To defeat the Last King, Roy's plan required three prerequisites.
First: an immense amount of magical energy to activate the ritual.
Second: an Authority capable of distorting time.
Third: the 'wisdom' to decipher the ritual.
The first condition had been met when Roy sacrificed the Earth Mother Goddess Aphrodite to activate the Holy Grail, granting him the necessary energy. Now, he was moving on to the second step—obtaining an Authority that could twist time itself.
Fortunately, this was the world of Campione, where the rules were more malleable. Miracles that seemed impossible elsewhere could be achieved here, a realm teeming with Heretic Gods and an abundance of complex Authorities.
At Leonardo da Vinci International Airport, thirty kilometers southwest of Rome, Italy, a specially modified Boeing 747 stood ready.
This customized Boeing 747 was a special model comparable to the U.S. President's "Air Force One," even surpassing the presidential aircraft in certain protective security measures and luxurious amenities. Originally commissioned by a wealthy tycoon, Roy simply requisitioned it upon learning of its existence.
Or rather, the tycoon, understanding Roy's intent, willingly offered it up.
In the world of Campione, there was no covenant enforcing secrecy about the supernatural. The world's mana was abundant, and mysticism thrived—otherwise, Heretic Gods would never have manifested. Compared to the world of Type-Moon, magicians here were far more active, eagerly extending their influence into the surface world's politics, military, and economy.
Thus, while ordinary civilians remained unaware of magicians, those at the pinnacle of political and economic power knew of their existence—and the names of the Kings, faced with the handful of exalted Kings of this era, any politician or entrepreneur with half a brain would scramble to curry their favor.
"Erica, Lily... I'll be back from North America soon. Traveling light, so no need for a large entourage. Lily, I need you to manage affairs at home, and Erica, handle external matters. Rome needs you both more."
At the foot of the boarding stairs, Roy gave instructions to those seeing him off.
Liliana, hearing Roy refer to her as family and entrust her with household matters, blushed and lowered her head bashfully, though her smile bloomed like a flower in full glory.
Meanwhile, Erica, the Diavolo Rosso of the Copper Black Cross, remained poised and confident, offering a knightly salute. "Please rest assured, Lord Roy. Leave European affairs to me!"
For these two dedicated knights, being treated as family by the King they served was the highest honor—both for themselves and their respective magical associations. There was nothing left to vie for.
They knew their place well and would never covet what wasn't theirs.
"Erica, I trust your competence. As for Lady Aisha, please remain in Rome as well. If I brought you to America, Annie Charlton might assume I'm planning a terrorist attack."
Roy's teasing remark drew a pout from Aisha. "Master, how could you say that? Comparing me to a terrorist's bomb!"
"Athena and Stella, you two stay here too—"
"I object!"
Before Roy could finish, Aphrodite—now going by Stella—raised her hand excitedly. "Take me with you! Please! I don't want to stay with that detestable woman!"
The goddess gazed at Roy with pleading eyes, on the verge of tearful begging.
The indulgent goddess and the ascetic Athena were too incompatible, constantly bickering whenever they were together. Especially since Athena was not a goddess who relied solely on words—if Aphrodite went too far, she would resort to violence to settle matters. Already no match for Athena, Aphrodite, now stripped of her divinity, stood no chance against her and was mercilessly bullied every time.
Seeing Aphrodite's sorrowful expression, her tender gaze, and longing eyes, Roy's heart as a man nearly melted. As the goddess who presided over "beauty," she was the very epitome of femininity—every smile, every subtle gesture seemed to pierce straight into the deepest recesses of a man's soul.
The lap of luxury is the tomb of heroes. She was a goddess capable of corrupting even the greatest of heroes. She alone was the peerless enchantress who, without even offering herself, could incite warriors like Achilles and Ajax to slaughter on the battlefield with just a fleeting glance or a whispered promise.
Even Roy had to admit that the most beautiful goddess in Greek mythology was truly unforgettable.
She was a deity of genuine purity of heart, yet unrestrained in her passions.
Faced with Aphrodite's soft pleading and the pitiful look that seemed to say she would burst into tears if he refused, Roy hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly.
"Demon King, it seems my lowering myself to flatter you wasn't in vain. At least you recognize that I'm better than this woman beside you—who, despite being a guardian deity of Greece, wags her tail like a dog for Zeus."
Aphrodite practically jumped for joy, casting a triumphant glance at Athena before swiftly moving to Roy's side. With an air of arrogance, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the plane.
"Shameless!"
Athena frowned, her tone distinctly displeased.
She was not a particularly magnanimous goddess. In myth, she was known for her competitiveness, her pride, and even her vanity about her beauty—otherwise, the incident of the Golden Apple and the Trojan War would never have happened.
Seeing Aphrodite's smug expression, Athena was already contemplating how to deal with her once she returned.
The Boeing 747 ascended into the sky after taxiing for a while. Roy sat on an Italian handcrafted sofa in the luxurious cabin, holding a cup of coffee.
In the past, Roy had disliked coffee, but he had developed a taste for it in Italy. Though the drink had no stimulating effect on his body, habits—like those of smokers—were hard to break.
Beside him, Aphrodite nestled against him like a delicate bird, her golden eyes shimmering with misty emotion.
Normally, this goddess had a somewhat tsundere personality, making such affectionate displays rare. But the pressure from Athena's presence had forced her to set aside her pride and seek refuge.
Once the plane stabilized, Roy felt a sudden impulse and glanced to his side—only to see another figure seated in a nearby chair. It was Alice, appearing here in her spiritual form.
The White Princess of Europe cast a resentful look at Roy, her voice dripping with the sorrow of a scorned lover.
"...Roy, you truly abandon the old for the new, don't you?"
Her tone was mournful and pitiful, rivaling even Aphrodite's.
Roy felt a headache coming on. Women were troublesome—especially these women, who stood at the pinnacle of both intellect and beauty. Because they were so exceptional, they possessed strong egos, each with their own thoughts and personalities. Navigating smoothly among them was an incredibly difficult task.
***
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