The world of gold shattered like glass, and the gray asphalt of Sardinia clawed its way back into reality. A heavy silence, like the weight of an ocean, pressed down on the atmosphere in the wake of the storm. What blanketed the battlefield was neither the roar of a victor nor the groan of the defeated—only the ragged, desperate breathing of two men.
Kusanagi Godo stood upon the sundered earth, leaning on a golden sword as if it were a cane. The superhuman combat instinct granted by the Authority of the Warrior was receding like a low tide, leaving behind nothing but a crushing fatigue that made every muscle in his body scream in agony.
*Did I… did I win? I don’t know yet… I can’t even lift a finger…*
It felt as though his mind had been burned white. Simply remaining upright required every ounce of his remaining willpower.
Across from him, Salvatore Doni was also leaning on his greatsword, which was driven deep into the ground. His iconic 'Silver Arm' had lost its luster, returning to the appearance of ordinary flesh, and his body—once boasting the invulnerable protection of the Man of Steel—creaked and groaned, marred by hairline fractures from the aftershocks of the golden deluge.
*Haha… incredible! This is truly the greatest fight! And… so this is his trump card? My Authorities have been completely sealed. Fighting like this is going to be a bit difficult.*
Though a maniacal grin stretched across his lips, his warrior’s instinct coldly signaled his defeat. Nevertheless, the pride of the King of Swords refused to let him take even a single step back.
The two stood in a taut standoff, neither capable of moving first. Breaking that suffocating silence was the voice of the observer who had been watching the battlefield from the periphery.
“That’s enough.”
At those low words, which carried an undeniable weight of command, the shoulders of both men trembled slightly. I walked slowly between them, my arms folded.
My arrival brought a clear sense of relief to Godo; his knees buckled as the tension finally snapped. Doni, conversely, wore an expression of blatant dissatisfaction—like a child whose favorite toy had been snatched away—but he knew that further combat was futile. He casually hoisted his greatsword over his shoulder.
“I guess it can’t be helped. Is this the end for now? Fine, rookie! I’ll postpone this match for later! Once you’ve completely mastered that power of Verethragna, let’s have a proper go at it! You’ve certainly proven yourself worthy of being my rival!”
In the face of Doni’s boisterous acknowledgment, Godo could only stand there dazed, lacking the energy to even offer a reply. Right then, a red shadow darted to his side like an arrow.
“Godo!”
It was Erica Brandelli. She scanned Godo from head to toe with eyes full of concern, then pressed herself against his arm to support his sagging weight. The gesture went beyond mere assistance; it was steeped in deep trust and intimacy.
“That was magnificent, Godo! A duel where you actually landed a blow on the King of Swords!”
Faced with Erica’s heated praise, Godo’s face flushed red, and he looked utterly lost. Watching this, Doni laughed jovially and approached me, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
“Man, I’m really looking forward to what that kid does next! Don’t you agree?”
“…Get your arm off me.”
I brushed his arm away with a look of pure annoyance.
“If you’re done with your business, get lost.”
“So cold! We’re friends—rivals! We should try to be more affectionate, Min-jun!”
Though Doni grumbled playfully, he never lost his cheerful grin as he turned and sauntered away. Once the rowdy stage had been cleared, Alessandro Gaspare spoke, his voice vibrating with the excitement of the duel.
“He is still green, but I have seen a glimpse of a fine King in the making.”
“Hehe. Those two make quite the charming pair, don't they?”
Alice Louise of Navarre added, an amused smile playing on her lips as if she found the youthful energy of the two delightful. I let out a short, dry chuckle and approached Godo, who was currently being besieged by Erica.
“Once the wounds from your fight with Doni have closed and you’ve recovered your strength, come to Japan.”
Leaving only those words behind, I turned away without a shred of lingering interest.
Inside the car heading to the airport, Paolo Brandelli carefully broke the silence.
“My King, I have one request. A divine artifact was recently discovered in Greece… perhaps you might be interested?”
“What a nuisance. Hand it over to Doni or something.”
At my flat refusal, he fell silent with a bitter smile.
As I sat in the plane awaiting takeoff, my phone rang. It was Shinomiya Kaoru.
[My King, I am calling to provide a report. Also, since you departed in such haste due to Sir Doni, may I ask for your impression of the newly born Kusanagi Godo?]
“He’s not bad. However, he doesn’t seem to have fully accepted his current situation yet. That feels like a problem that time will eventually solve. As for his treatment, it would be best to accord him the appropriate respect.”
[I shall follow your command. Furthermore, I have a report. Taking advantage of your absence, the former executives of the History Compilation Committee caused a disturbance, but they have all been suppressed.]
Foolish people who lose their minds the moment they are pushed away from the sweet taste of power. It was exactly as I had expected.
“I thought they might.”
I clicked my tongue and gave a chilling command.
“By the time I return, pull them out by the roots. Eradicate them so completely that their names are never mentioned in my presence again.”
[Understood… and My King, I have one more crucial report!]
Detecting the urgency bleeding into her voice, I felt a spark of curiosity and continued the call.
“Speak.”
[The 'Elders' of Japan have sent a message. Susanoo, as well as Yurihime and Seisoku, have expressed their desire to meet with the King.]
In an instant, the comfortable air inside the cabin turned as cold as a blade. Those were not mere names. They were gods and transcendents who had lived since the age of myth, survivors of centuries. They were the true heavyweights who moved the massive chessboard of the Japanese occult world from behind the scenes.
“…More annoying trouble has broken loose.”
I pressed my hand to my forehead, my expression souring.
“Tell them I’ll meet them once I’ve returned.”
I hung up and turned my gaze toward the window. The plane was slowly ascending above the clouds, leaving the foreign land behind. The birth of a new King was like a massive boulder thrown into a placid lake. Those ripples had finally awakened even the ancient dragons that had been slumbering in the deepest depths. With this, the birth of the eighth King had forcibly wrenched open the curtains of a new era.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register