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On a tourist island in the western Pacific, the Campione Marquess Voban-once labeled an "Interdimensional Catastrophe" by the Wise Men's Assembly-suddenly raised her head and looked westward, toward the Asian mainland.
Beneath the endless starry sky, a rare trace of solemn unease appeared on her usually lively, smiling face.
"Is that exaggerated scale of curse power coming from the Pacific... or from the continent on the other side?"
Lying on the sofa in the living room of a seaside villa, Marquess Voban felt a faint tremor ripple through her Campione body, caused by an unknown god, and frowned slightly.
When a Campione or a Heretic God was nearby, the body would indeed react with excitement and trembling.
But this time was different.
The area of influence of that unknown god was far too vast.
At least several hundred kilometers.
She couldn't even rule out the possibility that it originated from the distant continent on the opposite side of the Earth.
"Well, a Heretic God that powerful will definitely attract other Campiones."
She tilted her head, her expression turning a little helpless.
"It shouldn't affect me. As long as they don't disturb my travels, everything's fine, en."
"It'd be even better if their battle didn't harm anyone else."
Whether Campione or Heretic God, both were mobile catastrophes to ordinary humans.
Once they fought seriously, even in the wilderness, at sea, or in the sky, the resulting destruction could easily spread to nearby cities, villages, or even neighboring countries.
The loss of life would be reduced to nothing more than a statistic.
After all, ordinary people couldn't see battles that took place in the Hidden World.
-
"Ho. An interesting Heretic God seems to have appeared over there."
In a Western-style castle on the Balkan Peninsula, the elderly gentleman of the Knowledge Faction looked toward East Asia, excitement flashing across his aged face.
"Even if it's close to that detestable woman's territory... for such an interesting opponent, it's worth trying."
In the darkness, the old man stood up and transformed into a stream of air, drifting away.
-
"Oh, an interesting fellow seems to have appeared over there, but..."
In a small East Asian country, Salvatore Doni looked toward the source of the divine aura, a hint of trouble appearing on his face.
"That place looks like China. The Martial Arts King's territory. It won't be fun if she notices me."
Recalling certain unforgettable past experiences, Doni hesitated briefly, then stepped forward anyway.
"I'll be more careful this time. If the Martial Arts King finds me, I'll run immediately."
"Besides, that old man-Voban-probably won't miss this chance."
-
In the Free Federation, Anne Charlton glanced in the direction of Asia, then promptly lost interest.
Also in the Free Federation, Alexander Gascoigne was already in midair.
He glanced at the lingering traces of battle below and silently activated the divine-speed authority [Electric Light Stone Fire], rushing toward the Pacific, following the trail of destruction.
-
Not only had her physical injuries been restored, but even one Vajra-previously shattered and rendered unusable-had been fully repaired.
With the power of both Vajras now merged back into her body, Luo Hao felt genuine astonishment.
A time-reversal authority?
No.
Hiro wasn't a Campione yet.
So it had to be a time-reversal ability.
Logically, such a power shouldn't affect her Authority.
Yet it clearly had.
Why?
As the question crossed her mind, her palm had already struck Mithra's body.
Boom!
The golden palm collided with the white-gold blade, producing a thunderous explosion like a missile impact.
There was no redirection.
No clever deflection.
Mithra relied purely on raw strength to receive the blow head-on.
As a result, his body sank several dozen centimeters.
Crack-crackle.
The concrete beneath his feet shattered instantly, black fissures spreading in all directions.
On the desolate concrete road, fragments of pavement, soil, and weeds scattered everywhere, temporarily obscuring the battlefield's center.
Hiro's Haki perception was unaffected by the blocked vision.
Grayfia, standing beside him, was less composed.
A trace of helplessness flashed through her eyes.
"You have strength," Mithra said calmly, blocking Luo Hao's full-force strike with ease. "But it is too weak to harm me."
There was no mockery in his tone.
No disdain.
Yet to Luo Hao, whose will was unyielding, those words sounded like blatant ridicule.
In the brief time it took him to finish speaking, the spreading cracks had already crossed the boundary of the wilderness road, passed Hiro and Grayfia, and extended toward the endless plains beyond.
"Hmph!"
Luo Hao showed no intention of admitting defeat.
Nor did she call for aid.
Her left palm rose.
Twelve Phoenix-Plume Palms-Phoenix Eye Piercing the Curtain!
Boom!
As expected, the gap between Luo Cuilian and the Last King Mithra was still enormous.
My Haki tells me Mithra is only defending.
And yet Luo Hao can't touch him at all.
Hiro shifted his gaze to Grayfia beside him, who had already been fully healed by [Sadalmelik-Albus].
"Grayfia. Go help Luo Hao."
"Yes, Lord Hiro."
Grayfia bowed respectfully and stepped forward-
Only for Hiro to grab her arm.
She paused, confusion appearing on her face.
"En?"
Looking at her expression, Hiro replied, almost speechless, "Even with the [Youth] blessing, you weren't Luo Cuilian's match. Now you want to fight a god that even Luo Cuilian can't defeat-without the [Youth] blessing. Where is that confidence coming from?"
"..."
In her eagerness to redeem herself, she had made such an obvious mistake.
Tsk.
After a brief silence, Grayfia reflected inwardly.
Her expression settled back into calm.
She lowered her head.
"It was Grayfia who failed to think this through. Then... I trouble Lord Hiro to lend me your aid."
Mhm.
After completing the [Youth] blessing, Hiro stood at the edge of the violently shaking battlefield and spoke softly to her retreating figure.
"Grayfia. You and Luo Cuilian just do your best. There's no need to force a victory."
Because even together, you still can't win.
Grayfia turned back, nodded slightly, and vanished into the roaring chaos ahead.
Hiro focused most of his attention on the battlefield to prevent accidents involving Luo Hao or Grayfia.
At the same time, he spared a small portion of awareness toward two unruly girls several hundred kilometers away-Lancelot and Queen Guinevere-riding atop a white horse.
Athena had called the latter Rama's maid.
The former seemed to be some kind of subordinate god of Rama.
An "uncle," perhaps.
Or something similar.
All Hiro knew was that Lancelot's true identity was the "War God Who Protects the Ancestral God."
As for the rest, he didn't care much.
Sensing the two of them rushing rapidly eastward, Hiro watched briefly, then lost interest.
The Last King Rama is sleeping above.
If they want to awaken him, they'll have to enter my perception range.
Killing gods and seizing Authorities isn't urgent right now.
Thud.
Thud.
Only a few minutes later, two heavy, dull impacts rang out from the battlefield.
In the next instant, Grayfia and Luo Hao were both flung backward-one to the left, one to the right-away from the center.
"Is that all you have?"
A majestic voice, tinged with faint disappointment, reached Hiro's ears.
Marquess Voban's given name is Esha.
Born into a low caste.
No surname.
"Marquess" is merely a title of respect.
En.
This Esha is not that Esha.
Readers, please don't confuse them.
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