"Spirit Storm: Double!"
After several sharp turns in midair to evade the myriad elemental attacks Conrad cleaved out with the Imperial Sword, Yuno finally launched his counter.
Two luminous green pillars of wind mana roared forth, but even spirit wind couldn't outpace Conrad's reactions.
Conrad rose into the sky, slipped past both strikes, and flew straight into a fan of black crescents.
Asta hadn't wasted these six months. Not only had he gotten far more fluent with Black form, he'd also trained a new way to project Anti-Magic at range through the Demon-Dweller Sword.
Conrad, who'd studied up on Asta, certainly knew what Anti-Magic was, so he loosed a barrage at Asta while dodging aside.
But he still underestimated that power. Every spell he cast was carved apart by Asta's Demon-Slayer, doing nothing to slow him down.
Asta shot in like a black meteor and brought his blade down.
The Demon-Slayer's broad edge sank straight into Conrad's body—only for Conrad to burst like a soap bubble an instant later.
Clone magic, phantom magic… Conrad had too many spells to be sure which it was, but it definitely wasn't his real body.
Asta realized it as well, but Conrad appeared at his flank, the Imperial Sword already sweeping to cleave Asta in half.
He couldn't bring it down. Several fire dragons burst in from Asta's other side, weaving around him to bite Conrad as one.
The heat and density of that flame was like nothing Conrad had ever faced; he dared not take it head-on.
Before he could disengage, Charles's kick slammed into his back and punted him into the fire.
Layered wards were ripped apart, and the last dragon swallowed Conrad whole—then detonated.
The searing pain made Conrad's brow crease, but it didn't stop him from fighting.
A surging waterspout coiled up to douse the flames shrouding him.
Yuno had already locked onto him by mana sense. His wind-forged longsword split the current and cut for Conrad—
—only for the water to freeze midstream, entombing Yuno inside a tornado-shaped ice sculpture before the edge could land.
A mass of fire dropped from above and melted the sculpture to slush, but the freed Yuno couldn't push through; the steam blast shoved him back.
Charles strode out of the flames and drove a fist at Conrad.
Only then did Conrad notice Charles wasn't barehanded anymore. At some point he'd put on two mismatched gauntlets.
Charles's black-gauntleted hand closed on the descending blade.
It was like seeing the world-ending black dragon open its jaws: the mana edge extending from the Imperial Sword was ground to powder between the clawed plates of Charles's five fingers, and Charles simply clamped down on the sword proper.
To Charles's mild surprise, the Imperial Sword's crystal body was tougher than it looked. A moment ago he'd have snapped a steel longsword, but this blade remained intact.
Conrad yanked the sword back on reflex. The Imperial Sword was the keystone of his plan—he couldn't let Charles break it.
Charles had never intended to end this by smashing the sword anyway.
The result was Conrad, focused too much on protecting the sword and not enough on himself, eating several clean shots.
The last smashed into his face, teeth and blood scattering as Conrad tumbled away.
A surge of vines burst up to catch him, cocooning him in a woven mass.
Charles felt the life-force pulsing through the bundle: a spell that both shielded from outside attacks and healed within.
Asta was already there. The Demon-Slayer came down, and the vine cocoon split cleanly, exposing a battered Conrad.
Yuno seized the opening and sent a Spirit Storm that blasted Conrad across the skull. He flew straight toward Charles and Stella, both set to meet him.
Stella's delicate hand, now a dragon's claw, clenched into a fist, the knuckle-scales jutting as it crashed into Conrad.
Most of Conrad's body had shifted into a mana-state; he couldn't understand why the pain was so savage.
Charles slid through the gap in Stella's combo and continued the string, booting Conrad away.
After that beating, Conrad's grip finally slipped; the Imperial Sword spun out of his hand.
Asta stepped into Conrad's flight path and raised the Demon-Slayer—not to cut, but to turn the broad blade sideways and swat him out of the air.
Even with the flat, the Demon-Slayer in Black Divider form was saturated with Anti-Magic.
The mana halo behind Conrad shattered outright, and his body sloughed back from mana-form to flesh.
One glance at Asta's thick forearms, the cords standing out, told how heavy that swat had been. Conrad cratered the rock atop the demon skull.
Asta plunged the Demon-Slayer into the stone beside Conrad's neck, the edge pressing against his throat.
"That's enough. You've lost.
"You were once the Wizard King everyone trusted and admired. You swore to protect the kingdom and its people. How could you forget how that felt!"
Flat on his back, Conrad's face went even paler, but his eyes stayed unshaken.
"It's because I haven't forgotten."
He looked ready to die any second, yet his gaze seemed to catch fire.
Mana surged as he burned what life he had left, and the pendant at his throat lifted into the air.
It popped open. The photo inside entered Conrad's eyes—and Asta's.
"What is…?"
Conrad didn't explain. "For them, I will create a beautiful world—no matter what."
When Conrad first flared his mana, Charles hadn't cared. Cornered like this, it was just the thrash of a trapped beast. It wouldn't change anything.
Slowly, though, something felt wrong. He turned on instinct.
The Imperial Sword was embedded dead center in the demon skull, its prismatic radiance brightening as it drank in Conrad's mana.
It wasn't knocked there—it had been thrown there on purpose.
Charles grit his teeth and lunged. But the sword had already pierced the leyline nexus; the space around it was flooding with violent mana.
It took everything he had just to force his way in, and even with his hand on the hilt he couldn't budge the blade.
The others sensed both the surge and Charles's move. Faces blanched.
Yuno tried to help but was flung back by the torrent.
Asta drew the Demon-Slayer and walked forward without hesitation. Braced behind the blade, he used Anti-Magic to push through, one step at a time.
"Asta, give it up! The mana's already injected. The old world's destruction can't be stopped!"
Conrad bellowed, trying to shake Asta's will at the last.
Asta's steps stayed sure until he stood opposite Charles and set his own hand on the hilt.
"Who's giving up! I'm going to protect everyone—then, step by step, become the Wizard King! I'll change this country my way, not yours! The only magic I've got without mana is… not giving up!"
Charles's vision wavered. For a heartbeat, he seemed to see two dozen figures standing behind Asta, each wearing a splendid Wizard King cloak—Prinsia, Jester, Edward among them.
All of them watched the short, mana-less boy with the same relieved, approving gaze.
Then Charles felt it—the Imperial Sword, which had felt welded into the demon skull, finally loosened in his hands.
Uh-huh… what do you call this? Is someone running hacks here and nobody's going to do anything about it?
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