"Can't you pick a safer way to get stronger?"
The demon sealed in the brass bottle grumbled with a hint of indignation.
"Isn't it better to grow stronger steadily? What you're doing now is so dangerous."
In the world of Campione, methodical growth offered little promise.
No matter how great one's talent or how much effort one poured in, most could only reach the level of a Great Knight or a Grand Mage.
In this world, among those who were neither Campione nor Heretic Gods, one of the strongest was likely Paul Blandelli, the commander of the Italian magical association Copper-Black Cross, known as a Paladin and the uncle of Erica Blandelli, one of the story's key figures.
There was also Saint Raffaello, the mentor of the Sword King, Salvatore Doni.
Yet, without exception, both could only muster a single strike against the might of Heretic Gods or Campione.
Such painstaking effort, only to be outdone by someone else's luck—it was hard to say whether it deserved pity or ridicule.
The only exception in this world, capable of matching a Heretic God's power without wielding an Authority, was perhaps the Wuxia King, Luo Hao.
But even she relied on the Campione physique and curse power gained after becoming a God Slayer.
Had she not become a Campione, she would likely be a frail old woman by now.
In other worlds, perhaps, but in this one, steady progress held no future.
Especially for Lucius, who had just arrived in this world, unfamiliar with its ways.
After all, "steady progress" required both resources and talent—neither of which he had in abundance.
As an undocumented outsider, acquiring sufficient resources was nearly impossible. He didn't believe he could charm his way into power like some novel protagonist, with allies bowing at his feet, beauties throwing themselves at him, and factions submitting to his will.
As for believing in his own talent… that was even more absurd.
Sure, he'd been lucky enough to cross over, but he figured he ought to have some self-awareness.
Statistically speaking, he was likely just an ordinary person. Before crossing, he was merely a regular college student, maybe from a slightly better school, but that was it.
Compared to those groomed by various factions—trained from childhood—he was already far behind.
Catching up now? That was a pipe dream. Or rather, sheer stubbornness.
So, he could either live quietly as an ordinary person or take a riskier path.
Thus, he had no choice but to follow the demon's final suggestion.
"I'm just saying, is your method really feasible?"
Though he had made up his mind, Lucius still harbored doubts.
"Absorbing the power of a divine artifact and making it my own… are you sure I can do that?"
How to generate magic, and how to quickly enhance it.
The demon had offered him a plan that sounded promising.
Across eras and nations, it was humans who gave gods their names and myths.
Powerful gods who threatened humanity, yet sometimes bestowed blessings.
In primordial times, they had no names.
Humans, in awe, found divine forms in the vast sky and earth, fearing the storms and floods of divine wrath, worshiping dangerous beasts as incarnations of gods.
But over the ages, humans gave gods names and wove myths for them.
Human emotions and memories were projected onto tangible or intangible things, shaping their existence as humans understood it.
For example, Ilúvatar, the creator god of the earth; Hercules, the god of strength; Artemis, the goddess of the moon.
Or Ogun, the god of war and smithing. Tezcatlipoca, the fierce warrior god and deity of destruction.
Susanoo, the wanderer of Takamagahara. Vishnu, with his ten avatars.
Countless gods, like stars in the sky.
All born from human hands.
These were rituals born from human ignorance to temper the overwhelming might of divine power.
Gods given names and myths would not act beyond those boundaries. When granting blessings or receiving offerings, they followed their roles.
Thus, humans could prepare for divine threats or blessings.
In this world, it was humans who gave gods their significance.
It was the accumulation of human emotions and memories that allowed them to manifest.
Normally, gods did not easily appear in the world. If they did…
With Lucius's current abilities, he'd have to run as far as he could.
Let the tall ones handle a falling sky.
After all, this world had Campione to deal with Heretic Gods.
One must have a spirit of adventure, but not recklessly seek danger.
A person's life shouldn't be gambled so easily.
In his previous world, he always found it odd how novel protagonists were so eager to risk their lives. Did they know they had a protagonist's aura?
Heretic Gods were not to be trifled with, but divine artifacts were different.
Some artifacts, left in the world, bore the weight of human emotions and memories, granting ordinary objects unimaginable power.
Certain special artifacts could even rival low-tier Heretic Gods.
While most surviving divine artifacts carried some risk, compared to Heretic Gods, they were relatively tame.
And Lucius's goal was to absorb the power within such an artifact.
"In this world, it's humans who give gods their power."
"It's humans who imbue divine artifacts with power, too."
"If it's human power, what's stopping a human from taking it back?"
The demon scoffed.
"Being able to break this bottle's seal… there's no doubt you're a 'human'!"
"Honestly, I'd prefer if you chose a safer way, growing stronger step by step," The demon said with a sigh.
"Collecting divine artifacts and absorbing their power does carry some risks, and I'm worried."
"If you die before you can unseal the bottle, what then? Who knows when the next person capable of opening it will come along?"
Damn.
"Live a steady, uneventful life with no great achievements, and your lifespan won't be cut short. When you die, you can set me free. Isn't that perfect?"
…
You little pest, just stay in that bottle.
***
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