Multiverse's Holy Right

She was a queen who could only be described as 'purple.' Her long, dark violet hair, tinged with red, cascaded like lustrous silk. Her crimson eyes held an arrogant pride, yet within that pride rippled something akin to autumn waters—deep and unfathomable.

Those eyes alone were enough to inspire awe. But as one's gaze traveled downward, a sense of regret arose—for this extraordinarily captivating woman wore a mask covering the lower half of her face, denying any glimpse of the beauty that could enliven even the deathly stillness of this land.

The woman was tall and curvaceous, with a voluptuous figure that was both plump and graceful. She wore a purple full-body bodysuit that could only be described as provocative—while the crucial areas were covered in leather, the rest was made of translucent silk, even revealing faint outlines of the peaks on the mesmerizing curves that left Roy in awe.

The outfit was highly revealing yet exposed nothing, leaving Roy unsure whether to describe it as bold and unrestrained or conservative and cautious.

Yet, there was no doubt she was a beauty—one who carried an innate nobility, an air of superiority, yet with an underlying warmth that felt strangely tender.

Yes, despite the woman's cold and haughty expression, Roy could detect a trace of gentleness in that frostiness, like an elder sister next door.

"The Land of Shadows?"

Though Roy was dazzled by this half-veiled beauty, he dared not let his guard down. That earlier spear thrust had carried genuine killing intent—had he not been strong enough to dodge, his skull would have been shattered by now.

"Scáthach, the Queen of the Land of Shadows?"

Roy had crammed mythology and history in the world of Campione. Seeing that crimson spear and learning this was the Land of Shadows, he had already deduced the woman's identity.

Of course, the main reason was that Roy had retrieved memories from his past life about this woman. Though he phrased it as a question, his tone and expression were certain.

'During my battle with Athena, I realized my lack of martial skill and wanted to find a teacher who could train me. I remember Scáthach from the myths—the warrior queen of the Land of Shadows who trained many Celtic heroes. She herself is an exceptional instructor.'

'But I barely had the thought of finding a teacher, and here it's already happening. This luck is way too absurd!'

Roy's gaze flickered briefly to his right hand. By now, he had pieced together the cause and effect.

All of this must be related to the mysterious space in his right hand—the one that had brought him here—and that strange "ship." Roy clearly remembered that both times he crossed worlds, it had been through wishes. The first wish in his dream was hazy, but it must have been related to crossing worlds.

The second time, in the mysterious space he had named the The Ladder to Divinity, he had made a wish with full awareness: "Take me to a world where I can grow stronger." And so, he had gone to the world of Campione and indeed grown powerful rapidly.

'I don't fully understand the mechanics of that mysterious space, but now it seems it's tied to wishes. Somehow, my desire during the fight with Athena must have activated it again.'

Roy realized he had likely misjudged Aisha. The true cause of her Authority's rampage was probably the mysterious entity in his right hand, which had used her Authority as a medium to fulfill his wish.

But while he had found the best possible teacher for martial arts, his wish was both fulfilled and unfulfilled—because finding a teacher didn't mean she was willing to teach!

It was as if Roy had crossed over into the world of Campione—a world where one could grow stronger the fastest, but how to achieve that strength still depended entirely on oneself. If Roy failed to become a Campione, it would all be for nothing.

In other words, this mysterious space fulfilled wishes by providing all the necessary conditions but did not directly deliver the results. One had to strive and accomplish them on their own.

Realizing this, Roy grew even more curious about this mysterious space. What was its true purpose? Who had created it? Questions like these flooded his mind.

However, Roy quickly pushed these thoughts aside, as he now faced a far greater crisis.

Upon hearing Roy's words, the haughty, deep-purple queen arched her slender, sharp brows slightly. Her voice, weathered yet clear as jade, carried an icy loneliness as she spoke, "...To think of someone as obscure as me upon hearing Land of Shadows—you must be quite the diligent scholar."

Her lifeless yet melodious voice held a trace of admiration.

Celtic mythology was studied by only a few and wasn't widely known. The most famous figure from it was King Arthur, while someone like Scáthach, who wasn't as prominently featured in the myths, would only be recognized by those with deep knowledge of the legends.

But then, the Queen of the Land of Shadows darkened her expression, her tone a mix of suspicion and certainty as she questioned, "...Outlander, if you know of Scáthach, Queen of the Land of Shadows, it means legends of me exist in your world as well. It seems even in distant realms, the histories and myths share common threads."

From just one of Roy's statements, Scáthach deduced much, sparking a flicker of curiosity about that other world—one she could neither observe nor comprehend.

Roy frowned, his biggest question now being—

"How did you know I'm from another world?"

Since arriving in the Land of Shadows, Roy hadn't gone anywhere, done anything, or even spoken a word. Yet Scáthach had identified him as an outsider at first glance—that felt almost unfair.

"This is the wisdom of the abyss, attained by surpassing humanity, slaying gods, and placing oneself beyond the world—Wisdom of Dún Scáith. I told you this is the Land of Shadows, a place no one from this world can enter or leave without my consent. Yet you broke that rule and appeared here."

"...Thus, I could only conclude you are not of this world. If alien stars exist, if parallel worlds exist, then another world's existence should hardly be surprising. And indeed, with just one question, you admitted it yourself."

Scáthach's eyes narrowed slightly, her wine-red pupils glimmering with amusement, reminding Roy of the phrase "bright eyes and charming glances." Even her lifeless voice gained a hint of liveliness.

Roy felt a pang of frustration. Had he been tricked? So easily?

"Do not trouble yourself. In truth, Wisdom of Dún Scáith had already revealed your true origins to me. Even if you denied it or remained silent, I would know everything. For you share a 'bond' with this world."

Scáthach spoke as if offering comfort, revealing a touch of tenderness beneath her proud and aloof demeanor that could truly captivate one's heart.

At this moment, Roy finally realized what resonated with him the most—wisdom!

From the wisdom of Solomon to the wisdom of Athena, and now the wisdom of the magic mirror, he was undeniably drawn to wisdom itself!

"Whatever purpose you, a stranger from another world, have in coming here, it matters not—only the spear in my hand shall determine the truth. You carry an aura akin to mine. Though the gods you've slain were mere pretenders, the scent of a Godslayer cannot be hidden from me!"

Scáthach clenched her hands in the air, and within her delicate, gloved grasp appeared two crimson spears. Her tone was resolute, her eyes brimming with battle lust.

The Celts never sought to understand a person or a matter through words. For them, there was only one way to comprehend the world—through bloodshed and battle!

***

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