the material world, but he was very interested in destroying Abyss creatures.
When Satranyak mentioned the name of the demon he served, Criel didn't react. Even when tempted with the seeds of corruption collected over time, he remained unmoved.
*Where on earth did such a monstrosity come from?!*
The knight approaching in consistent silence was intimidating. All the desires that Abyss creatures should naturally possess seemed meaningless to him.
Satranyak struggled to overcome the situation.
*Illusion magic is ineffective. More direct attack magic? Didn't he already cut through incantation-free magic like fireballs with just one sword?*
Abandoning the swiftness of incantation-free magic to properly chant seemed futile, as the knight's attack would likely strike first. The attacks needed to continue, if only to buy time.
Satranyak's eyes quickly scanned the depths of Naraka. He saw a sword taking complete form.
*If magic doesn't work!*
Satranyak launched several more attack spells. These weren't meant to wound but to briefly blind and distract.
With flashing red lightning and ash-scattering explosions behind him, Satranyak charged forward.
Using the sixth sense granted to mages, he detected Criel's movements. The knight seemed unaware of his true aim, mechanically destroying the magic as before.
Finally, Satranyak grasped the sword's hilt. The blade, once as gaunt as a dried skeleton's spine, had now regained its complete form.
The blade emerged from the heart without a sound. The already mummified corpse lost its last vitality as the sword was drawn, collapsing into a pile of ashes.
Satranyak felt a surge of power filling his body. A fully charged weapon from the Seven Demonic Weapons could create hundreds of seeds.
He didn't want to waste this limitless potential on just one fight, but...
Whoosh—.
The knight swung his greatsword. All flashes and illusions scattered, leaving only the knight and himself. The sharp tip of the greatsword was aimed at Satranyak again.
If he tried to conserve power here, his head would bid farewell to his body.
Satranyak muttered with resentment:
"What a waste."
The knight didn't stop.
"Because of a madman like you, the great demon's magnificent plan has been ruined. I'll feed your flesh to this sword and temper it with your blood!"
A piercingly blue light flashed from the sword Satranyak raised. A primordial cold like the northern snowfields, or perhaps even more severe.
That cold light descended upon Satranyak's body.
***
"Huh."
I couldn't help but be bewildered. Just from the first charge, I had a rough estimate.
This mage specialized in scheming rather than proper combat. In a direct confrontation with me, he'd die ninety-nine times out of a hundred, with the remaining one being barely escaping.
That's why I chose to minimize my movements to suppress my Bloodlust usage. The more vigorously and actively I moved, the more Bloodlust I'd use, naturally increasing the intensity and duration of side effects.
Since there was nowhere to escape in the depths of Naraka, I planned to wait until he exhausted his dark magic and then slowly cut his throat.
But suddenly he ran to some corner, drew a sword, became enveloped in an ominous light, and...
Just died.
"What the..."
It was an absurd sight. When that blue light enveloped the mage's body, he uttered exclamations like "Oh... Ohhh..." as he tried to attack.
But he ultimately couldn't.
His body began freezing from the hand holding the sword. He tried using magic to stop the ice's encroachment, eventually going so far as to set himself on fire.
Though his zealous efforts seemed to halt the ice's spread, his ordeal wasn't over. Beneath the transparent ice covering his hands, his arms were visibly withering.
"No, this can't be!"
After shouting such clichéd lines, the mage finally became a shriveled mummy. His convulsing body twitched a few more times before going still.
I was so dumbfounded that I even waited a while, thinking he might be feigning death to ambush me.
But the mage never rose again.
[What was that? An idiot?] Orishin also offered a sarcastic comment. Even the horse-head found this death ridiculous.
[That guy kept breaking and using the Seven Demonic Weapons all this time, right? Did he still expect it to acknowledge him as its master? He fought well for someone who probably never properly used a sword.]
"That's harsh."
[I never had good feelings toward the Abyss. Even less now after being spiritually beheaded because of them!]
Orishin vented his anger toward the Abyss. The Abyss doesn't help this world anyway, so it deserves some criticism.
"But... how do we move that thing..."
The mage held it wrong and ascended straight to heaven. Being from the Abyss myself, I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't end up rolling on the ground screaming "Argh! Save me, Morgina!" if I picked it up.
[If you want to be safe, why not wait for that violent saint? It's an Abyss object after all, so wouldn't a splash of holy power render it immobile?]
"I guess that's the only way. In that case, I should go to the opposite path and help destroy the core."
Just as I turned my back, I heard a sound—fabric dragging across the floor.
I immediately turned around.
The mage had risen.
[That's not the mage anymore?]
His body was drained of vitality, skin compressed to the limit as if clinging to bone. Every slight movement produced an unpleasant creaking sound.
The biggest difference from the previous mage was his eyes. The same cool radiance that had emanated from the sword now poured from the mage's eyes.
[Damn. Did the sword devour the mage?]
His right hand holding the sword continued to creak. The joints from fingertips to shoulder pulsated like waves.
Strange as it sounds, that sight reminded me of a musical instrument—an instrument being tuned before a performance.
Witnessing this grotesque sight, I...
—immediately charged toward the mage.
I've always been the type who'd rather land one more hit on the boss than watch cutscenes!
The creaking tuning of the mage's corpse hadn't stopped yet. He raised his greatsword above his head.
***
The Dark Knight charged, leaving a red trajectory. Even Orishin, now a spirit body, momentarily lost sight of Criel due to his sudden acceleration.
The red trail Criel created somehow moved above his head. Distinct Bloodlust clung to the blade. The greatsword, raised to the ceiling, fell back toward the mage.
At the moment of attack, the blade concentrated with Bloodlust left a red pillar-like afterimage as it rapidly descended.
The rushing greatsword seemed poised to not just behead but completely bisect the mage's entire body.
Clang—!
But the greatsword never touched the mage's skin. The mage—or rather, his corpse's right hand—moved to swing its sword.
Criel was amazed by this swift movement. It wasn't simply blocking his attack.
Criel's attack came from above, vertically downward. Normally, one would counter such an attack by applying horizontal force to twist the attack's trajectory.
But Criel was confident that his sword wouldn't waver with ordinary strength, and even if its path were altered, he could adjust accordingly.
The corpse mage's response was different.
He stepped back with practiced footwork. At this moment, Criel also tried to approach and continue his attack. But the corpse mage moved first.
His right hand pointed skyward. A vertical slash, just like Criel's. The difference was that the corpse's sword targeted the weapon, not the opponent's body.
A downward slash overlapped with the descending greatsword. Criel's great strength combined with the corpse's bizarre power drove the greatsword into the floor of Naraka, destroying it.
Immediately, the mage's left hand moved. A hand sign used in black magic. The floor of Naraka contracted, gripping Criel's greatsword like teeth.
*It'll be hard to pull it out right away.*
First with that horse-head spirit and now this—somehow I never get to properly use my greatsword.
[Ah, damn it. Handle it gently.]
Criel drew his horn dagger.