A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

Erica's lashes trembled slightly—a natural reaction as she locked eyes with Roy.

For a long moment, Roy gazed at Erica before extending his hand. To her astonishment, ripples of magical energy shimmered around her. Before she could react, he had drawn her beloved sword, Cuore di Leone (The Heart of the Lion), from its concealed state.

The act left Erica both surprised and curious. After all, her Cuore di Leone was hidden using advanced magical techniques, a method that should have made it imperceptible to anyone. Yet Roy had summoned it effortlessly.

What struck her most was that he hadn't used divine authority—he had accomplished this feat purely through magic.

She hadn't expected Roy's magical prowess to be so impressive.

"Surprised that I can use magic?" Roy remarked casually, inspecting Cuore di Leone, a masterful example of enchanted craftsmanship. "This is a fine sword. While not quite divine, it's undoubtedly a pinnacle among magical relics."

"I'm truly impressed, my King," Erica said with a respectful smile. "I had assumed someone like you, who wields the power of gods, wouldn't care much for magic."

"Divine authorities are, at their core, a form of magic," Roy explained while admiring the blade. "The difference is that Heretic Gods and Campione can compress massive, intricate spells into a single word of power. A magician can achieve similar effects, but they would need dozens—or even hundreds—of participants and months of preparation to pull it off."

Since becoming a Campione, Roy had gained the ability to wield divine authorities, but he hadn't dismissed the value of magic. Unlike most Campione, he didn't arrogantly assume that divine powers surpassed magic in all aspects. In fact, he understood that divine authorities were nothing more than an advanced application of magic.

The terrifying effectiveness of divine authorities came from the sheer magnitude of their magical energy, in both quality and quantity. However, most Campione lacked a deep understanding of how these powers truly worked. They were merely users of this power, not its masters.

For a Campione who aspired to nothing more than enjoying life in this world, wielding divine authorities was sufficient. But for Roy, whose ambitions extended far beyond the boundaries of this reality, simply wielding divine powers was not enough. To reach his ultimate goal, he sought what he called "true wisdom."

These thoughts were not something he shared with Erica. After admiring Cuore di Leone for a moment longer, Roy placed the blade against Erica's porcelain neck.

In that instant, Erica felt a cold rush down her spine. Even the fine, nearly imperceptible hairs on her skin stood on end. She was all too familiar with the sharpness of her Cuore di Leone. A slight movement from Roy could sever her head from her shoulders.

Yet even with her life at his mercy, Erica showed no fear. She deliberately relaxed her body, keeping her gaze steady and meeting Roy's eyes. Her poise reflected a young woman's composure and natural elegance.

Slowly, Roy shifted the blade from her neck to her shoulder. Erica, now kneeling on one knee, instinctively assumed the posture of a knight about to be conferred their title.

After a brief moment of thought, Roy chuckled. "I don't know much about the formalities of knighting ceremonies," he said, "but the sentiment is what matters. From this day forward, Erica, you are my personal knight. I trust you will act with the dignity and honor befitting that title, for you now represent me."

With a flourish, Roy twirled the blade and handed Cuore di Leone back to Erica, hilt first.

Exhaling softly, Erica accepted her sword, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Her instincts had been correct. Over the past few days, she had proven her efficiency and capability. As a result, she had successfully caught Roy's attention.

As one of the world's seven reigning kings, Roy's affairs were abundant and complex. For him, the pursuit of knowledge was paramount, leaving him little time to deal with mundane matters. Unlike Salvatore Doni, who often ignored such responsibilities, Roy sought a competent individual to handle them on his behalf.

Erica had made herself indispensable, not only through her abilities but also by virtue of her captivating presence. Given the choice between a male aide and a strikingly beautiful one, Roy's preference was clear.

After all, there was work for the secretary to do—and sometimes, leisure as well.

With his right hand in his pocket, Roy walked to the observation deck of the luxurious yacht. In the distance, a small island came into view: Ponza Island.

The island was characterized by its sheer cliffs and a small village at its base, much like the canals of Venice. With only 4,000 permanent residents, Ponza was a quaint and scenic tourist destination, though it wasn't typically crowded.

"We've arrived," Roy murmured, gazing at the approaching island. "I can already sense the Heretic God's presence."

…

Later, at a small local restaurant on Ponza Island…

Roy sat at a modest table, sipping a cup of inexpensive coffee. Across from him, Erica sat straight-backed in her signature red dress. A cup of coffee sat untouched before her as she awaited his instructions.

"This place seems rather deserted," Roy commented, glancing at the picturesque seascape beyond the restaurant's window.

"After learning that Metatron is here, the Seven Sisters alliance arranged for the Italian government to block tourism to the island," Erica explained. "Of the 4,000 residents, most were evacuated. However, a few hundred refused to leave, so we decided not to force them."

The Seven Sisters valued stability in Italy, especially since their headquarters were located there. Like any organization faced with a Heretic God's arrival, they had responded with utmost caution.

"I see. Ponza has always been a place of exile," Roy mused. "From Nero banishing his wife Octavia here, to other Roman emperors using it as a prison, and even Mussolini being exiled to these islands in the 20th century. Metatron choosing this place to recover—could it be that this angel is exiling itself?"

Roy's laughter echoed through the room, though Erica remained silent.

For the first time in days, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Over the past few days, she had worked tirelessly to meet Roy's expectations, dreading the possibility of making even the smallest mistake. But after observing him closely, she realized he was not as tyrannical as she had feared.

Roy was undeniably a Campione—a whimsical and unpredictable being. However, he was also fair and just in his judgments, provided no one crossed his boundaries.

In public matters, he could be cold and ruthless, embodying the authority of a true Devil King. But in private, he was approachable and even kind.

This understanding gave Erica confidence. She now knew how to navigate her relationship with Roy: deference and diligence in public, tempered with measured grace in private.

"My King, Metatron is currently—"

"No need to say more, Erica," Roy interrupted, his gaze sharpening. "I can already feel it—my blood is boiling, and my instincts are screaming. Like a beast drawn to the scent of prey, I know exactly where this Heretic God is."

He turned his eyes toward the island's towering cliffs.

"Wait for me, heretic angel. I will end you here and now."