Chapter 22 - Ritual to Summon a Heretical God

Greece, Athens.

The atmosphere was a perfect blend of luxury and Greek authenticity. The ice cream parlor, located in Plaka, the historic heart of Athens, was completely empty except for Adam. He had rented the entire place to enjoy its tranquility and allow himself a moment of uninterrupted reflection. The white marble tables gleamed under the natural light that streamed in through the large windows, and the decor, a mix of handcrafted ceramics and shades of blue and white, brought a welcoming and sophisticated air.

Adam sat near a window, overlooking the empty cobblestone streets of Plaka, where the city's ancient charm was evident on every corner. On the table rested an elaborate ice cream dish: three perfectly molded scoops of classic Greek flavors - yogurt with honey, Aegina pistachio, and caramelized fig. Beside it, a cup of Greek coffee smoked slightly, complementing the experience.

He took a spoonful of pistachio ice cream and savored it slowly, the coolness and creamy texture bringing momentary relief from the Mediterranean heat. Despite the calmness around him, his mind was in constant motion. It had been over a month since Salvatore Doni had become the seventh Campione, and he knew that soon one of the events he had been waiting for since his ascension would take place, and the second step of his plans would begin - the first was the incident with the late Alec.

He needed to prepare, not just to react, but to shape the events that were to come.

But his amusement was important, so while waiting for events to unfold, he continued his vacation, leaving the Maldives for Greece.

The sound of footsteps echoing through the entrance caught his attention. He didn't need to look to know it was Lavinia. She entered with her usual grace, wearing a light blue dress that contrasted beautifully with her sapphire eyes. Her blonde hair was tied in a loose braid, and she held a leather folder in one hand. There was a look of slight seriousness on her face, something he noticed immediately.

"So, what's the news?" Adam asked, without taking his eyes off Lavinia as she approached and sat across from him.

Lavinia placed the folder on the table, her fingers sliding delicately over the leather as her serious gaze met Adam's eyes. She sighed softly before beginning:

"I have information on Voban, as you requested. It seems the Marquis is gathering Hime-Mikos from various parts of the world, and from what I've discovered, he's even trying to obtain those who are under your territory."

After he became the [King of Italy], his subordinates took the idea of conquering more territories, with the help of Lancelot who offered to help, saying that a [King] needed a kingdom, they conquered Belgium, Czech Republic, Austria, Poland, Holland, France, Czechia, Luxembourg, Switzerland and the Netherlands.

As he wasn't someone who cared about politics, Lancelot and Lavinia handled everything involved, the two conquered all the neighboring countries of Germany in just over a week - which was quite impressive - both needed a lot of resources for this, but wealth was not something he lacked.

Due to the authority he received from [King Midas], he had a fortune that could basically break the world economy with ease.

The authority he had called [Golden Rule] had two special powers, the first was the curse that turns anything in the material world into gold. It is considered the strongest curse, one that could only be dispelled with a strong authority of purification. As a curse, it is imperceptible as magic and therefore almost impossible to defend against or escape, only Campiones and Heretical Gods might be able to sense him using it and be able to fight or flee, and if they had any authority of purification, they could nullify it. The gold he creates is also virtually indestructible and inflexible; after identification by magic, it is recorded as gold, but of a completely different material than natural gold.

And the second special power was simply infinite wealth, where he is destined to have a life of riches wherever he goes, he could literally find a diamond on the street or something like that when he doesn't have his wallet, making him impossible to get poor...

It had been a month since he received this authority. In such a short time, his territory had become a symbol of prosperity and power.

Lavinia, with her sharp intelligence and Lancelot's power at her disposal, used Adam's immense fortune strategically and meticulously.

Gold, diamonds, and other riches stemming from his supernatural influence flowed like an endless river to fund expeditions and magical organizations that proved their loyalty. The promise of generous rewards was a powerful incentive to maintain alliances and strengthen Adam's position as an absolute [King].

At the same time, she also used her wealth pragmatically and visionarily. She had invested heavily to eradicate the hunger, misery, and poverty that previously stained some parts of his territory. Villages that once struggled to survive now thrived under his rule. Infrastructure grew, markets flourished, and people became more loyal to their [King], not just out of fear, but out of gratitude. Lavinia saw the impact of her generosity, but also knew there was another side to the coin.

The benevolence they judged to come from Adam, however, was reserved only for those who proved loyal. Those who dared to betray him or conspire against him faced the brunt of his fury. She reported some traitors a few times, and he killed them without mercy — in fact, he was aware of everything that happened in his territory despite not getting involved, Lavinia always asked permission to manage some matters and everything always went through him.

For the faithful, Adam was a magnanimous protector, a [King] whose word brought prosperity and stability. But for traitors, he was judgment incarnate, a sovereign who did not accept failure or desertion.

In just one month, he had shown the world that wealth, in his hands, was both a blessing and a curse.

Adam's vibrant blue eyes narrowed, an expression of mixed interest and irritation taking over his face. He leaned back in his chair, twirling the ice cream spoon between his fingers before murmuring, with sharp theatricality:

"So the old marquis is up to something, huh…"

His voice carried a mix of sarcasm and coldness, but he soon leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the table as he asked:

"Do you think those under my command will betray me to support the Marquis?"

Lavinia remained calm, but her eyes didn't stray from Adam's penetrating gaze. She shook her head before answering, carefully weighing her words:

"I don't think so, but we cannot deny that there may be those loyal to Marquis Voban hidden among us. Even without betrayal, some Hime-Mikos may be attracted by his promises or coerced by threats."

Adam let out a soft sigh, as if the possibility didn't surprise him, but still bothered him. He pushed the ice cream dish aside, wiping his hands with a napkin before standing up.

"Alright, pass the following order forward: no Hime-Miko under my rule is to leave their country. I don't want them even thinking about crossing borders, even if it's to other territories under my domain. And above all, I don't want any of them near Hungary."

He paused, his tone hardening like steel as he finished:

"Those who disobey this order will be considered traitors. And traitors always face retaliation."

Lavinia nodded firmly, demonstrating her absolute understanding and the seriousness of the order. She closed the folder, prepared to carry the message forward, but before turning, she gave Adam one last look.

"Understood. I will ensure everyone knows the gravity of this. But... do you think Voban is just hunting Hime-Mikos, or is there something more behind this?"

Adam was silent for a moment, looking at the landscape beyond the ice cream parlor window. His expression was difficult to decipher, but Lavinia could see the gears of his thoughts turning, calculating every possibility.

"If he's gathering Hime-Mikos, it's because he wants something only they can provide. And I intend to find out what it is before he succeeds."

Lavinia nodded one last time before withdrawing, while Adam briefly turned his attention back to the abandoned ice cream dish. He picked up the spoon, but stopped mid-motion, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Old wolf... you're playing with fire. But this time, I'm the one controlling the flames."

He would wait for the opportunity while enjoying his vacation in Greece.

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Hungary, somewhere.

In the heart of Central Europe, the country is bisected by the majestic Danube River, which divides the capital, Budapest, into two parts: Buda, with its green hills and the famous Buda Castle, and Pest, with its bustling streets and the impressive St. Stephen's Basilica, was the country of Hungary.

Endless fields of sunflowers and open plains, known as the Great Hungarian Plain, stretch across the interior, while hills covered with vineyards produce renowned Hungarian wines, such as Tokaji.

The medieval villages and ancient castles scattered throughout the country seem straight out of fairy tales, while dense forests and shimmering lakes like Balaton offer natural havens for wildlife. The architecture is a spectacle in itself: Gothic churches, Baroque buildings, and Roman baths coexist in perfect harmony.

In a remote corner of Hungary, surrounded by dense forests and mountains that seem to touch the sky. The air is thick, imbued with a chill that penetrates to the bones, even during the warmer months. A narrow, winding road, flanked by ancient trees with twisted trunks, leads to a somber fortress, situated atop a small plateau.

The outer structure is imposing, a combination of gray stone worn by time and Gothic architecture that intimidates anyone who dares to look at it. Tall, narrow towers rise like sentinels, their small, arched windows resembling eyes that watch everything around them. The surrounding vegetation is scarce, limited to a few weeds and moss growing on the cold stones. Deformed gargoyles adorn the upper corners of the building, as if eternally trapped in a scream of agony or mockery.

The outer walls of the fortress are thick, with marks of erosion and scars from past battles. Large iron gates, rusted and heavy, form the only visible entrance. The gates are adorned with ancient runes, glowing in a dull shade of green, clearly activated by some kind of spell. A sepulchral silence dominates the place, broken only by the occasional sound of rustling leaves or the distant call of ravens, which seem to nest in the highest tower.

On the horizon, the mountains hide the sunset, covering the fortress in a permanent shadow, even during the day. A light mist constantly hangs in the air, giving the place a ghostly appearance. The forest surrounding the fortress is dense and hostile, with branches intertwining like skeletal fingers trying to capture something.

Inside the fortress, a brown-haired girl struggled desperately with the ties of the brown dress she wore. The garment, fastened at the sides, seemed determined to resist the young woman's trembling fingers. She breathed irregularly, fear and tension permeating every movement. It wasn't something she could be blamed for. The situation she found herself in was terrifying, even frightening. Something no teenager should face. She was still a child, despite everything, a child forced into this position because of a power she never asked for, but which had been imposed upon her.

Suddenly, firm footsteps echoed through the room, and a silver-haired girl approached. With a determined look and skillful movements, she knelt beside the brown-haired girl and tied the laces with almost mechanical precision. Her silver hair swayed gently with the movement, reflecting the dim light of the surroundings, as if the gleam were a silent affirmation of her determination. As soon as she finished, she stood up purposefully, adjusting her own brown dress, identical to the other girl's.

"Thank you," murmured the brown-haired girl, her voice weak, but full of genuine gratitude.

"I did nothing to deserve your gratitude," replied the other, her tone cold, almost sharp, but without malice.

"And yet you helped me," retorted the girl, her soft voice carrying a silent thanks.

The silence that followed seemed to weigh on the room, as if the air itself were aware of the tension. After a few moments, the brown-haired girl extended her hand, breaking the distance between them.

"Mariya Yuri," she introduced herself, her voice laden with an attempt at normalcy amidst the chaos.

"...Liliana Kranjcar," replied the silver-haired girl, after a brief hesitation, shaking Mariya's hand.

When they released their hands, they both looked around the room, observing the somber environment in which they were trapped. The only illumination came from spaced candles, their flames flickering and casting distorted shadows on the walls. The shapes formed on the surfaces seemed grotesque, as if mocking the hopes of the people gathered there. The walls, though crafted with impressive architecture, had lost all their charm, becoming nothing more than the boundaries of an ornate prison.

Prisoners. That's what they all were. Liliana, Mariya, and dozens of other witches and Hime-Mikos had been forced to this place. The room was the epicenter of a dark ritual, one that required so many spiritually aware people that the sheer number spoke to the magnitude of the danger. The magic seal on the floor, which dominated almost the entire space, glowed a pale, sinister green, exuding an energy that seemed to devour the air around it.

Suddenly, the sound of firm footsteps echoed through the hall. All eyes turned to the door as a man entered. He was a disturbing contrast to the environment. With slicked-back gray hair, he wore a perfectly tailored gray suit, complemented by a black tie and impeccable white gloves. Outwardly, he looked like a Victorian gentleman, polished and refined. But the emerald green eyes, cold as a wolf's, revealed his true nature. They were the eyes of a predator, and the air around him was oppressive, charged with a threat that made one's skin crawl.

"Greetings, witches and Hime-Mikos," he said, his voice low and full of authority. "I have gathered you all here today for a single purpose: to summon a god worthy of facing me in battle." A cruel smile formed on his lips, a smile that only someone with absolute power could display. "To achieve this goal, I don't care if some of you, or even all of you, die."

The man's words, Marquis Voban, the oldest of the Campiones, fell like a hammer on the crowd. Some of the girls began to sob quietly; others, weaker, wept openly. The terror he had spread throughout his three hundred years of reign was palpable in the air, rooted in the hearts of those present.

"Let the ritual begin," he ordered, indifferent to the reactions around him.

The magic seal on the floor glowed intensely, forming a barrier around the witches and Hime-Mikos, trapping them within an oppressive space. Energy began to be drained, as if the seal were a hungry creature devouring its prey. Some began to collapse immediately, unable to withstand the overwhelming force. Others resisted, despite the visible exhaustion.

Among those still standing were Liliana and Mariya. Their bodies trembled, but they refused to yield. They knew that collapsing would mean giving up, and giving up could mean a slow and agonizing death.

Then came the screams. Those who had fallen began clutching their faces, their eyes wide with terror. The sounds were empty, devoid of humanity, mere echoes of pain and despair. The room was filled with that macabre chorus, a reminder that in that ornate prison, hell had already begun.

Liliana Kranjcar and Mariya Yuri remained standing, even as the ritual drained their spiritual energy with every passing second. The magic seal on the floor glowed with increasing intensity, filling the room with a ghostly green glow, while the agonizing screams of the Hime-Mikos and witches who had collapsed echoed, making the atmosphere even more oppressive.

Liliana kept her eyes fixed on Marquis Voban. Her heart was racing, but her expression was firm. She knew who he was, the predator who had dominated the shadows of the magical world for centuries. He was a figure of nightmares, but her determination wouldn't allow fear to paralyze her.

Marquis Voban watched the scene with a smile that seemed to grow with each passing moment. His emerald green eyes shone with cruel satisfaction, as if he delighted in the suffering around him. He didn't seem to care about the lives he was sacrificing; for him, each one was just a means to an end: to summon a god worthy of his battle.

The ritual continued, each second seeming like an eternity, while Marquis Voban watched, impassive and completely sure of his victory.

The energies were at their peak, and the magic imbued in the words of invocation reverberated throughout the room. The candlelight danced frantically, reflecting the shadows of the unfolding process.

With a final ritualistic cry, the earth beneath their feet trembled. The floor cracked, and from the abyss of newly unleashed magic, a colossal being emerged from the magic seal. It appeared in a burst of silver light and metallic sound, as if steel itself were being forged before everyone's eyes. The being was a man in shining armor, made of pure silver, with intricate details that seemed to reflect not only light, but absolute power. His figure was imposing, and his eyes, through the visor of his helmet, shone with an icy intensity. He carried a large, double-edged sword that seemed to gleam amidst the darkness of the fortress.

The being seemed indifferent to the destruction that had just taken place. It fixed its gaze on Voban, who stood with a smile on his face that the ritual had worked, and looked in his direction, ready to act.

"You… A Campione? A foolish child summoned me?" The [Heretical God]'s voice boomed like the sound of a forge being hammered. His voice was cold, authoritative, and filled with deep disdain: "Such audacity…"

Voban let out a low, icy laugh, ready to challenge the [Heretical God]. He was already beginning to invoke his own forces, his authorities preparing for a battle that seemed imminent. His eyes were fixed on the figure of the [Heretical God], and his muscles contracted with the need to fight. The atmosphere around him became increasingly dense, and the power of his authorities emerged, ready to be activated.

The tension was about to break, and battle seemed inevitable. Energies built, and the air was heavy with the promise of destruction.

The oldest Campione stood motionless, but the predatory gleam in his eyes made it clear that he was on the verge of unleashing all his power.

The walls of the fortress trembled under the weight of the colossal energies emanating from both, and the environment seemed to be compressed by an invisible force. Liliana and Yuri, exhausted and unable to even raise a sword or cast a spell, watched in terror at the confrontation that was about to unfold. They both knew that their chances of surviving a clash between a Campione and a Heretical God were practically nonexistent.

However, before the first blow could be struck, something completely unexpected happened. A thunderous sound echoed through the air, followed by a blur of speed impossible to follow.

In a split second, Salvatore Doni appeared at the center of the scene.

Before Voban could even register his presence, Doni raised his silver arm, which glowed intensely as he uttered:

"O arm of Nuadha, grant me the sword of victory!"

With a single movement, he conjured a blade from the ground and delivered a devastating blow. Voban was hurled like a cannonball, crashing through several walls of the fortress. The impact was so powerful that the ground and surroundings shook violently, cracks spreading through the structures.

Marquis Voban, who was completely focused on the [Heretical God], was caught off guard. He had no time to react or activate his Authorities, and his body violently collided with the debris on the other side of the fortress, disappearing amidst the dust and rubble.

The scene left everyone shocked, except for Doni, who simply turned to face the [Heretical God] with a carefree smile on his face.

Dismissing the sword made by his authority, Doni stopped where he was, dusting off his clothes and looking in the direction where Voban had disappeared with an almost innocent smile. "Oops, I think I overdid it a bit. He'll be fine... probably."

He then turned his attention to the [Heretical God], his eyes gleaming with a mixture of enthusiasm and curiosity. "Now, you… You're interesting. A Heretical God wielding a sword? Wanna play with me?"

The [Heretical God] didn't answer immediately. It looked at Doni with appraising eyes, as if pondering the seriousness of the man before him. Finally, it spoke, its voice reverberating like the sound of metal being forged: "Another foolish child. If you want a fight, I shall entertain you."

"Great!" replied Doni, completely ignoring the threat in the Heretical God's tone. He took a step forward and touched the ground with his right hand, activating his [Silver Arm of Ripping] Authority.

"I shall make this oath now. I, will not allow anything that cannot be cut to exist in this world. Because this sword in my hand, is the invincible blade that cuts down everything without fail!"

A silvery substance began to spread from his arm, enveloping the ground beneath his feet.

Emerging from the ground, a sword, a blade that shone with a silvery light, radiating an energy that seemed capable of cutting even space itself.

Doni grasped the sword, an overwhelming red aura being exuded from his body, he charged towards the [Heretical God] with surprising speed. The [Heretical God] raised its own sword, intercepting Doni's blow with an impact that made the entire fortress tremble.

The blades clashed, releasing a shockwave that destroyed what was left of the surrounding walls.

His blade was capable of anything, Doni knew that very well. Should it encounter something it couldn't fully cut on the first try, it would increase its power and lethality to a level that could overcome the target's hardness, that's what happened on the second attack, his sword's lethality increased and he managed to injure his enemy, who deflected it by a hair's breadth.

The confrontation between Doni and the [Heretical God] was spectacular. With each blow exchanged, the ground cracked, the air trembled, and the debris of the fortress was hurled as if it were leaves in the wind. Doni seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, laughing as he dodged the [Heretical God]'s attacks and counterattacked with his silver sword.

The fight between the two was almost unbelievable, a duel of swords and skill that seemed to defy the laws of physics, but soon the [Heretical God] began to lose ground. Doni manipulated the ground to create swords that rained down on the [Heretical God], who was a God of [Steel] obviously, possessing a defense that bordered on true invulnerability.

Doni, still with that irritatingly carefree smile, jumped back in a moment, deflecting a blow that could have split a mountain in half. "Hey, Liliana! Why are you still here? Take your friend and get out before things get ugly."

Liliana, who was helping Yuri to her feet, hesitated for a moment, observing the chaos around them. But she knew Doni was serious – if they stayed, they would be crushed. "Come on, Yuri," she said, hurrying to leave while the sound of devastating blows echoed behind them.

The fight continued with increasing intensity, each blow from Doni or the [Heretical God] threatening to collapse what was left of the fortress. At one point, he began manipulating the ground to form swords that were remotely controlled to strike the [Heretical God].

He made his sword during the fight, reaching eight meters in length on the blade and one on the hilt. Weighing about 300 kg, but he could move it freely as it was of the same matter as his arm.

Doni laughed, spinning his silver sword and adding more energy to it.

With a single motion, he launched a devastating strike.

The [Heretical God]'s blade, which should have been unbreakable, couldn't withstand the power of the silver sword. Doni's divine blade cut not only the Heretical God's weapon, but also its body, which began to dissipate into light.

However, before he could even sigh, a furious roar echoed from the other side. Voban emerged from the shadows, unharmed, his aura more overwhelming than ever.

"Salvatore Doni… The Seventh Campione. You dare steal my prey? Killed the Heretical God that should have been mine? You damn!"

As these words left his mouth, Voban's eyes began to glow intensely, emanating a pale green hue that seemed to overflow with power. A dark green aura began to envelop his body, pulsing like a storm ready to explode. The energy around him became denser, as if the air were being drained, and even the ground beneath him seemed to protest, cracking under the pressure. Voban, with his imposing and cold posture, looked less like a man and more like an implacable force of nature.

Doni, however, remained unfazed. He watched calmly as the old Campione prepared himself, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and something more – enthusiasm. He wasn't intimidated, quite the contrary. The glint in his eye said he was having fun.

He adjusted his body slightly, assuming a fighting stance, but without losing his relaxed demeanor, as if he were just trying something new.

Although Doni had been a Campione for just over a month, his confidence was unshakeable. As someone who aspired to be a knight since childhood, he had studied stories and legends about every God Slayer scattered throughout the world. Among them, Marquis Voban stood out as the most feared and legendary. Doni knew exactly who he was dealing with, but instead of hesitating, he felt his blood boil with the anticipation of battle.

Doni, seeing Voban preparing himself, stepped forward, his face animated and his posture adjusted, as if he were finally facing a true challenge. He, who was a newly made Campione, had barely gotten used to his new power, but the idea of fighting someone like Voban - someone with so much experience and a heavy history - lit a fire in his heart.

"You're the so-called Voban, right?" Doni asked, his voice full of an irreverent tone, ignoring the fragrant threat of the First [King], as if it were a casual conversation. "I've heard of you. They say you like to hunt, train with the undead, and all that… Sounds interesting. I think I'll like this. Oh, before I continue, I'm sorry for sending you flying through the fortress."

"I had heard that Liliana came here with other Hime-Miko, so I was in a bit of a hurry. And you looked more… punchable, since you look like a soap opera villain, than the [Heretical God] who reminded me of a knight…"

Voban, impassive, looked at Doni, his cold eyes observing his opponent's movements. His expression was almost blank, but he could perceive the younger man's excitement. In response, he gave a small smile of disdain.

"I've heard that the Seventh was a fool who was always causing trouble," Voban said, his voice low, but charged with a menace that seemed to hang in the air, "I see the rumors are true. Were you here because of that girl?"

Before Doni could answer, the old man continued.

"I see you have a heroic nature, a privilege of youth," Voban said, his voice deep and imposing, cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. His expression was serious, almost introspective, as if taking him back to a distant time where youth and ambition were his only companions. His eyes, however, were a storm of coldness, as if every word that left his lips were meant to dispel any illusion of affection.

Voban had never been the gentle old man type. He wasn't the wise counselor who told stories of the past, nor the welcoming patriarch who guided with kindness. No. He was a Demon King, a being who played with the laws of the world like a chess master, without any remorse or regret. His favorite pastime was not sitting at the table and telling tales, but hunting Heretical Gods, challenging and killing the most powerful to test his own strength and increase his Authorities.

He had always been a cold man, distant from the human emotions that others tried to cultivate. For Voban, the pursuit of power and combat against worthy opponents were the only goals that justified his existence. The concept of affection was, to him, an empty distraction, a waste of energy that could be channeled into something more substantial.

With a slight movement of his hand, he adjusted his posture, staring at the young man before him with a gaze that seemed to pierce his soul. "My kinsman," he continued, his voice lower now, with a calmness, "I will say nothing about your behavior. All God Slayers have their own personalities, and you, like so many others, seem immersed in your own youthful passion. But as your senior, let me give you some advice from an old man, someone who has walked many dark paths."

He paused, allowing the tension to build in the air, before uttering his words with ruthless coldness: "It is not a good thing to be too affectionate. Especially us, who are the Demon Kings. We are beings equal to the Gods, but free from their weaknesses, free from the chains that bind mortals. The love of the mortal world, its morals and kindness… are nothing more than useless attachments. So insignificant that they are nothing more than dust on the soles of my feet."

Voban looked directly at the young man, his eyes immersed in a wisdom distorted by experience and loneliness. He knew that his view of the world was unique, and somehow, he hoped that the young man would absorb his words, not as an act of affection, but as a sentence. What was done with it now was in the boy's hands.

Doni, with his carefree expression, gave a slight smile, almost as if he were amused by the seriousness of Voban's speech. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with a touch of irony and a faint glint of impatience.

"So, I wasn't wrong about you. You are the soap opera villain type, aren't you? The one who tries to give advice with a mysterious look, as if every word were a divine sentence. I understand you," Doni replied calmly, his voice laced with sarcasm. He wasn't really interested in the Marquis' words, but something about that kind of arrogant figure always made him want to provoke.

"Now, about Liliana, she was an acquaintance of mine who helped me in a time of need… well, of course I'm here because of her, but it's not just that," Doni said, stepping forward, as if preparing for the confrontation he had been waiting for, "Actually, it was even faster than I imagined when I felt the descent of a [Heretical God]… it was like the air got denser. I couldn't resist, I had to come. The smell of a good battle in the air… it gave me a boost. And honestly, I was already coming for something bigger."

He paused, his smile widening a little more, as if he were revealing a secret that not even he knew he was about to share.

"I've been craving a battle, Voban. Not just against that Heretical God over there, but something more… much more." His eyes fixed on the Marquis with a glint of growing excitement. "I want to fight the First Campione. You're the one I really want to face, Marquis. A duel between the two of us, only it won't be about teachings or advice. It'll be about who the real Demon King is here."

Doni, with his usual imperturbable calmness, seemed as indifferent to danger as he would be to a daily workout. He knew he had something to prove, not only to the Marquis, but to himself. And the fight with Voban was the opportunity he had been seeking.

"Hahaha! Well said, young man! It seems you're not a boring person. From that point of view, I wish to applaud you."

The cold laugh of the oldest Campione reverberated through the great hall, his voice resonating like the sound of clinking metals in the air. As the laughter faded, an aura of unparalleled power took shape around him, Voban's own energy releasing an invisible pressure, like a dense weight upon the environment.

Undead servants began to appear around, emerging from the shadows like specters in a macabre setting. Their eyes, empty and lifeless, fixed on the young Campione. Gazes that were once bright, expressing dreams and hopes, were now blind, emotionless, mere vestiges of their past existences. They were only echoes of people they once were, now reduced to shadows serving only a dark purpose.

Armed with rusted swords and ancient armor, their garments molded by time, they advanced slowly and methodically, like puppets moved by invisible strings. Each step seemed to weigh an eternity. They were warriors from forgotten eras, but their mission was clear: to serve their master, Marquis Voban, even beyond death. They had died in battle, their lives cut short in pursuit of honor or revenge, but now they were mere instruments, used to prolong their lord's reign.

"Using larger numbers to suppress others is not a style I like." Doni murmured, his eyes fixed on the approaching undead. He watched every move, perceiving the growing threat around him. Doni's mind was alert. His opponent was more dangerous than he initially thought.

"Hahahaha. I'm the opposite." Voban replied, his voice full of satisfaction. "I enjoy stepping alone into an overwhelming number of enemies, or the opposite – tormenting a small number to death with superior numbers is also my favorite. One could say that both are preferred styles of Voban!"

As the Marquis spoke, Doni felt a wave of coldness. It was clear that he was dealing with someone who saw battle not as a confrontation, but as an amusement, a quest for the very feeling of power.

In response to the provocation, Doni just snorted, his lips curving into an ironic smile.

Voban, on the other hand, merely smiled, like a lion watching its prey before the final attack. He was preparing for what he considered the true essence of his existence: battle, the spilling of blood, the feeling of being alive in the heat of the fight. Nothing else mattered.

"Go." Voban commanded, and his undead advanced with precision, their heavy steps reverberating on the floor. Steam began to come out of their mouths, as if a breath that was no longer their own was being forced by a command beyond death. The sight of fallen bodies coming to life again wasn't just macabre, it was terrifying, as these beings no longer knew the fragility of fear – fear, that human emotion that separates the living from the dead, no longer existed in their beings.

With an order from their master, the undead darted towards Doni, their skeletal forms gleaming in the dim light of the hall. They didn't hesitate, for they no longer possessed the ability to discern right from wrong, life from death.

"O arm of Nuadha, grant me the sword of victory!" Doni bellowed in a fierce tone, his voice echoing like thunder, vibrating against the walls of the room. He then touched the castle floor forcefully, activating his authority. His right arm began to glow in a silvery hue, an intense light illuminating the area around him.

The glow of his energy spread like a wave, dyeing the ground silver, and from the ground hundreds of swords were born and controlled by his mind, cutting all the targets he wanted like a storm. The impact was so devastating that not only were the undead cut down, but the Demon King's castle itself was split in two.

The violence of the attack made the ground tremble, and the castle walls began to crack.

The skeletons, which had been brought back to life by Voban, were cut vertically by the blade made of the ground by Doni's authority. The energy not only cut their bodies, but seemed to dissipate their souls, pulverizing them into a state of nothingness.

The Marquis, in turn, reacted with impressive speed for a man of his age. He leaped away with the agility of a predator, dodging the blade with the dexterity of someone who had lived for millennia. The battle was just beginning.

Doni watched his opponent's movements, feeling adrenaline coursing through his body. The feeling of power, of being in control, was addictive.

"What a troublesome attack, brat." Voban scoffed, his voice full of sarcasm and disdain. The Marquis was clearly intrigued, but at the same time, he didn't seem completely surprised.

With a wave of his hand, Voban caused his undead to return to the scene, surrounding Doni on all sides. The number of corpses increased rapidly, their bodies being reborn like puppets of death.

"Hmm, even if I kill them, you can call them back?" Doni asked, watching the undead gather around him.

"Indeed," Voban replied, with a cold satisfaction in his voice, "Even if their bodies are destroyed and return to dust, their souls are trapped and condemned to serve me for all eternity. It's simple to call them again."

Voban's power was terrifying, his Authority — [Undead Servant] which he obtained from the Egyptian God of Agriculture and the Underworld, Osiris — trapped those he killed in an eternal bond of servitude.

The battle was far from over. Both were ready to prove that they were the true masters of the battlefield, but who would emerge victorious?

It came as no surprise.

Marquis Voban was the victor, with his various authorities and centuries of experience, how could he lose to a novice? Despite Doni being a monster with a sword, admitted by the old wolf to be the best he had ever seen wielding a weapon, in the end, he was still inexperienced.

Two hours had passed since the beginning of that immense battle, and the battlefield was a testament to its intensity. The castle, which once stood with its imposing architecture, wasnow nothing more than a pile of rubble, its walls and towers completely reduced to debris. The vast surrounding forest, which was once a tapestry of dense, green trees, was now devastated, with broken trunks and crushed vegetation, as if an invisible blade had mercilessly sliced through the earth and the heavens above.

In the midst of this devastation, Voban stood still, his eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction. His body was slightly weary, and a few tears were present in his clothes with blood dripping. But nothing serious. His gaze was fixed on the man before him. Salvatore Doni was panting, his chest heaving in search of air. His body was covered in wounds, scars, and marks from the brutal fight, and his movements were now slow and clumsy, as if pain consumed him with every step he tried to take. His eyes, normally firm and imposing, were clouded by exhaustion.

Voban observed him with a mixture of interest and amusement. The young man, the Seventh Campione, the King who seemed to have remarkable potential. During those two hours, he had forced Voban to use some of his authorities and even injured him due to underestimation, something that didn't happen often, but even so, nothing that truly worried the old warrior. Voban expended a bit of his magical energy, but it was enough to test Doni's potential, and he could see that the boy had something more. Something that, if properly cultivated, could become a true threat in the future. But not now. Not yet.

The battle had dragged on to a point where the old Campione decided that the confrontation was no longer necessary. He didn't want to destroy an opponent who could still offer him a better fight on another occasion. So, in a slow and calculated movement, he stepped forward, defiantly, but unhurriedly, like a predator deciding to spare its prey for a more interesting hunt in the near future.

"You have something…" Voban said, his voice deep and unhurried, as if it were a simple observation. "Something that can, one day, truly challenge me. But not today." He paused, watching Doni's efforts to stay upright, an imperceptible smile dancing at the corners of his lips. "Now, go. I had my fun. And you… you will grow stronger, for next time."

Doni, still struggling to breathe, looked at the old Campione. Yet even in that deplorable state, he laughed. A light, almost childish laugh that sounded completely out of place in the scene of destruction.

"You… you really are… incredible, old wolf…" Doni said between laughs and gasps, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was hoarse, but carried a note of enthusiasm that only he could display, even in a moment like this. "Damn, I knew you were strong, but this… this was too much! Hahaha!"

He threw his head back, laughing even louder, ignoring the pain that made his body protest with every movement.

"I knew fighting you would be epic, but wow, you exceeded all expectations, Voban. Seriously, you should let me try again… maybe a hundred more times?"

He was definitely an idiot.

The old Campione was about to turn and leave, satisfied with his decision to spare the young man, when a sudden buzzing cut through the air.

A presence emerged like black lightning, swift and relentless. Before either of them could react, a black blade decapitated Doni, who was too exhausted and wounded to react. Although he had managed to glimpse the attack at the speed of light due to his [Mind's Eye], his body didn't react in time due to having succumbed to his fight against Voban previously, his magical energy had been completely drained, and his authorities were exhausted.

The attacker was meticulous and struck at the peak of his weakness!

The figure shrouded in black lightning dissipated, returning to human form, revealing a young man in his early twenties, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes, devilishly handsome. His broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted body emanated overwhelming strength. Perfectly trained muscles shaped his tall and imposing figure, a masterpiece that seemed to transcend human limitations. His clothes, martial arts pants and a black shirt clinging to his body, further highlighted his physique.

In his hand, he wielded the legendary [Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi], a divine sword that pulsed with a dark and lethal energy, as if heaven itself had yielded to his will, and its owner, obviously, was Adam Victory, the Sixth Campione!

The Lazy Tyrant King.

The King of Heavenly Massacre.

The Evil Buddha.

These epithets were not mere empty words. He was the man who defied the impossible, the Campione who, with an almost frightening calmness, had claimed to be able to face the very Second Campione, the indomitable Ruler of the Martial Realm, as an equal.

His name was whispered with reverence and fear, a legendary figure among the Campiones, considered by many to be the most powerful among them. They said he possessed more Authorities than any other, a collection of powers that reflected the extent of his ambition and strength.

Adam deactivated his [Black Lightning] authority usurped from Alec, feeling a brief discomfort. He had become a master in the use of this authority, far surpassing the speed at Alec's peak and even Luo Hao. His control over this Authority is at such a high level that he moves in four dimensions, due to the fact that by controlling the ability to accelerate and decelerate, he has control over the speed of travel that allows him to basically manipulate time by tricking opponents by changing from acceleration to deceleration, coupled with his movement technique, [Shundo], he was basically the fastest Campione...

He looked at the Seventh Campione's body with indifference — he had waited for this moment to kill and steal the [Silver Arm of Ripping] authority and to his surprise he had also obtained [Man of Steel], an authority he had just usurped from the [Heretical God] summoned in the ritual earlier, that explained the Old Wolf's injuries.

With both authorities, Doni had risen to a level above.

But it still wasn't enough to prevent his death.

Doni fell to the ground, lifeless, his head rolling in a silence that contrasted with the previous chaos.

Meanwhile, the air around old Voban seemed to freeze for a moment when Adam Victory appeared on the scene. He fixed his eyes on the young man. The magical energy emanating from the Sixth Campione was overwhelming, a raw and uncontrollable presence that vibrated through the surrounding space like muffled thunder.

When he finally turned his gaze to Doni's lifeless body, he showed no trace of emotion. The boy had died? So what? The old wolf had no sympathy for his equals.

For him, Doni had been a temporary amusement that he spared for the succulent battle he experienced after years of starvation, nothing more than a prelude to something bigger, now he understood perfectly.

And there was this "something bigger."

Adam Victory.

Since hearing the rumors of the Sixth Campione's feats, a burning desire had been born within him. They said that Adam had surpassed all others, accumulated more Authorities than any Campione before him.

Those rumors had fueled a feeling Voban hadn't experienced in decades: excitement.

A worthy rival. Perhaps the only one capable of making his heart race again in a duel to the death.

Voban stepped forward, allowing a macabre smile to spread across his lips. He raised his head, staring at Adam with eyes that gleamed like those of a predator before a challenging prey.

"So, we finally meet, Sixth King," Voban said, his voice heavy with a strange emotion, a mixture of anticipation and hunger. "I wondered if the rumors about you were true… And now that I see with my own eyes, I admit that perhaps they underestimated you."

The old wolf closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling Adam's pulsating energy reverberate in his own chest. Every fiber of his being screamed for battle. He opened his eyes again, now shining with fierce determination.

"Old wolf," Adam said, his eyes resting on Voban with a calm gleam, ignoring his compliments. "You've been capturing some Hime-miko from my territory. People who swore their loyalty to me, and whom you, in your insatiable ambition, dared to use as disposable tools. The problem is that they're dead now, aren't they? Dead because of your thirst for power."

"If you came to accuse me, save your breath," Voban replied, his voice cold. "The dead are just dead. They serve their purpose and return to dust. I see no reason for your indignation. But if you came to avenge them, if you came to seek a fight against me, I will answer…"

Adam smiled slightly. Although Doni hadn't hurt Voban much, the few injuries and a certain expenditure of the old man's magical energy gave him a certain advantage. After his fight against Luo Hao, he no longer underestimated any of the older Campiones, as the First Campione, the man before his eyes, was a monster.

Meanwhile, he had waited for this moment to get rid of two more Campiones in just one moment. If the [King of the End] awakened, he wouldn't have his strength multiplied by all the Campiones of the era, because most of them would be dead.

Faced with the words of the man in front of him, who frankly looked like a soap opera villain, he decided to play along a little.

Adam raised the [Ame no Murakamo Tsurugi] sword, twirling it elegantly before lightly planting it in the ground, as if to add a theatrical touch to the moment. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief instant, before raising his voice.

"The poor and innocent Hime-mikos, pure and devout women, sacrificed for your ambition and brutality. Oh, what a grotesque spectacle you have created, Voban. What a lamentable scene for the mortal and divine world!"

Marquis Voban arched an eyebrow, not understanding the young man's intentions.

Adam continued, further increasing the dramatic tone. "I, Adam Victory, saint and martyr, a protector of oppressed souls, have come to punish the tyrant who dared to desecrate that which is sacred!" He took a step forward, his arrogant posture contrasting with the supposedly altruistic speech. "Yes, they were your prisoners, I know. Poor souls you used as chess pieces in your thirst for power. But in doing so, you signed your sentence, old wolf! For a saint like me would never allow such injustice!"

The surrounding atmosphere began to tremble, and Adam's magical energy intensified, the gleam in his eyes revealing that he was enjoying his own performance.

Voban responded by releasing his magical energy as his eyes glowed pale green.

The magical energy of the two Campiones began to intensify, colliding in the air like opposing tidal waves. The ground around Voban began to crack, while cutting winds swirled around Adam.

Both seemed motionless, but the environment around them reacted to the sheer magnitude of their presence.

"All this theatrics just to announce you want revenge on me? You talk too much for someone who claims to be lazy," Voban taunted, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Let's see if your strength is worthy of so many words, boy."

Stopping his act, Adam tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Voban's. "Tell me, old man, when was the last time your heart truly beat faster? I hope today is the day you feel alive again... before you die."

The two Campiones were silent for a moment, the air around them charged with tension.

Then, almost simultaneously, their smiles widened.

There were no more words to be said.

The fight was about to begin.