In this world, there are occasionally madmen who arise naturally.
But most madmen each have their own stories.
Silence, who harbored revenge against Dale, was like that, as was Bellerix, known as the Liberator.
He was born into a baronial family in a kingdom called Pater, a place only known by geography enthusiasts who memorized the names of continental nations.
A small rural estate in an already small kingdom.
Since he wasn't even the firstborn son, he became a soldier to make a living.
Then war broke out.
Well, it was only a "war" from Pater's perspective.
From the opponent's view, it was a one-sided massacre.
And despite facing the continent's strongest empire, they couldn't even achieve an honorable defeat.
Because it wasn't a war between nations.
Even though it was a battle between an obscure small country and the self-proclaimed strongest empire that no one could deny.
An entire nation was defeated by just one lord.
To forget this humiliating history, the Kingdom of Pater tried to hide all records of the war.
And all of Bellerix's efforts to protect his homeland were buried.
What remained was one eye and his left arm lost in battle.
His honor had vanished.
His body became crippled.
All that remained was endless pain and self-loathing.
A life where getting through each day with alcohol was all he had.
Ironically, what saved him from such a life were the black mages he had considered evil his entire life.
The magic of body modification.
Something similar to alchemy rather than black magic.
Well, it was only similar in name—the method was fundamentally different from conventional magic.
But he didn't care.
He got a hand back.
A hand stronger than the one he'd lost in that damned war.
He got an eye back.
Though it wasn't human, it didn't matter.
It had capabilities incomparable to a human eye.
Yet he wasn't satisfied.
Because there were plenty of better parts out there.
The world is survival of the fittest.
The weak are devoured, and the strong survive.
And so Bellerix devoured the weak and gradually grew stronger.
Step by step, replacing his body with better materials.
Not just the hand and eye he had lost.
Starting with his perfectly good hand and feet, he began replacing most of his body.
By the time almost all of his original body had disappeared,
Bellerix destroyed Pater that had abandoned him and called himself the Liberator.
One who liberated the body.
One who liberated Pater.
Thus, after hunting a small nation, he became renowned among black mages.
With their support, he could grow even more.
That's why Bellerix was confident.
His skin was made from ogre hide, not human skin.
Especially his right arm, which was entirely replaced with the arm of a beastkin comparable to a Sword Master.
A mere academy student couldn't possibly inflict real damage on him.
That should have been normal.
"...?"
But these bastards swing their swords at people without hesitation.
Even if the opponent is a black mage. How can they be so unhesitating?
Moreover.
"It hurts."
He felt pain.
It wasn't severe pain, but the fact that he felt any pain at all raised questions.
A body that had undergone modification after modification.
To feel pain from a mere academy student, not even a Sword Master!
"What is this?!"
Worse yet, their numbers had increased!
The swordsmen who were definitely two had gained another.
No, two more?
Seeing someone using magic while holding a sword from afar, Bellerix sighed in relief.
"Magic is better at least."
Mere magic could hardly damage his modified skin.
Especially skin that had been granted all sorts of magic resistance by other black mages, not just simple modifications!
"...?"
But feeling a chill in his left hand, Bellerix silently looked down at it.
Unlike his right hand which had a beastkin's hand attached, it was a human hand.
But even this was a high-grade item strengthened through numerous processes, so mediocre magic couldn't even damage it.
"What's this?"
Yet that arm was freezing solid.
Did I accidentally attach an arm without magic resistance?
"Argh!"
The moment Bellerix had that thought, his back was slashed and blood spurted out like a fountain.
"You cowardly bastards!"
Despite his words, Bellerix felt a chill down his spine.
These bastards truly had no hesitation about cutting people.
To show no hesitation when facing an opponent whose body was half frozen.
Is this the Empire?
Is the Imperial Academy an institution that raises killing machines?!
"Goddess, grant me strength."
Seeing Daisy preparing a finishing move at the first sign of vulnerability,
Bellerix wanted to use his trump card...
"Argh! Stop it, you bastards!"
"Kill him!"
"The opponent is a black mage! Don't give him time to do anything!"
But he couldn't, because the opponents' relentless attacks didn't give him even a single turn.
All Bellerix could do was crouch down and try his best to defend against the attacks.
* * *
When I came to my senses, we had completely sliced up the black mage.
Still, I'm grateful we gave him a clean end.
"This is getting pretty serious."
"Yeah."
Since the flame-thrower had also regained his senses, we went to find the romance fantasy group.
"They probably don't need us."
"...Yeah."
And what we saw was the romance fantasy group beating up something presumed to be a black mage.
If you didn't know better, the romance fantasy group would look like villains conducting a group assault. We quietly slipped away.
Seeing that scene, the opponent couldn't win even if he evolved three times.
So the flame-thrower and I didn't hesitate to move and find Mr. Aren.
And then.
"...There's no middle ground, is there?"
Unlike the romance fantasy group who were beating someone up, we found Mr. Aren getting beaten up.
Imperial agents scattered around.
Mr. Aren groaning while being held by a crimson giant.
"...This is troublesome."
If the club president dies, I'm next in line.
Being vice president is hard enough, I can't become the president.
So I immediately joined the fight and swung my sword, but.
Clang!
"...?"
No damage.
"Dodge, Adam!"
Mr. Aren, spotting me, shouted.
"He's immune to physical damage!"
"Oh, damn..."
With a clang, my body flew back.
Fortunately, I blocked it with my sword, but couldn't completely negate the impact.
"How amusing. I am the Steel Demon... What?"
Without hesitation, I threw a poison vial from my pocket, but it had little effect.
Damn, even underhanded techniques don't work.
Is this poison even legitimate?
"You said it was reliable Imperial-made!"
"It's not completely ineffective!"
There was some grotesque sound from the face area, but it was brief.
The demon's skin quickly regenerated after being corroded by the Imperial-made poison that had been melting it like acid.
"I heard human swordsmen were full of pride."
But it seemed the damage wasn't completely nonexistent.
The demon was looking at me with a "what's with this guy?" expression.
And that was enough.
"Burning Heaven."
The flame-thrower, who always claimed he'd show true flames,
Launched an attack with all his might.
"...Huh?"
It seems his angry face in the club room wasn't his true self.
"Arrrrggghhh!"
The flame-thrower's true power was quite strong.
Literally, the flames that flew up burning the sky turned the world red.
And the demon hit by it screamed.
"Arrrrggghhh!"
And of course... Mr. Aren, who was caught in the demon's right hand, also screamed.
It was inevitable.
This wasn't a game where ally skills granted immunity.
At this rate, Mr. Aren would be roasted first, but fortunately, the demon didn't seem to have good endurance.
"Ugh."
Mr. Aren escaped from the loosened grip and quickly rolled toward me.
I opened a potion and poured it on him, producing a sizzling sound.
"Is that all you've got?"
"I almost got roasted just from the heat radiating off the demon's back. That bastard, his body is actually melting now."
The Steel Demon—it seemed the title wasn't just a name, but his body was actually made of steel.
Looking at the demon gradually melting into a puddle, Mr. Aren said with a serious expression:
"Never use fire magic in front of Marie again. You'll really die."
Looking at the flames still clinging to the demon's body, continuing to burn it, I nodded.
It's not Amaterasu, but the fire just won't go out.
"Still, we have work to do."
I carefully took my sword and struck the knee of the demon who was screaming in pain.
"Arrrrggghhh!"
"Oh."
Unlike before, there was damage.
The knee was dented, not like human flesh,
But like a part of an actual steel statue being dented.
"..."
Seeing that, I suddenly became curious.
If this demon's body was truly made of steel,
What would happen if I made a weapon from it?
Would it be demonic?
Or would it be a special type of iron?
The deliberation wasn't long.
Men typically act immediately when such thoughts occur.
"Huff."
After taking a short breath, I struck the demon's knee with my sword filled with magical energy just as the flame-thrower's second attack hit him.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A sound that would normally come from a blacksmith hammering iron rang out loudly.
But it wasn't louder than the screams of the Steel Demon.
Clang!
After a few more strikes,
The demon's leg broke off with a snap.
I quickly grabbed it and ran to Mr. Aren.
"Mr. Aren. How much progress have you made on that artificial magic sword manufacturing method we found before?"
"...Wait. You're really going to do it?"
"Aren't you curious?"
Understanding my meaning, Mr. Aren looked at the demon's leg with trembling eyes.
A black mage's recipe for a magic sword made from a demon's foreleg.
It sounds like a cooking recipe, but it was the essence of magical engineering.
"You crazy bastard..."
Though he looked at me with a disgusted expression, my hands still hadn't forgotten Daisy's magic sword.
Even if I can't make an identical one, I should try to make something similar.
"The rest can be used by the Empire."
"...A demon's body?"
Mr. Aren's expression showed utter disbelief, but the severed limb was literally steel.
"Take it or leave it."
I looked at the demon melting into a puddle with my sword in hand.
The flame-thrower must have launched another attack.
"Do whatever you want..."
Mr. Aren staggered to his feet and tended to his fallen subordinates.
Some seemed to have died, but fortunately not all of them, as some staggered away with support from their comrades.
"...I think I could take one more leg."
As I approached, the demon tried to throw a punch as if to deliver a final blow, but with his already melted arm, there was nothing he could do.
After collecting the remaining leg, I looked at the flame-thrower.
"I think you can put it out now."
The flame-thrower's eyes, which had been glowing red, regained their focus.
"...I can't put it out."
"What?"
"I said I can't put it out!"
I turned my head to look at the flames attached to what used to be the demon.
The flames that had consumed the entire demon had turned it into molten metal, and now...
"Hey, you crazy woman!"
As expected of a magic-thrower.
They only know how to make a mess and can't clean up after themselves.