Multiverse's Holy Right

A flash of cold steel—then the spear strikes like a dragon!

Roy recalled his days as an ordinary man, playing games with friends in online chats, laughing as they recited nonsensical lines. Back then, he had merely found this particular phrase imposing and cool, nothing more.

But now, Roy truly grasped the profound meaning behind those majestic words.

After uttering her challenge, Scáthach leapt into action without warning, her movements as fluid as a sea serpent breaking through waves. Her twin spears whirled like a storm, as if intent on overturning heaven and earth.

Dark night devoid of stars, candlelight without tears, raising a cup to drown sorrows, sleet and biting wind, blades dancing across the sky, spears striking like dragons!

Retreat, retreat, retreat, retreat, retreat!

Caught off guard, Roy could only stumble backward, barely managing to avoid injury amidst the tempestuous assault—though his disheveled state spoke volumes of his struggle.

"Stranger from another world, your purpose here matters not to me. All I ask is to witness the measure of your courage!"

The haughty queen's voice rang sharp, her wine-red eyes blazing with chilling battle lust and killing intent. This frigid aura, merging with the deathly energy of the Land of Shadows, sent shivers down Roy's spine, as though he had plunged into the icy depths of hell.

If the previous Scáthach gave Roy the impression of pride concealing an unforgettable touch of extreme tenderness, then the current Scáthach had completely shed that gentleness, transforming into a true weapon of the battlefield. Amidst the surging fervor and intoxicating glory, she danced with her spear, engaging in deadly combat, sharing the ultimate thrill of battle.

Whether it was the enemy's blood or her own, whether it was the severed limbs of foes or her own shattered bones—all of it could drive one into a frenzy of excitement. This was the bloodlust and carnage of the Celts.

As the saying goes, constant defense inevitably leads to failure, let alone Roy's haphazard dodging. After barely evading Scáthach's spear strikes by relying entirely on reflexes and physical prowess, Roy's footwork finally faltered, leaving his guard wide open and exposing a fatal flaw to Scáthach.

For a monster like Scáthach, who had slain countless gods, demons, spirits, and humans beyond measure, such an opening was a lethal vulnerability.

Her right-hand spear swept aside Roy's arm, while the left spear transformed into a crimson streak, effortlessly piercing through his right shoulder.

"Ugh—ah—"

Roy groaned in pain as the agony of being impaled sent his cursed energy roaring through his body. A surge of immense cursed energy erupted from him, manifesting as pure magical force. With a deafening explosion, the ground beneath him was blasted into a crater by the unleashed energy. But Scáthach had already withdrawn her spear with a graceful backflip, landing steadily back on the rock where she had stood earlier.

"Tsk... that hurts..."

Roy hissed through clenched teeth, glancing at his mangled right shoulder, where blood gushed freely. The pain made veins bulge on his forehead, and his right hand trembled slightly.

In his previous battles in the world of Campione, he had defeated formidable foes like Marquis Voban and Athena. Yet, in truth, he hadn't suffered severe injuries in those fights. Against the Marquis, he had merely been exhausted, and while he had been drenched in blood during the battle with Athena, it was mostly due to ruptured capillaries—hardly painful at all.

But this time was different. He had truly been impaled by a spear, leaving a gaping hole in his body. Worse still, the demonic spear seemed to carry a peculiar curse, making the wound excruciatingly painful—so much so that his very soul trembled.

At this moment, Roy felt an inexplicable surge of fear.

He was just an ordinary person. In his over twenty years as a normal human, he had never even undergone surgery, let alone experienced the agony of broken limbs. During his fifteen years in the world of Toaru, though his life had been impoverished, he had never suffered any serious injuries. And in the world of Campione, aside from the unbearable pain he endured while slaying Michael—which had numbed his nerves—he had gained immense power afterwards, never again facing pain he couldn't withstand.

Now, for the first time, he understood what it meant to experience extreme agony, what it meant to suffer a terrifying wound.

From Roy's life history, it's clear that he was just an ordinary person living in a peaceful modern society—neither a battle-hardened soldier nor a trained assassin hiding among civilians. Although becoming a Campione enhanced his physical abilities, it could never strengthen his willpower.

For human will is the mark of the strong, mankind's greatest power, a realm that can only be surpassed through one's own efforts!

'She is not a god!'

Roy was certain of this. Scáthach was absolutely not a god. If she were, then as a Campione, Roy would have fallen into the frenzy of the Fool's Child without even trying to suppress it, even forgetting what fear was.

But now, Roy felt fear—just like Annie Charlton had not long ago. This proved that Scáthach was not a god, nor even a Heretic God. Instead, she was a Godslayer like Roy.

As a fellow Godslayer, Roy could see the divine curses emanating from Scáthach's graceful, ethereal, and exquisitely feminine form—proof that she had slain so many gods that even the divine feared her.

Moreover, the gods she had slain were incomparable to the Heretic Gods Roy had killed.

True gods were like the information upon the 'Throne,' while Heretic Gods were merely manifestations of that information. The relationship between gods and Heretic Gods was akin to that of Heroic Spirits and Servants—except that since gods inherently stood above Heroic Spirits in hierarchy, Heretic Gods were far more powerful than Servants.

The gods Roy and other Campiones had slain were merely Heretic Gods, incapable of affecting the 'Throne' of the gods in myth. This was why, in the world of Campiones, even if you killed a Heretic God, it might reappear later—just as Marquis Voban and Lady Aisha had slain the same gods repeatedly.

This was because the death of a Heretic God only meant its return to the 'Throne,' not the true death of the god. As long as the divine information in myth remained, these gods could continue to descend.

But Scáthach was entirely different. The gods she had slain were the true deities upon the 'Throne.' As a mere mortal, she had toppled gods from their thrones, erasing them completely, leaving not a trace behind. She was a true godslayer.

Why had Scáthach left no records of her divine slayings? Because the gods erased from the 'Throne' had ceased to exist, their myths naturally fractured, leaving no tales to be told in the mortal world.

A mortal ascending to the realm of gods—Roy now understood just how terrifying an existence Scáthach truly was. She had reached the absolute pinnacle of human potential, wielding peerless martial prowess to slay gods, standing at the Peak of Humanity and even half-stepping into the domain of Demon Gods.

'No wonder her Land of Shadows exists beyond the world. If a being like her were to enter the material plane in her true form, a single spear thrust could nearly pierce through the entire world!'

The more Roy comprehended Scáthach's true strength, the heavier his heart grew.

Facing such a foe was not something he should be doing now!

As for the so-called 'world's outer boundary,' according to Eastern Daoist philosophy, it meant transcending the Three Realms and existing beyond the Five Elements.

"Is that all you've got, stranger from another world? Where is your courage, where is your strength! Mere pain makes your hands weak, mere formidable foes make your heart tremble. If you cannot show me your courage and power, then let me take your life here and now!"

Scáthach spoke in a tone of disappointment, even verging on dejection.

After finally encountering a living exception in this desolate Land of Shadows, after finally meeting a visitor from another world that even her Wisdom of Dún Scáith couldn't fully comprehend, after finally finding another god-slaying heretic cursed by the gods just like herself - these threefold joys combined had made Scathach believe her withered and bleak heart might pulse with vitality again. But now it seemed this opponent couldn't meet her standards, filling her with utmost disappointment.

Since he couldn't satisfy her physically, then he might as well die here!

***

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