[What are you doing? Aren’t you going to finish it?]
Whether the mask was broken or not, the Mage simply stared blankly up at Mephistopheles.
Mephistopheles was much the same.
She made no effort to avoid the gaze directed at her.
[Or is this your first time seeing a demon?]
“…How.”
[But foolish one, you’d be wise to move quickly.]
Instead, she courteously bent at the waist.
Only then did her gaze roughly align with the Mage, who was practically crouched on the ground.
Swoosh.
A leather-gloved hand extended forward and stopped just beneath the Mage’s chin, leaving only the width of a sheet of paper between them.
[If the Hero collapses, you die.]
“……!!”
The lower half of the Mage’s face, now visible because of the broken mask, bit down hard on those delicate lips.
Anger.
Irritation.
Defeat.
Humiliation.
Fragments of emotion passed across lips gone deathly white, only to disappear again almost immediately.
“…Can’t you do it?”
[Unfortunately, my knowledge of magic is rather shallow.]
“You disgrace the name Great Demon.”
[If that was meant to provoke me, it was pathetic.]
Hmph.
With a snort, the Mage lifted the sword.
Thunk.
There was only one thing a blade driven into the ground could mean.
The engraving of the magic circle resumed.
[To think I would live long enough to trail around behind others and protect them. Life truly is unpredictable.]
Casting a glance at the Mage, Mephistopheles gathered the chain in her hand with one fist.
Clink.
The chain, which had…