Multiverse's Holy Right

"Entertain me well, outsider!"

Scáthach was serious.

Roy was certain of this—if he failed to satisfy her, the Queen of the Land of Shadows would undoubtedly kill him here without hesitation.

Scáthach was a warrior of the same caliber as Roy's father, Aleister Crowley. She possessed the ability to kill Aleister with a single strike, just as Aleister could shatter Scáthach with one blow.

Yet neither of them was an opponent Roy could handle in his current state. Both stood at the pinnacle of humanity, infinitely close to the realm of the Magic Gods.

One was the ultimate magician who could have become a Magic God but chose not to, while the other was the mightiest warrior whose peerless martial prowess had reached the domain of the gods. In any world, beings like Aleister and Scáthach would command awe and reverence—figures so radiant that none would dare ignore them.

He would die, die, die—he was absolutely going to die!!

Scáthach wasn't even using her full strength. No, far from it—her current level of combat could barely be described as slightly serious. If the Queen of the Land of Shadows truly unleashed her full power, Roy was certain he wouldn't even survive a single strike before being reduced to ashes.

'If only she would go all out... At least then I might have a chance to take her down with me...'

Roy bit down on his lip until blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Never before had he felt such crushing, despair-inducing bloodlust. The killing intent radiating from Scáthach could only be described as mountains of corpses and oceans of blood—an aura so thick with death that it made Roy's teeth chatter and his soul tremble in terror.

Just how many people had this woman killed?!

It wasn't that the gap between Roy and Scáthach was so vast that he couldn't withstand her killing intent. The main reason was simply that Roy's will wasn't as unshakable as one might expect. In a way, he was just an ordinary person who had suddenly gained immense power—a nouveau riche who hadn't yet faced the true crucible of death.

Roy believed that if Scáthach truly unleashed her full power, his Light of the Right could determine her maximum output. With this right hand that held all the miracles of Christianity, he would surely be able to defeat her. But given Scáthach's godly martial prowess—her ability to effortlessly kill him with mere basic attacks—why would she need to resort to techniques capable of piercing the world and slaying true deities?

"There's no time for you to hesitate or deliberate! On the battlefield, opportunities vanish in an instant. If you can't think of a way to break the deadlock, then seek wisdom in the heat of battle, through the instincts of a warrior!"

The Queen of the Land of Shadows leaped high once more, her twin demonic spears flickering like the tongues of vipers, their tips gleaming with a bloody, razor-sharp chill.

She seemed to be instructing her opponent, yet also lamenting the fall of a promising talent. She offered Roy a hint in battle, but at the same time, her killing intent grew even more resolute, "...Show me your strength and courage, Scáthach demands it! This is your only chance!"

With that furious roar, her spears shot forth like twin dragons emerging from the sea, carrying earth-shattering force as they thrust straight toward Roy's chest.

'Seek wisdom in battle, huh...'

Roy's lips parted slightly as realization dawned upon him.

That was right. He was someone who planned meticulously before acting, always seeking the optimal solution, calculating every variable, believing that only rationality embodied wisdom. But if that were the case, how was he any different from the Black Prince Alexander Gascoigne, whom he had slain?

If he continued down this path, this rational thinking might ensure his victories in the short term. But one day, like Gascoigne, when his schemes and plans failed to provide an escape, when he faced an unforeseen and overwhelming enemy, he too would meet a pitiful, unresisting defeat and death.

Just like now—he had encountered an opponent like Scáthach, whom he had never anticipated. All his calculations were useless. In moments like these, he couldn't rely on intellect alone. The only thing he could rely on was his own will. With unyielding resolve, he had to find that one-in-a-thousand, one-in-ten-thousand chance at victory!

This was the essence of the "Mind's Eye"—even if the odds of victory were infinitesimal, one would still seek it out and act upon it. And to cultivate such a powerful Mind's Eye, the first thing he needed was an indomitable will, one capable of enduring all suffering!

At this moment, Roy finally understood. Anticipating the enemy was wisdom, but when caught off guard, the ability to find a way to victory in the chaos of battle, even when reason was lost—that was true wisdom!

So, let his mind burn! Let his body burn! In this scorching heat, in this high-stakes battle, he would rely solely on that fleeting spark of wisdom to find the one path to survival!

Since he was now a Godslayer, then let him fully embrace the role of a Godslayer!!!

"I am the king! I am the conqueror! I am the godslayer!!"

"RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH——————"

Roy roared at the top of his lungs. Since he was a king, a conqueror, one who had slain gods with mortal flesh, even death must be met gloriously—without regrets. Only thus could he live up to the name of Godslayer!

"Let my radiance fill heaven and earth!"

With angelic wings upon his back, Roy transformed into blazing light, activating the divine authority of Godspeed. As the saying goes, 'In martial arts, nothing is more unbeatable than speed.' Even if his combat skills paled in comparison to Scáthach's, absolute velocity alone could render him invincible.

"Good!!"

Seeing Roy suddenly summon his courage—determined to display his strength even against an opponent he could never defeat—the fear in his eyes burned away, replaced by the will to fight to the death. The Queen of the Land of Shadows acknowledged him with this single word of praise.

Ah, how long had it been since she last felt this thrill of battle? The heat that made her decaying body pulse with flowing blood once more, the revitalizing surge that quenched her parched spirit, the eager anticipation that stirred excitement within her.

How many years had passed without this sensation?

She could no longer count. Though with the Wisdom of Dún Scáith, she could easily calculate the exact span, Scáthach refused to tally the lonely years spent beyond the world, in this Land of Shadows. Doing so would only bring sorrow—the lament of time slipping away—blurring even her last vivid memory of exhilaration.

Since the arrival of Ireland's Child of Light in this eternally darkened realm, this world of despair had held no living beings besides her. She had hoped that man would grant her the death she yearned for, but in the end, he too succumbed to fate's chains, now a radiant Heroic Spirit. And the dead could never defeat the Queen of the Land of the Dead.

That man, too, had been just another disappointment—though Cú Chulainn had been the closest among all she'd encountered in her lifetime to fulfilling her wish. Yet even his courage had faltered at the final moment.

Hah, how amusing it seemed now. The son of the sun god Lugh, coming to her sunless Land of Shadows to seek training—what irony.

'Tch. Just moments ago, I scolded him for losing focus in battle, and now here I am, lost in thought.'

Scáthach snapped out of her reverie, her breathtakingly beautiful face beneath the mask twisting into a wry, self-deprecating smile. '...I truly have decayed. Grown old.'

Outlander, let me see your worth—your courage. Even the Wisdom of Dún Scáith cannot foresee the fate of a Godslayer. Will you surpass the hound already bound by chains?

***

Hey readers!

Want to read ahead? 📖 Join my Patreon for early access to 30+ advance chapters! Your support helps me write more and bring the story to you faster.

🔹patreon.com/aarvan🔹