Chapter 342. I'll Do My Thing (2)

He had to stay calm.

Caron repeated those words to himself again and again. His eyes couldn't look away from Leo, sprawled on the ground as if lifeless. No—he could already be dead.

The sight of blood spreading across the floor made countless emotions surge violently inside him.

"Damn it," Caron cursed under his breath.

So this was how it felt. He wondered if it was this same despair Halo and his subordinates had felt when they saw his corpse.

His mind went blank. It seemed like the darkest of colors spread on a white canvas. It was a hatred that couldn't be hidden, self-loathing that gnawed at him until it filled his entire head.

"Owner,"

Guillotine's calm voice echoed in his mind, but Caron didn't reply. Instead, he poured even more mana into his sword.

The situation was, in truth, to their advantage. The time Leo had bought with his life had allowed Seria to perform her miracle.

The Demon Queen of Lust could no longer escape. The overwhelming holy power born of the Light held her firmly bound to this land.

"It's your fault. Isn't it, Caron Leston?" a seductive voice whispered in his ear.

Even in this cornered state, Lust never seemed to have considered fleeing from the start. Her smile shone, bright and unyielding.

Crackkk!

The dark mana she released bled into reality, and soon countless flowers sprouted around her.

"This is what came from letting me slip away once," Lust said, her tone mocking. "Leo Leston died because of you. How does it feel to know you killed your cousin?"

Caron couldn't deny it.

The battle in the Demon King's castle—two 9-Star knights against a Demon King and a Demon Queen—had consumed the entire fortress. Halo had engaged Havoc, while Caron had crossed blades with Lust.

But for the briefest moment, his focus had wavered. That monstrous black greatsword Havoc had swung tore through the battlefield, stealing his attention. Lust had seized the chance to retreat swiftly. And her next move had been toward Seria.

That was why Leo now lay on the ground.

Whoosh!

Guilt and hatred twisted inside his head, tangled and inseparable. Caron's azure eyes began to glow, stained with a deep, dark blue mana.

"Seria," Caron called softly.

At the sound of her name, the Saintess, pale and trembling, struggled to rise. She answered faintly, "Y-Yes, Warrior?"

"...How is Leo's condition?" Caron asked, his voice heavy with desperate hope.

Seria lowered her head, her expression grim, then said, "I... I need to check."

"Please," Caron said.

"...Yes," Seria whispered.

In the silence, Caron caught the faintest breath by his ear. Leo was alive. But his breathing grew weaker and weaker—at this rate, he wouldn't last long.

Even Seria, who had once revived the dead, had already poured herself into an immense miracle just moments ago. The holy power radiating from her now was but a faint glimmer.

Caron wondered if she could save Leo in her current state.

"Owner, focus,"

Guillotine said.

"I know," Caron muttered.

He was going to find a way.

But first—he was going to tear apart, limb from limb, that wretched Demon King whom even death couldn't punish enough.

Woosh!

The dark blue light in Caron's eyes blazed fiercely, his killing intent surging like a storm.

"I love that expression on your face," Lust whispered silkily as she stepped closer. "So he really was important to you? This is the first time I've ever seen you make that expression. Not even when I tried to turn your subordinate into a Death Knight... So is it the blood tie that makes it different?"

Her black wings unfurled with a slow beat. The wind stirred by them reshaped the battlefield.

The burning Demon King's castle was gone. In its place stretched an endless, breathtaking garden, brimming with roses in pink and black. Amid the blossoms, Lust smiled radiantly.

"Pour all of your hatred into me," she continued.

Shaaaaa!

Petals gathered into her right hand and hardened into a sword of crimson-black light.

Half-naked, Lust bent forward in a sensual posture and wrapped her hand tenderly around the blade's hilt. She raised it with deliberate slowness, pointing it at Caron.

"Tell me what look you desire. Ah... Maybe this one?" Lust asked.

Her own features rippled and shifted—from Beatrice, to Seria, to Amy.

Caron didn't falter. He stepped forward without hesitation.

"No reaction? Hmph. No lust at all, then? Even when I wear the faces of the women who liked you? They would have felt something. You're such a heartless man!" Lust laughed as though amused. Then her form rippled again.

"What about this face?" she continued.

A small girl now stood before him—the innocent visage of Aqua, who had once called Caron "Daddy."

But Caron's expression remained unchanged as he swung his sword.

Whoosh!

A tide that swallowed the moonlight surged toward her.

"My, my. You're the worst father ever," Lust said playfully as she cut the wave apart and wrapped herself in petals once more.

Caron advanced again, unshaken.

This illusion was flawless. It was more perfect even than the ones Sloth had woven. He could feel the perfume of flowers in every breath; every sense rang sharp and clear. Caron wondered if one could even call this a dream.

The Queen of the Succubi's power, exalted to the level of a Demon King, no longer conjured dreams but instead trespassed into the realm of reality itself.

Months ago, Caron could have been trapped in such a dream. That was how complete—and how deadly—it was.

"...Boring. Then how about this?" Lust suggested.

Knights in Imperial Guard armor appeared around her.

They were unforgettable figures. Once, they had followed him. Men and women of every rank and station who had staked their lives to fight beside him.

Now, these dead comrades leveled their blades at Caron.

"Commander."

"It has been a long time."

Their voices greeted him warmly, but dark mana wove illusions into every word. Caron didn't care. He cut through them with his sword, scattering their falsehoods like dust.

After absorbing Sloth's power, illusions like Lust's could no longer touch him.

"You could have played along with me a little," Lust pouted, eyes narrowing. "Now I'm hurt."

At last, she returned to her true form, saying, "I'm ready."

Her near-naked body was suddenly clothed in a white gown. Her black hair, tinged with crimson, flowed like silk across it, and her eyes glowed red. With her black sword in hand, she stepped lightly forward.

Click.

Her heels struck the ground, and petals scattered like sparks.

"You've grown, Caron. Or perhaps..." She smiled brilliantly. "Rael. I think I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

With her free hand she swept her hair back, baring the pale curve of her neck as she continued, "Come now. Use that sword and cut my throat."

The dream was complete. But Caron wasn't within it.

"Don't whine," he said coldly. He was already behind her, Guillotine pressed to her throat.

"I'll take your head after I've cut off your limbs," he added.

A savage tide roared, devouring every last black petal.

Without looking back, Lust murmured, "That works too. We can thrash around hot and wild, like the old days. Isn't that fun?"

From above, thousands of flowers rained like a storm.

Her dark mana and Caron's azure mana tore into one another, clawing and rending in a ferocious struggle.

***

From the very beginning, the end of this battle had already been decided.

"Argh!" Laia coughed up blood, then collapsed to the ground

The blackened, dead liquid spread across the floor like ink. Yet even as her life drained away, her gaze remained fixed on the figure before her.

It was the human who carried a dark blue blade. The human who burned with ceaseless hatred, striding toward her with killing intent that had never wavered.

"How regretful," she murmured.

If only she had been stronger, perhaps she could have matched him, if only for a little while. But with just half of a Demon King's power, there had been no way to win against him. The gap between them was far too vast.

Still, she felt no real regret. Her long, long life had existed only for this very moment.

"You could have come a little later," Laia murmured.

The plan hadn't been a poor one. If she had devoured Slaughter, if she had consumed a portion of Sloth's power, then perhaps she could have held out against him far longer.

But the human before her was no longer bound by the limits of humankind. The man now stood at a height that could rightfully be called that of a Demon King.

"Ah..." Laia sighed, then weakly stretched her hand toward Caron. Memories began to trickle back. They were memories eroded by time, worn thin yet not lost.

Every time Guillotine, that cursed and beloved blade tore her flesh apart, fragments of her past resurfaced. And then, faintly, she recalled a voice from long ago...

"...I'll kill you with my own hands. So just wait..."

Now, at last, she knew who that voice had belonged to.

"So it was you, Rael," she whispered.

Perhaps he himself didn't remember, but that didn't matter. Dreams were always most beautiful when cherished alone.

Squelch!

The vicious blade pierced through her abdomen. Blood spewed from her lips again, but her body no longer registered pain.

"You've grown so much," Laia said with a fond smile.

But Caron's reply was wordless.

Slash!

His sword severed her right leg. Laia's body no longer healed; the mana and Void's power coursing through Guillotine blocked any regeneration. Pain surged in waves, but it stirred no feeling within her.

All she could do was gaze at him with bloodshot eyes, brimming with a twisted affection.

Slash! Slash!

As promised, Caron cut apart her limbs. The illusions she'd woven had long since vanished.

Fwoosh!

The beautiful garden crumbled, revealing the burning Demon King's castle once more. Its vanishing form mirrored her own end.

I'm glad,

Laia thought.

She was glad she'd remembered before she died, and also glad she could leave an unforgettable memory behind for him.

Laia smiled brightly, even limbless, and said, "Time to finish this, isn't it? Take my power, hold on to that hatred, and cross the veil. The truth we sought lies beyond it."

It didn't even feel strange to say "we." At least to her.

But Caron only bit his lip as he looked down at her. He wondered why even after he'd torn her apart, the suffocating heaviness in his chest didn't fade. If anything, it only deepened.

"...Owner,"

Guillotine, soaked in her blood, let out a quiet sigh.

"You must end it."

"I know," Caron muttered.

He had no time left to waste on the Demon Queen of Lust. Raising Guillotine high, he met Laia's eyes.

He wondered why, in those smiling eyes, tears were falling now.

"Are you shedding crocodile tears?" Caron asked.

Laia shook her head and replied, "Of course not. I only regret not struggling harder."

If time had allowed, Caron might have tied her to a carriage and dragged her until nothing remained—but time wasn't on his side. Leo came first.

He nodded once, then swung down at her neck.

"Goodbye," Laia whispered, closing her eyes.

Slash!

Her head fell to the ground, the crimson light fading from her gaze. Thus ended the hollow downfall of the succubus who had stolen half a Demon King's throne.

But Caron's work wasn't finished. He stared in silence at the severed head, then turned sharply—

"Leo!" he shouted.

"Light, please deliver this young lamb from the shadows that drown him," Seria prayed desperately.

Leo now lay collapsed, his body stained in darkness.

Caron drove Guillotine into Laia's corpse and sprinted toward him, thinking,

Halo... Was this how you felt?

Revenge had been taken. But letting Leo go like this had never been part of the plan.

Selfish though it was, losing Leo was never an option. Therefore, he couldn't die.

"You can't die without my permission," Caron growled. "Just try dying, I'll drag you back from hell itself."

With that vow burning inside him, he bit down hard on his lip.