Multiverse's Holy Right

The island of Ponza was small, spanning only about seven square kilometers, with its highest point barely reaching three hundred meters in elevation.

Roy and Erica walked through the jungle of the island. The jungle wasn't dense, as the island was small and had been developed as a tourist attraction long ago. The seven-square-kilometer island had been thoroughly explored by locals, with man-made paths everywhere. Even an ordinary person could traverse it without difficulty.

As they made their way through the sparse jungle, the distant roar of the ocean waves could be faintly heard. The birds that usually circled and cried in the sky had long since abandoned the island, as if the wild creatures had sensed that a terrible battle was about to take place here.

The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on Erica's heart, but Roy remained relaxed. With one hand in his pocket, dressed in his ornate crimson archbishop's robes, he strolled along the fragrant earthen path.

"Erica..."

Snapped out of her daze by Roy's call, Erica realized she had unconsciously fallen two steps behind.

She quickly closed the distance and steadied her emotions before responding, "...What are your orders, my King?"

"I was just reminding you since you seemed distracted... Let me ask you again, are you really not leaving this place? Do you truly wish to witness the battle between a Campione and a heretic god?"

Roy paused slightly and turned to look at the young Italian girl behind him, whose delicate features belied her tender age. The bare shoulders exposed by her crimson dress were as fair as snow, and her slender collarbones exuded a feminine grace so alluring that it stirred an almost irresistible urge to taste them.

Both were clad in red formal attire—one with golden hair, the other silver—standing out vividly amidst the sparse greenery of the forest.

At Roy's question, Erica answered without hesitation, "...I have just been appointed as your exclusive knight by you, my King. I do not presume that my meager strength can be of any help to you, but as a knight, how could I flee before the battle even begins? If I did, my blade would weep."

She drew her magical weapon, Cuore di Leone, her tone resolute, her expression like that of a lioness lying in wait.

"Do as you wish, then. But let me remind you one last time—do not lose focus as you did earlier. Even the slightest ripple of this battle demands your utmost concentration. Otherwise, you will die. I will not aid you in combat. If you perish here, it will only prove that the woman named Erica Blandelli was nothing more than this."

At just fourteen, Erica had already attained the rank of 'Great Knight.' Though there were distinctions even among Great Knights, the leaders of Bronze Black Cross and Capital of Lilies were no more than that. To possess such strength at such a young age, wielding Cuore di Leone—a first-class magical weapon in the occult world—coupled with her extraordinary intellect, all these factors combined to give the girl a pride as lofty as a phoenix's.

Having never witnessed a Heretic God firsthand or experienced the overwhelming might that mortal magicians could never resist, it was only natural for a proud girl like Erica to feel defiance. Perhaps she even harbored the thought that she, too, could slay a god.

Only by truly facing a Heretic God would she realize how laughable human talent and ability were in the presence of divinity. Mortals did not slay gods through strength alone—it required a measure of wisdom and, above all, an overwhelming dose of luck.

Roy's repeated warnings put Erica on high alert. Gripping her sword tightly, she followed him out of the woods.

Ahead lay a hundred-meter-high cliff, beneath which sprawled the only town on Ponza Island. Directly opposite the cliff was the island's most famous landmark—the Crescent Moon Bay.

And there, standing at the cliff's edge, was a lone figure.

The moment Roy laid eyes on this figure, he felt his blood ignite as if he were an addict who had just taken his fix, his entire being submerged in euphoria and sensory overload.

"'Heavenly Scribe' Metatron!"

Roy stopped a hundred meters away from Metatron and called out his name in a loud voice.

Hearing the voice behind him, Metatron slowly turned around. This was the first time Roy had seen his true appearance—back in Israel, he had only caught a distant glimpse.

Compared to Michael's peerless beauty and fearless courage, Metatron's features were strikingly ordinary, his demeanor gentle and scholarly.

In the Book of Enoch, it is recorded that Metatron was originally the angel Enoch became after his ascension—meaning the current appearance of Metatron should be that of the mortal 'Enoch.'

Suddenly, Metatron's face grew indistinct, the illusion swiftly solidifying into reality. Roy abruptly realized he seemed to be gazing through Metatron's face at an existence of supreme majesty. Metatron's visage and that of the exalted being became one and the same.

At the same time, an unimaginably terrifying curse traveled along Roy's line of sight into his body. His immense cursed energy as a Campione and his resistance to magic instinctively clashed against this curse. A concept beyond Roy's comprehension flooded his mind—the sublime and sacred transforming into pure malice, eroding his sanity. His sanity plummeted wildly, as though he were on the verge of complete madness.

Horrified, Roy swiftly mobilized his formidable divine energy and began visualizing the Book of the Law, barely managing to suppress the curse. Even so, he found his body significantly weakened.

"King!"

Erica saw Roy swiftly cover her eyes with his hand. His broad, gentle palm pressed against her face, plunging her vision into darkness. Not daring to move, she could only cry out anxiously.

"Erica, don't look at Metatron's face!"

This curse was likely one of Metatron's authorities. Even as a Campione, Roy had barely endured a single glance. If Erica were to look, she would undoubtedly be driven to madness and cursed to death instantly.

"I stirred up this commotion in anticipation of the false Michael, never expecting he had already been slain—and that a demon king of the earth would rise in his place."

Metatron sighed softly, his tone exceedingly gentle. As the archangel spoke, thirty-six pairs of flame-like wings unfurled behind him, and a halo of light crowned his head.

"Yet whether it be that traitorous angel or you, the Demon King, my duty remains the same—to judge the heretics!"

"...Child of Fools, the Demon King who has slain the fallen angel—come now and stand before the 'Chancellor of Heaven!'"

Metatron's voice gradually sharpened, his body expanding like a blaze of light until, in an instant, he towered like a giant. According to the Book of Enoch, he was already the tallest among the angels.

"Chancellor of Heaven? Hah, spare me your jesting, you heretic angel born of apocrypha! Today, in the name of the Lord, I shall strike you down where you stand!"

Fearing Metatron might wield other sinister authorities, Roy ignored the discomfort in his body and lunged forth like a beast.

"BEAST777—I shall surmount the evils of mankind!"

He uttered his Magic Name, declaring his intent to kill Metatron.

The authority of the Hand of Jacob activated, gathering immense magical energy into Roy's left fist as he swung. Leaping high, he descended like a meteor, his fist crashing down.

This was the ultimate martial art recorded in the Bible, one of the seven techniques Roy had created under the Hand of Jacob:

—Saintess Subdues the Dragon!

***

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