Roy reclined on a bench, gazing at the lush forest outside the window.
The villa was built on a rocky outcrop amidst dense woods, surrounded by towering trees. Reaching it required a long, winding drive through the pitch-black forest, with only the distant glow of Rome's city lights visible at the horizon.
These past days had been utterly dull for Roy. Since slaying Verethragna, there was nothing left for him to do in this world. Ancient Chinese Daoist arts, knowledge from Heretic Gods, and the secret arts of witches—he had acquired them all.
Roy wouldn't dare claim to have obtained all the wisdom and knowledge in the world of Campiones, but he could confidently say he had grasped most of it. The remainder was trivial, incapable of bringing about any further transformation for him.
Spiritual Foundation Ascension had also reached its limit. Killing more Heretic Gods would be meaningless, and this world didn't even have enough Heretic Gods for him to slay. Sometimes, years could pass without a single sighting of one. Otherwise, Marquis Voban wouldn't have resorted to rituals to summon Heretic Gods to kill, and Salvatore Doni wouldn't have roamed the world searching for them to fight.
After obtaining the Spiritual Foundation Ascension ritual, Luo Hao had been like a child with a new toy, or someone injected with adrenaline, running around the world searching for traces of Heretic Gods. The sect leader was truly self-absorbed, unlike Roy, who could at least blend into society. Wherever she went, she caused local disturbances, leaving people grumbling in discontent.
But in reality, no one dared to openly voice complaints against the sect leader. Her ruthless methods were well-known, and no one wanted to be the first to test her patience.
Luo Hao knew that the Last King was about to awaken. Now that she finally had an opportunity to elevate her strength, she was wholly focused. Even though the sect leader was proud and arrogant, she was no fool to believe sheer willpower could oppose the Last King.
Throughout history, countless prodigies had fallen to the Last King's hands. The sect leader didn't think she would be an exception, which was why she was striving so hard to improve before the final battle. Even if she ultimately died at the hands of the Last King, she would have no regrets.
During Luo Hao's travels, she had also encountered Salvatore, who was similarly wandering about. The two Campiones once engaged in a fierce battle along the Pacific coast of eastern Japan, creating colossal waves that caused significant damage to the coastal cities. Faced with the disaster wrought by the two Campiones, the Japanese government could only swallow their grievances and attribute it to an undersea earthquake.
After her battle with Salvatore, Luo Hao sent Roy a letter, bluntly stating that the Italian Sword King was immensely powerful. Though the sect leader had won, it was only due to the qualitative leap in her strength after her spiritual foundation's ascension. In the letter, she openly admitted her victory was not entirely fair, praising Salvatore's swordsmanship as beyond imagination. In terms of martial skill, Luo Hao could not claim absolute superiority—only a slight edge.
"Truly worthy of Salvatore, a man who lived for the sword. To hone his swordsmanship to a level comparable to Luo Hao's in just over twenty years—aside from his unwavering devotion to the blade, his talent is simply extraordinary."
Roy leaned back in his chair, slouching lazily with his legs propped up on the windowsill.
The room was unlit, with only the pale glow of the moon outside streaming through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. With Roy's keen eyesight and hearing, even through walls, he could detect the footsteps of nocturnal creatures treading on pine needles in the distant forest, along with the faint murmurs of animals deep within the woods.
Roy picked up his cup and took a sip of the now-cold coffee—bitter, yet with a lingering sweetness. He pulled out the handwritten letter from the sect leader again, reading it over. Luo Hao's calligraphy was elegant yet weighty, and every time Roy saw her writing, it brought him aesthetic pleasure. Even though he knew little about calligraphy, the spirit and temperament emanating from her words convinced him that every piece of her calligraphy and painting was a genuine masterpiece worthy of being preserved as a national treasure.
Luo Hao's letter was brief, but in concise language, she expressed her admiration for Salvatore. She even humbly admitted that she had once been short-sighted, failing to pay much attention to the newer generation of Campiones, which was why she had overlooked figures like Roy and Salvatore.
"Salvatore, a man who lived only for the sword… I once admired and envied such people too. A man with his sword, his wine, his flute—obsessed with the blade, devoted to it, unmoved by worldly distractions. Truly a life of unrestrained freedom."
Every person from China harbored a martial arts fantasy. Roy, too, had once dreamed of roaming the rivers and lakes in white robes, wielding his sword, lingering among beauties yet never being ensnared—trusting only the blade in his hand, embodying unbridled audacity.
Unfortunately, Roy's current demeanor was completely different. Even though he still wielded a longsword, he was far from that dashing image, and he was no longer obsessed with swordsmanship. To Roy, the Sword of Judgment in his hand was less of a blade and more of a "spell"—merely a tool for slaying enemies and pursuing truth.
Moreover, he had grown quite fond of the visceral thrill of beating someone to a pulp with his fists.
"The cult leader is quite lucky to have found two Heretic Gods in such a short time, and they even have good compatibility with her."
Roy carefully folded the letter in his hands and put it away. Recently, his slaying of gods had lost its meaning, and he had exhausted all avenues of knowledge and wisdom. The grand magic he had been working on was now complete. Truly, there was nothing left for him to do—just lazing around the house, wasting time, occasionally teasing his two knights, watching the two goddesses bicker before coaxing them into sharing a bed, or playing with snakes in the giant water tank. It felt like there was nothing else to occupy him, and Roy couldn't help but feel he had completely fallen into decadence.
Just as Roy was lost in his wandering thoughts, his ears twitched slightly. He withdrew his feet from the windowsill, turned on his stool, and looked behind him.
Unbeknownst to him, the Queen of the Night had silently appeared at his back.
"Athena, perfect timing. I've finished modifying this ritual. If Campiones can enhance their power by fusing spiritual foundations, then theoretically, Heretic Gods should be able to do the same. The evolution of human myths has endowed gods with different attributes and authorities. Guinevere once spread myths during the Middle Ages, giving rise to King Arthur. Based on this fact, I altered the ritual to allow Heretic Gods to fuse with the spiritual foundations of other Heretic Gods, artificially inducing mythic evolution."
"...Moreover, as long as we find other Steel Gods and seize their spiritual foundations, even Earth Mother Goddesses who have degraded into Divine Ancestors can restore their spiritual ranks. The only downside is that this ritual only works on Campiones and Heretic Gods—otherwise, we could create Campiones ourselves."
Roy's eyes lit up when he saw Athena. He grabbed a stack of magically infused papers from his desk. Over this period, he hadn't been entirely idle—at the very least, he had modified the Spiritual Foundation Ascension ritual into a version suitable for Heretic Gods.
This modification was purely the result of Roy's own wisdom and knowledge, without consulting Aiwass or relying on any outside help. That was why he was so excited—this ritual was like his own child, something he naturally cherished.
Athena listened quietly to Roy's excited explanation. A warmth flickered in her night-like eyes, and her heart felt as sweet as honey, a warm sensation spreading through her body, deepening her attachment to him.
This man hadn't lied or brushed her off—he had truly fulfilled his promise to her, redeeming the Earth Mother Goddesses.
Only after Roy finished speaking did Athena finally respond, her voice as melodious as a nightingale's:
"...Roy, as an Earth Mother Goddess, I can sense it—the Last King has awakened!"
Roy froze for a moment before exhaling in relief, "...That guy's finally awake. If he hadn't woken up soon, I would've gone to rouse him myself. While leisure is pleasant, I much prefer days filled with busy pursuits and purpose."
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