A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

"What does John Smith's business have to do with me, Roy Crowley? She's the one asking for my help, not the other way around. Let her wait in North America! I'll head over whenever I feel like it. Who knows? By the time I get there, she might have already solved the problem herself."

Roy dismissed the matter with casual words and chose to head for Athens instead of North America.

Although his Clairvoyance had shown him the legendary golden Holy Grail—the artifact the Black Prince, Alexander Gascoigne, had tirelessly sought but never attained—it could only reveal events of the past. It offered no insight into the present or future.

With such a limitation, Roy could only rely on past information to speculate on current events. Learning that the North American God Slayer's request involved the Holy Grail, Roy decided to remain an observer for now. He planned to intervene only when the Grail and its rightful owner surfaced.

Athens, the capital and largest city of Greece, lies at the southernmost tip of the Balkan Peninsula. Previously, it had been under the dominion of Marquis Voban. After the Marquis' defeat and subsequent disappearance, the magic associations under his rule were left without a leader and began to pledge allegiance to Roy one by one.

While Roy couldn't place the same level of trust in these magic associations as he did in the Italian Seven Sisters, he was confident that none of them would dare deceive or slight him, the King.

Much like the grand receptions organized for presidents and prime ministers visiting foreign countries, Roy's confirmed itineraries were met with the eager reception of local magic associations wherever he went.

"Lord Roy, did I hear you refer to John Smith as she?"

Unlike the quiet and composed Liliana, Erica enjoyed asserting her presence. With her dazzling beauty and commanding charisma as the successor of the Copper Black Cross, she was like a star performer on center stage—drawing attention wherever she went.

"John Pluto Smith's real name is Annie Charlton. Behind that mask and armor is a woman. From ancient times to the present, she's the only God Slayer who has remained so reserved and low-profile, going so far as to conceal her face and identity. In that respect, she is truly remarkable," Roy explained nonchalantly.

Roy didn't hesitate to reveal the secret that the North American God Slayer had worked so hard to hide. After all, in the face of his Clairvoyance, there were no secrets that could remain hidden.

"Smith is actually a woman? This is the first time I've heard such a secret," Liliana said, her expression one of genuine surprise.

Erica, however, reacted differently. Her golden eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement. While she, too, was shocked by the revelation, she felt a greater thrill at uncovering such a hidden mystery. At her age, filled with youthful energy and passion, nothing delighted her more than unraveling ancient secrets like an intrepid explorer.

Although Annie Charlton, the North American God Slayer, was a relatively modern figure, the mysteries surrounding a "King" rivaled the intrigue of ancient rites.

Trailing behind Roy's party was the leader of a local magic association in Athens, who had been tasked with escorting them through the city. Upon overhearing Roy's revelation, instead of feeling joy at learning such a profound secret, the man was filled with terror.

He feared that the North American "King" might resort to extreme measures, even killing him, to silence those who had uncovered her secret.

After all, for Annie Charlton to go to such lengths to obscure her gender and identity, there had to be an important reason. Knowing such a secret without holding an equal status was hardly a blessing—it was a dangerous liability.

"The eras of Campiones are clearly distinct. Marquis Voban, the Eastern Cult Leader, and Madame Aisha from India were born around 200 years ago. The other four, including myself, all appeared within the last decade. There's a definite dividing line between the periods.

"...I've traced the past and never found more than four Campiones existing at any one time. This means that during Marquis Voban's generation, the Last King should have appeared to slay them all. Yet for some reason, he waited until now, allowing seven Campiones to exist."

Roy spoke these words quietly to Athena, ensuring Liliana and the others wouldn't overhear. For now, it was best that knowledge of the Last King remain limited to as few people as possible.

The goddess beside him, dressed in an ornate Baroque gown and adorned with a wreath, looked youthful but carried herself with undeniable elegance and pride. Her exquisite beauty and aura of sophistication were softened by a subtle hint of charm. As she walked gracefully, her white-stocking-clad legs drew gazes effortlessly. When she heard Roy's words, she gave a small snort, her tone laced with mockery:

"...The Last King has grown lazy, it seems."

The fact that the Campiones of the previous era were not eradicated wasn't due to the Last King's inability to fulfill his mission but simply because he chose not to.

"Those three Campiones were truly lucky. They should have met their end a century ago, yet they've lingered on until now."

Roy shook his head with a chuckle, surmising that centuries of carrying out his duty had perhaps left the Last King weary.

"Still, this situation is far from ideal for me. Never before have so many Campiones coexisted in one era. The Last King's 'The great ritual of the Old Covenant' will reach an unprecedented level. I have a bold idea—though the odds of success are slim. If it works, I can eliminate the Last King. If it fails, my only option might be to kill all the other Campiones."

The Last King loomed like the sword of Damocles, a constant shadow over Roy. It was an obstacle he had no choice but to overcome, and he continuously strategized about how to deal with it.

"I don't care what method you use—cunning or honorable—it all reflects wisdom. As the goddess of wisdom, I will support you. Just remember our agreement: to sever the Last Steel together. I will stand by your side to see it done!"

Athena's voice was filled with determination and conviction.

"Funny how it should be me 'protecting Athena,' but now it sounds like 'Athena is protecting me.' Don't worry, goddess. I'll always remember our promise."

Roy grinned as he jested.

"As the goddess of war and wisdom, Athena needs no one's protection. If Athena ever needed another's protection just to survive, then that would be a fake Athena!"

The corners of Athena's lips lifted slightly into an elegant, noble smile. It was both a reflection of her pride and a subtle approval of Roy.

Suddenly, Athena's delicate brows furrowed, and a look of clear disgust crossed her face.

"What's wrong, Athena?"

Noticing the change in her expression, Roy instinctively grasped her small, white hand. It felt cool and smooth to the touch. Concerned, he asked gently.

Athena tried to pull her hand away but found Roy's grip unusually strong. After glaring at him with faint annoyance, she finally gave up and said in a low voice:

"...I smell a foul stench. It is the scent of the Rakshasa King. The odor is faint, but it's growing stronger."

The Rakshasa King was another name for Campiones. The fact that Athena could smell the presence of a Campione meant that one was nearby.

Unlike Campiones, who were not particularly adept at recognizing each other's presence—even face-to-face—they were unmistakable to Heretic Gods. No matter how far away they were, a Heretic God could sense their existence.

Athena, with her heightened divine senses, was effectively a high-performance radar for detecting Campiones.