Multiverse's Holy Right

Erica's eyelashes fluttered slightly—an instinctive reaction when meeting someone's gaze.

Roy studied Erica intently for a long moment before reaching out unexpectedly. As ripples formed around Erica's body in surprise, Roy drew forth her beloved sword, Cuore di Leone.

This action astonished Erica. Her Cuore di Leone had always been concealed by magic, yet Roy had drawn it not through divine authority, but purely through magical means. She hadn't anticipated Roy's magic proficiency to be so advanced.

"Surprised that I know magic?"

Roy examined the rapier Cuore di Leone—an exceptionally powerful magical weapon by all accounts. "...Fine blade. While not divine weaponry, it represents the pinnacle of craftsmanship."

"Indeed, I never imagined a King would possess such profound mastery of magic. I assumed those who wield divine authorities wouldn't concern themselves with such arts."

Erica offered the compliment gracefully.

"Authorities are fundamentally a form of magic. The difference lies in how gods and godslayers can instantly complete and deploy grand rituals that would require dozens or hundreds of magicians working for months to achieve."

After becoming a Campione, Roy naturally pursued magical knowledge without dismissing its value. He didn't arrogantly consider authorities superior—they were simply advanced applications of magic, compressing grand rituals into single utterances.

The terrifying potency of authorities when wielded by Heretic Gods or Campiones stems from their vastly superior quality and quantity of magical energy compared to ordinary magicians.

While convenient and powerful, no Campione could explain the underlying principles of their authorities—they were merely users of power that never truly belonged to them.

If merely living in this world was enough, then wielding the authority of a Campione would suffice. But Roy had grander ambitions—simply knowing how to use his authority could never satisfy him. Thus, he sought to learn all forms of knowledge in pursuit of "true wisdom."

These were matters he had no need to explain to Erica. After admiring one of this world's masterpieces of magical attire, Roy placed the Cuore di Leone horizontally against Erica's snow-white neck.

At that moment, Erica felt a chilling coldness creeping up her nape, even the nearly imperceptible fine hairs standing on end. Though Cuore di Leone was a magical artifact, as its wielder, Erica knew full well its sharpness. The slightest pressure from Roy, and her beautiful head would roll to the ground.

Yet even so, even with her life in Roy's hands, Erica showed no tension or fear. Instead, she relaxed her body as much as possible, refusing to avert her gaze as she met Roy's eyes squarely.

Her face, though youthful, was noble and beautiful—like a delicate flower.

Slowly, Roy shifted the sword to Erica's slender shoulder. At this moment, she knelt on one knee, her posture mirroring that of a knight receiving their title.

Roy lowered his head in thought before chuckling wryly. "...Never mind. I don't actually know the proper knighting ceremony. But the gesture will suffice. From now on, Erica, you are my personal knight. I expect you to uphold the knightly virtues, for you now represent me."

With a flourish of his sword, Roy reversed his grip and handed Cuore di Leone back to Erica.

Erica exhaled softly as she accepted the blade, unable to suppress the joy in her eyes.

Just as she had anticipated—this new King, Roy, lacked trusted individuals to handle his daily affairs. Over the past few days, Erica had proven her efficiency and competence, successfully entering the King's line of sight.

As one of only seven Campiones in the world, Roy had numerous responsibilities. For him, acquiring knowledge was paramount—he had little time to spare for mundane matters, yet unlike Salvatore, he couldn't simply abandon them all.

With Italy's magical associations pledging loyalty to him, as their King, he was obligated to bestow upon them greater honor.

Thus, Roy needed someone highly capable to manage his daily affairs. Erica had performed admirably these past days—especially since her beauty was pleasing to the eye. Compared to a male secretary, Roy much preferred a female one.

After all, when there's work, the secretary does it; when there's none, the secretary gets it.

With his right hand in his pocket, Roy walked to the observation deck, gazing at the small island not far ahead—Ponza, Italy.

Beneath the cliffs on one side of Ponza lay a quaint town reminiscent of Venice, with a permanent population of only four to five thousand. Though a tourist destination, visitors were never particularly abundant.

"Finally here. I can already smell the scent of a Heretic God," he murmured.

...

In a modest local restaurant on Ponza Island, Roy sipped a cup of rather mediocre, cheap coffee.

Opposite him, Erica sat upright in her red formal dress. A cup of coffee sat untouched on the table before her as she remained ready to follow Roy's orders at any moment.

"This island seems sparsely populated, with hardly any tourists either," Roy remarked, gazing at the ocean view outside the restaurant.

"After learning that Metatron is on this island, the Seven Sisters Alliance has persuaded the Italian government to ban tourism here. We've also done our best to evacuate the over four thousand residents, though a few hundred refused to leave. Since they insist on staying, we've stopped concerning ourselves with them."

The magic association led by the 'Copper Black Cross,' headquartered in Italy, placed great importance on the country's stability. In fact, all magic associations worldwide treated disasters like Heretic Gods with extreme caution.

"I see. Historically, the Pontine Islands have always been a place of exile. Starting from Emperor Nero of Rome banishing his wife Octavia here, many emperors used it as a penal colony. Even Mussolini was exiled here in the early 20th century... For Metatron to choose such a place to recover from his injuries—could it be that he, too, seeks self-exile?"

Roy burst into laughter, but Erica remained silent.

She felt as if a heavy weight had finally lifted from her heart, leaving her much more at ease.

Over the past few days, she had worked tirelessly for Roy, terrified that even the slightest mistake or negligence might provoke the King's wrath. But after two days of interaction, she realized the King wasn't as cruel or tyrannical as she had imagined.

No—the King was still a capricious and unpredictable Campione. Yet, this King distinguished clearly between personal and professional matters. In private, he was quite gentle, rarely angered unless his bottom line was crossed—truly befitting of a monarch.

But when it came to official matters, he became utterly ruthless, stopping at nothing to achieve his goals, even employing brutal methods that fully embodied his title of Demon King. He was an absolute tyrant.

Having grasped Roy's temperament, Erica believed she could now handle him perfectly—showing reverence during work, while maintaining basic courtesy in private without overstepping her bounds.

Though his moods were unpredictable, he was not the type to falsely accuse the innocent.

"My King, Metatron is currently—"

"No need to speak, Erica! My blood is already boiling, my mind urging me forward—like a beast catching the scent of blood. To a Campione, the presence of a Heretic God is far too intoxicating."

Roy's gaze sharpened as he fixed his eyes on the island's highland.

Metatron was there!

"Wait for me, heretic angel. I shall slay you where you stand!"

***

Hey readers!

Want to read ahead? 📖 Join my Patreon for early access to 30+ advance chapters! Your support helps me write more and bring the story to you faster.

🔹patreon.com/aarvan🔹