Sir Kaito kept attacking.
The demon kept dodging.
Strike after strike, the holy sword swept through the air with mechanical precision. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Each attack flowed into the next with a fluidity that looked like mastery but felt... wrong.
Sir Kaito's feet moved in perfect stance transitions—weight shifting, hips rotating, shoulders following through—all the fundamentals I'd drilled into him during our training sessions. But there was something off about it. The movements were too perfect. Too precise. Like watching a master swordsman who'd trained for decades, not a young man who'd picked up a blade for the first time less than a week ago.
And he was fast. Impossibly fast. His body moved with speed that shouldn't be possible for someone who'd just started training. The holy power was enhancing him—I could see it in the golden glow that surrounded his limbs, the way his muscles seemed to burn with inner light.
The holy sword itself was beautiful in a way. Pure white light formed the blade, so bright it left afterimages when it moved. Golden energy rippled along its edge like liquid fire, and where it passed through the air, reality itself seemed to shimmer and distort slightly. The weapon hummed—a constant, resonant tone that I could feel in my chest, in my bones, like the world itself was vibrating in response to its presence.
And Sir Kaito's eyes...
Those eyes that had looked at me with confusion and warmth and concern—they were distant now. Burning with holy light that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, from something that wasn't entirely him. Focused. Intense. But not seeing. Not the way a person sees.
They were locked on the demon with singular purpose.
The demon twisted away from another strike, his body bending at an unnatural angle—spine curving in a way that should have broken bone but instead flowed like water. His movements were wrong too, but in a different way. Where Sir Kaito's precision was mechanical, the demon's evasion was liquid. Organic. Like he was made of something other than flesh and bone.
He pivoted smoothly, and dark energy crackled around his hand as he sent a bolt of shadow toward Sir Kaito's chest. The attack was quick, precise, meant to force distance.
Sir Kaito moved—blurring forward instead of dodging. The holy sword swept up, intercepting the dark bolt mid-flight. Where holy light met dark magic, reality screamed.
The impact created a shockwave that rattled the trees. Light and darkness exploded outward in a sphere of crackling energy, and the sound—like glass shattering mixed with thunder—made my teeth ache.
The backlash from the collision sent energy rippling outward. Any normal person standing that close would have been thrown back, would have at least flinched from the force.
Sir Kaito didn't even pause. His enhanced body absorbed the impact, and he was already moving forward again, pressing the attack with relentless determination.
No hesitation. No caution. Just forward.
The sword swept in from the right. The demon blocked with a barrier of dark energy that formed instantly around his forearm—solidified shadow that looked almost metallic. The holy sword cut through it like it wasn't even there.
The demon hissed and jerked back, a thin line of red appearing across his cheek where the blade had grazed him. His hand flew to the wound, and when he pulled it away, his fingers were stained with blood that looked too dark, almost black.
He stared at the blood for a moment, studying it with those mismatched eyes—one burning red, one cold and calculating. Then he looked at Sir Kaito. Really looked at him this time.
At the way his body moved with mechanical precision.
At the distant, burning eyes that saw nothing but a target.
At the relentless, systematic assault that showed no strategy beyond eliminate threat.
At the complete absence of any defensive awareness or self-preservation.
The demon's expression shifted—calculation replacing his earlier amusement. Understanding dawned across his features.
"Hmm! Interesting!" His voice carried a note of genuine fascination now, the cruel playfulness replaced with something sharper. More analytical. He tilted his head, studying Sir Kaito like a puzzle he'd just figured out. "Something's not quite right with our hero, is it?"
His grin widened—not with mockery, but with the satisfaction of someone who'd just gained a critical advantage.
Grey jolted beside me, his whole body going rigid.
"Wait—" His voice cracked with sudden realization. "The minotaur. That's how he fought the minotaur!" His eyes were wide, staring at Sir Kaito with dawning horror. "I thought he was just... I don't know, instinct or adrenaline or something. But it's the same. Exactly the same."
He turned to me, his face pale. "Something's wrong. He's not... he's not fighting like himself."
My blood turned cold.
I watched Sir Kaito move—watched his enhanced body blur with holy-powered speed, watched him press forward with no regard for anything except reaching the demon—and the uncertainty that had been gnawing at me crystallized into terrible clarity.
Something's controlling him.
The realization hit like a physical blow. It was like watching someone else wear Sir Kaito's face, pilot his body with inhuman precision.
My chest tightened with horror and something else—a protective fury that made my hands clench.
Whatever's doing this doesn't care if he gets hurt. It's making him fight without any sense of survival.
The demon seemed to have realized the same thing. His entire fighting style changed in an instant.
Before, he'd been defensive—dodging, blocking, and creating distance. Treating Sir Kaito like a skilled opponent who might adapt and change tactics.
Now he moved with calculated purpose. No longer evading with full effort. Every dodge was deliberate, baiting Sir Kaito's attacks toward specific angles. Every block was timed to create counterattack opportunities rather than simply defend.
He was exploiting whatever was driving Sir Kaito forward.
Another strike came—a powerful overhead slash. The demon didn't fully dodge. He stepped aside just enough that the blade passed by his shoulder, close enough that I saw fabric tear but no blood drawn.
And while Sir Kaito was committed to that downward strike, the demon's clawed hand shot out toward his exposed side.
Dark energy crackled around those claws—
Sir Kaito didn't pull back. Didn't create distance. Didn't seem to recognize the danger at all.
He pressed forward instead, trying to follow through with another strike even as the demon's attack came at him.
The claws raked across Sir Kaito's side.
Dark energy seared into flesh. I saw the fabric of his clothes tear, saw the black-red burn mark spread across his ribs.
Sir Kaito's face didn't even flicker with pain. He didn't acknowledge the wound at all. He just kept attacking.
My heart clenched.
No. This is wrong. This is so wrong.
The demon landed another hit. A bolt of dark magic that Sir Kaito made no attempt to dodge—he just powered through it, taking the blast directly to his shoulder so he could close distance for a strike.
The impact left another burn mark. More damage.
Sir Kaito's breathing was becoming heavier now. His enhanced body was strong, boosted by holy power, but it was still human. Still had limits. And he was pushing past those limits with every attack, every injury he didn't bother to avoid.
The demon grinned, sharp and knowing. He'd found his strategy.
"If this keeps up, he's going to kill himself."
Boraz's voice cut through my mounting horror. He'd moved closer, his amber-flecked eyes locked on the fight with the intensity of someone who understood combat on an instinctive level. His hands were clenched at his sides, and I could see the tension in his shoulders—the barely contained urge to join the fight.
"Something's making him fight with no sense of survival," Boraz continued, his voice tight with urgency. "That demon figured it out. He's baiting the kid into taking hits, letting him burn through his stamina. The holy power's keeping him moving, but his body won't last."
He looked at me, and there was something sharp in his gaze. Respect, maybe. Recognition.
"Hey, butterfly—we need to get in there. Let's Support him. We need to end this quick, before whatever's driving him burns him out completely."
My mind raced.
He was right. I could see it clearly now. The demon had switched from survival to attrition. He was systematically wearing Sir Kaito down, exploiting the fact that Sir Kaito was fighting with zero self-preservation instinct.
Every hit Sir Kaito took because he didn't bother defending. Every injury he ignored. Every bit of holy power burning through his stamina to keep his enhanced body moving.
It was all adding up.
And Sir Kaito—the real Sir Kaito, somewhere beneath that holy fire burning in his eyes—couldn't stop it. Couldn't even be aware enough to realize he was being destroyed.
Grey was standing right here, with horror and amusement, vulnerable. He'd gotten caught in the summoning teleportation with Sir Kaito because he hadn't wanted to lose his best friend. He didn't belong in this world, didn't have any way to defend himself against something like this.
I need to protect him first.
I raised my hand, and golden light flared around Grey. The barrier formed in an instant—a perfect sphere that enclosed him completely, shimmering with energy that would repel anything short of a full-strength dragon's breath. The same type of barrier I'd used countless times in training, just stronger. Much stronger.
Grey's eyes went wide as the barrier solidified around him. He pressed his hand against the inside, and I saw his mouth move—probably protesting, telling me he wanted to help—but no sound penetrated the barrier.
Good. He'd be safe there. Whatever happened next, Grey would survive it.
Boraz grinned—not the playful expression from our earlier fight, but something fiercer. More predatory. "Smart. Now let's dance, butterfly."
He moved, and his body changed.
Not dramatically. Not like a full transformation. But subtle shifts that spoke of power carefully controlled. His muscles bulged beneath his skin, cording with enhanced strength. A faint glow—almost imperceptible, like heat shimmer—surrounded his body, and I felt the surge of energy radiating from him.
His beast mode. The hidden power he'd been holding back during our fight.
So he was restraining this much strength when we fought?
The realization sent a chill through me. I'd beaten him, pushed him to his limit, knocked his Warhammer away—and he'd still been holding back this level of power. Now he was fighting bare-handed, and I could feel the raw strength radiating from him. More powerful than when he'd had his weapon.
Boraz charged forward, and his speed was completely different now. Before, he'd been fast for a large man. Now he moved like an animal—explosive bursts of acceleration that ate up ground in heartbeats. The earth cracked beneath his feet with each step, small craters forming from the force of his enhanced strength.
The demon had been focused entirely on Sir Kaito, all his attention on exploiting Sir Kaito's lack of self-preservation. He didn't see Boraz coming until it was almost too late.
Almost.
The demon twisted at the last second, dark energy flaring around him as he threw himself to the side.
Boraz's fist—glowing with that faint shimmer of enhanced power—missed the demon's head by inches. But the wind pressure from the blow alone was devastating. It hit like a physical force, sending the demon stumbling.
I didn't waste the opening.
Wind gathered around my hands—more than I'd used against Boraz during our fight, but still carefully controlled. Still far from my full power. Just enough to be effective without causing excess damage to allies.
I released it.
The wind blast caught the demon mid-stumble, slamming into his side with concentrated force. He was thrown further off-balance, his feet sliding across the dirt.
Sir Kaito closed the distance in a heartbeat. The holy sword came down in a vertical slash aimed directly at the demon's exposed back.
The demon rolled—fast, powered by desperation—and the blade buried itself in the ground where he'd been a fraction of a second before. Earth exploded outward from the impact, chunks of dirt and stone flying in all directions. The sword had hit with enough force to create a small crater.
But the demon was already moving, already creating distance. Dark energy swirled around him like a cloak as he regained his footing, and I saw something new in his expression.
Not just calculation. Not just strategy.
Wariness. Real wariness.
Three opponents now. One with a holy sword and enhanced body that fought with relentless, suicidal determination. One with beast folk enhanced strength. One with precise magical control.
And he was already injured. Already breathing harder than before.
Boraz charged again, coming from the left this time. His movements were coordinated with mine—not explicitly discussed, but naturally flowing from battlefield awareness. He was forcing the demon toward Sir Kaito, herding him like prey.
The demon sent a wave of dark energy toward Boraz—trying to slow him down, create space.
I intercepted it with a barrier. Golden light flared between Boraz and the attack, and the dark magic splashed against it like water against stone. Completely negated.
Boraz didn't even slow. He used my barrier as cover, trusting it completely, and closed the distance even faster.
His fist swung out—enhanced strength making the air itself crack—aimed at the demon's ribs.
The demon blocked with a hastily formed barrier of dark energy. Boraz's fist connected, and the sound was like a bomb going off. BOOM.
The demon's barrier held this time, but barely. Cracks spread through it like spiderwebs, and the force of the impact drove the demon backward—
—directly into Sir Kaito's path.
The holy sword swept horizontal, enhanced speed making it a blur of golden light.
The demon's body contorted, bending low beneath the strike. The blade passed over him by inches.
But Sir Kaito didn't stop. Didn't reassess. He just kept attacking, flowing immediately into the next strike—a downward slash that followed the demon's dodge.
The demon threw himself to the side, dark energy propelling him. He landed in a roll, came up already moving—
I sent cutting wind. Thin blades of compressed air, faster and more numerous than what I'd used against Boraz. A dozen wind blades converging from different angles.
The demon created partial barriers, blocking most of them. But three got through—one slicing across his shoulder, another cutting a line across his thigh, the third grazing his cheek.
Shallow wounds. Calculated not to kill but to harm. To add up.
And they were adding up. Blood seeped from multiple cuts now. The demon's breathing was definitely labored, his chest heaving. Dark energy flickered around him less steadily than before.
But Sir Kaito was suffering too.
I could see it in the way his enhanced movements were becoming slightly less fluid. The way his breathing had turned ragged, each exhale visible in the cold air. Multiple burn marks from dark energy covered his body—side, shoulder, arm. Wounds he'd taken because whatever was driving him made him fight with zero defensive awareness.
The holy power was still boosting him, still pushing his body beyond normal limits. But there were limits even to that.
How long can he keep this up?
Sir Kaito pressed forward again, relentless. The demon sent a barrage of shadow bolts—not really trying to hit, just trying to create space.
I created barriers, intercepting several of the bolts before they could reach Sir Kaito. Boraz charged from another angle, keeping the pressure on.
We were coordinating naturally now. Boraz and I working together to create openings, to limit the demon's options, while Sir Kaito's assault drove forward with mechanical precision.
The demon was being cornered. Step by step, exchange by exchange, we were boxing him in.
Sir Kaito swung again—a wide horizontal arc. The demon ducked, but Boraz was there, fist already coming down toward where the demon had dodged.
The demon had to abandon his position, leaping backward to avoid the strike.
I sent wind to push him off-balance mid-leap.
The demon twisted in the air, dark energy flaring around him to correct his trajectory—
Sir Kaito was already there, somehow predicting where the demon would land. The holy sword thrust forward like a spear of light.
The demon created a barrier at the last instant—his strongest yet, layered shadows that looked almost solid.
The holy sword pierced it like paper.
The demon barely managed to twist aside, the blade passing through where his chest had been and instead carving a deep gash across his ribs.
He hit the ground hard, blood flowing freely now from the wound. His mismatched eyes were wide—not with fear yet, but with the realization that he was being systematically dismantled.
Boraz and I had created the opening. Sir Kaito had exploited it perfectly.
The demon scrambled backward, one hand pressed against the bleeding wound on his ribs. His breathing was harsh now, ragged and pained. Dark energy flickered weakly around him.
He was at the edge of the clearing, near the tree line. Further from us than he'd been since the fight started.
Cornered.
Wounded.
Desperate.
And I knew—we all knew—that desperate demons were the most dangerous kind.
But Sir Kaito didn't stop. Didn't pause to assess the situation. Whatever was driving him pushed him forward again, his body moving despite his own exhaustion, his own injuries.
He's going to push until he collapses, I realized with growing dread. He won't stop. Not until the demon is dead or his body gives out completely.
The demon's eyes darted between the three of us—calculating, desperate, searching for any way out.
Then his expression changed. Something shifted behind those mismatched eyes. A decision made.
His hand shot up—not to defend, but clawing at the air itself.
Dark energy erupted from his palm.
Not an attack. Something else. Something bigger.
A self-destruction spell.
I felt it immediately—the surge of malevolent power building around the demon's raised hand, dark energy swirling faster and faster into a growing sphere. The air itself seemed to warp around it, and I could sense the destructive force gathering. Enough to level everything within a mile radius.
"Sir Boraz!" I shouted over the crackling energy. "Get Sir Kaito and Grey out of here! Now!"
Boraz's head snapped toward me, his amber-flecked eyes wide.
"Sir, huh? You're the only one who's ever called me with respect, butterfly girl," he said quietly. "Then, what about—"
"I'll handle this!" I cut him off. "Take them to the Holy Land. Go!"
"The barrier—" Boraz hesitated, and I saw the conflict in his face. The Holy Land's barrier. Everyone kept their distance from it. No one wanted to test what would happen, if they entered the holy land.
I met his eyes directly. Held his gaze.
"It won't reject you," I said clearly. Firmly. "I promise."
Something passed between us in that moment. Understanding. Recognition. Boraz's eyes widened slightly as he processed what I was really saying—not just the words, but the certainty behind them. The way I could make that promise.
His expression shifted. He understood what I meant.
Then louder: "I'll get them out!"
He moved with terrifying speed. His enhanced body crossed the clearing in seconds, grabbing Sir Kaito mid-strike—the holy sword still swinging toward the demon even as Boraz lifted him bodily off his feet. Sir Kaito struggled for a moment, those distant burning eyes still locked on the demon, but Boraz's beast mode strength held him firm.
I weakened the barrier slightly.
With his other arm, Boraz shattered the barrier around Grey with a single punch. The golden light exploded into harmless sparks, and Boraz scooped Grey up too.
"Hold on!" Boraz called to Grey, who looked absolutely terrified but managed to nod.
Then Boraz ran. Carrying both of them, moving with that explosive speed even with the extra weight. Within seconds, he'd disappeared into the forest, heading towards the Holy Land.
The demon's self-destruction spell continued building, the sphere of dark energy growing larger, more unstable. His face was twisted with desperate triumph.
"You think you can stop this?" he gasped through bloody teeth. "This will take everything. You, me, all of it—"
I stood alone in the clearing now, watching him. Calm. Patient.
Waiting.
The dark energy swirled faster, reaching critical mass. The demon's grin widened despite his pain.
I raised my hand.
A simple gesture. Casual, almost dismissive.
Purple lightning crackled across my fingers.
The demon's grin faltered.
The lightning spread, crawling up my hand, my arm, dancing between my knuckles with that familiar cold energy. Not the warm gold of holy magic. Not the natural green of wind magic.
Purple. Dark. Hungry.
The lightning moved with purpose, reaching out from my hand like living tendrils. Slow. Deliberate. Wrapping around the demon's self-destruction spell, coiling through the dark energy like serpents made of crackling electricity.
The demon's eyes went wide.
His spell—the massive, destructive magic that should have been unstoppable once activated—began to dissolve. The dark energy unraveled where my purple lightning touched it, coming apart like threads being pulled from fabric.
"No," the demon breathed. "That's not possible. You can't just—"
The purple lightning tightened, and his spell shattered. Just... broke apart into nothing. All that power, all that destructive force, negated with a simple hand gesture.
The demon stared at me. At the purple lightning still crackling around my hand. At my face.
And understanding dawned in those mismatched eyes.
"No," he whispered, and for the first time, I heard genuine fear in his voice. "You can't be—"
The purple lightning shot forward, wrapping around him. Slowly. Deliberately. Coiling around his body like chains made of crackling energy.
He tried to move. Tried to summon his dark magic. Tried to do anything.
But the lightning held him perfectly still, and where it touched his skin, frost spreading. Not cold, exactly. Something else. Something that made his flesh turn grey and brittle.
"Alisia!" The name tore from his throat—half recognition, half accusation, all terror.
My real name. The name I'd buried when I came to the Holy Land. The name that belonged to someone else, someone I'd tried to leave behind. My past self.
I said nothing. Just watched as the purple lightning did its work.
The demon's body began to crack. Small fractures spreading from where the lightning touched, like glass developing spiderweb patterns under pressure. The cracks grew, spreading across his skin, through his flesh, into whatever passed for his core.
"Traitor!"
"Traitor? Me? Ask yourself, who the traitor is."
The purple lightning pulsed once. Bright and cold and absolute.
The demon's body shattered.
Like glass.
Like ice struck with a hammer.
Like something that had never been truly alive in the first place.
He came apart into thousands of glittering fragments that caught the moonlight for just a moment—beautiful and terrible—before dissolving into nothing. No blood. No remains. Just... gone.
As if he'd never existed at all.
The purple lightning faded from my hands, leaving only the faint smell of air and the echo of power in the air.
I stood there in the empty clearing, alone with the silence and the truth that had just been spoken.
Alisia.
That name. That identity. That past I'd tried so hard to bury.
The demons knew. They'd always known.
And now one of them had seen me use the power I'd sworn never to reveal again.
I closed my hand into a fist, feeling the residual tingle of purple lightning beneath my skin. Always there. Always waiting.
No matter how far I ran. No matter how much I changed.
I could never truly escape what I was.