For example, over two hundred years ago, the oldest Campione, Marquis Voban, once wreaked havoc in the Vatican. If he had not failed to find anything useful to him as a Campione and left out of boredom, the Vatican might have been destroyed more than two hundred years ago.
This showed how miserable organizations without a Campione's protection were in this world. This was especially true for a massive organization like Christianity. They could only act with extreme caution, terrified of accidentally offending some Demon King.
Footsteps echoed through the quiet library. Roy sat in a luxurious chair inside, lowered the book in his left hand, and looked up at the warm sunlight shining through the transparent glass ceiling. With a lazy air, he said, "...Is something wrong?"
This library was Roy's favorite place to spend time. Unless something important happened, no one dared disturb him here.
"Lord Saint Child, there's news of that heretical archangel, Metatron."
The visitor was a young clergyman. He did not dare look up at Roy on the steps, merely standing at the boundary between mottled sunlight and shadow as he spoke respectfully.
"Oh? Where is Metatron?"
At last hearing some good news, Roy rose from his chair and turned around, asking from on high.
Christianity truly lived up to its reputation as the religion with the most believers. Its sources of information were abundant. If Roy had searched for Metatron himself, he might never have found him, but by using Christianity's power, he had obtained news of that Disobedient God within just a few days.
"Lord Saint Child, according to our sources, the heretical Metatron was discovered within Italy."
The young clergyman hurriedly reported.
"Ha, how bold! The supreme angel of Judaism actually dared come to the land where Christianity's faith is strongest."
Roy scoffed and continued, "...Just tell me the exact location. Italy is huge. That isn't the answer I want."
"This..."
Cold sweat broke out on the clergyman's forehead. His expression was filled with apprehension and fear.
The personalities of Campiones tended to be extreme. The "Lord Saint Child" standing before him displayed the words "Campione" and "Demon King" to the fullest. He was utterly capricious and completely uninhibited.
That was Roy's greatest principle of conduct: he would absolutely act in accordance with his identity. If he were a magician, he would hold himself to a magician's standards. But now that he was a Campione, he naturally used a Campione's behavior as his guide.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not a Demon King from hell. As long as you can give me a reason I find satisfactory, I naturally won't take my anger out on you."
Roy's reassurance did nothing to calm the clergyman. "Unpredictable moods" were also one of the Campione's defining traits. In fact, the clergyman felt that his own "Lord Saint Child" somewhat resembled that Demon King among Demon Kings, the oldest Campione, Marquis Voban.
"Although the Vatican is located within Rome, the most powerful force in Italy is a magical society alliance known as the 'Seven Sisters.' If you wish to learn Metatron's exact location, you may need to make use of the Seven Sisters' influence. The Holy See only knows that Metatron is currently in Italy, but it cannot locate the exact place."
Roy frowned. This was the most troublesome aspect of Christianity in this world. Although its influence extended far and wide, it lacked depth within individual countries. There were too many magical societies in this world, and even a mighty dragon found it difficult to suppress a local snake.
"If the Seven Sisters can find Metatron for me, then go notify them and have them come see me."
"This..."
The clergyman still wanted to say something, but when he raised his head and saw Roy's unnervingly calm Double Pupils, he immediately swallowed his words and replied, "...Yes, Lord Saint Child! I'll notify the Seven Sisters at once."
Chapter Twelve: Crossing the Abyss of the Campiones
(I've been squeezing time out every day to work out at the gym lately. It's truly exhausting.)
Roy stood in the Vatican Palace wearing a Cardinal Robe, holding information about Italy's Seven Sisters Magic Society Alliance.
The Vatican Palace had originally been the pope's residence, but after Roy ascended over Christianity as the "Holy Son," it became his home.
The Sistine Chapel preserved the famous frescoes Genesis and The Last Judgment on its ceiling and walls, painted by Michelangelo over the course of four years. Within that magnificent hall, filled with works by countless famous artists, a sacred atmosphere was brewing.
"The Seven Sisters... Aren't they the seven greatest Italian football clubs, known as the Seven Sisters during the era of the Little World Cup? Come to think of it, I don't remember the details of Campione very clearly anymore, and I never even finished reading it. But this reference is too irresistible not to comment on."
Roy silently grumbled to himself. His body was only sixteen years old. After sixteen years of life in the Index world, his memories from before transmigrating had long since become hazy.
"Bronze Black Cross is AC Milan, Bronze Black Cross is Inter Milan, Old Lady is Juventus, City of Lilies is Fiorentina, She-wolf is Roma, Blue Eagle is Lazio..."
Roy set down the information with a laugh, then fell into thought. Although the seven magical societies conflicted somewhat with his memories, which he found amusing, they were genuinely the strongest forces in Italy's occult world.
"Aiwass, how is your analysis of Pandora's Dark Offering and the Disobedient Gods going?"
Standing beneath the famous painting The Last Judgment, Roy asked as Aiwass's radiant figure appeared behind him.
"We've reached a conclusion regarding the form of the Disobedient Gods' existence and the general process by which they arise. Humanity created the concept of gods out of fear of and faith in the unknown. It then wove myths, assigning each god its proper place. Due to certain special conditions involving 'magic,' a very small number of divine concepts broke free from mythology and became Disobedient Gods upon the earth."
"...Disobedient Gods are more like incarnations of gods. They exist because of a 'core.' Pandora's Dark Offering fuses this 'core' with a human, allowing that human to gain a god's power. A Campione can be completely described as a 'pseudo-god.'"
Aiwass slowly explained the relationship she had researched between Disobedient Gods and Campiones.
"In other words, Disobedient Gods are actually rather like Heroic Spirits. The incarnations of gods are simply far stronger than humans who were elevated into Heroic Spirits through great achievements. The information comprising the concept of a god exists within mythology. The descent of a Disobedient God is the process by which that information becomes a physical entity through the combined effects of this world's laws and magic."
Roy nodded lightly, gaining a thorough understanding of the form in which Disobedient Gods existed. It was almost identical to the concept of Heroic Spirits in the Fate games he had played before. The only difference was that the information of Heroic Spirits existed within the Throne, while the information of gods existed within mythology.
Both descended in the form of incarnations, and both had a Spiritual Foundation at their core. Normally, when either a Heroic Spirit or a Disobedient God's incarnation was destroyed, it would disappear and return. Pandora's Dark Offering, however, left behind the Disobedient God's Spiritual Foundation and fused it with a human, thereby giving birth to a Campione.
In the world of Campione, true gods did not actually exist. They were merely conceptual information elevated by human faith within mythology. When those concepts descended upon the earth with consciousness, they were Disobedient Gods. When they did not descend upon the earth, they were gods bound by mythology. It was a paradox: gods could never appear before mortals. Anything capable of appearing before mortals could only be a Disobedient God.
"So, completely destroying the gods is actually not difficult. Gods exist because of the myths woven by humanity. We only need to clarify the cause-and-effect relationship and the order of events. Myths came first, and gods came afterward, not the other way around. As long as humanity is destroyed, or Human History is wiped out, the gods will naturally vanish."
(Note: These are the original words from Campione. To make the gods disappear completely, humanity itself must disappear.)
This information was extremely important to Roy. He was not fixated on killing Disobedient Gods to obtain power. Instead, he would investigate the matter at its root.
Roy's goal was to raise a rebellious sword against his "Beautiful Father." With the so-called Campione powers he currently possessed, he was as laughable as a child's toy before Aleister Crowley.
Therefore, Roy had to turn those toys into genuine weapons.
"Aiwass, what do you think about the flaws of Campiones?"
Roy asked again.
Although Campiones allowed mortals to rise to the heavens in a single step, directly crossing countless years of tempering to achieve greatness, their upper limit was simply too low.
No matter how many Disobedient Gods you killed, your Magic Power remained the same. It did not accumulate, and your Authorities did not evolve. Only the number of Authorities changed.
The difference between the oldest Campione and a newly born one lay in the number of Authorities and in experience. Campiones were beings who did not grow stronger with time. They had long since lost the future of "infinite possibilities."
To use a game as an analogy, becoming a Campione was like turning a level-one mortal directly into a level-fifty character—but that was where it ended. Even if you gave that Campione a hundred Authorities, each Authority's limit would still be level fifty. They could let you play in all sorts of ways, but you would not actually become stronger.
This was the enormous flaw in Pandora's Dark Festival that Aiwass had mentioned. Aside from the qualitative transformation caused by the first god-slaying, no matter how many gods a Campione killed afterward, they could only gain new Authorities. Nothing about their essence changed. They could never break through the level-fifty limit.
That was not what Roy wanted. If he relied on himself alone, it would naturally be difficult for him to break through the shackles of a Campione in a short time. But he had Aiwass's help. As the Secret Chief, an existence equal in rank to the Demon Gods, Aiwass was more powerful than all the gods in this world combined.
Compared to that mysterious space that had allowed him to travel between worlds, Roy believed that Aiwass was actually the "cheat" that helped him the most.
"I need to combine this world's native knowledge with my own before I can improve Pandora's Dark Offering and allow you, Roy, to break through this limitation."
Aiwass replied.
"Mm. I'm counting on you, Aiwass! I'll also work hard to absorb knowledge so that yours can be put to use."
Roy let out a soft breath.
Although he had Aiwass's help, he could not simply do nothing. It was like a primary school student facing a university professor. He did not need to solve complex mathematical problems himself; he only needed to write down the formulas according to the teacher's instructions. But if a primary school student did not even recognize basic mathematical symbols, then no matter how clearly the teacher dictated them, he could not write down a single word.
Before Aiwass, Roy was equivalent to a primary school student. He did not expect to possess as much knowledge as Aiwass, but at the very least, his knowledge had to be extensive enough for him to write down and recognize the things Aiwass dictated.
Turning Disobedient Gods into materials that can help me break through the level cap... Isn't this Spirit Base Advancement? Or is it just like all those mobile games...?
Roy mocked himself inwardly.
"All right. Knowledge must be accumulated slowly, and matters must be handled one at a time. I'll personally go and take a look at Italy's Seven Sisters Alliance. Those magical societies must be hesitating right now. It isn't that they aren't afraid of a Campione or that they dare disobey my orders. Rather, the existence of Salvatore Tony, the King of Swords, has left them caught between two Campiones, afraid to make a choice."
He gave a soft snort, slipped his right hand into his pocket, and left the Sistine Chapel as his Cardinal Robe swayed around his red-clad figure.
"Tell me where the leader of Italy's Seven Sisters Alliance is. I'm going to meet them!"
Under the shocked and horrified gaze of the clergyman at the door, Roy said this.
The clergyman never could have imagined that the "King" would personally set out!
Chapter Thirteen: The "King" Arrives
On the streets of Rome, a luxurious car drove past. In its back seat sat a middle-aged man and a young, beautiful girl.
The middle-aged man was nearly forty. He had a dignified appearance like the statue of David and radiated an air of refinement and elegance. Leaning against the car seat, he gazed steadily at the Roman streets flashing past the window, apparently lost in thought.
He was Paul Brantley, the supreme commander of Italy's magical society, Bronze Black Cross.
Summoned by the "King," he had hurried over from the headquarters in Milan. However, Paul Brantley had no intention of going to the Vatican to pay his respects to the "King" just yet. Instead, he was heading to the headquarters of the magical society She-wolf in Rome to hold a crucial meeting first.
A dazzling Italian girl sat beside Paul Brantley. She looked only fourteen or fifteen, but her figure was already well developed. Her gorgeous golden hair flowed over her shoulders. She wore a red dress, her back straight, revealing her snow-white shoulders and a patch of fair skin at the neckline. Her maturity, entirely at odds with her age, drew everyone's attention.
The girl sat upright beside Paul Brantley. Her beautiful face was solemn, like a drawn sword, yet her entire body radiated an elegant and noble air.
"Uncle, weren't we going to pay our respects to the new King? This doesn't seem to be the road to the Vatican. It leads to She-wolf's headquarters."
The girl looked at the scenery outside the window, slightly furrowed her lovely brows, and asked in a clear, puzzled voice.
"Erica, before paying our respects to the King, Italy's Seven Sisters need to hold a meeting first. You've met the leaders of the other six magical societies, but you've never attended such a formal alliance meeting. This is the perfect opportunity."
Paul Brantley spoke gently, his simple words revealing a great deal of information.
Erica Brantley's furrowed brows relaxed, and a hint of excitement appeared in her expression. Her uncle, the supreme commander of Bronze Black Cross, was bringing her to such an important meeting. It was an obvious sign of how highly he regarded her. Perhaps the title of Crimson Devil would finally be passed to her.
Erica quickly suppressed the restlessness in her heart. Compared to the honor of defeating her competitors, the deeper meaning behind this meeting concerned her more.
"Uncle, is this because of the new King and Lord Salvatore Tony?"
Erica asked with concealed worry.
Paul did not answer. He merely nodded lightly, indicating that Erica's guess was correct. The atmosphere in the car gradually congealed, and neither of them spoke again until the car entered She-wolf's headquarters.
Beneath her red dress, a jade-like foot in a white stocking stepped onto an equally dazzling red high heel. The heel tapped against the floor with a sharp clicking sound. Erica ignored the astonished, awed, and admiring gazes of the young magicians in She-wolf's headquarters. She held her head high and followed her uncle into the meeting room.
The finest knights and magicians in all of Italy had already gathered within She-wolf's headquarters. A round table stood in the center of the hall, with seven seats arranged around it—the positions of the Seven Sisters' leaders.
Five people were already seated in those seven chairs. The seventh magical society was currently in turmoil and had not yet chosen a new supreme commander, so it had been excluded from this meeting.
Erica merely swept her gaze around the room before spotting a familiar face.
A silver-haired Knight Princess stood upright behind a rather young-looking woman. She gazed straight ahead, her posture rigid. Although she was equally beautiful, her bearing made her seem less girlish and charming, replaced by the sternness expected of a knight.
Liliana Kranichar was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Kranichar family in the magical world and belonged to the magical organization Bronze Black Cross.
Although Bronze Black Cross and Bronze Black Cross were members of the Seven Sisters Alliance, the two magical societies, both headquartered in Milan, had been rivals for centuries. Thus, Erica and Liliana were close in private, but they were also competitors.
After spotting her acquaintance, Erica's beautiful face broke into a playful smile. She winked at Liliana.
Liliana merely glared back at Erica before continuing to stare straight ahead, no longer paying attention to her provocation.
Erica did not continue teasing Liliana. Soon, she became just as serious and stood behind her uncle.
Everyone in this meeting hall was a prominent figure in Italy's magical world. As a junior, she had no right to behave too casually here. It would make Bronze Black Cross lose face and cause others to think her ill-mannered.
"Lord Paul Brantley has arrived. Let's begin the meeting at once. We mustn't keep the new King waiting."
The supreme commander of the magical society City of Lilies spoke first. He was a young man not yet thirty. He had abandoned his real name and instead inherited the name of every supreme commander of City of Lilies—the Purple Knight.
The supreme commander of the magical society Old Lady, Trino, followed up. "...I believe everyone already understands the purpose of this meeting. There's no need to waste time repeating it. I'll ask just one question: who among you has detailed information about the new King? This concerns our Seven Sisters Alliance, so I hope none of you will conceal anything."
The supreme commander of Bronze Black Cross was the young-looking woman standing in front of Liliana. Her name was Deanna Milito. As soon as Trino finished speaking, she continued, "...Old Lady, you actually came out from headquarters. It seems the new King has put quite a bit of pressure on you. According to the intelligence we received from the Christianity of the Vatican, the new King is supposedly a sixteen-year-old boy, only two years older than our Liliana."
"...We can only roughly guess that his Authority is related to Michael. Even the 'idlers' in Greenwich have failed to uncover more detailed information. This 'King' has no recorded battles, and no one knows how he slew a god. Since Christianity has recognized him as a Campione, we must deal with him as we would any Campione. Christianity still has that much credibility."
"A god-slayer has never been a powerful magician..."
Paul Brantley spoke in his refined voice. "...I've had several dealings with the English Campione, the Black Prince, and witnessed the terror of a Disobedient God with my own eyes. Even with my strength, facing a Disobedient God left me as helpless as an infant. When dealing with someone capable of slaying a god, never concern yourself with his age. Campiones are simply this 'unreasonable,' beings wholly unrelated to knights and magicians like us."
The meeting fell silent. Everyone's breathing grew somewhat heavy. Paul Brantley was undoubtedly one of the pinnacles of Italy's knights and magicians, if not the strongest among them. Yet even he spoke this way, making everyone feel even more despair and sorrow toward Campiones and Disobedient Gods.
Not everyone had seen a Disobedient God. Although Disobedient Gods were natural disasters, one might not appear for several years. Even if one did appear, ordinary magicians like them would not be the ones to face it. A "King" would personally intervene.
Even the young supreme commander of City of Lilies had never witnessed a Disobedient God with his own eyes, let alone the other young magicians present.
Yet precisely because they had never looked directly at a Disobedient God, an imperceptible sense of defiance would arise in their hearts.
"Stop boasting about your achievements, Paul Brantley! This isn't the place for you to recount your glorious past!"
As a member of a rival magical society, Deanna Milito interrupted Paul in a sharp tone. "...We know too little about the new King. But judging from the small amount of information we have, his personality is extremely 'capricious.' We can dismiss it as the self-indulgence of youth. Therefore, we've gathered here to vote on whether to continue supporting Lord Salvatore Tony, our overlord in Southern Europe, or betray him and place ourselves under the new King..."
"Forgive me for interrupting you, Lord Milito, but please allow me to say something. Liliana and I have both dealt with Lord Salvatore, and his personality is not suited to being served—especially if the new King is as wanton as rumored. Disobeying his orders could very well invite retaliation! Moreover, Lord Salvatore is only our nominal overlord. We, the Seven Sisters, are not his true subordinates, so this would not count as betrayal. Therefore, I suggest that we..."
Facing the gazes of the many leading figures in Italy's magical world, Erica spoke fearlessly and resolutely. Her confident bearing made the old magicians present nod inwardly, envious that Bronze Black Cross had such an outstanding junior.
But before Erica could finish, the young supreme commander of City of Lilies interrupted her. "...Lady Erica Brantley, mind the occasion. Although you are an outstanding junior of Bronze Black Cross, you have no right to speak here..."
The Purple Knight's tone was extremely displeased.
Erica's face flushed. She swallowed every word she had been about to say. After enduring it for a while, she finally sighed, bowed, and said, "...I spoke out of turn. I hope the esteemed lords will forgive me."
Paul Brantley was just about to comfort his niece when the door to the meeting room suddenly burst open.
Everyone frowned. No one else should have been coming. Which magical society's people could be so rude as to barge into such an important meeting room?
Countless gazes turned toward the doorway. A young man stood there, wearing a Cardinal Robe with his right hand in his pocket. He was studying them with great interest.
"All my esteemed subjects gathered in one place. You've saved me the trouble of looking for you one by one, and I'm very pleased by your thoughtfulness... But I told you to come see me, so why did I find you holding a meeting here instead?"
Before you continue