The Sardinian sun was still blinding, but my mood was as murky as wet beach sand. A seagull, now turned to stone, was face-down on the shore like a disturbingly realistic sculpture. Dammit. To think that thing was my handiwork.
"Do not touch it, Your Majesty! How can you lay your noble hands upon the remains of a corpse that defiled a divine body!"
Korean spoken with a stiff Italian accent pierced my ears. Turning around, I saw a man dressed in an impeccable black suit sprinting toward me in a state of utter panic. With blond hair slicked back without a single strand out of place, a sharp jawline, and blue eyes, he looked like a masterfully crafted statue. But wearing a suit like that on a midsummer beach? Talk about a fashion terrorist who didn't understand the concept of TPO.
Just as my hand was about to touch the rock—no, the former seagull—he practically threw himself in front of me to block the way. Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped to one knee. There wasn't a hint of doubt or disarray in his movements; it was as if he were performing a ritual he had practiced thousands of times.
"Forgive my late arrival, Seventh King. Alessandro Gaspare, a knight of the Italian magic association 'Bronze-Black Cross,' presents himself before you."
"...Beg pardon?"
King? Bronze-Black Cross? Alessandro Gaspare? The words spun around my head. Was he trying to pull a fast one on me? Was this some new kind of religious cult proselytizing on the street? Or had I just not woken up from my dream yet?
"Stand up and talk. You're getting your knees dirty. And what on earth is this—"
"I dare not look directly upon the King's countenance! Please, forgive my insolence and accept the loyalty of this humble servant!"
His voice, shouting with his head bowed low, was so dead-serious that it felt surreal. I pressed a hand to my forehead. I’d been swept away by a rip current, met Medusa, killed a god, and even received a 'Devil King' appointment letter from Pandora. At this point, even a B-grade comedy movie script wouldn't be this far-fetched.
"Look, Alessandro...? I'm not really grasping the situation, but could we maybe do something about that 'King' title first? It makes my skin crawl just hearing it."
At my words, Alessandro's shoulders stiffened slightly. He hesitated before lifting his head with extreme caution. Only then did I spot the long, slender scabbard fastened to his waist inside his suit jacket. It didn't look like a toy.
"...I understand. I shall follow your will, Your Excellency. However, you are a 'Campione.' You are the usurper of the earth who slew an immortal god as a mere mortal and seized their divine Authority. To mages like us, you are a living myth and an absolute king whom we must serve."
He already knew that I had killed Medusa. His explanation matched exactly what Pandora had told me. This was no dream.
"The divinity in this island's vicinity vanished abruptly, replaced by a massive surge of cursed power. It was clear evidence that a god had manifested and been slain. Our association rushed to the scene immediately... and we found you. The new Devil King who slaughtered the Snake Goddess and absorbed her curse as his own Authority."
Alessandro looked up at me with eyes reflecting a mixture of awe and absolute fanaticism. I swallowed hard. I thought of the seagull that had frozen under my gaze. The Snake Goddess’s curse, the Petrifying Evil Eye. That was now my power—my 'Authority.'
"Sigh..."
A deep groan escaped my lips. The life of Min-jun Jeong, the average Korean guy, was officially over. Now I was some unwanted Devil King, a Campione.
Alessandro and the Bronze-Black Cross treated me with the utmost care. No, 'revered' would be a more accurate term. They rented out an entire suite in Sardinia's finest hotel, and dishes prepared by Michelin-starred chefs appeared before me. Dozens of mages stood guard twenty-four hours a day, staying just out of sight. To be honest, it wasn't bad. In fact, it was damn great. It was a level of luxury I’d never seen in my life.
But this wasn't my vacation anymore. Wherever I went, Alessandro followed like a shadow in his crisply pressed suit, and people didn't even dare to speak to me. I felt like a rare animal in a zoo.
After a few days, this suffocating luxury began to feel like a prison.
"Your Excellency, a banquet has been prepared at our Milan branch for tomorrow to celebrate your enthronement. All the major magical houses of Europe will be in attendance—"
"Cancel it."
"...Pardon?"
I spoke firmly while cutting into the room-service steak.
"Cancel that banquet or whatever. And I told you, I'm not 'Your Excellency.' Just call me by my name, Min-jun."
"But, Your Excellency! That is impossible according to our regulations—"
"Then forget it. I'm continuing my trip. I can't let my ruined vacation end like this."
I picked up my smartphone and opened a flight booking app. I was sick of Italy. Europe was out, too. I wanted to get as far away as possible from things like gods and mages.
"Yeah, this looks good. A paradise in the warm southern lands. Waikiki Beach, hula dancing, surfing! Perfect."
My destination was Hawaii. When my finger hit the 'Book' button, Alessandro's statue-like face twisted slightly for the first time.
"Ha... Hawaii? Your Excellency, that is a strategic vacuum where the influence of our Bronze-Black Cross hardly reaches! Furthermore, the islands of the Pacific are dangerous regions where ancient faiths still run deep!"
"Dangerous? You're the one who said I killed a god. What kind of godslayer would I be if I were afraid of gods?"
I shrugged my shoulders with forced bravado. Truth be told, I was a little nervous, but I couldn't let it show. If I let myself get dragged into their pace here, I felt like I'd spend the rest of my life acting as their puppet under the crown of a 'Campione.'
Ultimately, unable to break my stubbornness, the Bronze-Black Cross was forced to prepare for the trip to Hawaii against their better judgment. Of course, the condition was that Alessandro would accompany me under the pretext of 'the King's safety.' After a noisy transit involving a private jet, we finally arrived in the land of Aloha, Hawaii.
"Gah—! Now this is it!"
The moment I stepped out of the Honolulu airport, the hot, humid air hit me. I could see the blue sky beyond the palm trees. I spread my arms wide, soaking in the freedom. On the other hand, Alessandro stood beside me, still clad in his suffocating black suit, busy scanning our surroundings with millimetric precision.
"Relax, Alessandro. This is a resort. Why don't you buy a pair of shorts or something?"
"I cannot overlook a single element that might threaten Your Excellency’s safety. That is the duty of a knight."
"Oh, sure. You do that."
I clicked my tongue and put on my sunglasses. This trip with this stiff-necked knight wasn't going to be smooth sailing.
Life in Hawaii was different from Sardinia. The Bronze-Black Cross's surveillance was still there, but because their influence was weak, I felt much freer. I went into full-on tourist mode. I took surfing lessons at Waikiki Beach and stuffed myself with pineapple while watching luau shows. Alessandro followed me silently, looking at me with an expression that said he couldn't comprehend my actions.
Then came a certain day. I was surfing alone at a secluded beach on the North Shore of Oahu. As I glided toward the shore on a massive wave, I saw an old man watching me quietly from the sand.
He looked like a native Hawaiian. His sun-bronzed skin was etched with deep wrinkles, and his entire body was covered in geometric tattoos. Most striking were his eyes—deep, tranquil eyes that held the wisdom of ages and a profound reverence for nature.
As I walked onto the beach, the old man spoke first. His English was flavored with a soft Hawaiian lilt.
"Outlander who carries the aura of the storm. The sea both welcomes and waries of you."
Alessandro appeared by my side in an instant, radiating a sharp alertness toward the old man. His hand was already reaching for the sword hilt inside his suit.
"Who are you? How dare you block the King's path?"
But the old man didn't even spare Alessandro a glance, looking only at me.
"I am called a Kahuna, one who reads the will of this land. From your body, I feel a gargantuan power that tears the heavens and shakes the earth. It is like a volcano that has awoken from its slumber."
He was seeing right through me. Even if he didn't know the name 'Campione,' he seemed to instinctively feel that I was a being who had surpassed the boundaries of humanity.
"That power is both a blessing and a curse. You have brought a new wind to this island. But remember. While a wind may bring life, it can also become a typhoon that strips everything away."
Leaving only those cryptic words, the old man turned and vanished suddenly into the palm grove.
"...What was up with that old guy?"
"...He did not seem like an ordinary human. Such individuals are called 'shaman-priests.' It seems he sensed Your Excellency's power."
Alessandro's voice was more tense than usual. The Kahuna's appearance had served as a reminder that this was by no means a safe resort for him.
That night, I sat on the hotel balcony, lost in thought as I looked down at the night view of Waikiki. The Kahuna's words wouldn't leave my mind. Would I really become a typhoon? With this power obtained by killing a god, what was I supposed to do from now on?
It was then. Suddenly, pitch-black clouds began to roll in from beyond the horizon. The night sky, which had been sparkling with stars moments ago, was swallowed by darkness in an instant. The once-calm sea began to roar maniacally, raising waves as tall as houses. It was an overwhelming silence and a prelude to a storm, as if it were sucking in all the light and sound in the world.
"Th-this is...!"
Standing beside me, Alessandro muttered in horror.
"It is the manifestation of a God! To possess an Authority of this scale... Your Excellency, we must flee at once...!"
But I couldn't move. Every cell in my body was reacting. It was a different kind of massive 'presence' from when I faced Medusa, yet essentially the same. 'It' was at the center of that storm.
The clouds swirled, and lightning struck vertically where the sky met the sea. And within those pillars of lightning, a massive silhouette began to take shape. Neither man nor beast, a giant that seemed composed of the wind and clouds themselves.
"KRRRRAAAAAAAAA—!"
A god who was the storm itself. With a roar that shook the heavens, the god who reigned over the Hawaiian night sky looked down at the earth—and at me—with eyes full of wrath.
Beside me, Alessandro whispered under his breath.
"...Tāwhirimātea. The god of storms and winds in Polynesian mythology."
Dammit. Looks like my vacation is screwed this time, too.
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