Midnight.
A path through the valley leading to the town where the kingdom's army was stationed. Even the moonlight barely reached the path within the valley, where a battalion of troops was advancing. Each of them bore a close resemblance to humans, but the pairs of horns protruding from their heads were irrefutable proof that they were something other than human.
Demons - although they may appear similar to humans in appearance, their true identity is fundamentally different from humans at an ecological level; they are undoubtedly a type of monster.
However, despite their human-like appearance, intelligence, and emotions, their mentality is no different from that of monsters. And, as is the nature of monsters, they desire to prey on humans.
Because of their near-human form, they were truly the natural enemies of mankind.
Now, these demons marched with silent confidence through the blackened valley, their destination a town where the kingdom's army lay unsuspecting. With every step, they drew closer, their anticipation growing. It was not the battle itself that excited them, but the spoils that would follow. In their minds, the victory was already assured.
Their superiority was a fact as unshakable as the mountains around them—superior magic, superior strength, and the element of surprise. These were their weapons, and they wielded them with the arrogance of those who had never known defeat.
They would unleash sorcery that defied human understanding, crush their enemies with physical power far beyond human limits, and revel in the aftermath.
Victory was already a given in their minds. The only thoughts occupying them now were of the pleasures they would indulge in once the humans were defeated. The taste of flesh, the warmth of blood—they could almost feel it on their tongues as they marched. It was more than a battle; it was a hunt, a game where the prize was the lives of the humans they would soon devour.
That is why—they failed to notice.
They didn't realize that the poison coursing through them had already taken its toll.
At the rear of the battalion, a demon who looked like a human girl marched with the others. Her pale pink hair flowed in the wind, and for a moment, a strange light flickered in her pupil-less eyes. She glanced up, sensing the time had come.
"It's about time."
—Trace On.
As she muttered in a cute yet monotonous voice, black mana converged on the girl's hand as she stopped moving.
The black mana in her hand eventually transforms into the sword the girl had once seen.
"...?"
Sensing that mana, the nearby demons turned towards the girl in unison, but before they could react—the poisonous girl moved.
There was a part of her, buried deep within, that recognized something was wrong. It was a small, secret part that whispered she might be breaking down, that she was straying from the path every demon followed.
No other demon would have done such a thing—would have turned against their own with such cold efficiency.
But even if she realized this, it wasn't in her nature to stop. The decision had already been made, and her hand was already in motion.
A cacophony erupted, shattering the silence of the valley.
The sounds of devastation—metal clashing, the sharp intake of breath before a scream. The sounds of slaughter—flesh tearing, blood splattering, the wet thud of bodies hitting the ground. The sounds of magic—incantations half-formed before they were silenced forever.
At the center of the chaos, the girl swiftly slashed through her fellow demons who stood in her way.
As they fall prey to the sword in the girl's hands, most of them are unable to comprehend the situation they are in. Just as they were confident of victory and were arrogantly thinking about what comes next, none of them can comprehend this abnormal situation.
But confusion wasn't the only reason for the massacre.
Even as some demons began to understand the danger, they found themselves powerless to stop it. Several demons finally realized that something was wrong and surrounded the girl, slashing with their swords and preparing to cast spells. They outnumbered her, and under normal circumstances, their combined power would have easily overwhelmed her. Yet the girl remained unfazed, her expression unchanged as if this were all part of a carefully planned routine.
Her movements were mechanical, almost detached, as if she were following a script only she could see. Her body moved with a fluidity that was unnatural, each motion precise and deadly. The sacred sword in her hand seemed to respond to her thoughts before they fully formed, shifting and adapting to her needs as the battle progressed.
One demon lunged at her, sword drawn, but she was already moving before he could strike. The sacred sword flashed through the air, and the demon's head hit the ground before his body even realized it was dead.
Another demon, a mage, began to chant, his hands glowing with the beginnings of a powerful spell. But the girl was faster. She closed the distance in a heartbeat, the sacred sword plunging into his chest before he could finish the spell.
"Prozessrolle, Demontagepause."
The sacred sword dissolved back into black mana, its form unraveling into dark tendrils that wrapped around her hand.
"Schwertimitation, Veränderung."
The black mana reformed instantly, this time into a trident taller than the girl herself. The demons' eyes widened in shock as the weapon that had just been a sword morphed into a spear right before their eyes. In that split second, they were torn apart by the sweeping rotation of the trident, their bodies rended asunder. Mana leaked from their wounds, dissipating into ashes as they crumbled into nothingness.
Only those who had taken to the air remained, hovering above as they prepared to cast their spell from a safe distance. But the girl was already anticipating their move.
"Schwertimitation, Veränderung."
During the trident's deadly arc, the girl had transformed her weapon once more, splitting the black mana into several short swords that she gripped between her fingers. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the blades skyward, each one finding its mark with unerring accuracy. The demons above had no time to evade; the short swords impaled them through the heart, neck, and head, sending them plummeting to the ground below.
Now, the only demons left in her path were those too paralyzed by shock to react. They stood frozen, unable to grasp the situation unraveling before them.
The girl leaped into the air, using the falling body of one demon as a stepping stone. Mid-leap, she transformed one of the retrieved short swords back into the sacred sword, and with a single, fluid motion, she brought it down on the remaining demons, cutting them down where they stood.
In the darkness of the valley, the weapon of her betrayal changed forms with every strike, an executioner whose face they could not see, whose presence they could not escape.
"—!"
The demons, caught in the chaos, struggled to comprehend what was happening. They thrashed and cast spells in blind desperation, but their efforts were futile. The girl was always two, three steps ahead, a phantom that moved with precision and intent.
She had meticulously prepared for this moment. Over time, she had gathered detailed information on every member of this Demon King's army battalion.
She possessed special eyes that allowed her to see mana, enabling her to use a spell called Imitation Spell: Erfassen. For days, perhaps weeks, she had used this spell to study them relentlessly, never resting, her focus so intense that it would have driven an ordinary person mad. All the while, she waited patiently for the perfect moment to strike.
Through her ceaseless observation, she had learned everything about them—their habits, their weaknesses, their routines. She knew the kinds of magic they favored, the time it took each of them to cast a spell, and even the subtle, unique flow of their mana right before they activated their abilities. This intimate knowledge allowed her to anticipate their every move with accuracy.
As they attempted to fight back, she could read the flow of their mana like a map, predicting their actions before they even knew what they would do. Her responses were preemptive, calculated, and deadly. No matter how they tried to adapt, the girl was always one step ahead, as if she were orchestrating the battle according to a script only she could see.
Her power to instantly create and reshape weapons to suit the situation made her an unpredictable and lethal force. Each movement she made was not random but a precise copy—traced and optimized from the human and demon warriors she had encountered in her past. Every strike, every step was an amalgamation of countless techniques, adapted perfectly to her own body.
Because of this, her form was never stable; it was fluid, constantly changing to match the needs of the moment. The demons, with all their experience and strength, found themselves unable to adapt to her ever-shifting attacks.
With continuous spinning movements and unreadable steps, she confused her opponents, bewildering them with weapons that were in a constant state of flux. Her honed skills, endlessly pursuing fluidity and efficiency in killing, might appear to onlookers more like a dance than a battle.
Here, in the darkness of the valley, even demons with their superior night vision struggled to clearly perceive their enemy. The suddenness of the attack, combined with the girl's rapid, unpredictable movements, made it nearly impossible for them to mount an effective defense.
But while the girl could not see their forms with perfect clarity, her eyes were locked onto the flow of mana within their bodies. It was this mana that guided her, allowing her to target them with precision, striking where they were weakest.
Despite being outnumbered, this battlefield was her domain, a place where her unique abilities gave her an overwhelming advantage.
She had positioned herself to ensure that she could act before her enemies had even realized the battle had begun. Her plan unfolded like a poison gradually taking hold—slow, inevitable, and utterly lethal.
With a final, graceful leap, she propelled herself toward the demon leading the unit, the one who stood at the forefront. This demon had been the most confident of all, certain of their victory, unaware that they were walking into a trap.
The demon general, towering over the others, radiated an aura of raw power and authority. His hulking form was a testament to his rank, his body brimming with mana that even a cursory glance would reveal was far beyond anything Linie could muster.
Yet, despite this overwhelming difference in strength, the young demon girl did not flinch. Her pupil-less eyes remained steady, cold, and devoid of fear.
"You... Are you Linie!?"
The general's voice was a low, rumbling growl, filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. He couldn't comprehend how a mere child, a subordinate, would dare to stand against him, let alone betray their kind.
Without a word, Linie dissolved the sacred sword in her hand back into black mana. With a fluid motion, she conjured new black mana in her other hand, shaping it into a pair of hand axes, which she then hurled them with precise aim at the demon general.
The rotating weapons flew toward the general, only to be deflected by the massive axe that had somehow already found its way into his hand.
"The Rotational Axe: Belwint"
That was the name of the giant axe wielded by this demon general.
The more it spun, the more the mana within the blade amplified, doubling its power compared to a normal axe's spinning attack. It was a magical axe that only this demon general could wield.
Weapons created by demons with magic to kill humans were all, without exception, crafted from otherworldly materials. This was even more true for a general-class demon.
"Rrrrraaahhh!"
Though momentarily shaken by Linie's sudden betrayal, the demon general immediately shifted his focus to eliminating the enemy in front of him. He swung the axe overhead, the blade spinning faster and faster as he brought it crashing down onto the earth with a ferocious roar.
The impact was cataclysmic.
The ground beneath them groaned in agony as it split open, sending a shockwave rippling through the valley. Debris flew in all directions, and the air was filled with the deafening roar of destruction.
"――――!?"
Linie, who had maintained a stoic demeanor throughout the battle, now found herself momentarily wide-eyed in shock. The sheer force of the attack was unlike anything she had faced before.
Reacting on instinct, she twisted her body in mid-air, assuming a defensive stance as she tried to regain her bearings.
There was no way the general's demons would miss that opportunity.
A massive hand, large enough to almost completely envelop Linie's slender body, emerged from the cloud of dust, grabbing her torso. Linie resisted, but she couldn't break free.
"I won't ask why. But――"
The hand gripping Linie tightened its hold.
"You've done a great job at turning this into a disaster! Thanks to you, everything has been ruined!"
His anger boiled over, and he bellowed with fury,
"YOU DAMN TRAITOR!"
The force of his words reverberated through the valley, carrying with them the full weight of his wrath. Any ordinary demon would have been crushed, not just physically but mentally, under the sheer pressure of his rage
The executioner of this traitor slowly looked up, her cold, unfeeling eyes fixed on the demon general.
"You...!?"
The demon general's voice, thick with fury and disbelief, rumbled through the valley. His massive hand tightened around Linie, attempting to crush the life out of her, but before he could—
Linie's lips moved, and she whispered, "Broken Phantasm."
In that instant, a deafening explosion erupted from behind the demon general. The force of the blast sent a shockwave through the air, and the ground trembled underfoot. Debris was hurled skyward, only to rain down as deadly shrapnel. The jagged fragments tore through the air, converging on the demon general's back, piercing through his flesh and armor.
Protected by the general's massive body, Linie was spared from the damage. Taking advantage of the moment when his grip loosened, Linie recreated the sacred sword in her right hand and thrust it into the general's arm.
"Tch!"
The demon general snarled in pain, the sacred sword cutting deep into his flesh. Unable to withstand the agony, his fingers uncurled, releasing Linie from his crushing grip. She dropped to the ground, landing lightly on her feet, her eyes never leaving her opponent.
The source of the explosion was none other than the hand axe Linie had previously created with her magic and hurled at the general. Though the general had skillfully deflected it with his Rotational Axe: Belwint, the axe had embedded itself in the rocky cliffside of the canyon. When the general's earlier ground-splitting attack had caused the cliff to crumble, the buried axe was dislodged and had fallen unnoticed behind him.
Linie then caused the mana that composed the hand axe to explode.
Though the explosion did little damage to the general, it created a small opening.
And that small opening was all Linie needed.
"Prozessrolle, Demontagepause."
She once again reverted the sacred sword in her hands back into black mana.
"You dare mock me again and again――"
Sensing the magic, the general turned back toward her with an angry expression.
Without any response, Linie infused the black mana from the sword with even more mana.
――――Judging the concept of creation.
――――Hypothesizing the basic structure.
――――Duplicating the composition material.
――――Imitating the skill of its making.
――――
――――Reproducing the accumulated years.
――――Excelling every manufacturing process.
"Schwertimitation, Veränderung."
――――Here I bind the illusion and make it into a sword.
"Wha—That's...!"
The demon general's voice faltered as he prepared to bring down his Rotational Axe: Belwint. His eyes, wide with disbelief, locked onto the sight before him.
In Linie's hands, materialized from the swirling black mana, was an identical Rotational Axe: Belwint—a perfect replica of the weapon he had spent centuries honing, a weapon he had believed to be unique, unrivaled, and exclusively his.
Let me repeat: weapons created by demons are all exceptional items crafted from otherworldly materials. These masterpieces are the results of the magic the demons have honed.
Demons take an extraordinary amount of pride in their magic, as they spend their entire lives honing their unique magic, which is passed down only to them in one generation.
In short, to the demons who create such weapons, the weapons they create are, so to speak, the fruits of their own honing and honing of magic.
If such a weapon were effortlessly mimicked, the demon's emotions would be beyond words.
"YOU BASTARD!"
The general roared, his face twisted in a way he had probably never experienced in his entire life.
His mind was in disarray, his thoughts scrambled.
Had his pride been trampled? No, this was far beyond that.
The general felt as if his entire life had been utterly trampled in this moment.
He could no longer stand, no longer hold his axe, no longer perform his techniques.
He was in a state of stunned rage, utterly paralyzed.
Ignoring the general's fury, Linie, who had leapt up using his arm as a foothold, muttered something.
"Imitation Spell: Erfassen"
Linie's weapon crafting does not reach the level of the original wielder's skill or strength. No matter how much she enhances the weapon's quality, due to her innate lack of empathy as a demon, she is fundamentally incapable of such profound mimicry.
Unlike the general, who had a minimal amount of respect for his opponents, Linie cared nothing for such things.
Therefore, she didn't need to use the same kind of possessed experience. But for Linie, that wasn't even necessary.
While she had mimicked the general's technique, the warrior she now recalled was someone else entirely.
She recalled the techniques of the greatest warrior she had once glimpsed among the hero's party. A warrior who wielded the same type of weapon but with even greater skill. If she could mimic the movements of a warrior of such high caliber, there was no need to imitate the skills of the general she faced.
――――Memorize the flow of magic,
――――Optimize the memorized flow,
――――Trace that path,
――――And now, make it a technique.
Linie, spinning through the air, swung the duplicated Rotational Axe: Belwint with her entire body. She spun four times in the air.
The blade of the axe, heated by the infusion of mana, descended from above the general's head.
This was a fusion of the magic axe the general had created over a lifetime and the technique of the greatest warrior among humanity.
Linie bisected the general's raging cry along with his body.
――――
Q&A Time!
xehsous2
Q: Does she not have EMIYA library of weapons ?
A: She have. But all of the are hidden very deep inside her soul. Well unless she can unleash UBW ofc.
Guest
Q: With how Linnie currently is, the only demon with the ability to understand human feelings - albeit in a very limited way yes but still an understanding in every way that matters - does that effectively make her the only truly sapient member of her species?
A: Somehow. You could think of her as a smaller version of Aura from my other work, 'Frieren: Understand Humans, Aura' in her understanding of human emotions after Aura comes to understand 'Guilt and Sorrow' because Aura concludes on her own that she inadvertently caused the massacre of people she knew.
Hmm, it seems like there are only two questions in all the reviews, huh?
Alright, for chapter 3, I think that's all for now. The update for chapter 4 is expected next week, and the next update will be the fic 'Reincarnated As Aura' tomorrow.