[Report on the Visit of the Sixth Campione, Adam Victory to Japan, Greenwich Assembly Compilation]
The History Compilation Committee, Japan's leading magic organization, confirmed the visit of the Sixth Campione, Adam Victory, to its territory. The reason for the visit was not disclosed, but Kaoru Sayanomiya confirmed that the Sixth Campione and Japan reached an agreement.
It is speculated that the visit is related to the new Authority obtained by the Sixth Campione—the Divine Sword Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi.
Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi is a legendary sword and one of the three Imperial Regalia of Japan.
It was originally called Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, but its name was later changed to the more popular Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi ("Grass-Cutting Sword"). In folklore, the sword represents virtue and valor.
A divine sword wielded by the God Susanoo, who obtained it after pulling it from the tail of the fearsome serpent Yamata no Orochi, a hero defeating a dragon monster, a fable widely represented around the world, symbolizing the power of the Heroes of Steel.
As an Authority related to [Steel], it is certainly a sword superior to all other mortal magic weapons. It is speculated that due to its connection with Susanoo, the sword also has the ability to control the weather.
The true extent of its capabilities is unknown.
After his visit to Japan, the Sixth Campione ended up staying in Berlin, his territory, and rarely left.
—Report by the White Hime-Miko, Alice Louise, former leader of the Council of Wise Men and current advisor to the Witenagemot.
... ...
[Report on the Descent of the Heretic God, Odin, and his Defeat at the Hands of the Sixth Campione, Adam Victory, Greenwich Assembly Compilation]
Odin, the Allfather, is the chief god of Norse mythology, ruling the realm of Asgard and the god of wisdom, war, death, magic, poetry, and prophecy. Son of Borr and Bestla, Odin, along with his brothers Vili and Vé, created the world from the body of the giant Ymir, giving rise to Earth, the sea, and the heavens.
In his relentless pursuit of wisdom, Odin made great sacrifices. He sacrificed his left eye to drink from Mimir's well, which granted him profound knowledge, and hung himself from the World Tree, Yggdrasil, for nine nights, to learn the runes, symbols of magical power capable of distorting reality.
His most well-known symbols of power are the Magic Spear, [Gungnir], forged by the dwarves, which never misses its target and always returns to his hand, and [Hugin] and [Munin] - Odin's ravens, whose names mean "thought" and "memory," respectively. They fly around the world every day, bringing information and secrets to the god.
A few days ago, Odin's descent into the mortal world was confirmed.
In a town near Berlin, Germany. As soon as the sun rose, a Heretic God descended, and phenomena began to weave throughout Germany. Conflicts between people, ravens covering the skies, and suicides by hanging occurred for half an hour before the Sixth Campione confronted him.
Adam Victory confirmed the Heretic God's identity as Odin, who was looking for him. The Sixth Campione did not give information about why Odin was looking for him, but it is likely to retrieve Loki's Grimoire in the possession of the King of Celestial Massacre.
The fight lasted about ten minutes, which seemed to precede the end of Germany. Earthquakes, hurricanes, and tsunamis hit the entire country.
But at the focus of the fight, which was the source of all this, it was more horrific.
Few mages witnessed the fight, but it wiped a huge German city off the map, along with a nearby mountain range. It is because of feats like these that mere mages like us are an abyss away from Campiones and Gods. It's regrettable how weak we are before beings like them.
After fifteen minutes of fighting, the Heretic God, Odin, fell at the hands of the Sixth Campione, Adam Victory.
Nothing is known about the authority the Sixth Campione used since all witnesses died instantly when he used it. No one survived. Some investigations later revealed that the people's bodies were intact. We can assume it was an authority that directly affected the soul and caused instant death.
The only plausible assumption is Balor's authority, which the Sixth Campione possessed. Balor was known for his instant death attacks, but this makes the idea of the Sixth Campione having two or more Authorities of the Heretic God in question feasible—which is somewhat terrifying.
As for the authority acquired from Odin, the Sixth Campione must have gained something related to wisdom and magic or the summoning of ravens. The various possibilities make it difficult to guess the correct one.
—Report by the White Hime-Miko, Alice Louise, former leader of the Council of Wise Men and current advisor to the Witenagemot.
...
..
.
A year and a half later.
Cretan legends are a particularly famous category of Greek mythology. For example, there was the Minotaur, the half-man, half-bull monster born from an affair between Queen Pasiphae and a bull. The Greeks were required to regularly offer their young children as sacrifices to this monster, imprisoned in an underground labyrinth. The young warrior Theseus entered the labyrinth to kill it—this is the well-known story of the "Minotaur's Labyrinth."
To imprison the monster, King Minos ordered the construction of a labyrinth. Trapped in its many passages, outsiders were devoured by the monster as soon as they stepped inside. Later, Minos ordered King Aegeus to send seven pairs of youths, male and female, once every nine years, to be sacrificed to the bull-headed monster. The Athenian prince Theseus decided to go to Crete to kill the Minotaur and save the Athenian youths. King Minos's daughter, Ariadne, fell in love with Theseus and gave him a sharp sword and a ball of yarn. Thanks to these items, Theseus killed the Minotaur and escaped the labyrinth with the Athenian youths and Princess Ariadne.
"The key to this myth is the Minotaur, born from the affair between the queen and the bull," Alexandre Gascoigne explained. His current location was Cornwall. Also called Black Prince Alec, he was known as the Noble of Divine Speed and, in fact, was also a [King], widely versed in myths from around the world. Although not an elite mage by training, he mastered all kinds of spells and became a Campione at sixteen.
In the following years, he came into conflict with the Witenagemot, the organization of the greatest experts in the realm of magic. Traveling throughout Europe in search of mysterious treasures, he fought against gods and magic associations from all over the world. Most likely it was during this period that his skills as a first-class mage were gradually honed.
"Since ancient times, the bull was a symbol of abundant harvests. Because of this, the Cretans equated it with the divine. On the other hand, this also establishes an interpretation that the queen is a miko," Alec continued. Perhaps the following was the prototype for the Minotaur legend—in the early days of the Greek city-states, the island of Crete had a powerful civilization.
These islanders demanded children from the Greeks as tribute to be sacrificed to the island's god of harvests. This "God of Harvests" who desired young children was served by the queen who acted as a miko.
Alec usually explained these kinds of topics to his subordinates. The association he founded, [Royal Arsenal], recruited all sorts of talent, including powerful mages, occultists, commoners seeking revenge, bandits, con artists, and thieves.
As long as they knew of the existence of gods, even ordinary commoners were included. This resulted in varying levels of competence and specialization, requiring Alec, as leader, to give lectures on the basics of magical common sense.
... ...
Two days earlier.
A museum situated in a picturesque, peaceful village...
This was not just an ordinary museum. It served as the hidden headquarters for Alec's subordinates, a strategic and concealed location where precious artifacts, stolen from the British Museum and the British Library, were stored.
Among these treasures, mountains of ancient grimoires were also found, part of the vast collection Alec had accumulated over the past year. Most of these items had been acquired with a single goal: power. All of it stolen on impulse, at the height of the intense conflict with the Witenagemot, which had taken on unforeseen proportions.
But at this moment, Alec found himself on the deepest level of a vast underground labyrinth.
The deep, resonant laughter of a [Heretic God] echoed through the shadowy walls, emanating from the heart of the labyrinth. Its voice seemed to originate from the depths of the earth, reverberating like distant thunder.
"Kukukuku... Trying to thwart the final stage of my grand plans to return to earth? So be it! Delicious!" The voice vibrated with power.
The source of this sound was none other than a gigantic being: a Minotaur. Its body, a staggering 30 meters long, was sprawled on the ground. The giant, imposing and muscular, wore a short tunic made of palm fibers, with a red cape draped around its shoulders. To any mortal who saw it, it was a sight that would inspire awe, someone who would easily subdue the weak to his will. With his piercing eyes and a divine power emanating from his body, he wasn't just a physical force. He personified utter dominance.
Despite its intimidating presence, the Minotaur was in agony, its body spread on the floor as if on the verge of death.
The creature, a divinity associated with the harvest in Greek myths, had faced a fierce battle, where its strength was consumed, and its majesty was now nothing more than an echo of its former power.
Alec, exhausted, was crouched beside the dying monster. His heavy, panting breaths betrayed the effects of a battle that had pushed him beyond his limits.
Sweat streamed down his face, and his mind felt overloaded with physical and mental pain. Each beat of his head felt like a hammer sawing into his brain.
"Swallow me, tread on my corpse, become even more powerful!" the Minotaur groaned, its voice a whisper of rage and pain.
"Heaven and earth! For the sake of me, who has been slain, open the path to hell as an offering to the king!"
Alec couldn't help but shake his head in disgust.
"Tsk. Even in your last breaths, you still need to chant insulting verses..." Alec muttered, a touch of disdain in his voice.
The Minotaur, with its body gravely wounded, was in critical condition. The pain in its internal organs was almost unbearable, its racing heartbeat making each breath a struggle. Its arteries and veins were ruptured, and blood pooled in large puddles around it.
The situation was desperate. It was about to disintegrate before Alec, like a shadow vanishing into the night.
With a final burst of rage, the Minotaur coughed up blood and bellowed its final words:
"Farewell, godslayer! May curse and endless conflict accompany your remaining life!"
These words were a sentence of eternal suffering. And with that, the divinity's body dissolved into smoke, vanishing forever, but leaving behind the promise of future disasters.
Alec, with a weary sigh, felt the weight of the universe on his shoulders.
He dragged his wounded body to the surface, his mind filled with confused thoughts, but also with a sense of bitter victory.
"I came to investigate partially out of pure curiosity; coming here with a relaxed mood, this was the result...!" Alec murmured to himself, frustration evident in his words.
Even without the Minotaur's curse, his life seemed like an endless sequence of disasters and conflicts. He clicked his tongue, concerned with his posture and appearance, a behavior that highlighted his vanity even in times of crisis.
Looking around, he realized he was alone in that vast, empty space. There were no more enemies in sight, only the silence of the labyrinth that was now undone. The place where he now stood, a large circular cavity, was nearly 10 km in diameter. An altar stood in the center, and a throne awaited someone worthy of sitting on it, a tribute to the divinity that had reigned there.
The labyrinth and the circular space hadn't existed on the island of Crete a week ago, but, with the Minotaur's death, the place had been created by the divine authority of the Heretic Minos, as a manifestation of the power of a corrupted god.
With a swift activation of divine speed, Alec used his ability to instantly relocate, enveloping himself in lightning that sliced through the air and transported him in the blink of an eye to a coastal hotel in the island's seaside resort.
Once in the comfort of his room, he drank a healing potion and lay down, sleeping for six hours. When he awoke, night had already fallen, and most of the external injuries were healed. However, the headache persisted, like an unwanted reminder of his battle against the Minotaur.
"Still with this inexplicable body..." Alec murmured, looking at his reflection in the mirror, frustrated with the ongoing discomfort.
The headache wouldn't go away, so he knew he should take care of himself. With effort, he got up, showered, shaved, and styled his hair. He dressed in fresh clothes, although shirts at the resort were dispensable, preferring to maintain impeccable personal style despite his fatigue.
After a simple seafood meal at the hotel restaurant, Alec headed to a quiet bar nearby. As he sat down, he took a sip of the alcohol and felt temporary relief. The weight of events still hung over him, but at least, for that moment, he could relax a little.
"Why does it always have to be a brush with death, every time?" Alec reflected, his gaze lost in the drink.
"There you are, Alec. Abandoning me at the airport, what a cruel man you are, truly..."
The greeting came from behind, laden with words tinged with feigned sadness. Without looking back, it was obvious it was Sir Iceman.
Alec remained quiet, waiting until his loyal subordinate sat beside him before letting out a grunt.
"I think it's time for you to drop the 'Non-Flying Dutchman' nickname. After all, overcoming the sky is humanity's privilege."
"Give me a break! I really have to overcome that piece of metal!"
Sir Iceman, or Denis, as he was known in his homeland of the Netherlands, was a twenty-five-year-old man known for his phobia of flying.
He was a talented mage and a highly respected knight in England, where he had received the title of "Sir". His coolness and calmness earned him the nickname "Iceman", but his irrational fear of flying generated great irony among his companions. He was also called the "Non-Flying Dutchman" due to this phobia, which he didn't hesitate to express in an almost exaggerated manner.
"...that piece of metallic junk suspended in the air is the only exception. That thing is... the symbol of human stupidity. Humanity should not defy the heavens..." He spoke with conviction, as if the heavens were closer to his own truth than anyone's reason.
Ironic as it was, Sir Iceman was also a valiant warrior. His power was of such magnitude that he was among the few people capable of standing toe-to-toe with the forces of Italy's greatest hero, Paolo Blandelli.
"I will gladly face one hundred, no, one thousand men in battle, and even follow you in a fight against the gods. But this..." He pointed to the sky, as if the entire universe conspired against him.
Alec shook his head slowly, reflecting on his subordinate's words. "There were only thirty minutes left before the last flight to the Strait of Dover took off, and yet you were hiding in the bathroom, reluctant to come out... I believe most people would agree it wasn't my fault."
"Refusing to admit your faults, how cruel. Fine, I'll forget about it... Anyway, Alec, you've already fought, right?"
Alec glanced sideways at Sir Iceman. "What?"
"Yesterday there was a report of a [Heretic God] manifesting on this island of Crete."
"Can you give me the details of the fight?"
Alec was silent for a moment. He simply raised his wine glass and took another sip, silent.
Divine speed, the authority of the [Black Lightning], something he was well aware of, was his trump card. He rarely relied on allies. He was a force unto himself, moving faster than anyone could follow.
"It's always painful to realize that those you hope for don't have the ability to help. Our king's feeling of worry, I still hope to know whether you're safe or not. Even so, please keep this in mind." His loyal subordinate said.
Alec, in no hurry to respond, slid the wine glass to Sir Iceman. Though he had no intention of apologizing, the drink was an acceptable form of acknowledgment.
"By the way, allow me to add something."
"What is it?"
"Since we expressly came to Crete, why are you drinking Bowmore? I also love to drink, but this marine aroma is something wonderful. Still, there's not enough reason to choose the liquor of a cold country when we're... here."
The Bowmore, a Scotch whisky produced in Scotland. Its acidity and the hints of sea salt were something he always appreciated, but still, it seemed out of place in that unbearable heat.
"I see nothing wrong with fidelity to my preferences. No matter what happens, what matters most is what I desire." Sir Iceman calmly replied, his words filled with quiet wisdom.
Alec licked his lips, ready to retort, but something caught his attention. A young beauty, with delicate features and an aura of mystery, was approaching them.
She was young, probably twelve or thirteen years old, much too young to be frequenting a bar, but the strangest thing was the behavior of everyone around. No voice reprimanded her, no one even looked in her direction. It was as if she didn't exist to the rest of those present.
"It must be a [Concealment] spell. She hid her presence from everyone but us," Sir Iceman observed, with keen perception.
"Probably. Some fairies and witches are really skilled at that," Alec replied without taking his eyes off her.
The young woman approached until she stood before them, dressed in a simple yet striking white summer dress. She looked like a doll sculpted by a master craftsman, her beauty so pure that it was almost unreal.
"Greetings for the first time, [King] known as Prince. Allow me to greet Your Highness."
Her formal and gracefully mysterious way of speaking only added to the feeling that something was out of the ordinary. Alec felt a sense of detachment. It wasn't common for him to be addressed in this manner.
"If you have something to say, be quick. I'm enjoying a private moment and have no interest in a suspicious fellow like you."
With the imposing posture that had earned him the moniker "Prince", Alec maintained his cold and direct tone. He was a handsome man with a tall and slightly slender build; this was the reason he had received such a nickname.
When he was with Sir Iceman, who also possessed quite notable features in appearance with solemn facial features like a sculpted carving. He was even taller than Alec and seemed stronger with his broader shoulders. Even wearing a frilly suit, there was an air of masculine charm—anyway, both were frequently approached by women. Standing out from the crowd was everyday life for them. However, this young woman was clearly different from those women.
The young woman wasn't fazed by Alec's coldness, and with a slight bow, she said:
"Then I'll get straight to the point, Prince. Your Highness came to this location to investigate whether the Cretan god Minos was [Steel], is that correct?"
Alec's curiosity was piqued. How did she know that? It was as if she had read his mind.
"I sense that Your Highness's body contains a presence similar to the Chinese [Steel], the bull-headed, iron-bodied war god Chi You, or Susanoo of Japan, also known as the Bull-Headed Heavenly King."
Sir Iceman, concerned about the situation, made a subtle gesture, asking if he should act. Alec, however, shook his head, indicating he preferred to handle it.
"Wrong, but close enough. It was a war god with the [Bull] attribute, probably an evolved form of an earth god like Minos. I was investigating, but I ended up running into you by chance," Alec said, his tone impassive but noticeably interested.
Well, opting to travel on a whim and encountering a battle with a Heretic God was an unexpected bonus…
Instead, there were more interesting questions to ask this girl.
"Why are you asking me about the matter of [Steel]? I am better known as a seeker of the Holy Grail. But there should be practically no one who knows I am interested in the connections between war gods and the Holy Grail."
The following year, after becoming a Campione, Alec went looking for the [Magical Holy Grail].
At that time, he had declared war on the English mages centered on the Witenagemot.
Furthermore, the gathering of high-level mages in England from all over Europe to become Alec's enemies or allies exploded into a major conflict—the Battle for the Magical Grail.
Anyone involved in the world of magic would have heard of this major incident.
"The only ones who know about the connections between war gods and the Holy Grail are a very small number of Knights Templar and witches. With no scent of iron on your body, it's unlikely you're a knight. But you're no ordinary human. You're a Divine Ancestor, right?"
Excellent senses of smell and taste beyond normal humans were several of Alec's little-known talents.
As well as a mind that maintained a delicate balance with calm and insightful instincts.
Through logical thought and analysis of instinct, the term Divine Ancestor surfaced in memory.
The girl before his eyes must not be a witch or an ordinary knight.
Certainly.
"As befits one known to be particularly wise among godslayers, the truth was indeed discerned from my greeting. Most likely reflecting Your Highness's development." She gave a slight bow and, with a gentle smile, took her leave: "I apologize if I, Guinevere, have offended you."
Before Alec could react, the young woman vanished like an illusion, her presence fading into the air as quickly as she had arrived.
"That person called herself Guinevere," Sir Iceman commented, more to himself than to Alec.
Alec simply shrugged. "Ahah. I wonder if that name was chosen as a joke or if it holds a special meaning."
"Hmm... Alec, I had a thought." Sir Iceman continued, his expression serious.
"Regarding Guinevere, why don't we ask the most talented witch about her? Notable witches have special connections that transcend associations and countries. She must know something."
Alec frowned, bothered by the suggestion. "Since the two of you are so intimately linked by fate, I think it's best to prepare in advance for when it happens."
"Stop with the nonsense! There's nothing but bad luck between us!"
Sir Iceman was trying to find a practical solution, but Alec was already tired of the subject. A bad feeling was forming in Alec's mind about the unfolding situation.
... ...
The four-story Victorian building, constructed with red bricks, resembled the Scotland Yard government offices in Westminster. The office of the Witenagemot spokesperson was located deep within the first floor. Curiously, all previous spokespersons kept their offices on the top floor, but the current incumbent made a change as soon as she took office, moving the office to a lower floor. There was a rumour that she had declared: "The highest floor of a building without lifts? Unacceptable!"
A graceful and gentle young lady, Alice Louise of Navarre, also known as Princess Alice, was considered one of the most aristocratic figures in Europe.
The Witenagemot's headquarters were situated in Greenwich, London. Although her appearance and title suggested a more refined and reserved demeanor, Alice was surprisingly frank. She ignored the words of her subordinate, Patricia Ericson, who acted as her secretary and governess.
"So what exactly is the Magical Holy Grail?" Patricia asked, her tone methodical and emotionless. "It's the greatest treasure sought by the Knights Templar, successors of the 12th-century crusaders, who tried to reclaim the Holy Land of Jerusalem. It's believed to be an item that was born with the great land and stores an immeasurable amount of magical power."
Patricia, with her hair tied back and thin-framed glasses, spoke with a stiffness that made listening tiresome, though her authority was undeniable. She continued: "Since ancient times, appearances of the Holy Grail in this world were rare. Many mages and seekers left records about the 'miracle of the Holy Grail', which manifests when it's found by the Chosen One."
Alice listened in silence, without interruption, until she smiled calmly and spoke: "Yes, I know. And it's still not clear what exactly 'Chosen One' means. I don't need to review the lore regarding the Holy Grail, otherwise, I'd be a terrible student."
Despite being considered an excellent student and a world authority on the subject of the Holy Grail, Alice maintained a casual and somewhat irreverent attitude. The daughter of a Duke and possessing exceptional spiritual abilities, she was appointed to the position of Witenagemot spokesperson at the age of sixteen. Her background and instruction were of a superior level, making her a respected figure.
Patricia, however, continued with her rigorous attitude, like a relentless private tutor. "It's true you're an excellent student. But it's not just about academic knowledge, but action."
She continued, not hiding her coldness as she adjusted her glasses: "Another crucial aspect for the manifestation of the Holy Grail is the 'valiant and foolish son of heaven', as rumour has it."
Alice replied with an enigmatic smile. "Yes, I'm aware of that."
Although fully aware, Alice preferred not to openly discuss the fact that the "fool" mentioned in the rumours was, in fact, a reference to the Campione Devil King.
Patricia, in turn, felt the need to reinforce her warning. "The Holy Grail is an extraordinary power. What's at stake here isn't just the pursuit of an artifact, but the risk of disasters caused by [Heretic Gods]. And you, as spokesperson for the Witenagemot, have the responsibility to maintain order in the magical world."
Alice replied, her voice relaxed: "Yes, yes, but it's a very interesting subject, isn't it? Now, please understand that I have something urgent to attend to."
Patricia glared at the princess. "What's happening now, Princess?"
Alice smiled slightly, her expression serene, and, as if politely taking her leave, said: "There's a world crisis that needs my attention. I am the Witenagemot spokesperson, but sometimes it's necessary to act as the situation demands."
With a swift movement, Alice activated her spiritual power and separated her material body from her astral body. Her spiritual body flew into the heavens, leaving behind an empty shell, while Patricia, once more, simply watched, perplexed.
Alice knew a major incident was about to happen, and the calling of the Holy Grail and the Black Prince would be a perfect opportunity for a new mission. The letter that reached her with the news that Black Prince Alec had slain a god in Crete was confirmation that the moment she had been waiting for had finally arrived.
It was the perfect opportunity to meet this enigmatic prince and, who knows, sow new seeds of discord and intriguing power.
With a satisfied smile, Alice set off for the unknown, leaving the Witenagemot headquarters and the enraged Patricia behind, as she headed towards where destiny called her.
... ...
Letting his body sway freely with the vibrations of the moving train, Alec reminisced. As a side note, he was alone. Whenever he crossed the seas, Sir Iceman was always left behind to take a ship. However, this time he was directly informed beforehand. The other party also agreed with Alec's suggestion that having two battles against gods within a week should be impossible. Stopping to think about it, how long ago must it have been since he last enjoyed a train ride as casually as this?
After becoming a Campione, every day was exceptionally busy.
It all started a few years ago.
Growing up in a small town in Cornwall, Alec was introduced to magical knowledge from a young age. It was a universe that fascinated him, but, compared to magic, he always excelled more at gambling and mind tricks. Something in his nature made him feel more comfortable manipulating probabilities than controlling invisible forces.
Of course, he wasn't remarkable enough to be recruited by powerful magical associations or the Witenagemot—the council of wise men and mages that secretly governed the world of arcane arts. However, the ability to manipulate probabilities and a sharp mind gave him some advantages on his journey.
The one who taught Alec the first steps in magic was his father, a man most people would call an occultist. His father spent his life searching for the occult, an insatiable quest that led him to an obsession with the Magical Holy Grail. It was a power he believed capable of transcending everything. And that obsession was undoubtedly the reason his wife abandoned him, leaving him to raise Alec alone.
When Alec was sixteen, his father, already deteriorated by years of endless searching, revealed to him, as a final message before dying, a secret code. These words and the key to a buried mystery became the trigger for a long journey that would begin at an unknown destination.
Through luck and sharp instincts, Alec found himself involved in the battle against the fallen angel Ramiel, and it was in this fight that he obtained the authority of divine speed. A crushing victory that pushed him onto a path of power he could never have foreseen.
He smiled at the memory. It was a time of mixed emotions, of nostalgia, and growth. Soon after, he found himself embroiled in the battle for the Holy Grail, where the line between allies and enemies became increasingly blurred. The search for this artifact led him to create the [Royal Arsenal], a collection of powerful magical weapons intended to face the greatest challenges in the world.
If none of this had happened, he probably would never have met that girl, that princess who challenged him in ways he never imagined.
The "princess" was four years younger than him, and, although she had a delicate and graceful appearance, she carried a subtle hostility, as if he were a target to be deconstructed. This woman had become a constant presence in his life, always casting a shadow of questioning and doubt.
Alec clicked his tongue, reflecting on this unsettling encounter. "Why did that annoying girl's face pop into my mind now?" he wondered, trying to push the thought away. It must just be a consequence of his mind wandering through unpleasant memories. She was with him now, once more.
"Yes, I already know that appearing anywhere without warning is your special skill. But I hope you can learn to behave a little. In a situation like this, it would be polite to greet before sitting down," said Alec, turning to the ethereal presence that materialized before him.
"Oh well. When the terrible Great Devil King starts lecturing about manners, it must be an omen for a world-shaking cataclysm," replied the spiritual body of Princess Alice indifferently.
There were no other passengers in the carriage. The train was almost empty, a coincidence or, perhaps, the princess's doing? The spiritual body of England's, and perhaps Europe's, most talented miko was there, once again interrupting what should have been a moment of tranquility.
"Did she detect my location as usual through the magical information networks? What a disgrace, the nuisances of this woman never end," Alec thought, already tired of the presence that always seemed to appear at the most inconvenient times.
"Rumour has it you successfully slew your third god in Crete. The god slumbering on that island... after all, is it the divinity of Minos?" Alice questioned, trying to catch Alec off guard.
"I have no obligation to answer you. What a bothersome question," Alec replied with indifference, though he had furrowed his brow upon hearing the mention of Minos. The name of Minos always made him remember the legends that linked him to a grand destiny, but of a very different sort than what Alec was used to.
"There. Your habit of twitching your right eyebrow the instant someone guesses correctly. It's Minos, as expected... So, what kind of authority is it this time? It must be a fitting one for you, a power that's extravagant and convoluted at the same time," Alice teased with a smirk.
She was a complicated woman, always with quick retorts, as if she were waiting for him to contradict her every word. Alec frowned, acknowledging her ability to manipulate the dialogue. She was a constant challenge.
The first time he met her, she was only twelve years old. But even at that age, she was remarkably perceptive and intelligent, with an ability to argue that could rival the greatest strategists. She was a princess, but with a tongue as sharp as a sword's blade.
Recalling the details of their first unpleasant encounter, Alec clicked his tongue.
"...Stopping to think about it, historically there have been many members of the English royal family originating from fabricated claims of kinship, producing incompetent kings."
A sudden shift in the topic of conversation.
There was a need to transform this troublesome encounter into something slightly more constructive.
"That's an affront to England's Red Dragon hero... Though I can understand where you're going with this. Disregarding the first half of his life, he became quite surprising in the second half."
The girl with the graceful manners but surprisingly sharp tongue began to speak.
"The legendary King Arthur of England united Britain along with the Scots suffering from invasions by the Saxons and Picts, resolutely defending them. He was the immortal hero who could slay one hundred enemies with a single stroke of the magic sword Excalibur. Leading the Knights of the Round Table into battle, he achieved victory after victory."
"However, unaware of the immoral relationship between his wife and trusted subordinate, he was responsible for the fatal wedge that separated the unity of his men."
"Aware, but feigning ignorance... That kind of explanation might work in fiction, but for a legendary war monarch, it's enough. Likewise for the reason for the ruin of the country, a result of the failure of suppression."
Alice smiled radiantly while speaking with a satirical tone.
"Exceptional as a warrior and commander on the battlefield, but the absolute worst, whether in terms of politician, king, or husband..."
"I don't know why anyone would wish for such an inept person to be revived. I definitely wouldn't."
Having said that, Alec continued.
"However, he became an authoritative hero in England, Wales, Ireland, Scotland... even in France and other parts of Europe."
"Yes, as befits the 'Once and Future King'."
Alice was quoting the famous work that was a symbol of Arthurian legends.
The tomb inscription recorded in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.
HIC IACET ARTHURUS REX QUONDAM REXQUE FUTURUS — Here lies Arthur, king once, and king to be.
It implied that the legendary king was not a ruler who would remain in the past.
Awakening in the future world to descend as king once more. Yes, after being fatally wounded in the Battle of Camlann, King Arthur sleeps on the fairy isle of Avalon to heal his wounds, awaiting his time to awaken!
Therefore, he is the "Once and Future King."
"...I remember now. About a year ago, wasn't it? We were both investigating the legends of King Arthur as part of searching for the Holy Grail. And regarding that, are you doing that again?"
Hmph. Alec scoffed, refusing to give an answer. It was still too early to reveal, and he needed to keep deceiving that woman a little longer.
"Oh my, what are you thinking now? Alright, I'll accompany you for a while. Alexandre, you said once before, the truth of the King Arthur legend can only be discovered by transcending history and literature."
"Ah yes. From a historical perspective, it's not very accurate. As literature, it's a mess. Those are the traits of the legend."
Alec slowly nodded to Alice's question.
"First, let's confirm the historical Arthur. That's obvious, it's just a fictional character. However, there could very well be a real person who was the prototype," he said, seeming to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment.
Alice seemed to be waiting for a response. She, who always accompanied his words with immense attention, was finally beginning to understand the direction Alec was taking.
"Yes, if such a person truly existed, then it must have been in England, during the 5th or 6th century."
Regarding more specific details of that era, there were many who knew even more than the Devil King and the White Princess.
The answer could probably be obtained immediately from these people.
They were known in England as the Arthurians, a group of King Arthur fanatics.
From the second half of the 6th century, there was a steady increase in the number of people named Arthur in Britain. As the fame of extraordinary people with the same name as the legendary character grew, popularity increased among commoners, which resulted in a significant increase in children named after him.
"However, even if there was a"However, even if there was a real person as the prototype for King Arthur, he was certainly not a king."
"Britain at that time… wasn't an independent country. It was still part of the Roman Empire, though it had been cast aside as an abandoned frontier territory. Calling oneself 'King' wouldn't have been tolerated."
Because of this, many believe that the prototype for King Arthur was a Roman general. In particular, figures with the name Artorius (which, in English, would be Arthur) are the strongest candidates.
However, there are no historical documents recording English history from that time, so no candidate could be confirmed with certainty. Regardless, 5th and 6th century Britain was in a state of political turbulence.
Furthermore, the original inhabitants of England at the time were the so-called Celts, while modern Englishmen are descended from the Saxon invaders who drove the Celts into what are now known as Wales and Ireland.
Moreover, the members of English royalty were the most interested in acquiring the prestige of King Arthur.
Starting with the House of Plantagenet in the 12th century, this trend became even more pronounced.
Since the Norman Conquest in the 11th century, most members of English royalty belonged to clans of foreign invaders.
The justification for ruling England was to declare themselves descendants of the "Once and Future King," inventing family trees in the process.
"However, in the end, there remained no location proving the existence of the historical King Arthur. It would be more accurate to consider the phenomenon of the fabricated legendary king as an achievement of literature."
As the train rocked and rattled on its way, Alec continued his reflection aloud. He was merely speaking aloud as he organized the questions in his mind. The incident with the girl he met a few days ago returned to his mind.
In the 10th century, King Arthur was just an ordinary general.
"This Historia Regum Britanniae is exactly the origin of King Arthur literature. In the 1135 work, he appears as king, alongside the mage Merlin, and becomes the wielder of the magic sword Calibur."
Alice's pupils gleamed with a mischievous glint as she interacted with Alec.
"France, where many additional stories were added by the court bards, was imported back to England and republished…—Thus the essential structure of the King Arthur legend was formed. The mainland bards also renamed the king's sword to Excalibur and added the characters of Queen Guinevere and the Knight of the Lake, Lancelot."
"So, with that, there are many artificial changes to King Arthur's story, making it more creative fiction than anything else… Still, this man continued to exist as a hero in legend and was passed down through the ages. His figure clearly displays the attributes of the [Steel] war gods. A completely incomprehensible existence!"
Alec finally got to the main point, which was that the young Arthur had become king.
"In addition, the scabbard of Excalibur carried the magic power of immortality."
Immortality on the battlefield. This is also a characteristic of [Steel]. God of the military, god of power, god of war, god of battle. Gods born to fight belong to the category known as [Steel].
"The 'Sword in the Stone' is a symbolic theme of the equestrian tribe's war god."
These existences were metaphors for [Swords], and as living Swords, they never surrendered to outside enemies.
"Well, let's set that matter aside for now. Ever since I sought the Holy Grail, I have been pondering the problem of the hero's prototype. The one who set me on this path was none other than you."
"Hey, me?"
"Do you still remember? You once said that Lancelot of the Lake is [Steel]."
Lancelot, also known as Sir Lancelot, was King Arthur's dear friend and foremost knight. Honored as the strongest of the Knights of the Round Table, he was a model of virtue. However, stained by the crime of his adulterous relationship with King Arthur's wife, Queen Guinevere, he was unable to obtain the Holy Grail, which only manifests before "pure knights."
"The comrades appearing in the early Arthurian legends… Sir Kay, Sir Gawain, Sir Bedivere, and others, can all be confirmed to be modeled on Celtic divinities. The river god Kai, the battle god Gwalchmai, and the armed war god Bedwyr. However, Lancelot, who first appeared in the 12th century, has yet to be identified."
Sitting across from Alec, who spoke fluently, Alice cast a curious glance to the side.
After a long while, she seemed to have grasped the key point.
"There are also theories that suggest Lancelot's prototype is the Celtic divinity Lugh, the master of all arts with his long arms, the one who was defeated by the Sixth Campione. However, the truth of that statement is tenuous at best. Instead, it would be more convincing to say Lancelot was deliberately created by the bards as a woman-slaying character to cater to the nobles and their preference for romance."
As a side note, Alice had been quite adamant in her statement at the time.
Lancelot as a [Steel] war god.
On the other hand, Lancelot's mother was the Lady of the Lake, which happens to closely resemble Thetis, who dipped her son, the hero Achilles, into the River Styx in Hades to give him an immortal body.
A symbiotic relationship with a goddess related to water is also a characteristic of [Steel].
As [Steel], living sword gods had deep roots with water, used to cool newly forged swords.
"On the other hand, Lancelot has no other characteristics besides this, like [Steel]."
Alec showed a knowing smile as he continued his recollections.
"If this were truly the case, then he is simply a war god, and there is no need to have a separate category of [Steel]."
"..."
"However, I really do agree with you. Determining Lancelot as [Steel] is based on a certain report, the one you Witans handed over to the British Library and that had been gathering dust ever since. That thing was mixed in with the other documents I stole."
It was the report of a researcher who came to Greenwich to study for a semester and then moved to Asia to conduct field studies.
"Your mind remains as sharp as ever, mate! Even though you're clearly a devil king!" Alice started to whine.
"Judging by your reaction, Lancelot must be equivalent to what high-ranking witches keep among themselves as a secretly communicated divinity?"
"Fine, yes. You really are the worst, Alexandre. You were always like this! Always setting verbal traps to get me to reveal the truth to you! Using deceitful methods makes you the worst kind of man, utterly failing as a gentleman! And not just failing as a gentleman, you're also devoid of chivalry!"
"What's the point of saying all that? Just as you said, I truly am a Great Devil King."
A satisfying victory. Alec rejoiced in his successful turnabout, but at the same time wondered if it was a bit petty to think so much of an opponent who was a girl four years younger...
"Ah. Seriously! So that's why you came to this island! Even if there is some kind of unexpected occurrence, I believe it will certainly be overcome!"
"As I said before, you're too optimistic. You should always calculate the worst possible situation beforehand."
"None of your business!"
Not long after, the train they were riding stopped.
Carrying his luggage, Alec got off the train, with Alice following with a displeased expression.
"Hey, Alexandre. There's still a good distance to the destination. Why not directly use [Black Lightning]? In that case, you can get there instantly, right? I think it's better to arrive sooner. I don't want to take the train anymore..."
"It's a good opportunity to train the endurance of a willful young lady like yourself. If you're complaining, don't come."
Replying with icy coldness, Alec began looking for the bus stop. It was true that he was capable of using the authority of divine speed, but he could never casually use it as activating that authority had many problematic aspects…
The quiet little town they arrived at was Nuoro, a town located on the Italian island of Sardinia, just like the island of Crete, ruled by the Greeks, it also overlooked the Mediterranean Sea.
Reaching their destination, Oliena would take a bumpy bus ride of several tens of minutes.
The small town of Oliena was situated in Sardinia's interior.
Although there were no specific tourist attractions, it was a beautifully scenic location.
The scenery included tranquil forests and vast farmlands, with a sense of pleasure that couldn't be found in a bustling metropolis.
Alec knew full well where he had to go.
Walking quickly without any hesitation, with Alice's ectoplasm following behind, the two soon arrived before a small house.
The exquisite house and garden revealed the owner's indifference towards horticulture, as the yard was overgrown with weeds. On the other hand, the flowerbeds were filled with all sorts of herbs and flowers.
Overall, the entire complex exuded a suspicious atmosphere, as befitted a witch's house.
As Alec nodded to himself, the princess behind him spoke:
"Did you make an appointment? What if she's not home…"
"No problem. It was all arranged beforehand."
"You haven't changed a bit. Still paying attention to every detail."
That's because, compared to his sloppiness, everyone is meticulous, no matter who. Alec was about to chatter back with his retort, but it seemed the owner of the house was coming out the door.
"Finally, visitors to my home, if I'm not mistaken. Otherwise, please accept my apologies. My name is Lucretia Zola. You two are – oh my, isn't this an old acquaintance?"
The languid gaze belonged to a striking beauty in her prime, wearing a soft and comfortable dress. However, it was readily apparent that she possessed a sexy body.
Lucretia Zola.
Called the Witch of Sardinia, she was one of the highest-ranked witches. She seemed to be looking with interest at her fellow witch friend.
"Two years since we last met."
"…Ah, how time flies. You're still as rude as the child back then. Or perhaps the status of a princess makes you too good for manners? Calling a youthful beauty like me 'madam'..."
Alice and Lucretia chatted affectionately.
Truly, the connections between the top witches since ancient times remain useful even in the present. As Alec nodded to his own deductions, Lucretia turned her gaze to him.
"I don't really think your identity needs confirmation, but a greeting is a matter of courtesy. You are Alexandre Gascoigne – the Campione known as the Black Prince, yes?"
"Indeed. It is an honour to meet you, Exalted Witch."
"The pleasure is all mine. However, Prince, let me say something first."
She showed no signs of fear or hostility before a Campione.
Alec was impressed with her ability to maintain her composure. The witch continued to speak calmly.
"There's no helping young men becoming arrogant after becoming Campiones. However, sending a letter stating 'arriving tomorrow, hope to meet' without even signing a name, don't you think that would be a bit suspicious for the recipient? It's not good for the heart, you know, and I hope the next time you invite me to a meeting you can act a little more like a gentleman."
The final sentence of mockery - really made the nickname 'Prince' weep.
"It can't be helped, madam. Actually, it's not arrogance, since he treats all ladies poorly. Please don't be offended." It was Alice's turn to speak in a complaining tone.
"Really… So you didn't properly make an appointment. Alexandre, dealing with women… Listening to your attempts at pleasantries is like listening to an awkward high school student."
"Mind your own business! Anyway, back to the topic at hand, Lucretia Zola, I have things to discuss with you!"
Alec tried to cover up his embarrassment by raising his voice. He looked directly at the elderly—but still extremely beautiful—witch.
"Since you're supposed to be the authority in this area, I wanted to ask no matter what, about the [Steel] war god Lancelot's connections to you witches."
"Ah… here."
Lucretia Zola spoke cheerfully while alternating her gaze between Alec and Alice, as if she were comparing the two.
"It seems there are complicated factors at work. Well, alright. When I first heard about the Campione searching for the Holy Grail, I already anticipated an inevitable day like this. If you don't mind, please enter my humble abode!"
Alice followed Lucretia into her house, with Alec entering last.
The witch's house door closed automatically, the heavy wooden door slamming shut with great momentum.
"Before we discuss the hero Lancelot, may I ask one thing first?" Lucretia inquired once they reached the living room. Everyone was seated around the table with a serving of herbal tea each.
"No problem. It's only fair to return the courtesy if you can answer our questions."
"…Devil Kings really do show the magnanimity of a gentleman only at times like this. You'll continue to become even more powerful, and transform into something like Marquis Voban."
With a displeased expression, Alec ignored Alice's criticisms.
It would have been tactless to say aloud, "Don't compare me with that savage who only wears a veneer of intellect."
Resolutely, he chose to ignore her.
"Then I'll go ahead. Prince, why do you seek the Holy Grail?"
The playful atmosphere was gone in an instant. Lucretia asked once more with a solemn expression.
"Besides the fact that it's a vessel of unparalleled magical power, no other extraordinary value has been identified for this holy treasure. However, if such an item falls into your hands – as Campione, Prince, surely you can foresee the kind of chaos it will unleash… In the past, your obtaining of the counterfeit already sparked that particular conflict."
In recent years, Alec had sought the Holy Grail twice.
The first time was after he became a Campione. The Holy Grail obtained and hidden by King John of England had manifested. After much fighting, the object of contention was determined to be a fake.
The second time was last year.
It was an adventure whose goal was King Arthur's tomb and Avalon the fairy land discovered by ancient heretical monks. It was commonly believed that the Holy Grail was also slumbering there. In the end, it was determined that what the monks discovered was completely different from what was expected, and so the search ended.
"As Campione, if you obtain the incomparably vast magical power of the Grail, a cataclysmic event tearing apart heaven and earth might arise. Or perhaps you might become the strongest warrior in history who can destroy [Heretic Gods] with ease. For the many people involved in magic who fear or welcome such an event, a great commotion will likely result… So, what is the reason you seek the Grail even at the risk of such tumult? Please tell me."
"Nothing much, all I want is to investigate."
"…"
Lucretia very much doubted that simple answer.
"Simply put, I just want to confirm what kind of thing it is. I want to discern its true nature with my own eyes. If it's something useful, I'll keep it with me, otherwise I'll throw it away. I'm well aware of the trouble it will cause around me, but it's fine."
Shrugging at these indifferent words, Alice offered her commentary:
"Madam, Alexandre is a Campione after all. Although I think he's very serious and petty in strange areas, he ends up being rather arbitrary with his whims. The main point is, people with this kind of personality indulge in their own little world, bringing trouble to others without a thought."
"If he didn't have these obsessions, he'd actually seem like the type of person who acts seriously."
Lucretia clapped her hands with a slap.
"It's strange to hear an unexpectedly honest answer. Yes, indeed, although a bit different from the norm, it's still expected from someone of the Campione lineages."
"Can you shut up with the personality attacks?"
A violent outburst.
*Cough cough*. Alec let out a series of deliberate coughs and continued.
"Returning to the topic of our request. Please tell me, what exactly is Lancelot of the Lake?"
"No problem… However, you certainly have your eye on an intriguing divinity."
A mischievous glint returned to Lucretia's eyes.
"That can't be all. It's something whose true identity is even more elusive than King Arthur. At least the hero Arthur was likely based on an actual general. On the other hand, Lancelot's true origins cannot be traced; there are very few clues."
Alec looked coldly at the two witches' beautiful faces.
"However, two witches judged this unidentified hero to be a [Steel] war god. One is this princess, and the other is you."
"I should apologize. He already read the report."
"Report…? Ahah, that one."
Lucretia nodded after thinking for a bit.
"Even though it was something rushed, done hastily before the deadline, that thing continues to bring trouble."
"That can't be helped. That kind of research can only be read by Witans like the Diogenes Club. Even though they inadvertently wrote down knowledge meant to be orally transmitted, those people shouldn't have leaked…"
The princess seemed to have turned away, feeling responsible for the leaking of secrets.
Anyway, it was time to use this material for a counterattack. As soon as Alec decided this, the Witch of Sardinia began to speak slowly.
"Lancelot du Lac is the guardian deity of high-ranking witches—like myself, who has reached the earthly pinnacle, or the princess, who has reached the heavenly pinnacle."
…Oh? —Alec exclaimed.
"That said, the advantages offered are not that significant. Only at the level of granting one or two divine decrees after performing lengthy rituals. If one of us witches had the disposition for theophany, perhaps it would be possible to use the violent ability of divine possession."
A symbiotic relationship between the adulterous hero divinity and the witches, descendants of the ancient miko.
Alec was secretly thrilled. This matter had piqued his curiosity and was indeed quite interesting. He would need to dig deeper. However, what if he couldn't pry anything more from this witch's mouth…?
"A womanizing hero who only shows interest in witches who have reached the ultimate status between heaven and earth…? Regarding the beings known as 'Divine Ancestors', what kind of existences are they?"
The term was finally uttered. It would be bad if the witches continued to beat around the bush. Fully prepared, Alec revealed his trump card.
"Alexandre, are you trying to say you met a Divine Ancestor somewhere?"
"By any chance, a few days ago, there was someone who appeared before me, calling herself Guinevere. Do you know her?"
The princess's usual manner of disapproval vanished.
Hearing her serious reply, Alec secretly rejoiced in his heart. This feeling of victory gave him a lot of satisfaction.
"Even the White Miko-Hime has never encountered a Divine Ancestor. Guinevere, in particular, is considered a queen-like existence amongst the Divine Ancestors. She is a holy demigoddess, having transcended human and female limitations. She does not appear before others very much."
Seeing the nostalgic expression on the elderly witch's face, Alec understood.
There were no signs that she was trying to hide anything. In that case, he should ask directly.
"Lucretia Zola. What is the nature of your relationship with Guinevere?"
"Fellow researchers of the past, I suppose… When that princess had just reincarnated, she made a suggestion to me once. '—If you're interested in [Steel], would you like to search together for the 'King who manifests at the end of eras'?' Guinevere invited me like that, so I accepted."
"King who manifests at the end of eras?"
"Madam, what the heck is that…?"
The two young adults asked simultaneously.
Alec's cell phone began vibrating.
Tsk. Ruining things at the perfect moment.
However, only a rare number of trusted subordinates knew this number of his. The LCD screen revealed that the caller was Sir Iceman. After brief deliberation, Alec excused himself and answered the call.
"What's wrong with you, mate? Seems like you simply love mystery and adventure, including the danger that accompanies it. This time, I can't help but feel this, Alec."
"What do you mean by that, and where are you now?"
"A short while ago, I had just arrived at the port of Cagliari, on the island of Sardinia. After taking a ship from Crete, I received a report from Cornwall headquarters as soon as I arrived."
"Report? Is it a report expressly addressed to me as commander-in-chief?"
"Yes. A most urgent report. One hour ago, a [Heretic God] manifested in the coastal waters of Sardinia and has begun moving toward the eastern coast of the island. It looks like it'll land soon."
Sir Iceman's tone of voice became even more depressed.
If this continued, a situation of fighting two gods within a week might develop after all.
The Campione activated his divine speed as he vanished from the house, and Princess Alice followed.
Lucretia Zola merely watched their departure.
"Many are after this mysterious [God of Steel], huh…"
"It's because it's an interesting subject, don't you agree?"
Lucretia's eyes widened as she felt a presence that wasn't in the room until a minute ago. Even with her [Clairvoyance], or the princess's, or the instincts of a Campione like Alec, this presence wasn't felt. As she turned, the witch saw a tall, black-haired man with vibrant blue eyes sitting calmly in one of her armchairs. He was very handsome, undeniably beautiful in fact, and dressed very well; he wore a long, voluminous cloak, predominantly black, with a high collar adorned with white sheepskin. The lower part of the cloak opened at the waist, revealing a layer of dark fabric and a light sash at the waist. The black shirt, fitted to the body and with a "V" neckline, was simple and understated. The white trousers, flowing and fitted, matched the black leather boots, sturdy and functional, completing the outfit with an elegant and imposing look.
The man who was called the [King of Celestial Massacre] or the [Evil Buddha].
The one who now ruled Germany – Adam Victory.
With a mysterious smile on his face, the [King] looked at the beautiful witch.
"I would also like to talk about the [Steel] with you, Lucretia."
The vibrant blue eyes flashed with some pink lines that sent shivers down her spine.
"Only if you don't mind, of course."
The witch could only gulp. This Campione was certainly more dangerous than the Prince.
She wondered what he wanted to talk about. The presence of two Campiones, a Heretic God, and the Divine Ancestor in the same location wouldn't bring good things to anyone.