The burning behemoth staggered to a halt under the brutal barrage. Its hands flew up to shield its face, forcing it completely onto the defensive.

Once the behemoth curled up like a tortoise, Ophelia circled around to attack its spine. The number of silver swords embedded in its massive frame steadily grew.

“Hah, hah…hah.”

Ophelia’s shoulders heaved with each breath as she hurled the last three swords. Their tips barely pierced its hide. Jostled by the charred bristles, they clattered uselessly to the ground.

Ophelia’s attacks were potent. They excelled at neutralizing defenses by focusing all their power on a single point. Sharp and lethal, they were capable of felling a target in a single blow from a distance.

But such high-powered magical attacks came with an unavoidable drawback: poor fuel efficiency. It was an immutable law of magic.

Imbuing a sword with mana and then severing the connection was the secret to their devastating power, but it came with the inherent disadvantage of being a one-time use.

She repeated this process over and over. By the time she had thrown all twenty-four, the potency of her Silverbane had plummeted.

This was the first time Ophelia had ever had to unleash her entire supply of Silverbane.

Normally, her exorcisms ended with the first volley. Even against a Demon boasting the bulk of a Category 3 to 5, landing ten of her ninety-centimeter blades was, nine times out of ten, more than enough to finish the job.

Even if things got difficult, it was never usually a problem. There were always other Exorcists. That was the comfort of having allies.

But right now, she was fighting alone. There was no backup.

“Hah, hah… Heh. What a… cute little hedgehog… Hah.”

A sheen of cold sweat glistened on her forehead. She dropped to one knee, forcing a cynical smile onto her lips.

The behemoth remained coiled like a tortoise for a moment longer, but then it suddenly lowered its guard and began to move.

From between its powerful arms, burning eyes peeked out, locking onto Ophelia. It saw that its relentless tormentor was now exhausted.

The hatred blazing in its eyes was no figment of her imagination.

“…You can still move? Even with all those swords in you?”

“GRAAAAAAAAGH—!”

“Oh, this is not good.”

One can get used to anything. Even pain.

The burning behemoth overwrote its agony with flame and charged Ophelia, clawing at the ground with its powerful arms to propel itself forward.

Ophelia’s pained smile vanished, and she turned to flee.

I need a new plan. I can’t kill it. But I can’t run, either. I haven't even fought for five minutes. I have to at least buy enough time for Mister Akamuro to recover so he can get out of this hideout.

Ophelia drew a magic wand from her holster as she ran. She held it up before her face and muttered with perfect clarity, “Flesh that shuns the flame!”

The heiress cast a type of fire-warding magic upon herself, creating a resistance. Ever the exemplar, Ophelia had come prepared with a counter to fire.

Ophelia’s challenge was figuring out how to use the small island surrounded by torii gates in the center of the cavern.

Tears welling in her eyes from her throbbing leg, she somehow made it near one of the gates.

A thunderous stampede echoed behind her. The presence was closing in fast. 

Ophelia ducked, narrowly avoiding a sideways swipe. A massive, fur-covered arm—one that could span four times the girl's height—smashed the torii gate to splinters.

It’s so hot…! But I cast the spell…

Wincing from the heat, Ophelia looked up to see the next attack: a hammer blow. A massive fist came crashing down.

It was impossible to escape the reach of that long arm.

Seeing no other choice, Ophelia dove between Homura’s legs. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through her ankle.

Tears streaming from her eyes, she glanced down and saw her ankle bent at a sickening angle. It was the price she paid for running and jumping before the internal damage had fully healed.

The seething behemoth reached down between its legs and snatched up the immobilized girl in one massive hand.

“Ngh! Let me go!”

Ophelia used Focus to concentrate her mana into her fist, partially boosting the physical enhancement and hardness of her arm to twelve thousand percent.

She smashed her fist into the behemoth’s thumb. A counter-hammer blow.

A sickening crunch echoed through the cavern.

The force of its grip loosened. She was falling. Five meters to the ground.

“GRUUUAAAGH!”

Freed for only a moment, Ophelia was scooped out of the air by Homura’s other hand.

A colossal grip closed around her, and the flames roared with renewed intensity.

“Guh, uaaaghh, ah, ahhh…! You…! Nngh, ugh, uuuugh! Aaaaghhhh! Ahhh… No, aaaahhh!”

Homura’s burning eyes stared, transfixed, at the face of the insignificant human as she was burned and crushed.

The behemoth’s face was smiling.

Ophelia pushed her mana defenses to their absolute limit, trying to endure. But no matter how hard she fought, it only changed whether she died in two seconds or five.

The difference in raw strength was absolute.

Violent flames poured down, overwhelming the protection of her fire-warding.

Heat pierced her soft, white skin like a fork, causing it to fester, killing the cells, and scorching her with endless agony. It vaporized the moisture from her body, set her beautiful golden hair ablaze, and remade everything in black.

No matter how beautiful the lady or how valiant the gentleman, in the flames, all are reduced to the same charred carbon.

In her final moments, Ophelia’s mind was filled with the desire to escape the pain, the terror of death, and above all, humiliation.

Dying here…? It’s like a nightmare… It hurts… It’s so hot… I can’t breathe…!

This was too much to bear.

Her spirit breaking, Ophelia prepared to release her magical defenses.

And in that exact moment, something strange registered in her sapphire eyes, now nearly blind, their luster scorched away.

The behemoth had brought its face close to stare at the girl it was crushing. And behind it, Ikaku Akamuro, already catching fire, soared into the air, a full meter above Homura’s head.

How could he move? How did he get there? How was he so high?

The answer lay in the silver swords embedded in the behemoth’s body.

Like a climber using pitons hammered into a cliff face, Ikaku had used the protruding swords as footholds, scrambling up the behemoth’s charred fur in a single burst.

And then, he had launched himself over its head.

Even the behemoth felt the sensation of something scrambling up its back. It tore its gaze away from the girl it was about to crush and looked over its shoulder.

The eyes of the mortal and the high-level Demon met. Ikaku had his hatchet raised high.

He fell, slamming the heavy blade deep into Homura’s eyeball.

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