Chapter 145 - Damn Reincarnation

Remnants

His fingertips, buried in his chest, felt his heart beating.

'The Crushing Hammer is the Demon King of Carnage's weapon.'

Ranked fifth. The first Demon King to die three hundred years ago.

The Demon King of Carnage did not know the Moonlight Sword. Vermouth had not possessed it then; it was the Holy Sword that had severed that Demon King's head.

The plains near the Demon King's castle. Their fierce battle had lasted all night, collapsing the surrounding land and turning the plains into hills. Beneath them lay a dungeon. There, in ancient ruins whose age no one knew, they had discovered the Moonlight Sword.

'A remnant of a Demon King. But the Demon King of Carnage doesn't know the Moonlight Sword.'

Yet Eward, who seemed to resonate with it, had correctly recognized the Moonlight Sword. Knowledge of its existence had not even been passed down in Lionheart. In this age, only members of long-lived races who had survived since those days, or Hamel reincarnated, remembered it.

"Well, well."

Eugene's lips twisted as he curled his fingers and gripped his heart. Thump, thump, thump. His heartbeat was rapid. Mingled with anger and hatred, it became murderous intent.

"I'm so fucking glad to see you again, you cocksucker."

The Demon King of Carnage did not know the Moonlight Sword.

But the Demon King of Cruelty did. Of course it did. The Demon King of Cruelty had died torn to shreds by its light.

The spirit of darkness coiled around Eward's body. Tempest had said that its true nature was a remnant of a Demon King. Eugene could feel it too. He remembered three hundred years ago vividly, and he remembered the disgusting, ominous, horrific presence of the Demon Kings he had fought.

Within that spirit of darkness, he sensed both the Demon King of Carnage and the Demon King of Cruelty. Its presence was absurdly small for two Demon Kings, but that was not incomprehensible. This was the wretched end of Demon Kings who had croaked three hundred years ago.

"How ugly."

Eugene made no attempt to hide his seething bloodlust.

"Once you died, you should've just disappeared. Did you cling to life by leaving scraps of yourselves in your weapons? Think things are looking good enough now to join hands and dream of coming back?"

Thump, thump, thump. His heart kept beating. Eugene did not calm it. Instead, he stirred his mana and made it beat even faster.

"Sure, you might have managed it."

Ignition.

Eugene's hair shot upward. Flames and lightning blazed with still greater ferocity.

"If I weren't here."

He had already drawn both the Moonlight Sword and the Holy Sword. Ignition would leave him with nothing in reserve. So what? If that worried him, he simply had to wipe everything out so there would be nothing left to worry about. Besides, with those hideous things before him, he could not concern himself with his own safety.

That magic circle. The sacrifices. He did not know what they were. But if the spirit of darkness had been born from the mingled remnants of two Demon Kings, wasn't it obvious what the circle and sacrifices were for?

If he did not stop it here...

No, if he did not kill it here, the Demon Kings they had finally reduced to two three hundred years ago might gain another, becoming three.

"What in the world...?!"

Hector's face went white as he retreated, stanching the bleeding from his severed arm. His gaze darted between Eward, floating in the air amid the darkness, and Eugene, wreathed in impossibly fierce flames.

Hector knew the full story behind this incident.

Dominic Lionheart, captain of the Black Lion Knights' First Division, took no pride in either the Black Lions or Lionheart. His belief that he was special had naturally bred a sense of superiority, but Lionheart had never treated him as special.

His grandfather might have been the Immortal White Lion, hailed as Lionheart's living legend, but since that grandfather had never become family head, Dominic's family remained a collateral branch.

The resentment that engendered had warped into something even greater when Eugene, another collateral descendant, was adopted into the main family.

"... What... are you?"

Dominic rose with a hollow laugh. That unidentifiable power just now. Never in his life had he felt death so close. The death he had sensed took the form of moonlight.

"How are you so strong?"

He swallowed the blood rising in his throat. The Demonic Spear had survived that horrifying moonlight intact, but Dominic's body had not escaped injury. His recoiling mana had damaged his core, and his left leg, a moment too slow to retreat, had been mangled.

"And what is this now?"

Among Lionheart's collateral branches were many who harbored grievances like Dominic's. Of course, they never showed themselves openly. They met in secret, pontificating about Lionheart's future and dreaming of how the collateral branches—no, how they themselves—might become the leading figures of the next age.

Dominic knew all about them. Naturally so: one of the Black Lion Knights' purposes was to hunt worthless vermin like them, who ate away at the family from within.

That made approaching them easy.

To Dominic, a Black Lion, the family's vermin were a hopelessly shoddy organization.

But he liked their plan to use the eldest son who had been treated like vermin and driven from the main family.

"We were so close."

It had all been coincidence.

No, destiny.

As their name suggested, spirits of darkness dwelled in darkness. That did not merely mean the blackness left when light went out. There was the human heart, where light and darkness could not be clearly distinguished. Because no lamp could illuminate it, the human heart could grow darker than anything else.

Dominic had never heard the spirit's voice.

But he had felt an impulse deep within his heart.

His position as a Black Lion was very convenient for secretly approaching Eward, confined at his mother's family home. That night, he had diverted the attention of the Black Lions watching Eward and met him. It had been an impulsive meeting, but Dominic had never questioned his actions.

The eldest son, treated like trash. Dominic thought Eward was trash too. But he had seen the black darkness lurking deep in Eward's eyes. He had felt the malice—not murderous intent—directed at Eward's mother, maternal grandfather, and the many members of Count Bosar's household.

The original plan had been to give Eward a catalyst for black magic. Once Eward became a black mage, Lionheart's standing would truly plummet into the abyss. Better still if he went on a rampage.

Dominic had no lingering attachment to the family anyway. He intended to ruin the main family with his own hands, then take the Crushing Hammer and seek asylum in Helmuth or some other foreign country.

When he looked into Eward's eyes, however, Dominic had given him the Crushing Hammer instead of the catalyst. He had heard no voice, but felt that he must. From the moment darkness had taken root in his heart, Dominic's actions had already been decided...

Eugene spread his arms wide.

His core ran wild under Ignition. His mana swelled so enormously that it felt uncontrollable. All that power converged on Akasha.

Akasha blazed with light. A massive magic circle appeared first, followed by dozens of smaller circles layered over it. Eugene wanted powerful, destructive magic into which he could pour every emotion he was feeling.

Mer assisted him as he unleashed it.

Dozens of spells unfolded simultaneously. Which came first, how they linked together—Dominic and Hector could not properly perceive any of it. They could only feel that the attacks erupting before their eyes and crashing toward them were a magical catastrophe.

"Aaaah!"

Dominic roared and thrust the Demonic Spear. Even amid the light manifested by the spells, the spear's darkness spread. But his body could not endure what its darkness could. Hector pressed close beside him, struggling to fend off the attacks however he could.

"Akasha."

Eward murmured, his black-and-red eyes open. Slowly, he extended a hand and tapped the air before him with a long finger.

BANG!

The ripples spreading through the darkness burst. The oncoming spells vanished, swallowed by darkness.

"Wynnyd, the Holy Sword, the Moonlight Sword, and even Akasha."

Eugene did not answer. He looked at Eward's face. Black-and-red eyes. A face pale and bloodless. An eerie smile formed on the previously expressionless lips.

"... Eugene, you... have all my father's love to yourself."

Eugene merely smiled back.

Those words told him what the Eward before him was.

The spirit of darkness. The remnant of Demon Kings. Under its influence, he had consumed some of its memories. But no Demon King ruled Eward's mind. He was merely a brat who did not know his place, struggling to digest the scraps of two Demon Kings who had died three hundred years ago.

["... Do not underestimate him, Hamel. That fool just scattered your magic with a single finger."]

'I know.'

The shattered spells. All their dispersing mana returned to Eugene, swallowed again by his core, still rampaging under Ignition.

WHIIIINE!

Akasha erected layer upon layer of defensive barriers around Eugene.

'Even if he's not a Demon King himself, challenging something similar with magic is sheer arrogance.'

He had Akasha, and considerable confidence in his own magical ability. But he could not fight something resembling a Demon King in a battle of magic. Three hundred years ago, only Senya and Vermouth had been capable of that. Eugene had yet to reach their level.

"Ghhh...!"

Dominic rose amid the blasted debris. Spewing blood, he looked down at his arms. The Demonic Spear lay across both grotesquely twisted limbs.

Hector lay unconscious beside him, but Dominic had neither the loyalty nor the leisure to concern himself with him. He tried to stagger back, yet strangely, his mangled arms moved forward instead.

"... Stop..."

He had not wanted such a mindless fight. If he was outmatched in raw power, there were any number of other ways to attack. So he thought, but the Demonic Spear would not obey him.

The darkness that had protected him from the magical catastrophe welled up and coiled around his arms. Dominic watched with trembling eyes.

CRACK.

CRACK-CRACK.

His mangled arms, the torn flesh and muscles, the shattered bones, all tangled together. The arms formed anew looked less like human limbs than lumpy masses of flesh covered in scales.

"... Haha..."

Dominic stared blankly at his arms. Their grotesquely transformed fingers were fused to the spear. Through that connection, the evil memories remaining within the Demonic Spear ate into his mind.

CREEEAK...

Grinning vacantly, Dominic raised the spear above his head. Eugene remembered that stance too, both arms raised to support the spear.

CRACK... CRACK!

Scales spread from Dominic's arms over his shoulders, chest, and back. At last, another pair of arms sprouted from his back.

"You're not surprised."

Holding the Crushing Hammer, as large as he was tall, Eward looked down at Eugene.

"... You're... so strange. How can you feel no fear even now? Ciel, Cyan, everyone who came here was afraid."

Eugene checked in their direction. Fortunately, those hanging from the tree were still unharmed. That meant preparations to use them as sacrifices were not yet complete.

'I see.'

Eugene slowly lowered his stance.

'The remnants of the Demon Kings have gone berserk.'

Memories of the Moonlight Sword. Their defeat three hundred years ago. Humiliation, anger, hatred... Those factors had sent the remnants berserk. That was Eugene's assessment for now.

"... As I am now..."

Eward smiled broadly at the Crushing Hammer.

"I can defeat you, Eugene... and sacrifice everyone in this forest."

"Really?"

Eugene smiled and nodded.

"I don't know."

Eugene did not know the full story.

But from now on, he would involve himself deeply and learn. However this incident had begun, its ending was already decided.

He would kill them.

"What you're thinking. How it came to this. I have no interest in questioning you about every little detail."

His vision warped, then expanded. In both hands, Eugene felt violence and destruction yearning to run rampant.

"I just have to kill you, and it's over. Dominic, Hector, you, Eward, the spirit, the scraps. Kill you all and it's done. A reason? If you really need one, I'll come up with one after you're dead."

Eugene spread his arms wide. His core ran wild under Ignition. His mana swelled so enormously that it felt uncontrollable. All that power converged on Wynnyd and the Moonlight Sword.

"You did this because you're fucking idiots."

Mer had never known such fierce bloodlust. Pure murderous intent, without a shred of compassion or mercy, thinking only of killing the enemy and erasing their existence. Trembling at that savage emotion, she squeezed her eyes shut.

She did not know what would happen now. Nor did she want to know or see it. The Eugene she knew—the Hamel she knew—was not this frightening.

She could not stop him. His anger, hatred, and bloodlust were justified. A mere black mage or demon would not have enraged him so. The thing before him was not a Demon King. But it was a remnant of what had been one, and might become one again. A Demon King he had killed with his own hands three hundred years ago—even if he had not personally severed its head, he had stabbed its chest and hacked its limbs dozens, hundreds of times.

"And you're dying because you're dumbasses."

Instead of disappearing, it had remained, and now appeared before him using Eward Lionheart's body as its vessel.

A storm erupted.

The raging wind tore up the earth and drove back the darkness. Dominic hurled himself at the advancing storm. Filled with inexplicable ecstasy and hatred, he grasped the Demonic Spear above his head with four arms.

His appearance and build were different. But the sight reminded Eugene of the Demon King of Cruelty they had killed three hundred years ago. At the summit of its castle, it had pressed the heroes back, deftly wielding the Demonic Spear with its four arms.

"Disgusting."

A mere imitation. It lacked a Demon King's horrific power. Yet the black demonic energy pouring from the spear brought back memories Eugene did not wish to recall.

No, those were not memories he disliked. After all, the Demon King of Cruelty had lost that battle. To Eugene, they were a glorious tale of valor he could proudly reminisce about.

If only he had not been forced to face it again like this.

"Oooooh!"

ROOOAR!

Four arms spun the spear's shaft. Black darkness swallowed the weapon. A little behind him, Eward advanced with the Crushing Hammer.

He saw so much. Felt so much. Understood so much. Eward trembled with an overwhelming sense of omnipotence. Information inscribed itself in his mind: truths of black magic that humans could not, and must not, comprehend.

He needed more Lionheart blood. Judging by those truths, completing the magic and turning the spirit into a "Spirit King" required more Lionheart blood than this. Especially potent blood. The young twins of the main family were not enough.

That thing before him.

The descendant with blood more potent than any Lionheart in the three hundred years since Vermouth the Great. Eward had only ever seen their ancestor in the main family's portraits and statues, yet strangely, he now saw Vermouth the Great vividly within his mind.

Clad in pure white flames. Unafraid even before vast armies and Demon Kings, advancing with pale, shining moonlight in hand—

"... Yes..."

He saw Eugene.

Moonlight swept aside Dominic's thrusting spear. The storm that followed crushed the darkness. With a cry that might have been a scream, an exclamation, or a battle shout, Dominic charged. His bizarre spear technique wielded all four arms freely. Yet he could not press Eugene. Eugene's moonlight tore through his arms as easily as paper, and the Holy Sword, suddenly in Eugene's hand, illuminated the darkness and pierced Dominic's body.

"... Like you."

The sight filled Eward with inexplicable ecstasy. He yearned for those flames. Even if he had diligently practiced the White Flame Formula all his life, he would never have attained them. That was why he coveted them. He envied that talent, acknowledged by his father and every Lionheart.

So Eward gladly accepted the truths within his mind. Eugene Lionheart was needed as a sacrifice to make the spirit a Spirit King? Even if he were not needed, Eward wanted to sacrifice him. Three years ago, Eugene had been the one to forcibly wake him from his pleasant dream. That day, Eward had awakened to a cruel reality, and changed himself to survive in it.

If that had marked the end of childhood, he now desired his coming-of-age ceremony. The ceremony he had yet to undergo. He would sacrifice Eugene, who had woken him from his dream, and complete his coming-of-age ceremony by perfecting the spirit.

The Crushing Hammer rose high into the sky.