Multiverse's Holy Right

In the Bible, Moses led his people across the Red Sea toward Canaan, while God once threatened the Pharaoh of Egypt with the 'Ten Plagues,' forcing him to witness divine might.

Roy had woven this biblical tale into the Hand of Jacob. The essence of this technique lay not in the 'plagues' but in the 'threat'—the divine wrath that warned the Pharaoh of Egypt that should he obstruct the Israelites' journey to Canaan, heavenly calamities would befall him.

As a Campione, the Marquis Voban's beastly instincts allowed him to sense the hidden peril in Roy's move. At the last possible moment, just before his fangs could sink into Roy's arm, he halted abruptly. A premonition told him that while biting down would indeed wound Roy, he himself would suffer a far graver injury from the counter-curse of the 'Ten Plagues.'

Seeing the Marquis stop at the critical moment, Roy couldn't help but admire his combat instincts and experience. His plan to trade minor injuries for major ones had failed. Without hesitation, Roy switched back to offense, transforming Plagues of Egypt into Child of Sacrifice!

Two fingers extended, piercing through the fur of Marquis Voban's werewolf form as easily as tofu, leaving a bloody hole in his chest.

The pain drove Marquis Voban into another frenzy. Dazzling lightning erupted from his body, connecting with the thunderbolts beneath the dark clouds. With a deafening roar, the strikes descended upon Roy like divine retribution.

Activating his Godspeed, Roy dodged the lightning with reflexes surpassing the bolts themselves. Yet one still grazed him, sending waves of pain and numbness through his body. He stifled a groan but forced himself forward, closing the distance with Marquis Voban once more. His hands shifted fluidly—palms, fists, fingers, blades—engaging the Marquis in brutal close combat.

With the flawless control granted by his authority, Lord of Light, Roy maneuvered within the narrowest of spaces, flitting like a butterfly or striking like a bee's stinger. Using the power of the Hand of Jacob, he pressed the Marquis relentlessly, appearing unpredictably from all angles.

The Marquis struggled, roaring in frustration as Roy's relentless assault left his body riddled with wounds. Roy dared not give him distance—if caught in the Marquis' Sturm Und Drang, his mobility would be crippled. Drawn into a battle of attrition under the Marquis' weather-controlling authority, Roy would soon exhaust himself and face defeat.

Only by fighting up close could Roy avoid being trapped by Sturm Und Drang. The hurricanes and lightning bolts, constrained by their proximity, couldn't unleash their full force, allowing Roy to fight with ease.

Moreover, Roy had noticed something—Marquis Voban fought purely on instinct, relying on his nature as a Campione and a beast. His human combat skills were lacking, giving Roy an opening.

Over two centuries ago, before becoming a Campione, the Marquis had been neither a magician nor a skilled knight. His talents lay elsewhere—his only weapons were his authorities.

Though Roy himself had never trained in swordsmanship or martial arts, Hand of Jacob granted him the pinnacle of combat insight. Compared to masters like Luo Hao or Salvatore Doni—who had been sword and palm technique prodigies even before becoming Campiones—Roy's understanding paled. But against Marquis Voban? More than enough.

After a relentless offensive, Roy finally paused, halting his high-speed movements to catch his breath.

Though he seemed to hold the advantage, Roy knew this battle couldn't drag on. He had to end it quickly—especially since the Marquis wasn't just a punching bag. Occasionally, he retaliated with reckless, injury-for-injury strikes. A gash from his wolf claws still marred Roy's abdomen, sealed only by forcibly clotting the blood with magical energy.

A battle between Campiones was a contest of magical energy and authority allocation. Every strike from Hand of Jacob drained Roy's reserves. If his energy ran dry, the authority would become unusable.

The total amount of divine energy among Campiones doesn't vary greatly. The key to victory lies in how to allocate limited divine energy across different combinations of authorities—this is the primary consideration in battles between Campiones.

"Kid, your fighting style reminds me of that old rival of mine. This is precisely the kind of combat method I dislike the most!"

Marquis Voban, transformed into a werewolf, was panting just like Roy. Their earlier battle had been a brutal exchange of blows—though brief, it was an explosive clash of power.

"Marquis, you must be referring to that Sect Leader from the East, Luo Hao."

Roy didn't even need to think—the only one whose combat style resembled his was that sect leader who reigned supreme over the ancient eastern kingdom.

At the same time, Roy became acutely aware of his greatest weakness: his body was far too fragile.

Though Roy was a Campione, with physical strength far surpassing ordinary humans, among Campiones, his physique ranked among the weakest. He was like a high-attack, high-agility assassin in a game—devastatingly powerful but paper-thin in defense. A single unlucky hit to his head or other vital spots could end his life instantly.

Marquis Voban, on the other hand, was clearly the tanky type. Despite suffering considerable damage from Roy's relentless assault, he showed no signs of faltering.

"Hmph! That troublesome woman indeed. Though she remains my greatest adversary."

Marquis Voban's expression darkened, clearly holding no favorable impression of Luo Hao.

"You launched such a frenzied assault from the outset without any probing attacks. It seems you can't sustain prolonged combat."

"I recall you've only slain two gods—Michael and Metatron. That authority you used earlier in the hotel must have come from Metatron, while your current abilities derive from Michael. Though I don't understand why slaying Michael granted you so many abilities, these authorities surely have limitations. Your fighting style makes it obvious—time is your greatest constraint."

Marquis Voban's wolfish voice dripped with cruelty and malice. He kept his head lowered, deliberately avoiding Roy's face—having deduced the activation conditions of Roy's The Face of God after the earlier sneak attack. Throughout their battle, he'd fought entirely by instinct with his gaze averted.

"I never imagined someone of my junior standing would attract such attention from an elder like the Marquis Voban. Should I consider this an honor?"

Roy had already regained his breath. His muscles tensed as he prepared to end this conversation—he couldn't afford to waste precious time on idle talk.

"Since when did you become so polite, boy? Is it because you know you're no match for me and wish to beg for mercy? ...But whether I spare you depends entirely on my mood!"

Marquis Voban laughed uproariously as his lupine form suddenly leapt backwards. His movements suggested he intended to employ a stalling tactic—waiting for Roy's time limit to expire.

...

Marquis Voban was a cunning wolf, not a ferocious tiger. He had no qualms about his combat methods. Upon identifying Roy's weakness, he wouldn't foolishly pit his shortcomings against the opponent's strengths. Even if such delaying tactics tarnished his reputation as the most ancient Demon King, victory mattered most to this sly predator.

Roy's heart tightened. These Campiones were indeed no pushovers—even an ancient Demon King could set aside pride to adopt the most effective battle strategy.

"These buzzing, fluttering bird-men are troublesome indeed. But boy, let this dying old man show you the depth of his reserves!"

Previously, Roy had leveraged his Godspeed and aerial advantage to corner Marquis Voban, forcing direct confrontations. Now, the Marquis invoked another new Authority—Singing Spellbook!

A peculiar grimoire materialized before Marquis Voban, its pages flipping autonomously to unleash advanced thaumaturgy—the 'Flight' spell, normally exclusive to high-ranking magician. Empowered by a Campione's magical energy, the Marquis gained sustained aerial mobility, seizing control of the skies.

When ground-based planar combat transformed into three-dimensional aerial warfare, the expanded battleground granted the Marquis greater tactical depth to prolong the engagement.

"Don't think you'll get that chance! Marquis, behold this fist art designed to counter sorcery!"

Roy surged skyward with Godspeed once more. Far from alarmed by the Marquis' new Authority, he welcomed it.

Almost there. The pieces were nearly in place. Once that unimaginable Authority activated, victory would be his beyond doubt!

Closing in, Roy's right hand morphed into a claw, striking viciously at the empty space before the Marquis.

Fifth Form of Hand of Jacob—Babel's Ascent!

***

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