"Now then, let us begin the test."
Before Arnauld could even process those words—
"U-uwahhhh! G-get away! Stop, don't come here!!"
"Eek—! H-help me!!"
His squad members began to scream, collapsing to the ground one after another. These weren't recruits; they were veteran paladins, hardened by years of combat. And yet, in the blink of an eye, their courage shattered.
Arnauld understood. No—he felt it deep in his soul. This suffocating weight, this overwhelming fear… it was the aura of the daemon before him.
With nothing more than releasing his suppressed presence, the daemon had reduced the battlefield to chaos.
"Oya oya? Only three of you withstood it?" the daemon sneered, his voice sharp and mocking. "Well then… I suppose that deserves praise. You have endured my *Demon Lord's Ambition*. For that alone, I will grant you the privilege of facing me directly."
The paladins' five-pointed barrier shattered in an instant. Those whose spirits had been crushed could no longer maintain the Holy Field.
Arnauld wiped at the sweat rolling down his temple, though it did little to calm his trembling. He forced his mind into overdrive, desperately analyzing what had just happened.
Impossible. It had to be impossible.
"Demon Lord's… Ambition?" Arnauld muttered, his voice hoarse.
He had never heard of such an ability. A mere surge of killing intent strong enough to incapacitate paladins? Not even the strongest demon lords could do such a thing—or so he had believed.
Unless… unless this being was closer to the legends.
Summoning his remaining willpower, Arnauld steadied his breathing. He cleansed his thoughts, tried to strip away fear, and finally managed to speak.
"Y-you… who in the world are you?"
The daemon smirked, his presence pressing down like a storm.
"Kufufufufu… I am Diablo. A loyal servant of Atem-sama, the sovereign of Eterna. And here, on this stage, I will prove myself worthy—seizing the first seat among his subordinates."
Arnauld's heart sank. And then Diablo twisted the knife even deeper.
"Oh, and before you mistake me for something lesser… I am no Archdaemon. I am a *Daemon Lord*. Do not confuse us again."
The words struck harder than any blade.
"We're doomed… we're doomed…"
Sophia, Arnauld's female adjutant, collapsed beside him. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she broke down in tears, like a child stripped of all hope.
A Daemon Lord.
Not merely a high-class demon. Not even equal to a great spirit. But a being that stood above—mythical, feared, and whispered about in forbidden texts.
They weren't supposed to appear in this world. And yet, here one stood before them—smiling, mocking, and radiating the promise of despair.
"Oya? What's wrong? You passed the test—so shouldn't you enjoy it?"
The daemon's mocking words fell on Sophia, Arnauld's adjutant. But she refused to look up. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled backward, shaking her head in refusal. No matter how much he taunted her, her spirit had already been crushed.
Arnauld clenched his jaw. He had fought at her side countless times. She was brave, dependable, a paladin who had stared down death without flinching. Yet now—this was the first time he had ever seen her so utterly broken.
And it made sense. Sophia was well-versed in the study of daemons. She knew their summoning rituals, their ranks, their nature. If she was this terrified, then the enemy they faced truly was beyond reason.
*A Daemon Lord… so this is what it means.*
Arnauld turned to his last pillar of strength. "Can you fight, Bacchus?"
Bacchus, his closest friend and right hand, looked pale but resolute. He nodded firmly.
"Good. Then it's the two of us. We'll overcome this trial… and when Hinata arrives, we'll crush this monster together."
Resolving himself, Arnauld exhaled sharply. He tightened his grip, steeling his spirit.
"Oi! Enough tormenting my adjutant and my men!" he roared, stepping forward with fierce determination. "Your opponent… is me!"
He thrust his palm outward. Light surged and condensed, erupting from his hand.
"Holy Cannon!!"
The brilliant orb of divine energy screamed toward the daemon. Among the spells wielded by paladins, Holy Cannon was simple—but its power was directly tied to the caster's strength. For Arnauld, the strongest paladin, its destructive force was immense.
The blast struck true.
And yet—
*Kshhh.*
The daemon caught it casually in one hand. His fingers curled. The sphere of holy light sputtered and shattered like fragile glass.
"Kufufufufu…" he chuckled darkly, flexing his scorched palm. "Not bad. It burns a little. But now… it's my turn, isn't it?"
The taunt rolled out smoothly, dripping with arrogance.
But Arnauld hadn't cast the spell for damage.
"Now, Bacchus!!"
While the daemon's attention had been drawn to the Holy Cannon, Bacchus circled behind him. With a roar, he swung down his greataxe—a weapon of legend known as *Demon Killer*, forged to sever the lives of even the most powerful magickers. Its sharp edge howled as it tore through the air, descending straight toward the daemon's back.
Arnauld didn't stop there. At the same moment, he raised his own blade high.
"Daemon Slayer—activate!!"
His sword erupted with radiant battle aura, flames of power enveloping the blade. Not mere magic, but his very spirit infused with strength. Five dazzling colors shimmered and intertwined, the power of the elements uniting in his grasp.
The strongest technique of the strongest paladin—his sure-kill strike.
Arnauld roared, his blade gleaming like a rainbow storm, and launched his attack at the Daemon Lord.
"Silence, you monstrosity! Take this—and die! *Ether Break!!*"
Arnauld roared, and a pure, blinding flash of energy ran down his blade. With the aid of an earth spirit manipulating *Weight Control*, the sword's weight and speed were magnified beyond human limits. The tip streaked forward, faster than sound, aimed squarely at the daemon's heart.
This strike was no ordinary blow. Cloaked in holy power and imbued with the attribute of destruction, it was a technique feared even by Archdaemons. Against them, one strike was enough to ensure certain death. Even a Daemon Lord should not walk away unscathed.
And this was no mere head-on clash. Bacchus' greataxe was descending at the same instant, perfectly timed to split the daemon's skull while Arnauld's Ether Break pierced his heart. Together, it was the perfect surprise attack. Victory seemed absolute.
*I've got him,* Arnauld thought with certainty, his grip tightening. To seal it, he twisted his blade in reverse, releasing its full weight. Gravity multiplied, and the blade struck with force many times greater than before. To the eye, it seemed as though the slash accelerated mid-swing, an unstoppable surge.
It was a technique impossible to dodge on first encounter. Arnauld's confidence was absolute.
But—
"Kufufu…"
The daemon didn't even try to evade. With the faintest tap of his toe, the ground convulsed as though alive, erupting upward. A jagged spike of earth shot out and smashed into Bacchus mid-charge, sending him hurtling backward through the air like a broken doll.
"Bacchus!!" Arnauld's heart seized, but he forced himself to commit. His blade was already past the point of no return, faster than sound, driving forward with annihilating force.
The strike tore through the shimmering barrier around the daemon. Ether Break connected. He *felt* the impact—bone, flesh, resistance. The blow ripped through Diablo's body, carving it apart.
Arnauld's momentum carried him through. His blade cleaved past, leaving only silence in its wake.
Had it worked?
He sprinted toward Bacchus. His friend was down but alive, staggering as he pushed himself upright. Relief flickered through Arnauld's chest.
But as he turned his gaze back to the daemon, his relief froze into dread.
For Diablo stood there still. Whole. Unharmed. His body, though seemingly cut to pieces, reformed as though the blade had never touched him. His golden eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.
Arnauld's throat went dry. His sure-kill strike—one designed to fell even Archdaemons—had landed. And yet… this creature endured, untouched.
The fight was far from over.