(This Side Story was posted on the official website of Kishin Houkou Demonbane PS2 version. You can find it here)
Just as blood carries oxygen, mercury conveys magic.
The formula flowing across the steel body was countless arcane symbols. Helices, intricately entangled with the Azathoth magitron, repeatedly carved information into the Spiritual Domain, creating meaning transcending the realm of comprehension.
Magic’s initiation, the savage power of language.
Logic goes beyond human understanding, interferes with the world, and materializes miracles. This changed the cold, bloodless steel into hot metal.
A fist of iron swung downward. The destruction was not solely because of its mass. Rather, the blow imbued with magical energy. A spell ran at the speed of light below the Astral Domain. An attack on the fundamental basis, the very soul, destroying the definition of existence.
A sound of a collision, akin to an explosion, shook the atmosphere. The enchantment, packed with the meaning of [absolute annihilation], caused the Azathoth magitron to tremble.
The impact obliterated both the material and astral aspects, and the enemy could no longer support its physical shape. Losing its colonial control, the being emitted cries of anguish as pieces of its rotting form scattered as a bloody fountain.
Its spiritual body’s afterimage overlapped the decaying flesh fallen to the ground. However, the thing further decomposed into miasma and extinguished itself. Its remaining essence also dissolved into a jelly-like substance, then evaporated.
The enemy writhed in agony to hold on to its collapsing body. Its look resembled a giant wriggling snake, a melting slug, tens of thousands or perhaps hundreds of millions of leeches, and, oddly enough, it was similar to an innocent maiden.
This defied sensible creation; it was a deranged cosmos’ nightmare. A two-hundred-meter-long, gigantic chunk of flesh continued its expansion despite the mass having crumbled. A seed of malice flying in from outer space. That was a foul intruder that melded physically and spiritually with the planet’s essence, transforming everything on the celestial body into its own likeness.
The lifeform beyond life, breeding with the ferocity of animals and a desire to conquer like plants—an injustice nothing could overcome—yet a being just now defeated it, injecting it with the deadly poison called magic and bringing about its inevitable destruction.
A giant armored in steel of fifty meters. A humanoid created in God’s image.
The Grim Reaper reaps lives with an iron will and the ruthlessness of its blade. The great injustice that slays even the embodiment of unjust. What defeated the surpassing organism was an inorganic destroyer outside the logic of life itself.
——Deus Machina Aeon.
A Mechanical God bearing the name of [Eternal].
The load of unleashed magic shattered its extended fist. Mercury blood spilled out from the cracks between its broken fingers, glowing in the moonlight.
But Aeon did not mind the damage. Still wearing the face of a condemner, it stared down at its unsightly struggling enemy.
Its soulless eyes did not sneer. Only a merciless gaze froze.
+
The destroyer of steel. A god made from machine——a Deus Machina.
Deus Machina is a general term used for giant robots summoned by mighty Grimoires. They are the crystallization of the most profound magic.
It is a technology beyond human understanding. It is a power no mortal can attain. Grimoires summoning Deus Machina, and the sorcerers who contract them, are undeniably the world’s strongest.
Among such extraordinary Deus Machina stood another unit, boasting of being the strongest.
It was Aeon, a dark-colored Deus Machina summoned by the Grimoire [Al Azif].
Who would have known that inside Aeon, sitting in its cockpit, was a sweet young girl? This maiden, who seemed completely unsuitable to be on this gruesome battlefield, was none other than the Grimoire of highest order. She was the very [Al Azif], an otherworldly tome engraved with all kinds of heretical knowledge said to be lost in the present, written by a mad Arabian poet.
“——No.”
The girl muttered. Her tone resembled a young girl’s, but her heart held no feminine feelings.
“This isn’t sufficient.”
Her voice sounded hateful. Aeon’s broken fist, the one pummeled the foe with the spell of [absolute annihilation], appeared on the monitor before her.
Still, the enemy persisted. Despite the imminent collapse, the thing maintained its form.
That would be insufficient. [Absolute annihilation] was a long way to go. The absolute annihilation she had envisioned proved far more thorough. It was merciless. A [sublimation] so perfect that it gave no time for them to suffer.
To rephrase, it was an exhaustive, unforgiving, and perfectly merciful destruction. And she knew such a technique.
——Did she?
How? How did she learn of the magic not inscribed on her? How could she comprehend something she hadn’t seen, notwithstanding millennia of conflict?
……She was unable to understand. Despite her skepticism towards the method, the incomplete spell would still critically wound the enemy, regardless it being a mere imitation.
The knowledge she should not have known, but it went no further. A definitive element remained absent to further refine the sorcery. So what constituted it——?
A sword resided within the girl’s heart.
The sword is inanimate, yet shines beautifully in response to the noble spirit of the wielder. That is a pure blade. An innocent blade.
The girl strove for the image. She weaved her magic to get a little closer to her vision. Nonetheless, she failed to achieve her goal. It remained an aspiration too distant from her. Whenever the immeasurable distance crossed her mind, something beyond her comprehension troubled her spirit.
……What are you grieving for? What are you trembling about?
My heart is steel. My soul is for battles. I chase neither ideal, nor is this body assailed by apprehension.
——Then, why do I struggle?
A conflict free of belief and fear, namely, lacks purpose. My obsession with fighting is all I have.
What motivated me to push forward? What drove me to fight?
Living devoid of reason. Knowledge cannot be known. Ideals should never exist. Dread should not be felt. The contradictions are endless——.
And so, during the conflict, a myriad of thoughts consumed the girl.
+
A Grimoire’s strength is found when possessing a soul. When its spiritual level rises, it shall possess a physical vessel. The girl—the spirit of the Grimoire [Al Azif]—is also such an entity.
As Al Azif manifested on earth as a young lass; the will to [fight] grew in her. She sought Other Gods’ power to destroy those harming the world.
Other Gods. Or one might simply call them [Evil Gods]. In every era, these frightening beings have captivated some, thus posing a threat to creation.
Therefore, she would hunt down servants of the said Evil Gods, employing the heretical sorcery which tramples on existence and the diabolical magic surpassing it.
Using fiendish sortilege to destroy malice is contradictory. No, beforehand, a core paradox exists: to vanquish evil and safeguard the world is the purpose in life of the Grimoire, a compendium of demonic lore.
The girl, unsurprisingly, didn’t know reason behind this contradiction.
However——something is lying dormant deep within her recollections. That which slumbered is urging her.
If she keeps on digging into the depths of her memory to seek it——she will reach the image of that sword.
A distant ideal. An ideal which ought not to exist.
But the matter concluded long in the past. And it would be a promise in the near future——
Hate-scorched sky——
Righteous——anger——
——The sword——evil——
≪Sword≫.
[Warning. Violation of top secret information. Activate all white blood cell programs. High priority reinforced censorship. Maximum spell level. Begin to overwrite.]
——Whiteout.
+
“…...!”
She regained her clarity after breaking free from the loop of her thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, the situation changed.
The enemy’s cries stopped. An eerie quiet settled in. Had it finally finished?
——No.
“This is……!”
The thing broke apart.
Numerous cracks ran in all directions throughout the swelling mass of flesh. One might even say it has blossomed. That was a monstrous bloom in a toxic red and decaying yellow.
In the center of the flower, countless white bubbles ascended. They were [cottons]. The cottons continued growing, and they seemed ready to scatter from the blossom at any moment.
“Seeds!? That thing…… is using the last of its strength to spread the offshoots!”
The girl cursed. It was futile, given their widespread dispersal. The Earth would become a demonic world where these unclean races flourished.
A non-shriek voice resonated. The abnormal sound wave would have driven a normal person to madness if they heard it. A melody reaching high and low, down to the very soul itself. Would it be its song of triumph?
——I won’t let that happen.
“My master, do you hear me? We must finish that creature before its full bloom.”
Her words went to the other pilot. It was the girl’s master——the magus who formed a contract with the Grimoire [Al Azif] and another pilot of Aeon.
Al Azif waited for no response and activated her spell. Then again, they likely couldn’t reply. With every movement of Aeon, the pilot suffered agonizing magical feedback, feeling a body-ripping sensation. They must have been doing their absolute best to control the unit.
But even so, this enemy had to be destroyed.
A incantation naturally leaked from the girl’s mouth. It remained a prayer from another world, one outside Earth’s languages. The two otherworldly songs resonated through heaven and earth in a by no means incompatible chorus.
“Divine Gun Form.”
A column of light that drew a twin helix materialized before Aeon. It reached out to the radiant beam. The shimmer burst open, and a pillar comparable to Aeon’s full length came into being.
Aeon gripped a rod in its hand. It was a [wizard’s staff]. A metallic glow emanated from the trigger at the staff’s base.
Wielding the wand in both hands, it aimed its head towards the enemy. Its broken right hand’s digits forcibly entwined around the scepter, and its left hand’s fingers were on the trigger.
“I shall burn you up without leaving a single speck of dust behind.”
The tip from the rod [unfolded]. It deformed and grew bigger, defying Euclidean geometry and the laws of conservation of mass. The staff then assumed a new form.
An Anti-Spiritual Rifle.
Surrounding the barrel were many layers of magic cannon formations, spinning rapidly at a speed impossible to see. It was a spell motor that converted thousands, if not tens of thousands, of magical symbols into a language with [meaning] per revolution.
A vicious light emerged from the depths of the muzzle. It eagerly waited for the moment to be unleashed.
The enemy’s song became shriller. The seeds of a nightmare were about to be sown right then.
But before that could happen, Aeon pulled the trigger.
“Cthugha.”
It was the identity of the shot from the gun barrel.
White covered the world. All sound was stifled.
Destruction engulfed everything.
+
——Cthugha.
One of the gods known as a [Great Old One]. Its immeasurable dignity and absolute existence cause its power to manifest as a pure energy body when projected onto the material world. Its most common form comprised plasma, which Aeon’s magical staff had shot. A fragment of the god’s might manifested in this guise, scorching the entire area and purifying it with flames.
As a result——
“Return to the void.”
This represented the scenery. Far into the background, the earth had been excavated. The scars gleamed like glass. ——It melted. Naturally, nothing could have ever received this blow and come out unscathed. The enemy was eradicated, leaving no grain of dust behind, mirroring the girl’s unwavering declaration.
“……It’s over.”
The girl heaved a sigh of relief when the battle had ended. Relaxing her body, she leaned herself in the pilot’s seat. Absurdly, it seemed like a Grimoire could also develop a feeling of fatigue.
The muscles on her face, stiffened from tension, became loose. Heh…… she had a smile for the first time. Indeed, it proved a lovely and girlish grin.
“You held out pretty well, my master……”
At that moment, the magic wand clasped by Aeon came undone as a trackless string of runic patterns. The sorcery insignias that had lost their meaning broke down to the level of Azathoth magitron and dispersed shortly after.
Yet the spell remained undispelled. It dissolved on its own.
“……Master?”
There was no response, only a heavy silence returned. A bitter grimace crossed her face momentarily.
Checking the other cockpit’s status from this point proved impossible for her. Bestowing a light enchant on her own body, the girl leapt over to her master in a swift bound.
Although she approached close by, they did not react at all. The girl’s expression wore a blank look.
They were dead.
There were no injuries that appeared like external wounds. They just collapsed, with one tear of blood running down from their right eye.
Such was the expense of their magic, coupled with the price of a horrifying vision. Fear and insanity ultimately claimed their life. A death by madness.
“…………”
The girl glanced down at her master’s corpse while maintaining her expressionless face.
This was anything but out of the ordinary. Most people who fought against the servants of Evil Gods ended up suffering a similar fate. She herself witnessed countless such individuals personally.
A flask of hard liquor, their constant companion, laid near their corpse on the floor. That final shred of sanity was what the hero held onto after battling the cosmic horror and saving the world.
With care, she closed their eyes, still cracked. Her face showed no emotion, as usual. The young lass said a few words to her master with sympathy as she continued to put on her vacant stare.
“Thank you for going through such trouble.”
+
And so she found herself alone once more.
No one marked a name on their grave. Only the sabre her master wielded served as a grave marker there. With the flask’s last alcohol, she moistened the soil covering her master; then, she left.
She vowed to never turn around again. Looking back wasn’t a choice for her, either. In her unholy march, this body accumulated bodies of those who made pacts with her. The quiet end needed no more disruption from her than it already had.
Now, let’s move on to the following battle, where later evil shall appear.
The maiden stretched her hand to the daybreak heavens. Her gaze wasn’t on the sky; instead, it fixed on the noble saber right in front of her outstretched hand. A remote ambition.
The girl dreamed of the day she would get that sword, when she could achieve her distant goal.
What if? Just what if? Should this palm grasp that blade, and if such an act is pardonable, would my eternal solitude also come to an end? She wondered.
An ideal that cannot exist. Thus, such hope remains unrealistic.
The sun rose. Morning came on the glassy earth.
The girl walked towards the rising dawn.
Illuminated by its pure brilliance, something had sparkled dazzlingly beneath the girl’s pupils.
Then, as time passed by——
“Y-Y-You……! Why did you just stand there!? Blockhead, idiot, cretin! You utter fool!”
The girl——she and [him] shall draw forth the sword that smites evil.
