A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

"Haneda Airport reminds you that due to unknown reasons, all flights have been grounded. Please wait for further notification about rescheduled departures..."

"Haneda Airport reminds you..."

The abrupt suspension of all flights caused a wave of complaints to ripple through the airport hall. However, the disgruntled murmurs quickly faded. For seasoned travellers, delays and cancellations were an accepted norm and rarely worth prolonged frustration. Still, the total grounding of flights was a rarity, usually associated with severe weather conditions or other emergencies.

"Ah! The flights are grounded. We were supposed to go to Kyushu for the baseball tournament. Now, who knows when we'll get there?"

A tall Japanese boy let out a sigh of defeat, his tone filled with frustration.

"Excuse me, you're in our way. Could you kindly step aside?"

As the boy lamented his situation, he was interrupted by a voice from behind—a proud, melodious voice, its tone filled with an air of confidence that demanded attention. The Japanese was spoken with flawless precision, but it lacked the casual rhythm of a local speaker.

"Ah, sorry! My apologies!"

The boy instinctively bowed, a reflexive act of politeness, and stepped aside quickly.

It was then that he caught sight of the person speaking. She wasn't Japanese, as he suspected, but a foreign girl with silky golden hair. She was tall and strikingly beautiful, her red dress dramatically out of place amidst the more casual attire in the airport. Yet, the contrast only served to enhance her presence. She was like a phoenix among sparrows, her very appearance commanding attention. The ambient noise seemed to diminish as she passed, and many eyes—particularly those of men—were drawn to her effortlessly.

'She's stunning... but she looks injured?'

The boy's gaze lingered briefly, noting her pale complexion and the faint scars on her delicate wrists, the latter appearing to be the remnants of blade wounds. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of suffering this young woman might have endured.

But his curiosity was quickly stifled as her piercing gaze, sharp as a blade, fell upon him. A shiver ran down his spine, and he hurriedly averted his eyes.

"Your Majesty, the path is clear. Please proceed!"

Erica spoke with a commanding presence, her aura parting the crowd before her. She lowered her head in deference, resembling a knight in medieval times addressing her liege lord. Her tone was imbued with reverence.

This peculiar display, paired with her unparalleled beauty, caught the attention of onlookers, who began to murmur among themselves.

Then, attention shifted further, as more people noticed the striking figure walking behind her and the three other girls accompanying him.

At the center was a young man, draped in an intricately designed red cardinal's robe that seemed far too elaborate for casual wear. To some, he might have appeared to be part of an elaborate cosplay. Around him were three more girls: one, a silver-haired foreign beauty whose refined aura matched that of the golden-haired Erica; the second, a Japanese girl clad in a traditional shrine maiden's outfit; and the third, a timid middle schooler in a sailor uniform.

The contrast in their appearances and styles made the group impossible to ignore.

However, a keen observer would notice the unusual demeanor of the two Japanese girls. The shrine maiden's expression was stiff, and her body language radiated fear. Meanwhile, the sailor-uniformed girl, who was leaning on her for support, appeared hunched over, her every movement betraying signs of serious injury.

Normally, such an ensemble of four unique, beautiful girls—blending the fiery passion of the West with the gentle elegance of the East—would be the sole focus of attention. Yet the young man walking at the center was undoubtedly the true axis around which the world seemed to revolve.

As he moved through the airport, a serene smile gracing his face, he exuded an aura that felt at once saintly and enigmatic. Those who looked at him felt their hearts calm and were filled with an almost irrepressible urge to bow in reverence, as though they were in the presence of a divine being sent to the mortal world to atone for humanity's sins.

Since mastering the authority of The Face of God, Roy's very presence had taken on an almost supernatural charisma, capable of inspiring awe and devotion. It wasn't hard for people to mistake him for an angel, a saint, or even the Son of God himself.

"Kusanagi, snap out of it! The pretty girls and the handsome guy are gone already. Stop staring~~."

The dazed Japanese boy was jolted back to reality by his friend's playful shake of his arm.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, Nanba-kun! I got distracted. They were speaking Italian just now, weren't they? Are they some kind of celebrities?"

"I don't know him either, but he looks more like a young master or a big boss on a trip! Let's go, Kusanagi; the teacher is calling us over there."

The boy named Kusanagi looked back one last time before being pulled away by his friend.

"Hm?"

Roy, with his keen hearing, stopped in his tracks. Tilting his head slightly, he pondered for a moment before glancing back.

"What happened, Your Majesty?"

Erica, standing nearby, noticed Roy's sudden pause. She quickly approached him, her gem-like eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilance, assuming there might be an enemy nearby.

"Erica, look at that boy."

Roy gestured with his mouth. He considered making a joke, something along the lines of "Doesn't he look like a dog?" But realizing that Erica wouldn't understand the reference, he decided to hold back.

"What about him? He doesn't have any magic power; he's just an ordinary person."

Erica studied the back of the boy named Kusanagi, her expression filled with confusion.

"It's nothing. Let's go," Roy said casually, dismissing the thought.

He called out and led the four girls into the VIP passage, where Princess Alice's private plane was already waiting.

…

The private Boeing jet took off from Haneda Airport, heading toward Jerusalem, Israel.

In Roy's private cabin aboard the plane, Erica stood nervously before him. Her body trembled slightly, betraying her unease.

"According to the agreement, it's time for your reward... and your punishment," Roy said with a soft chuckle, leaning comfortably against the back of the sofa.

"I'm ready, Your Majesty!" Erica declared, her expression resolute, like a soldier prepared to march into battle.

"Don't be so tense," Roy said with amusement. Then, recalling something, he asked, "By the way, Erica, you have witch blood, don't you? Even if it's faint, you should know the ancient witchcraft known as sex magic, right?"

The Italian girl froze for a moment, caught off guard by the question. A faint blush crept across her snow-white face, but she quickly suppressed her shyness and responded, "That is one of the most basic forms of witchcraft. Almost every witch knows it!"

"Good," Roy nodded thoughtfully. "Then write down the specific method of using it. If you know the underlying principles, include those as well."

Although Roy had read numerous texts during his time at the Vatican, he had never studied this particular aspect of magic. Sex magic wasn't inherently evil. On the contrary, it was a highly orthodox form of magic. In the East, it was even known by the prestigious name of "dual cultivation." However, during the witch hunts of the Middle Ages, the Church stigmatized it, branding it as something vile and corrupt.

"So, Your Majesty, this is what you want to... do? I can understand," Erica said, her voice growing softer. "After all, you're only sixteen, a time of budding curiosity. It's perfectly normal to have an interest in women's bodies. Especially with your status, I doubt any woman would refuse you."

Erica's thoughts quickly drifted to that realm. Known as the Diavolo Russo the beautiful girl's gaze became alluring, her voice carrying a faint seductive edge. "...As your knight, it's my duty to help you solve your problems, even in that regard. But, Your Majesty, can you grant me a more reasonable status for such devotion?"

Her meaning was clear: she wanted recognition, a formal title as Roy's partner or consort. Yet her words made Roy pause. He hesitated, realizing what such a commitment would mean. To grant her that title felt like surrendering a part of his freedom—something he wasn't ready to do.

Noticing his hesitation, Erica sighed softly, her tone tinged with resignation. "...I see. You don't want to make any promises. Like a playboy, you want to gather many girls around you, treating them as possessions, but without taking responsibility."

Her bitterness was evident, yet she maintained her composure. "Since that's how you feel, I won't ask for more. Let me serve as your 'lover' for now. But I have one request: please avoid associating with questionable women. If you ever have such needs, you can always come to me."

As Erica spoke, her fingers moved toward the buttons of her dress. The gesture made Roy choke back whatever words he had been about to say.

"But I am still injured," Erica continued, her voice steady. "I need you, my King, to use your authority to heal my wounds. Something like what you did for Princess Alice, perhaps?"

To Erica's surprise, Roy stopped her actions. He looked slightly embarrassed, his gaze flickering with discomfort, yet he spoke boldly, "...Actually, my authority can be activated through physical contact, so we can approach this in... a different way."

Erica's eyes widened, and then a sly smile appeared on her lips. "Oh? So that's how it is," she murmured, her voice laced with teasing amusement. Roy groaned internally, realizing he had unintentionally created an opening for her playful wit.

********

(T/N: You guys should be thankful that I ain't writing no cringe lemons.)