Time passed, and the location shifted to the Northern Lands. At the peak of the Schwer Mountains, an unusual event was unfolding.
"Gah, guah...!?"
A male demon, clutching a sword in his right hand, spat out a spray of blood that stained the white snow beneath him.
Surrounding him were numerous demon corpses, lying scattered about, which were gradually dissipating into black mana.
"W-why…?"
Coughing up more blood, the demon man forced out a question as he gazed in disbelief at the figure standing before him. This was a situation he had never anticipated.
He had stolen a sacred sword, once owned by a legendary demon, but now preserved as an heirloom by the noble human family of Graf Dach. He had gathered a large group of companions and journeyed here, to the desolate heights of the Schwer Mountains, to test its power on the unsuspecting humans of a remote village.
And yet - everything that had happened since he arrived here until now was a reality that was difficult for the male demon to accept.
"Why… why do you have that sword… What are you planning... Linieeeee!?"
The true identity of the assailant was the same demon girl who was now driving a sword through his chest, her face as cold and impassive as the snow-covered peaks around them.
The sword in her hand was identical to the sacred sword held by the male demon. Normally, one would suspect it to be a forgery. It would be dismissed as a mere counterfeit created by magic.
However, the male demon, seeing it up close, realized the truth.
The sword in the girl's hand was comparable in every respect to the sword he possessed - its sharpness, material, shape, and even structure.
He couldn't believe any of it. That the young demon girl, whom he had picked up in a burned-down village, a girl who hadn't even lived half as long as he had, would suddenly turn against him like this.
And the fact that this girl possessed a sword identical to the sacred one he held, a sword that was supposed to be unique.
That she had single-handedly annihilated his entire squad.
All of this was unacceptable to the male demon.
He had thought he understood the magic of the girl who had been his comrade.
"Imitation Spell: Erfassen"—A magic spell that exploited her ability to perceive the flow of mana, allowing her to memorize the mana coursing through her opponent's body and replicate the movements of seasoned warriors.
He knew that to utilize this magic, she could create melee weapons like axes and swords using her own mana.
But—never had he heard that she could perfectly replicate a sacred sword that was supposed to be unique in the world.
As he struggled to make sense of this, the girl's emotionless face, with the sword still embedded in his chest, slowly lifted to meet his gaze, her eyes devoid of warmth.
Her expression was the same as always, making it hard to discern what she was thinking.
Yet, in this situation, those normally cold and inorganic eyes seemed terrifying.
It was as if, for the first time, he realized that this girl had always been watching them with eyes like these.
The blade in his chest was ruthlessly twisted, eliciting a strangled gasp from the demon.
Then, without a hint of hesitation, she swung the sword horizontally, slicing through his body from the inside.
"Ahh――"
Flesh and blood, along with dissipating mana, sprayed out, staining the snow in crimson hues, as the male demon's body began to give out.
No one could deny that this wound, inflicted by a sword once wielded by a famous demon, is beyond repair.
With a clatter, the sword in the male demon's hand fell to the ground.
With a thud, he collapsed, lifeless.
"..."
The sacred sword in the girl's hand gradually dissipated into black mana and vanished.
She then picked up the real sacred sword that the male demon had dropped and drove its tip into his heart.
"W-wait…"
The male demon, who still had a little breath left, tried to say something, but the girl paid no attention to him and pressed the tip of the blade into him.
With a squelch, the sword pierced through his heart, the force of the strike driving it into the frozen ground beneath him.
Then, the male demon's body began to disintegrate, dissolving into black mana that was carried away by the dry, biting wind of the Schwer Mountains. All that remained was the sacred sword, embedded in the snow like a gravestone, marking the spot where he had fallen.
"..."
The demon girl, Linie, gently removed her hand from the hilt of the sword and, without changing her expression, looked up at the moon visible from the peak of this mountain range. The sky was clear, and the pale moonlight reflected off the snow-covered landscape, casting an eerie glow over the scene.
For decades, since she had been forced to follow that male demon—and now Linie had grown strong enough to consider herself stronger than him and his squad, and she had finally risen up in rebellion against them, and she had succeeded.
Linie's unique magic to perfectly replicate melee weapons had been the key to her victory. Not only did she mimic the movements of the human warriors who had opposed them, but she also memorized the patterns of her demon squad's movements from the flow of their mana, learning their habits and the openings in their spells. Silently, she honed her power, waiting for the right moment.
To lull them into a false sense of security, she even practiced techniques to suppress her mana, something that would be considered taboo and disgraceful by demons who took pride in their mana and magic. But for decades, Linie never ceased in her efforts, all to kill them.
Now that it was over, Linie felt a sense of relief. The snow crunched beneath her feet as she took a step back, her gaze still fixed on the moon. The wind howled through the peaks, carrying away the last traces of the male demon's existence.
She would no longer be haunted by that scene.
In the world of demons, the strong devour the weak. Demons with weaker mana have no choice but to obey those with stronger mana.
Finally, Linie had escaped from that oppressive shell.
"Now I won't be haunted by that image that's burned into my mind anymore."
—The hellish sight of that burning village…
"What is this, seriously?"
Though her expression remained unchanged, Linie spoke in a slightly irritated tone, pressing a hand to her head.
She had thought it would vanish.
That the image of that burning orchard, the sensation of the flesh of those two humans lingering in her mouth, all of it would disappear.
Because of the frequent flashbacks of that scene, Linie had been unable to stomach human flesh. Every time she tried, the revulsion from eating those two humans would resurface.
Linie thought that the reason she still couldn't get that scene out of her head was because it was proof of her powerlessness as a demon.
So she believed that if she could just kill this man, the one who had forced her to endure so much for so long, she would be able to overcome that scene and the revulsion she felt. Then, perhaps, she could once again enjoy the life of a proper demon.
But even though she had achieved that goal—defeated him, watched him disintegrate into nothing—the image in her mind and the sensation in her mouth did not disappear.
It was as if a void had opened up in her chest, an emptiness that she couldn't explain. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she was free, the void remained, gnawing at her from within.
The demon girl, Linie, left the sacred sword standing like a gravestone and began her descent from the mountain peak. The cold was biting, and though her demon blood made her resilient to the chill, she felt no desire to linger. There was nothing here for her anymore—just the cold wind and the remnants of a battle that brought her no satisfaction.
As she descended the mountain, Linie pondered.
—Perhaps if she continued to kill other demons, this void in her chest might be filled.
Linie was rare among demons in that she understood her own limitations. She wasn't blinded by arrogance or the overconfidence that often led demons to their downfall.
This time, she had managed to succeed by betraying her comrades and taking them by surprise. It wasn't brute strength or overwhelming power that had brought her victory, but cunning, patience, and a willingness to do whatever it took to survive.
Therefore, simply continuing to kill demons would eventually lead to her being caught and easily killed once she was noticed.
Then, what should she do?
"Oh, I see. It's simple, isn't it?"
Thinking it over, Linie came to a conclusion. Her voice, soft and almost childlike, echoed faintly through the mountains as she spoke to herself.
It was a remarkably simple one.
"I'll just do it again. Like I did this time."
By disguising her mana levels, infiltrating the Demon King's forces, memorizing their movements, mimicking them, learning their habits and weaknesses, and then striking when they least expect it. It would be a cycle, a game of cat and mouse where she was always the one in control, always the one with the upper hand.
Having set her course, Linie descended the mountain with firm steps. Her breath puffed out in small clouds in the frigid air, but she didn't slow down. There was no hesitation in her steps, no doubt in her mind. The emptiness within her was still there, but now she had a plan to fill it, to drown out the memories that haunted her.
—Her back, ironically, bore a slight resemblance to the partner of justice who, knowing their own strength, efficiently eradicated evil.
The next day, the moon set and the sun rose again at the top of the mountain. The world moved on, indifferent to the events that had transpired in the night.
The hero party, tasked with retrieving the stolen sacred sword, arrived at the site. The scene before them was one of eerie stillness. The sword was still embedded in the ground, its blade gleaming in the morning light, a silent testament to the battle that had taken place.
They successfully retrieved the sword and returned it to Graf Dach, fulfilling their mission.
…However, they couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was off. The air felt heavy, as if it carried the weight of something unseen. When they realized the demon responsible for the theft was nowhere to be found, that unease only deepened.
There were no signs of a struggle, no trace of the battle they had expected. Only the sword, standing alone in the snow, and the knowledge that somewhere out there, a demon girl walked away from the scene, her purpose still shrouded in mystery.
—
――――I am the bone of my sword.
My body is made of swords.
――――Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.
Blood does not flow; my heart is a whetstone.
――――I have created over a thousand blades.
I have surpassed countless battlefields without defeat.
――――Unneeded of scars,
I have yet to acknowledge defeat,
――――Nor needed of wings.
Nor do I seek victory.
――――Till I realize this pain, I have created weapons.
Here, a stray child knocks on the decaying trees of the graveyard of swords.
――――Now, my hands will never hold onto anyone's.
Already, this life will never bear fruit.
――――Because, my all might was for...
This body was long ago――
"Unlimited Blade Works."
Made entirely of infinite swords.
—
AN:
If the reason little Linie likes apples is because she once received an apple from a human who was deceived by her appearance, it would be kind of heartwarming, wouldn't it?
Incidentally, the current Linie is currently unaware of the reason why she continues to fight, so she cannot recite the incantation that spells out her life story, and therefore cannot activate "Unlimited Blade Works." (Just as Archer and Shirou's inner worlds differ, Linie's inner world also differs from theirs, as well as from Miyu's brother, except for the fact that infinite swords are embedded within it.)
Also, since Linie is still a demon, she fundamentally lacks the capacity for empathy, making the use of possession experiences impossible. (Meta-wise, if she could use possession experiences, it would diminish the significance of her specialty, the mimicking magic. Alternatively, if possession experience were possible, she could potentially remember the flow of mana in her own movements from the possession experience and incorporate it into her own technique, without directly facing the original source—a slightly overpowered ability.)