At that very moment—
Akiyama Ren observed Erica's expression and couldn't help but chuckle internally. "As expected of a top-tier heroine," he mused, impressed by her sharp instincts. Though her assumptions were off the mark, the sheer speed of her deductions was commendable.
Still, Ren hadn't planned on being discovered while crossing dimensions this time—especially not by both the male and female leads of this world. Since the secret was out... well, the protagonist had to go. As for Erica? She would be tamed, naturally.
Ren's eyes flicked toward Azril, who instantly grasped his intent and nodded without hesitation. In the blink of an eye, she appeared right in front of Kusanagi Godou, her long hair fluttering like wings of shadow, and snatched the Prometheus Manual from his hands.
"Oi! That's mine!" Godou protested, clearly shaken.
But Azril simply smiled—beautifully, terrifyingly—and brought her palm down upon Godou's head.
BOOM!
Kusanagi Godou's body exploded into a spray of red, white, and yellow. The alley was splattered in gore, but Azril had already activated a barrier of spiritual energy, shielding herself from the unsightly mess.
Erica, standing mere meters away, was frozen in place—completely stunned. She hadn't even seen the attack. No movement, no signal, no aura. It was as though the boy had vanished from existence in a flash.
"Wha—what... was that?" she murmured under her breath, her pupils trembling.
Her instincts screamed one thing: death.
Run? No, she'd die faster.
Fight? Against that? Impossible.
For now, her best option was to remain respectful... and hope for mercy.
She bowed slightly, keeping her distance. "Kami-sama... if your goal was the Divine Artifact, then you've already obtained it. May I humbly request to leave unharmed?"
Azril returned to Ren's side and handed him the Prometheus Manual with reverence. He gave it a passing glance before casually tossing it into his System Storage.
"Trash loot," he muttered.
He turned to Erica with a radiant yet dangerous smile. "But... you saw my little secret, didn't you?"
Cold sweat drenched Erica's back. Her heart pounded like war drums, adrenaline flooding her system. Yet, she forced a graceful smile onto her lips.
"I-I have no idea what you're referring to, Kami-sama... I saw nothing," she said nervously.
Ren tilted his head playfully. "No, no. You did see it—how we arrived in this world."
"This... this world?" Erica's voice trembled. "You're... you're not a God of this world?"
"Bingo," Ren said, his eyes twinkling.
Erica felt her soul leave her body. That smile. That confidence. This wasn't just a Heretic God or a Godslayer. This was something else entirely.
But just as she accepted her fate and closed her eyes, bracing for the end... nothing happened.
Confused, she opened one eye cautiously. "Eh?"
Ren smirked. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous. I'll give you a chance to live. Swear loyalty to me."
Erica blinked in disbelief, then sighed in relief. That was it? Swear allegiance?
Without hesitation, she dropped to one knee and declared, "Erica Blandelli of the Bronze Black Cross pledges eternal loyalty to Akiyama Ren-sama!"
"Good girl," Ren said with a nod. "Stand."
"Hai!" Erica rose gracefully, stealing glances at her new Master. He was ridiculously handsome—like a character drawn by the most obsessive shoujo mangaka.
Ren's eyes drifted toward the still-stunned Erica. Honestly, the girls in the Campione world were top-tier.
Erica? That flawless face, those enchanting curves, and that radiant golden hair... truly a natural-born seductress. Even among the girls in his own faction—Takiyashahime, Azril, Jibril, Tsuchimikado Natsume, Yotsuya Miko, Yukinoshita Haruno, and Irisviel—only a few could stand on her level.
If Utahime Iori hadn't been scarred, she'd be in that league too. Schwi? Her beauty was there, but that body was so... flat. As for Maki Zen'in, well, Ren liked her a lot—but even she fell a bit short in the aesthetics department.
Erica felt his eyes on her and blushed faintly. That gaze... it was dangerous, yet somehow thrilling.
Ren soon looked away and said, "Erica, the Magic Associations in Southern Europe are all under the King of Swords, Salvatore Doni, right? Find a way to summon him to Sardinia. Tell him the seventh Godslayer wishes to duel."
"Ehh?!" Upon hearing this, Erica's eyes widened in shock, her lips parting slightly in disbelief.
She had originally thought Akiyama Ren was a kami—no, something far above that. But to find out he was a Campione... a Godslayer?! And not just any Godslayer—he was the elusive seventh one, the very same that all the magi across Southern Europe had been desperately searching for!
He had completely fooled her, casually saying he wasn't from this world. But now, the more she thought about it... the spatial vortex. The sudden and unnatural appearance. It all made sense!
Could it be? Was Akiyama Ren truly not of this world? Could he have... come from another realm entirely?
That would explain why no magus or organization could track his movements.
"Oi, Alice-san, what's with that vacant look? Can you do it or not?" Ren's voice snapped Erica out of her reverie.
"Ah! Y-Yes! Of course I can!" she stammered, straightening her posture immediately.
"Good." Ren gave a faint nod and waved his hand nonchalantly, as if brushing off the matter. "Then get going. The King of Swords won't challenge himself."
"Understood! Please excuse me!" Erica bowed deeply and turned, her crimson cloak fluttering behind her as she hurried off.
Azril tilted her head, watching Erica's retreating figure. "Master, are you sure she won't betray us?"
Ren smirked faintly. "She doesn't have the guts. Erica-san is smart enough to know where her loyalties lie now. If she dares betray me, the entire Bronze Black Cross will face the consequences."
"Fufufu~ You're so cruel when you're confident, Ren-sama," Jibril giggled, wings faintly twitching in amusement.
"Speaking of which," she added, her tone turning curious, "is this King of Swords fellow actually strong?"
Ren leaned back lazily against a nearby wall, arms folded. "Hmm... He's not weak, but compared to you guys? Heh, he's not even close."
He compared the power systems in his mind. The Campione world had its rules—Authorities, divine Authorities passed on from slain gods. The destructive potential was impressive, no doubt.
But it still didn't compare to the power systems from other worlds he'd traversed.
Jibril, after all, was from the world of Disboard—No Game No Life. A former member of the Flügel, and at full strength, she could evaporate an entire sea if she so desired.
Even at 5% power, she could split oceans in two.
Only the King of Swords' infamous Sword of Meteor had comparable destructive flair, but even that was child's play next to a true Flügel's might.
"Don't forget," Ren explained, "Campiones are dangerous because of their Authorities. They're like Rule-type skills. Even if the raw firepower isn't extreme, they can pierce divine barriers or rewrite logic itself."
"Oooh, like conceptual weapons!" Jibril's eyes sparkled. "Master~ can I fight him first? Pretty please? I wanna test the mettle of a Campione!"
Ren chuckled and patted her head affectionately. "Go ahead, Jibril-chan. He's all yours."
Jibril blushed slightly, clinging onto Ren's arm with an enthusiastic grin. "Yattaaa~! I won't disappoint you, Master-sama!"
Azril gave her sister a stern look. "Jibril-chan, behave yourself. Master Ren isn't a toy."
Ren laughed, shaking his head. "It's fine. You three are my closest companions. There's no need for formalities all the time. Be yourselves."
"Understood!" all three replied in unison.
"Alright, let's find a place to stay for now," Ren declared.
With a snap of his fingers, they exited the alley, stepping into the sun-drenched streets of Sardinia.
Before long, Ren brought the trio to the most extravagant resort on the island. With a casual wave of his hand and a subtle pulse of divine energy, euros materialized out of thin air. No one dared question the sudden cash.
He reserved the presidential suite for a full week.
The suite had multiple rooms, each lavishly decorated—but Ren didn't particularly care. Even if it had only one room, sharing with the girls wasn't a problem. In fact, he kind of preferred it.
After settling in, he took them shopping.
The group bought new swimsuits from a local boutique, and shortly after, they headed to the beach.
Ren changed into dark blue swim shorts and a floral open shirt. His toned chest and well-defined abs immediately caught the eyes of countless onlookers.
Azril, Jibril, and Schwi each wore stunning swimsuits that perfectly complemented their figures. Their wings, halos, and mechanical parts were carefully concealed through minor illusions and cloaking enchantments.
They looked, to the outside world, like impossibly beautiful human girls.
Every man on the beach stared at them with wide eyes—and every woman turned to stare at Ren, trying to figure out how one man could attract three god-tier beauties at once.
But when they looked at Ren's divine aura, his flawless face, and the sheer charisma he exuded, they could only lower their heads in resignation.
No comparison. No chance.
While Ren and the girls played in the sand and swam in the crystalline waters, the magical community across Europe erupted.
The Seventh Godslayer had emerged—no, exploded—onto the scene, and through none other than the Crimson Demon herself, Erica Blandelli, had issued a direct challenge to the King of Swords!
News of the impending clash between two Campione-sama spread like wildfire across the continent. Government officials, noble magi families, and clandestine occult circles alike were trembling. The destructive power of a battle between Godslayers was not just legendary—it was apocalyptic.
If they clashed here, Sardinia could very well be reduced to rubble!
But even if the world's governments were paralyzed with anxiety, no one dared interfere. In this world, Godslayers were not merely humans blessed by fate—they were Lords of Calamity. Demon Kings among mortals. Campione.
"Above heaven and below earth, I alone am honored!"—a truth etched into the soul of every Godslayer.
Not even the United Nations or the five nuclear powers would raise a hand to stop them.
And yet, despite the doomsday-level tension swelling across Europe, a select few Magic users couldn't resist the temptation.
They were thrill-seekers, madmen, those desperate to witness a miracle—or a catastrophe.
They set course for Sardinia, driven by the kind of reckless courage (or stupidity) that defied logic. Perhaps they hoped to glimpse the Authority of a Campione in action… or perhaps they were just baka.
Meanwhile, the island's emergency systems had kicked into overdrive.
Sardinia's coastal towns echoed with the shrill cry of air raid sirens. Police and military units scrambled to evacuate civilians to safety.
But at the heart of it all, sprawled leisurely under a parasol, was Akiyama Ren.
Lying back on a beach chair like a true chad of the multiverse, he sipped coconut juice while Schwi gently offered him chilled fruit. Beside him, Azril and Jibril lovingly massaged sunscreen into his back and shoulders. He was surrounded by beauty, luxury, and divine power—and he relished every second.
Time passed like a dream.
As the sun dipped low and golden light bathed the sky, a deafening boom cracked through the air.
A plane had flown over the beach, and from it, a lone figure leapt.
BOOM!
The figure hit the ground like a meteor, sand and dust erupting into the sky. The very earth trembled with his arrival.
Azril calmly extended one hand, erecting a shimmering magical barrier to block the debris, all while continuing her sun-care treatment on Ren.
Jibril's eyes lit up instantly with battle-lust.
As the dust settled, a tall, confident young man came into view—golden hair tousled by the wind, an open short-sleeved shirt exposing toned abs and a well-defined chest. A sleek mirror was clipped into his hair, and a black sword box rested on his back.
Akiyama Ren smirked.
There was no mistaking it.
Salvatore Doni, the infamous King of Swords. A battle junkie among battle junkies, whose strength and madness were equally terrifying.
"Yo! So you're the seventh Campione, huh? I came flyin' all the way here just for this! Let's fight already!" Doni grinned like a wild animal, unslinging his box and pulling out a plain, unassuming longsword.
It looked ordinary—but appearances deceive.
The moment it touched his right hand, the Authority within him awakened. The Ripping Silver Hand.
With it, anything he held became an indestructible magical weapon—deadly, precise, and sharp enough to tear through space.
Ren chuckled and sat up. "Tch, impatient as ever. If you want to fight me, you'll have to get through my guard first."
He turned to Jibril and gave her a nod.
Jibril beamed, no longer restraining herself. Her white wings unfurled in a glorious spread, and a geometric halo shimmered into existence above her head. With a single flap, she surged forward in a burst of light and speed.
Doni's eyes narrowed. "Oi, oi... are you some kinda angel?"
He squinted. Despite her holy appearance, something felt off. There was no killing intent, no divine resonance of a Heretic God.
He furrowed his brow.
Campione and Heretic Gods were eternal rivals. Meeting usually meant battle to the death. But this girl—this... being—wasn't giving him that vibe at all.
Jibril landed gracefully before him, her hair fluttering in the sea breeze.
"Nope~ I'm not an angel, Doni-san," she said with a playful smile. "My true identity is classified. All you need to know is... I'm here to kick your ass!"
Doni pouted like a child denied a toy. "Oi, oi, only Campione can beat a Campione. You're not one of us, so scram, lady."
Jibril's smile twitched. Then she burst out laughing.
"Ara ara~ Are you underestimating me, you muscle-brained baka? That's a first in centuries!"
Her aura exploded. Jet-black magical flames wreathed her body, her elegant white wings turning obsidian as her reddish-violet hair stood on end. The pressure she released was monstrous—like a typhoon cloaked in divine madness.
The sea churned. The very air trembled.
This was the power of a Flügel—the apex predator of the No Game No Life multiverse.
As one of the oldest and strongest of her race, Jibril was once feared across entire realms.
She had personally brought ruin to Dragon Kings and crushed Demi-God civilizations.
Now, all of that divine wrath was directed squarely at Salvatore Doni.
The battle was about to begin.