Crazy Britain:They’re All Raising Me

The steel core of his gauntlet hummed like a furious roar.

The demon's heart within his chest pounded like a war drum.

The wound across his torso healed in an instant. Guinevere surged forward, his blade cleaving straight toward Melusine.

"This is—"

Melusine's eyes widened in sudden terror, and without hesitation she sprang backward, narrowly evading his strike.

But as she put distance between them, Guinevere thrust his gun-barrel aloft.

Gun Devil Core: Lock acquired.

Divine Flames of Judgment: Enchantment complete.

[Skill Upgrade: Base power of Divine Flames increased.]

[New Effect: Massive Bonus vs. All Targets.]

"BOOM!" A shell screamed from the barrel, slamming into Melusine's mask and blasting it away, sending her reeling.

—Not only Melusine, but the other two witnesses were frozen in shock.

What on earth…?

Altaïlia's head ached with dreadful memories. That monstrous silhouette belonged to the tyrant who destroyed all hope, the demon lord no one could defeat—the one she had once failed to save.

Why…? How…? Why had Guinevere taken this form? Could it be—

Altaïlia realized a grim possibility. Just as she had once granted Guinevere the power to amplify himself by bonding a legendary sword in another simulation, Bavantzy must have fulfilled some hidden condition to bestow him this demon form. And now the system had seamlessly endowed him with this ability as if he'd always possessed it.

She understood, yet her heart burned with indignation. She would have preferred he become a demon hero only after they'd grown closer—not like this, right before her eyes, protecting Bavantzy!

Bavantzy, by contrast, simply cheered.

"Wonderful! I knew you'd be okay, Guinevere! Go on—defeat that evil knight!"

But her words died in her throat. Guinevere's form blurred past, slamming into the wall behind her so hard it cracked. She stared, stunned.

Melusine, having remasked herself, said coolly,

"Pathetic. You nearly fooled me—if it weren't for that shot just now."

Her lips curved beneath the metal. The shot had been too weak—nothing like the volleys that had once blasted Melusine from the sky in the simulation. Clearly, this demon form was still unpracticed.

She drew both sword-scabbards forward.

"Since you insist on siding with Bavantzy, then you must be cut down before you ever truly rise."

Her twin scabbards gleamed. Bavantzy summoned magic—only to have it cleaved in two. Then Melusine's gauntlet struck her gut, hurling her across the corridor.

"Truly weak." Melusine muttered, stepping forward to finish the blow—

—Only for Guinevere to interpose himself in a heartbeat. Melusine's blade hung in midair.

"Can we… reconcile?" Guinevere gasped.

In the next instant, her scabbard chopped clean through his skull.

No blood remained to feed his demon form; the wound exceeded his regeneration threshold. With a gasp, his demon state collapsed—and he fell cold.

Endless Trial activated. Time rewound to the moment Guinevere had first been thrown across the hall by Melusine's punch.

Pain—agonizing, soul-splitting pain. Even at his peak, such a clean execution would have shattered his resolve.

Yet now, as a born-of-fear demon, all instincts to cower were gone. Only his fury remained. His gauntlet buzzed anew, his eyes burning white-hot.

Melusine's sword never struck him twice, for Guinevere's body moved by bloody reflex—avoiding the next beheading blow.

But Melusine's practiced speed remained overwhelming. Even as a demon, Guinevere's base attributes fell short of matching an A-rank fairy knight of her caliber.

"I admit I was… arrogant."

When Melusine prepared her next lethal strike, Guinevere somersaulted aside, landing in a rough roll. Disaster for a gentleman? Perhaps—but against this level of foe, survival mattered more than courtesy.

He sprang up and raised his gun-arm. A single bullet materialized—

Melusine's second strike bisected his arm and fired the bullet from his hand.

Melusine's third strike beheaded him outright again.

"Damn, she really lands a mean hit."

Again time rewound. This time Guinevere abandoned his chance-shot entirely, putting every ounce of himself into evasive rolls—no room for his "Starlit Gaze" to lock on, no matter how precise. He could not match her uncanny speed.

He tumbled and yelled,

"Where are the teammates?! Come save me—come save me!"

Melusine paused, sword-scabbard raised.

"Teammates? What folly… Do you think you and Bavantzy stand a chance?"

"Within fairy knights there is hierarchy. Don't compare me—who gains strength from my title—to that… disgrace you cling to."

She advanced, relentless:

"If you dare threaten Britannia, be prepared to pay the price."

Her blade flashed. Guinevere braced… but could not dodge a perfect strike.

His body skewered through the shoulder onto the wall. Melusine lifted her scabbard—ready to strike again—

—when a scarlet arrow burst toward her face. She tilted aside.

"Worthless," she snarled. "Such a petty sneak attack…"

But the arrow swivelled in midair and plunged into Guinevere's mouth.

That arrow's composition. Guinevere's pulse soared. Despite his ripped shoulder, he charged Melusine, letting her blade tear him further—

"You—"

She staggered back, then cleaved his head once more.

But as that head flew free, Guinevere yanked it back to his neck, astounding Melusine with the sight.

His wound already healed in the blink of an eye.

—What sorcery? Why such rapid regeneration?

And above it all, floating in mid-air by arcane will, Bavantzy's spilled blood drifted around her hand like living droplets.

This was the reward she'd won at the final act of the simulation.

Noble Phantasm: Blood Demon's Pact of Crimson

"Life is equally trivial. No mourning need for any death— save for Electric Boy, my first friend."

"I give you my blood— in return, find me again, that we may be friends anew."

The blood bound to the Blood Demon who once walked alone, then met the Chainsaw Boy and became family.

Rank: C

Type: Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm

Effect: Grants the wielder the Blood Demon's power—vastly enhanced blood production, willful shaping of one's blood into solid weapons, and at higher ranks, the power to manipulate another's blood as well.**

—No farewell promised, for we shall meet again.

The final stanza was, perhaps, the True confession of the Blood Queen to her Blood Lord.