After leaving Lucretia, and all the way until they stepped out of the herb-scented room, neither Satsuki nor Erica spoke a single word. Both were lost in their own thoughts.
Satsuki had already used her Authority in conjunction with the system's Akashic Records to decipher the stone slab in her possession—the one known as the Prometheus' Grimoire.
It was indeed a rare Sacred Relic. In a sense, calling it a Divine Artifact would not be an exaggeration.
Its ability mirrored that of the thief who once offended the gods of Olympus. The latter had stolen fire. This stone slab, however, was far more outrageous—it could directly steal divine power from a god.
No matter how high-ranking a Mage or Witch might be, when compared to a Heretic God, they were little more than background decoration.
And yet this Prometheus' Grimoire was one of the rare tools capable of crossing that boundary, allowing a mortal to turn the tables on a Heretic God.
But for Lucretia—who had already lost most of her curse power—it was nothing short of a scalding burden.
At that moment, Erica, walking beside her, glanced at Satsuki with visible curiosity.
"Miss Satsuki... are you also a Witch?"
"...That would not be an entirely inaccurate description." Satsuki turned her head slightly. "You've already obtained the information you wanted, Miss Erica. Do you still intend to continue following me?"
That question seemed to trigger something.
Erica suddenly stiffened, her expression tense and awkward.
"Well! In order to prove that I, Erica Blandelli, am not an ungrateful person... I would like to invite you to dinner tonight. Though... it can hardly repay the debt of saving my life, it is only proper behavior for a knight of Italy."
"Is that so...?"
"Y-Yes... that's exactly it."
...
Despite being in a relatively remote area, there was no shortage of places to indulge oneself—cafés of every variety, and high-end restaurants as well.
Naturally, Erica chose a restaurant.
Establishments of that caliber rarely disappointed in flavor, though their prices were often incomprehensible to the average housewife.
Italian cuisine was known as the "mother of Western cuisine," yet its techniques were often summarized by a single saying—
—The finest ingredients require only the simplest preparation.
In other words, Western cooking methods are so straightforward compared to Chinese cuisine that they needed a dignified excuse to cover the embarrassment, Satsuki thought calmly.
Italian cooking generally consisted of pan-frying, sautéing, deep-frying, boiling, braising in red sauce, often accompanied by minced garlic and dried chili peppers. Slightly spicy. Typically cooked to six or seven-tenths doneness, emphasizing "texture"—
Focusing on the teeth is a rather strange culinary philosophy. Isn't that just undercooked and hard to chew?
Firm yet elastic. Rich, fragrant, lightly spicy, retaining original juices and slight toughness.
Of course, Satsuki did not voice any of this. She was, after all, a guest.
Having little interest in Italian cuisine, she left the ordering entirely to Erica.
Before long, two crystal glasses were placed before them.
The dishes that followed were classic and representative—prosciutto, vegetable salad, grilled lobster, pasta...
They looked presentable enough. Though compared to the pan-fried fish she had once prepared personally—with a blade forged through the Golden Wheel Reincarnation Explosion—the techniques here were almost painful to behold.
Host, I think you may have a misunderstanding about ordinary people. Not everyone can use the Golden Wheel Reincarnation Explosion to slice vegetables, you know— the system complained internally.
Satsuki, however, had never been the type to nitpick the details of cuisine at an upscale restaurant.
Judging from the décor and ambiance, the establishment's focus was not the food itself—but the atmosphere it cultivated.
As someone born into nobility and equipped with a private driver, reserving an entire private room was not even a consideration for Erica.
The restaurant had thoughtfully arranged soft amber lighting, casting the room into a delicate state between tipsy warmth and subtle ambiguity.
Not unpleasant. Not overt.
But after several glasses of wine, such an environment made it far easier to loosen one's restraint.
Yes—the problem lay in the bottle of red wine Erica had ordered.
Under the carefully arranged lighting, the crimson wine poured into the decanter seemed almost enchantingly radiant.
Satsuki was no stranger to alcohol. In the world of Inuyasha, she had once sampled crude, earth-brewed liquors that barely qualified as wine.
Among certain aristocratic circles, wine tasting was less about refinement and more about discreetly flaunting one's family wealth and influence—a common method of integrating into so-called "high society."
In her previous life, Satsuki had studied such matters briefly. She had not expected that knowledge to prove useful now.
Red wine was sensitive to temperature. One should minimize contact between hand and bottle. When holding it, the thumb supports the base while the fingertips steady the body, keeping the warmth of the palm away.
Erica's posture was impeccable—clearly trained.
Satsuki gently inhaled the aroma of the aerated wine. Grapes and orchard fruits rose to greet her. She swirled the glass lightly, observing the slow, viscous legs tracing the inner surface.
Slow and thick—certainly a quality vintage.
She took a small sip, letting it linger on her tongue before swallowing with a faint frown.
Unfortunately, in terms of depth and complexity, it was utterly unworthy when compared to the supreme treasures once produced by the King of Heroes.
"Miss Satsuki truly must be a noble lady of distinguished birth. Even fine wine fails to impress you?"
Erica sipped her own glass while carefully studying Satsuki's reactions.
This was the most expensive bottle available—an exceptional selection from her family's private cellar.
In that peculiar atmosphere, the two quietly enjoyed their meal.
Whenever a glass emptied, Ariana silently refilled it at once.
Before long, several empty bottles stood upon the table.
Satsuki showed no particular reaction. Alcohol no longer affected her body. Intoxication was no longer a possibility.
Erica, on the other hand, was visibly flushed.
It seemed the young lady's tolerance was not quite as formidable as she had wished to appear.
Satsuki's attention had already shifted elsewhere.
Outside the window, the sky had grown dark once more.
Gray clouds gathered like heavy curtains drawn across the heavens.
Her Tenseigan sharply detected divine power condensing within the air.
This was—
A sign that a Heretic God was about to manifest.
...
Crash—crash—crash—
A torrential downpour—no, it felt as though entire rivers had been lifted into the sky and overturned. Sheets of rain formed an endless curtain, lashing against the windows.
It was a storm fierce enough to resemble a sudden squall—but it was far more than that.
Just as Satsuki had sensed, a tremendous tremor and thunderous roar followed.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—!
Thunder shook the heavens. Lightning split the sky. The wind surged violently.
The Mediterranean climate rarely produced such catastrophic rainstorms. The region seldom formed the cold and warm air currents necessary for this scale of tempest.
A storm that erupted without warning, without natural cause—nine times out of ten, its origin lay with the Heretic Gods.
"This is... the aura of a god."
In an instant, even Erica—who had seemed tipsy moments ago—activated her curse power and dispelled the alcohol reaction from her body.
So she could sober up at will... and was pretending to be drunk?
The world around them fell once more into that strange, dim boundary. Those lacking magic were rejected by the "truth" of this world and shifted elsewhere—left behind as meaningless background scenery.
The two stepped out of the restaurant. After passing a tall tower, through veils of rain and mist, they finally beheld the culprit behind the phenomenon.
At first glance alone, Erica knew without doubt—this was a god. The true embodiment of ferocity and strength—a Heretic God.
He appeared as a gigantic Titan in his prime. His unkempt hair spilled wildly about his shoulders, and a thick beard concealed the lower half of his face. His appearance radiated the savage aura of a Viking raider. His height easily surpassed the surrounding towers by dozens of meters. Bulging muscles rolled beneath his skin, overwhelming in their sheer mass. His physique was powerful—sacred.
Though clad only in coarse garments—tattered cloth and leather covering his chest, a ragged cloak hanging from his shoulders—he exuded such majesty that merely gazing upon him inspired the urge to kneel and bow one's head.
He stood by the banks of a spring, seemingly pursuing something as he moved inland.
"Melqart..."
Erica clearly recognized the figure before her and called out loudly toward the towering giant.
"Please wait, O God."
Hearing her voice, Melqart halted. The rumbling of the earth ceased.
The giant turned his head, looking down at the tiny red figure.
"A human? To dare obstruct the actions of a god—how insolent."
His voice rolled like muffled thunder from beneath the earth, deep and immense.
Faced with a god capable of speech, Erica did not recklessly unleash her magic blade. This was no mere beast. He was a King of the Gods, comparable to the chief deity of an entire pantheon.
Renowned as a great warrior. The mightiest dragon-slaying hunter.
If a mere Witch could defeat such a being, then the gods of this land would truly be laughable.
"Please allow me to speak. Your divine name is Melqart—am I correct?"
She was afraid.
The girl who had been arrogant and defiant before the Boar god was now trembling.
There was no helping it. The god before her was on an entirely different level.
Satsuki could hear the tremor in Erica's voice. And yet, she forced herself to meet the god's gaze, as if supported by sheer will.
The aura emanating from Melqart rivaled even that of the King of Heroes.
He was an absolute ruler—one permitted to destroy the world and humanity alike without question.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
The king's laughter churned the river into violent unrest. Waves crashed against the tower walls, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
This was no metaphor. The earth trembled. The walls trembled. Even the sky seemed to tremble.
"There are still those who remember the name of the king of old? Commendable."
Melqart's voice boomed with bold grandeur.
"Then, since you show a measure of respect, I shall give you a task. Return to the ground at once. Tell the others that Melqart is furious with the whelps who have defiled his domain. This island is small. I shall crush it with my own hands and cast it into the sea—go and deliver this warning to the rest!"
The sudden declaration drained the color from Erica's face.
And yet—even so—she did not dare refute the god's words. Not even a flicker of resistance appeared in her eyes.
Such was the dominance of a supreme Heretic God.
It was a presence capable of crushing even a genius witch's pride to dust.
Simply standing face to face with him could scatter one's will to resist. To remain upright without breaking into tears was already an act of courage.
That was why the proud girl now wore such despair.
But then—
From behind her came another clear, cool voice.
"To sink the island into the sea? While I do not assume a king of gods would lie, to pass judgment before the matter is settled seems somewhat hasty."
"Oh?"
It had been many years since someone had dared speak to him so.
Melqart shifted his gaze toward the black-clad figure standing amidst wind and rain—yet untouched by it. An invisible field surrounded her, repelling the storm itself.
"You are no ordinary being. What is it? Do you too covet my territory?"
"Heh. To me, it is hardly something of value."
Even Erica turned in disbelief at those words.
It was not merely the audacity—it was the composure. The confidence.
To face the King of the Gods without the slightest trace of fear.
The invisible barrier shielding them from the rain covered a corner of the tower—and kept Erica herself completely dry. Such elegance before a god could only stem from absolute confidence in one's own strength.
This was something one only read about in legends—a true Sage.
"Oh? Another arrogant one? HAHAHAHA! Then have you come to challenge me as well?"
His voice thundered through the heavens, indistinguishable from the storm itself.
But Satsuki merely shook her head lightly.
Her next words stunned Erica—and even left Melqart momentarily silent.
"If you were at the height of your power, I might have some slight interest in taking action. But now—"
Her golden Tenseigan swept across the sword wound on his chest, where golden lightning flickered faintly.
"—I have no desire to strike a god who is already gravely wounded."