Chapter 147 - Damn Reincarnation

Remnants

Moonlight seeped through the gaps between the tightly clenched fingers. Demon Kings were beings of myth, and the magic they wielded possessed a stature befitting their existence.

Even three hundred years ago, the Moonlight Sword had been unable to brutally tear a Demon King apart head-on. Now vastly weaker than it had been then, it could not possibly tear straight through the Demon King of Carnage’s magic.

If the Demon King of Carnage himself had cast it, that is.

“Ah...”

Eward stared ahead with wide eyes. It felt as though hundreds, thousands of ants were crawling over the surface of his brain. All at once, those marching ants burrowed inside and toyed with his mind.

Unfamiliar memories belonging to another being threw his mind into chaos. That sudden eruption of flames. No such technique existed in the Lionhearts’ White Flame Formula. The techniques Eugene had used to deflect Dominic’s attacks and utterly overwhelm him. Such advanced techniques could not be acquired through “genius” alone.

Eward saw memories that were not his own. A man wielding the Holy Sword amid scattering white flames. The sword in his hand changed from the Holy Sword to the Moonlight Sword, and his clothes and movements changed as well... but one thing remained the same.

The man fighting at his side. He wore no flames, yet he charged forward without retreating even before merciless attacks. A scar-covered man who switched to another weapon whenever the one he wielded broke, deflecting seemingly insurmountable attacks and striking back.

Memories of the distant past overlapped with the reality before his eyes.

Eugene Lionheart.

“Aaaaagh!”

His realization about his brother, with whom he shared not a drop of blood, could not precede his pain-filled scream. The moonlight seeping between the fingers destroyed the magic. Exposed to that light, Eward’s body began to crumble. His magic belonged to a Demon King, but it did not possess the same stature as magic cast by the Demon King himself.

“Does it hurt?”

Eugene spat the words as he pressed the Moonlight Sword’s hilt closer. His left arm was crushed. He had never expected the backlash to strike at a moment like that. Still, he did not consider himself unlucky. One arm to dispose of a Demon King’s remnant. And it had not even been severed—just shattered bones and mangled flesh. An injury like this would heal without so much as a scar.

He felt pain, but not enough to scream. He had not screamed even when he died with a hole through his chest. An injury this trivial was nothing.

“The family head’s heart will hurt more.”

Eugene could not consider Gilead either a fine family head or a fine father. But he thought him an unfortunate man who had done his best in his own way.

Had Gilead taken a more active role, Eward would not have fallen so far. Gilead had been an inept father, and Theonis a greedy mother.

“... If you...”

His agonized screams broke off in halting fragments. Eward glared at the moonlight with his black-and-red eyes wide open. His weak mind could not make a decision, but the malice of the spirit encroaching upon it guided his body.

“If only you hadn’t existed...!”

The hand shielding his body opened wide. Fingers being torn apart by the light rushed toward Eugene. No, they were no longer fingers. Darkness shattering beneath the spreading moonlight surged over him, laden with murderous intent.

Eugene did not answer that venomous cry. His chest ached, and his heart throbbed. A fair amount of time had passed since he activated Ignition. Though he had not struggled, he had used vastly more power than he had against Barang.

“This is tiring.”

Muttering those words, Eugene moved. Ignition had not ended yet. The instant he willed it, the mana dwelling throughout his body raced like lightning, propelling him forward. The approaching darkness was sinister enough to pulverize his body on contact, but the flames surrounding him drove even that darkness away.

“If only you...!”

The distance closed rapidly. Countless spells that could overcome this situation surfaced in Eward’s mind. Yes, he still had plenty of magic he had yet to use. His head was filled with the magic he had craved since childhood. If he offered Eugene as a sacrifice, he would learn magic far greater than what he knew now.

‘... What should I do?’

What Eward lacked most of all was judgment in combat. This was not an opponent he could crush with sheer power. Simply unleashing everything he could cast without thought would accomplish nothing.

But Eward did not know how to make choices for himself. Though he had longed for magic since childhood, he had no actual talent for it, and he had never seriously pursued other efforts to make up for that lack.

And so he was too late.

The Moonlight Sword’s hilt slammed into Eward’s chest. Before a groan could escape his half-open lips, the sword emitted light. Pale moonlight illuminated the inside of his body.

His mouth opened wide, but he could not scream. The darkness that had seeped into the very depths of his existence was illuminated and annihilated—a pain more than sufficient to destroy the fragile young man’s mind.

FWOOSH!

Eward’s limbs began turning to ash and disappearing. Eugene watched his annihilation with cold eyes. He thought perhaps he could at least hear Eward’s last words, but made no actual attempt to listen.

He simply watched Eward die, doing nothing. The eyes stained black returned to their original color. His face was already twisted with terror and pain. Eward flailed his arms and worked his lips, while Eugene forced his crushed left arm to move.

With that arm, he drew and gripped the Holy Sword.

THUNK!

The Moonlight Sword’s light was already killing Eward, but Eugene drove the Holy Sword into his chest as well to ensure he finished him off.

FWOOSH...

The light subsided. Gasping for the breath that had caught in his chest, Eugene lowered the Moonlight Sword and the Holy Sword.

THUD!

The Crushing Hammer Eward had been holding fell to the ground.

Eward vanished without leaving a single trace.

Eugene hovered in the sky for a while, catching his breath. His heart felt ready to burst, and his entire body ached. He could not rest yet. It was not all neatly finished. Steadying his breathing, he looked down.

Below him had once been darkness summoned by the Crushing Hammer and the Demonic Spear, with the uneven forest floor beneath it. Now all that remained was an enormous crater.

He surveyed the traces of the fierce battle with impassive eyes, searching for what he needed to find. The Demonic Spear, which had fallen first, lay at the bottom of the crater. The Crushing Hammer lay beside the crater.

“... Hector.”

Eugene’s brow furrowed. Hector Lionheart was nowhere to be seen. The last time Eugene had seen him... he had collapsed unconscious behind Dominic. Had he been caught in the battle and annihilated without a trace?

‘Or did he escape?’

The bastard had possessed strange, powerful artifacts. Perhaps he had also had some means of escaping this darkness. Clicking his tongue, Eugene slowly descended.

[“... Hamel. Touching it directly might...”]

“Even those morons could hold them. You think I can’t withstand it?”

With a faint laugh, Eugene reached toward the Demonic Spear.

In his previous life, three hundred years ago, Hamel and Moron had wanted to become masters of the Crushing Hammer and the Demonic Spear. They had tried gripping them several times. Each time, they had felt a madness that seemed about to shatter their minds, and ultimately they had given up.

Were they unworthy?

That was what he had thought in his previous life. The Demonic Spear, the Crushing Hammer, and the Moonlight Sword acknowledged no master other than Vermouth. Only Vermouth could wield those absurdly powerful weapons.

Hamel and Moron had both been strong, but neither had been stronger than Vermouth. If some special qualification was required to master those transcendent weapons, Vermouth alone must have possessed it.

That was what he had believed three hundred years ago, but not now. The head of the Council of Elders, master of the Demonic Spear. Dominic, master of the Crushing Hammer. Were they more special than Hamel and Moron? If being qualified meant having talent, there was absolutely no way. The only thing that set those two apart from Hamel and Moron was that they were Vermouth’s descendants.

‘... The Moonlight Sword, too.’

The reason he could hold and wield that dreadful sword without trouble must also be that his reincarnated body was descended from Vermouth.

He stood before the Demonic Spear. The ominous weapon kept spewing darkness, staining the ground black. Eugene glared at it for a moment, then boldly reached out and grasped it.

WOOOO!

The spear trembled in his hand and howled. His head spun, and his mind wavered. This hurt more than having his left arm crushed by Eward’s attack. Gritting his teeth and suppressing a groan, Eugene pulled the spear from the ground.

He climbed out of the crater and approached the Crushing Hammer.

[“Sir Eugene...? Are you really all right?”]

Mer asked in a frightened voice. Without answering, Eugene reached his mangled hand toward the Crushing Hammer.

He grasped it.

The world before his eyes grew even darker. Unfazed, he glared into the darkness.

When he took a step, the darkness shook. Though the gathered darkness had no distinct form, it radiated an ominous presence that instinctively filled living beings with terror. Eugene recognized that presence. The “spirit of darkness” dwelling in the Demonic Spear and the Crushing Hammer, united as one, made itself known.

Carnage and Cruelty. The remnants of two Demon Kings.

As he became aware of it, Eugene’s mind wavered once more. He staggered and clutched his head. The truths of black magic that had sent Eward trembling with ecstasy sought to engrave themselves upon his mind. This was not simply the addition of knowledge. The moment those truths remained in his mind, the spirit would take up residence regardless of his will.

It would mean contracting with the Demon Kings he hated without reservation—and ones who had fucking died three hundred years ago, at that—and becoming their proxy.

“Fuck off.”

Spitting the words fiercely, he took another step.

FWOOSH!

Pure white flames wrapped around Eugene’s body. As he continued walking, their fiery mane streamed behind him.

The Crushing Hammer and the Demonic Spear dropped from his hands. Before they struck the ground, Eugene drew the Holy Sword and the Moonlight Sword from his cloak. He would not tolerate that ominous, horrific being, nor did he have any intention of using its power.

Light illuminated the darkness.

Ciel Lionheart. She was drugged, but she was not hallucinating. She had trained as a Black Lion for three years. She had never skipped training to withstand drugs, had built up sufficient resistance, and was not weak-minded.

Still, her body was powerless and her mind clouded. The spirit of darkness had bound not only Ciel’s body but those of every sacrifice, drawing their minds into deep darkness.

Everything felt like a dream.

She knew it was not. Though it felt unreal, though she could not intervene and could only watch, Ciel witnessed a reality that seemed as distant as a dream.

“... What about... Eugene?”

Her head throbbed, and her body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton. Her voice would barely emerge, and her trembling lips made it difficult to string words together.

She forced her eyes to stay open when they kept trying to close. Ciel was the first of those captured as sacrifices to regain consciousness.

“... He’s... all right, isn’t he?”

She pressed her uncle, who was looking down at her with worry-filled eyes, for an answer. Gion Lionheart. He had not yet managed to compose himself.

They had realized something was happening in the forest. Discovering an enormous concentration of demonic energy somewhere other than the forest’s center, all the Black Lions had advanced toward it.

Dominic knew the Black Lion Knights well. Their fixation on bloodline had left the order without a single priest or holy knight.

The barrier he had prepared was intricate and powerful. Without the Holy Sword or the Moonlight Sword, breaching a barrier inhabited by Demon King remnants was no simple matter. Even the captains stationed separately as observers had gathered in one place to try forcing their way through, but barriers of this kind were difficult to break by sheer force.

Gion and the other Black Lions had reached this place not because they had breached the barrier, but because the darkness had been illuminated and the barrier had vanished.

“... He’s injured, but...”

Gion nodded with a long sigh. At his answer, Ciel barely managed to lift her head and look for Eugene.

She saw him sitting on the ground. His face was so haggard that he could have passed out at any moment, and his left arm hung in bloody tatters. He looked exactly as he had in the scene she had witnessed through her hazy consciousness.

“... Are you all right?”

Ciel forced out the words in a trembling voice. Though quiet, they reached Eugene. He looked at her and smiled.

“Do I look all right?”

He could not have said he was fine even as an empty reassurance. His injured left arm. Ignition’s backlash. With Kristina absent as well, he would be confined to bed for at least a week.

“Don’t force yourself to stay awake. Close your eyes and sleep.”

“... I, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re not. It’s all over, so there’s no need to stay awake.”

“... There’s something... I have to say, something I want to say... to you.”

Ciel would not relent. Her tension eased, and emotion welled up inside her.

She had been afraid. She had thought this was how she would die. She had wanted someone to rescue her. At the same time, she had wished no one would come. She had wished desperately, but it had not come true. Cyan had come, Gargis had come, Dezra had come, and Genia had come. Every one of them had been subdued and seized by the darkness.

Eugene had not come. She had thought that, at least, was a relief. She had hoped he would escape and seek help outside. The smell of blood each time Eward drew a magic circle. Her fading consciousness. And then.

Flames.

“... You saved us.”

“Don’t say it now.”

“Why?”

“I’ll hear your thanks later, when you’re fine and I’m fine. And very politely, too.”

“... No. I don’t want to. Listen now...!”

“Nope, not listening. You could thank me a hundred times right now, and I still wouldn’t accept it.”

Eugene spoke with an infuriating smile.