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At the bottom of the large crater left after Orun and Stieg disappeared, Fuuka and Dimon faced each other.
"A surprise attack? You've got some nerve looking down on me. I'm definitely killing you! Scream and cry all you want—I won't show any mercy, so brace yourself!"
Dimon, fully recovered from the damage of Orun's attack, turned bloodshot eyes filled with rage toward Fuuka.
"…Save the chatter. Just come at me already."
In contrast, Fuuka held her blade ready, clad in cold, sharp killing intent.
"You little brat!!"
Irritated by Fuuka's words, Dimon charged forward using rapid movement, veins bulging on his forehead. He swung his greatsword down with tremendous force.
That entire sequence of motions was so fast that ordinary people could not even react. Most fights would end right there.
But the opponent Dimon faced was Fuuka Shinonome—the princess of the Kyokuto region and a swordswoman who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts.
Right before Dimon's greatsword could reach her, Fuuka's figure blurred.
In the next instant, she was no longer in front of him.
"Gaaah!?"
Dimon's agonized scream echoed through the area.
Behind him, Fuuka stood with her back turned, flicking the blood from her now copper-red blade.
Blood poured endlessly from the deep gash in Dimon's side where he clutched it with his hand as he dropped to one knee.
Fuuka turned around and looked down at him with icy eyes.
"T-that blade… Is it a cursed blade!? Then you're…!?"
Dimon's voice shook with agitation as he stared at Fuuka's weapon.
But his shock quickly faded, replaced by an expression of growing delight.
"—So you're the Sword Princess! You came to me all on your own! Hahaha! This is the best!"
Dimon's eyes sparkled as if he had already forgotten the pain of being slashed.
He gripped his greatsword tightly, and just like Fuuka's blade, its edge began to glow with a copper-red hue.
"At last. The day has finally come! Come on, let's do this! Let's have a fight that surpasses human limits!"
Dimon raised his greatsword with a joyful roar, preparing to unleash a slash.
In that exact moment, Fuuka used rapid movement to step inside his range.
"…Sorry, but you're not strong enough to have a deathmatch with me."
She stated the fact calmly while swinging her blade at his greatsword, which had not yet been infused with any power. With a fluid follow-up strike, she cut into Dimon as he staggered from the impact.
"Guuh…! Not yet!!"
Blood sprayed from Dimon's wound and began moving as if it had a will of its own. Sharp, pointed clumps of blood lunged at Fuuka.
She dodged them gracefully with elegant footwork and blade work while creating distance.
Dimon closed in after her. Once he was in range, he swept his greatsword sideways.
Fuuka did not even glance at the massive blade rushing toward her. With the bare minimum of movement, she evaded it completely. The swing missed by a hair's breadth, leaving Dimon wide open. Fuuka's copper-red blade tore into him, carving countless cuts across his body.
"Gah!?"
Fuuka's assault did not end there.
She flowed smoothly into his guard and placed her hand against his blood-soaked chest. She unleashed a powerful strike infused with an external shockwave of ki.
"Agh!?"
Dimon coughed up blood as he was blasted backward, bouncing twice before tumbling across the ground.
"…! Impossible… Me, unable to lay a hand or foot on her…? No way… something like this…"
Still face-down on the ground, Dimon muttered like he was delirious as he faced the overwhelming difference in their strength.
"Is this all the power a Western ogre has?"
Fuuka slowly approached while murmuring in a bored tone.
"Damn you…! Don't look down on me…!"
"I've already seen the bottom of what you can do. I'm done. Exorcising Western ogres isn't my specialty, but I'll do it properly, so rest easy."
Auras of pale cherry-blossom magical power, almost white, began to coil around the copper-red blade in Fuuka's grip.
Vampires—beings spoken of in legends since ancient times. The Cyclamen Church had conducted human experiments to create them. After years of research and testing, they had finally succeeded in producing a demonic being that reflected vampiric traits.
That being was the Battle Ogre, Dimon Ogle.
He had mastered the art of controlling blood, possessed physical abilities far beyond ordinary humans, and held astonishing regenerative powers—though still inferior to true self-healing.
"You're going to exorcise me? Don't fuck with me!! I'm going to kill you and become a perfect existence that transcends humanity! There's no way I'm dying in a place like this!"
Dimon staggered to his feet.
With his incredible recovery, the damage Fuuka had inflicted should have healed almost instantly.
However, the copper-red blade Fuuka wielded while releasing her youki was a special weapon designated as a national treasure of the Kyokuto region. Cursed blades granted their wielders various things, both good and bad. And they possessed special effectiveness against inhuman beings such as youkai and demons.
Dimon, as a demonic being, was no exception. The multiple slashes he had received had severely hindered most of his regenerative ability.
Fuuka at full strength versus a battered Dimon.
The outcome already seemed decided.
Fuuka sheathed her copper-red blade, now wrapped in cherry-blossom magical power.
"—'Don't move'!"
Dimon hurled his special ability at her through his voice.
"!?"
Fuuka's movements froze the instant she heard it.
She must not have expected it—her eyes widened as she drew in a sharp breath.
"Ahahaha! Touching my blood was careless of you!"
As Dimon laughed triumphantly, a dark red mist began to rise from his body. Gradually, his form started to dissolve into the mist.
The mist-form Dimon drifted toward Fuuka.
She waited—patiently—for the moment when he would let his guard down and come close.
The instant Dimon stepped into her range, she loosened the guard on her scabbard.
Normal attacks would not reach him while he was in mist form.
But the blade she held was a cursed blade.
"—Scattered Cherry Blossoms."
Fuuka drew her blade at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
The copper-red blade, amplified with magical power inside the scabbard, sliced through both space and Dimon.
The scattered mist gradually gathered back into one spot, revealing Dimon with a deep, severe cut across his body.
"W… why…?"
Lying on the ground, Dimon could not hide his shock at being slashed by Fuuka, who should have been unable to move.
Fuuka extended her left hand toward him. The air around her hand began to shimmer like heat haze.
"I was covering my hand with ki like a glove, so I never actually touched your blood."
Hearing her casual reply, Dimon let out a dry laugh.
"So it was a bluff… Also, how the hell did you know the details of my special ability…?"
"Even if a fact is erased from existence, it remains recorded in the laws of the world. Our king can see that."
"Reading the laws of the world…? Does that mean the King of Special Ability Users has regained his power…? Ah, shit! Then things are just about to get fun…"
Dimon muttered with clear regret.
"Hey, can't you just let me go? After hearing a festival like that is about to start, I can't die here."
"That's not up for discussion. The fact that you're talking about 'fun' and 'festivals' is reason enough not to leave you alive."
"…Yeah. Damn it…! So this is the end, huh. Hey, was I strong?"
Having accepted his death, Dimon asked Fuuka one final question.
"…You weren't bad. But still not enough."
"Ah, I see."
Hearing her answer, Dimon's face twisted into a complicated expression—regret mixed with a strange sense of satisfaction.
Fuuka brought her blade down on him.