Agony.
It wasn’t a pain of the flesh, but of the soul.
Breathing was like swallowing sand, coarse and grating. Every step felt like treading on shards of glass, searing and sharp.
Lava seed to course through his lungs, yet his heart felt frozen, radiating a deep chill.
And yet…
The irony was that his physical form felt no pain at all.
“Gah…! You bastard, what have you done to !” the Marquis of Envy choked out, gasping for air.
All he had done was manifest his Mindscape.
Just as he always did.
He had envied others and tried to claim their lives for his own.
So why? Why wouldn't his Aspect move!
“That’s simple. My Mindscape is your polar opposite,” Lancelot stated, his voice steady as if he had read the Marquis’s expression.
“When I envied others, I used it as a whip against myself.”
“Ha!”
Ridiculous.
The only reason to envy others was because they were better off than him.
By divine choice, by so miracle, by the power of their house or their birthright.
They were worms who should have been beneath him, individuals who had gotten lucky and grabbed hold of a lifeline.
Where in any of that was his own fault?
If anything, shouldn’t they be the ones feeling the whip?
“Don’t you dare… lecture !”
The Marquis of Envy’s eyes blazed with red light as he stirred his demonic energy.
The energy, which had been completely inert monts ago, slowly began to move.
“Envy is a righteous emotion! Would they be any different if they were ?! If they had been as unfortunate as I, could they have prattled on about justice and goddesses?”
Envy was a fla.
A great conflagration that grew by consuming others.
“All who made feel envy must die…! Those fortunate bastards born with a silver spoon, and those who have poisoned , poisoned the world! They must all disappear!”
The demonic fla, now swollen to a terrifying size, shot toward Lancelot.
A re mass of demonic energy, not an Aspect.
Ordinarily, even this would have been enough to make Lancelot flee.
He would have thought of buying ti, of sacrificing himself for the others.
But not anymore.
Envy is a mirror.
It was a struggle to advance, a way to look inward and find fault, yet use that to claw your way forward.
It was a foundation for endless growth, born from comparison.
For that to be true…
“At the very least, I can’t run.”
Lancelot tightened his hold on his spear.
A tempest swirled into existence, gathering at the tip of his spear.
“How dare you! Don’t you look at like that!” the Marquis of Envy roared, charging at Lancelot.
CRACKLE!
FWOOSH!
The two figures rushed toward each other.
The outco was decided in an instant.
Schlick!
“Guh!”
The Marquis of Envy stared down at the spear shaft protruding from his abdon.
Lancelot’s weapon had pierced straight through his heart.
Perhaps as a side effect of using his Aspect, his body’s regenerative abilities failed to activate.
“This… can’t be…!”
The Marquis coughed up blood, his hands flailing wildly.
aningless gestures. A clumsy thrashing that even a commoner could have dodged.
But Lancelot did not avoid his hands.
Blood splattered against Lancelot’s armor.
“I am… an Imperial Prince of the Empire!”
Splat!
“A being whom all look up to! A man whom no one… no one is allowed to look down upon!”
Splat!
“I am the one who should be envied! I will never again… envy anyone! That is who I am!”
His pointless flailing continued.
A desperate struggle, fueled by spiteful screams.
Lancelot simply watched the incarnation of envy.
A being who had lived a life that was the very antithesis of his own.
Perhaps this was the future he might have reached, had he never t Lady Lea in his youth.
“I see,” Lancelot murmured calmly and gripped his spear. “I will not pity you.”
His spear moved.
Shhhk!
He ripped the spear from the Marquis’s chest and, in the sa motion, severed his head.
The Marquis of Envy offered no resistance as his head flew from his shoulders.
The pupils of the severed head trembled as its lips parted.
“I… I…”
The Marquis whispered one last ti.
And then, the form of the Third Prince began to change.
It lted into a writhing black substance.
Soon, it beca a single, small insect.
It looked like a cockroach.
This was the true form of a being who had reached the rank of Marquis among the Twelve Nobles.
The cockroach twitched, as if lacking the strength to move on its own.
And then it died.
The Marquis of Envy, who had plunged the North and the Empire into terror, died without even leaving a na.
* * *
The mont the Marquis of Envy fell, his subordinates, Martin Artezia and Paul, began to flee.
“Damn it! Damn it!”
With the Marquis’s death, the power of his Aspect that had bound the others was broken.
To make matters worse, the Demonkin forces had been drastically reduced.
Victory was impossible.
They weren’t foolish enough to continue fighting in such a situation.
“How the hell does a Marquis lose to so damn knight!” Martin Artezia scread as he ran.
He wasn’t even a Grand Master, just a Master-level knight.
And until recently, he had barely been clinging to the rank of Expert.
It was shocking enough that such a knight had beco a Grand Master, but the fact that he had killed a Marquis—one of the higher-ranking mbers of the Twelve Nobles—was unbelievable.
I should have run back then!
Martin bit his lip.
He should have fled the mont he t that Berg brat in the casino.
It was foolish to get cocky and try to avenge his sister.
Looking back, hadn't his life gone to ruin ever since he got involved with them?
Worse, after he beca a Demonkin, his father had stopped looking for him, and his sister hadn’t sought him out either.
All he had left now was this pathetic body and a sliver of demonic energy.
And even that is getting weaker!
The Marquis of Envy, the one who had granted him this power, was dead. It was only natural.
“Damn it all!” Martin scread.
Just then, Paul, running beside him, asked breathlessly, “S-Sir. Do you happen to know where we’re going?”
“Where do you think! As far away from here as possible!”
What did the destination matter?
Survival alone was reason enough to run.
“Without avenging His Highness?”
“Ha! Highness or not, why would I avenge a dead man? If you want to, go do it yourself!”
“No, that’s not what I ant, but…”
“Then shut up and follow ! The Grand Masters will be coming to their senses soon. We need to get farther away to be safe!”
Martin Artezia dismissed Paul and focused on running.
Then a voice ca from behind them.
“And where might you be going?”
A chill shot down their spines. The two spun around at once.
A group of knights stood there, watching them.
Knights from the North?!
Martin imdiately turned to flee again… only to realize his situation.
“…What?”
In front and behind.
Knights had surrounded them completely.
Judging by the Auras they radiated, they were at the Aura Master level.
The power gap was so vast they would lose even in a one-on-one fight.
“Damn it, who are you people!” Martin shrieked, chewing on his lip.
One of the knights who had ford the encirclent stepped forward with a smirk.
“Is that really so important?”
“What?”
“Who we are doesn’t matter. What matters is that the Duke knows who you are and wishes to claim the power you have left.”
Shing.
The knights drew their swords in unison.
“It is a ssage from your father. ‘My son, I ask that you die for the sake of my ambition.’”
“W-wait! What does that…!” Martin cried out, his face a mask of confusion.
But the knights said no more.
And just like that…
Slice.
Martin Artezia and Paul t a aningless end.
One of the knights muttered under his breath, “To think this is all the Aspect of Envy it contained. A dud.”
A red jewel glittered in his hand.
“We’re returning. Next is the trading kingdom of Diva. The target is the Martial Champion, Enoxia Brahms.”
“Yes, sir!”
With that reply, the knights vanished.
Only two corpses were left behind in the northern mountain range.
* * *
Lancelot let out a long breath as he cald his Mindscape.
He had ended the war in the North with his own hands.
And against a monster of a Marquis, no less.
Roxen had also ascended to Grand Master and faced one of the Twelve Nobles, but in the end, it was his captain who had dealt the final blow to the Count of Madness.
But this was different.
He had done it literally by himself.
He had snuffed out the Marquis’s life.
Of course, it was only possible because the others had fought alongside him at the start, and His Grace the Grand Duke had weakened the enemy.
Still, the feeling was strange.
Lancelot clenched his fist.
I saved them. I did it myself.
Without waiting for his captain, without sacrificing anyone else, and without sacrificing himself.
He had ended the war.
He felt as if he had reached a new height.
Just then, Mihaila, who had regained consciousness, finished treating Lady Lea and approached Lancelot.
“Thankfully, she’s past the worst of it. You froze the wound. Seriously, is this unit made up of nothing but monsters?”
“Heh, that’s a relief.”
“Don’t you dare smile. Now I have to look at your wounds.”
Mihaila shot him a withering glare.
In truth, Lancelot’s body was so battered it was a miracle he could still move.
It wouldn’t have been strange if he had dropped dead on the spot.
He should have been the first to receive treatnt, but he had pleaded with Mihaila to tend to Lea first.
“Tsk, becoming a Grand Master in less than a year. Where else would you find a unit with three Grand Masters and one on the verge out of six mbers?”
“And one of the remaining two is a forr saintess?”
“Shut up. It’s embarrassing enough that I’m even part of this group.”
“Ah!” Lancelot cried out as Mihaila tightened a bandage.
“There. Now get so rest. You need to recuperate for your wounds to heal. As for the others… many have been corrupted by demonic energy. I think we’ll have to wait for the captain.”
“Oh? You’re calling him captain now, too?”
“…That monster has earned the title. Anyway, I’m going. There are a lot of patients over there.”
Mihaila left to see to the other wounded.
Lancelot remained where he was, staring blankly at his surroundings.
The peace he had protected.
He gazed upon it and quietly closed his eyes.
“…What’s the situation here?”
For so reason… he thought he heard his captain’s voice.
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