Multiverse's Holy Right

The Alps, located in south-central Europe, span northern Italy, southeastern France, Switzerland, Austria, southern Germany, and Slovenia.

In the Swiss region of the Alps, a helicopter circled the sky before slowly descending into a valley.

"King Roy, this was once the residence of Marquis Voban. After his... departure, it was abandoned. However, the Marquis held immense prestige across Europe. Even in his absence, this place is regularly maintained, and no one dares touch anything inside."

The helicopter pilot was a member of a Swiss magical association. Having been tasked with hosting the King, the Swiss side had been handling the matter with utmost caution—though inwardly, they were lamenting, for wherever a Campione went, peace was never guaranteed.

Before Roy stood an exquisite villa, built deep within the Alps and equipped with all manner of modern amenities, the sheer scale of the project required to construct such a villa and its supporting facilities was staggering. Only a being like a Campione could command governments and magical associations to dedicate themselves so thoroughly with a single word.

For the past three centuries, Marquis Voban had been Europe's 'overlord.' It wasn't until the emergence of the Black Prince and the Sword King that England and Southern Europe's magical associations broke away from the Marquis's rule and pledged allegiance to the new Kings.

Switzerland, too, had long been under Marquis Voban's dominion—so much so that the Alps could practically be considered his private property.

The Marquis disliked staying in one place for long, frequently relocating his residence. Thus, many remote forests and mountains around the world bore traces of his dwellings.

However, ever since Roy defeated Marquis Voban in Tokyo and the Marquis 'perished,' Europe's magical associations had descended into chaos. Without the Marquis's suppression, conflicts between various nations' magical factions flared up. Except for England, where the Black Prince resided, and Italy, where Roy held sway, the rest of Europe was now leaderless.

In fact, over the past year, Roy had received declarations of loyalty from magical associations in France, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and more. Compared to England's Black Prince and the indifferent Salvatore, Roy's prestige was undeniably higher. It could be said that Roy now stood as the de facto ruler of Europe's mystical world.

"Excellent. Since this was the Marquis's property, I shall gladly take it for myself!"

Roy gazed at the refined villa and nodded in satisfaction.

He had defeated Marquis Voban, giving him the right and qualification to claim the other's legacy. Although Roy knew the Marquis wasn't truly dead—still clinging to life and destined to return one day—by that time, Roy would have grown even stronger. Even now, with just his Holy Right, he could effortlessly defeat the returning Marquis with a mere wave.

"Alright, you may leave. Erica and Lily, come with me to see the Marquis's taste in decor."

Roy dismissed the helicopter pilot and beckoned his knights as they entered the villa.

The villa was exquisitely furnished, though not as modern as Roy had imagined. Instead, it carried an antique charm. At its very center was even a fireplace for burning wood—likely a nod to the Marquis's nostalgia for the past, being a figure from three centuries ago.

Upon entering, Liliana swiftly began rearranging, removing any decor Roy disliked and transforming the villa into his preferred style at lightning speed.

When it came to domestic skills, Erica paled in comparison to Liliana. Thus, the care of Roy's daily life fell mainly to Liliana. Between the two, Erica handled external affairs while Liliana managed the household—a clear division of labor.

...

Deep in the Alps, the villa's fireplace blazed with fierce flames, and the heating was turned up high. Even in the heart of the Alpine wilderness, the interior was as warm as spring.

Roy sat in a wooden chair, a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand and a newly acquired occult book—confiscated from a Swiss magical society—in his left, reading with great interest.

Liliana bustled about, occasionally refilling Roy's coffee or presenting him with exquisite cakes to sample. Meanwhile, Erica worked at a computer, sometimes making calls to Italy.

As the overlord of Italy and the Vatican, and the de facto ruler of all Europe, Roy had many daily responsibilities. However, he delegated all of them to Erica. The genius girl from the Bronze Black Cross of Milan handled these tasks with effortless ease.

Roy took a sip of the handcrafted coffee, savoring the bitter taste as it slid down his throat. With a contented sigh, he flipped the Stone of Gorgon in his right hand, set the book aside, and turned slightly to admire the breathtaking Alpine snowscape outside the window—utterly at ease.

But just as Roy relaxed as if on vacation, the sunlit snowscape outside suddenly darkened, as though swallowed by an abrupt shadow.

"Lord Roy!"

Erica and Liliana, busy with their tasks, startled to their feet, summoning their beloved swords. Though neither their spiritual sight nor their eyes detected any presence, their bodies trembled uncontrollably. An overwhelming terror surged from within, as if something far beyond human comprehension had descended.

Erica exchanged glances with Liliana. Though both young women were strong-willed, their human instincts still trembled before the divine aura. They knew this was the Heretic God pursuing the Gorgon Stone arriving, but neither Erica nor Liliana had expected this deity to appear so swiftly. After all, less than half a day had passed since they and Roy had traveled from Rome to Switzerland and settled into this villa!

"Since the Goddess has graced us with her presence, why not come in for some coffee? As an ancient and noble deity, I imagine you wouldn't refuse such a small, willful request of mine. Nor would you suddenly destroy this rather lovely villa I've taken a liking to? That would truly be like burning a zither to cook a crane."

Roy felt the boiling heat in his blood once again, a primal instinct of a Campione toward a Heretic God that he deeply disliked. He forcibly suppressed it—such irrational behavior beyond his control was absolutely unacceptable to him.

"What I seek is the Gorgon Stone, once carved upon my shield in ages past, the ancient beacon that resides within."

"What I seek is the Gorgon Stone, to bestow upon me, who no longer obeys, the ancient authority in the name of the serpent."

"What I seek is the Gorgon Stone, to guide the journey of the rebellious queen, to grant me once more the wisdom of darkness, earth, and heaven!"

"..."

A voice—proud, noble, elegant, yet tinged with youthful innocence—echoed from outside the villa. Then, the door swung open, letting in the howling wind and snow, chilling the warm spring-like room. Standing at the entrance was a petite goddess, her form youthful yet exuding an ancient and solemn majesty!

***

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