Campioni si diventa (short OC adventure)

by ClusterOfClouds

Not all Gods are angry, genocidal maniacs, some are just following their natures and fighting for their own roles. Not all Campioni are born as extraordinary people. Some are just common folks with too many morals and too little self-preservation. A little three part oneshot set in the Campione universe, about a mortal, two gods and a fight they could not avoid.

3. Part 3: Apotheosis

Part 3 of 3: Apotheosis

I come back to my senses, finding me sprawled on a field. Right behind me, I see what's left of the highway after the explosion. It's not a pretty picture. Feeling myself miraculously unscathed, I can only say:

"Oh, thank God for the durability enhancement!"

Only to be cut by an offended

"eh-ehm!"

Reitia, still pristine in her for, stands right beside me. I sheepishly correct myself

"I mean, thank you my Goddess"

This makes her smile a little, and she offers me an hand, effortlessly pulling me on my feet.

"That's better. Still… the car is now busted. We can only fight our way out of this."

I turn, and my heart clenches as I see the Ferrari in the distance, reduced to a pile of broken, glowing and burning scrap. Looking better, I can almost see ethereal lightning snapping around it… Yeah, better let it be.

"Indeed, now we shall resolve this in a proper manner. No more running. No subterfuge. Just two Gods… and a mortal, however valorous, on the side."

Mors walks in form… somewhere, and comes before us. They do not yet attack, probably out of good manner. Beside me, Reitia takes it as a clue to engage in banter.

"Pale Rider? Seriously Mors? How did you even get that one?"

Her tone is not very serious, in an attempt to dispel the heavy tension that has settled on the fight. Mors seems to accept the exchange, with a certain fondness in his voice

"I was already called Pallida Mors… as my Self has been degrading, it has become increasingly easier to find access to the authorities of my… I don't really want to call them 'kin'."

"It's more like 'Colleagues', isn't it?"

"True enough. Still, normally I would not have done this. But I can no longer play our back and forth, Reitia. My time is near. Either I kill you today, or I might not reach tomorrow."

Mors tone is almost apologetic as they cut the exchange short. From my side I see my Goddess nod sombrely. The time of words has come to an end.

And as Reitia draws her divine blade, Mors invoke their own weapon

"These are death's eager teeth,
They will tear through body and soul
These are death's eager teeth
All must fear their hunting call"

Charun's Axe

An axe, a large, two-headed bronze axe, with edges that reach so far above the handle that they form a bident. Effortlessly, despite its massive size, Mors twirls the enormous weapon beside them, before giving it a practice swing.

Beside me, Reitia passes me the gun once again saying

"I'll engage, try and pelt them with this best you can. I don't need you to hit vitals, just to give me a small opening"

Nodding, I take the offered weapon and affix the shield I had been gifted to my off hand.

I move laterally as the two deities engage in melee. They exchange blows, with powers and grace I cannot match, even with Reitia's blessing giving me a boost. They seem equal, all in all…

But that's why I am here, I suppose.

Mors seems unable to notice me, too taken by their opponent. Taking my time, I prepare my shot waiting for the occasion. Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait…

The shot shakes me to my bones, as the bullet streaks through the still air. It speeds through the meadow. It misses, barely grazing my target's head as they dodge, but for my Goddess that's more than enough time to invoke her power.

"Partake in the bounty! The wonderful glory!
Life gives to death! Death feeds new life!
And upon the rot and filth, Life shall prosper anew!"

Cycling Land's Bounty

Reitia' sword stab the ground, flowers and vines and rampant vegetation comes forth. The branches, the trees, the overgrown verdant limbs throw themselves upon the enemy of their Goddess, immobilizing them.

"Eh… Now you are right where I want you…"

Reitia then charges with a maddened cry, eyes wide and bloodshot, moving to take Mors' head with a mighty swing. But just as she is closing in, her opponent declares

"Dance! To the tune of distant flutes, to the chimes of silver bells!
Follow the drums as they burrow in your mind.
An infinite curse, an infinite song
A gift for all that are and will be "
Madness: Mania's Masterpiece

And Reitia falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes, before starting to convulse. I move to help her, but I am intercepted by a now free Mors, who sends me to the ground with a kick.

"It's useless, Liguori. She has fallen inside the true madness. Her own senses are betraying her. Her mind will break soon enough. All in all, it's a kinder fate to kill her now"

They kick me in the side once again, sending me rolling on the ground, far away from my fallen companion. They then turn to Reitia.

"You cannot even feel me anymore, can you? Still… I feel like my spirit would not find peace if I were to just kill without explaining myself. For our long rivalry, for all our similarities, I owe you this much. One ancient, forgotten deity to another"

They squat before her convulsing form and, with a sigh, begin to monologue

"I have seen it all, you know? I was here long before you. Before the Veneti, the Etruscan, even the Villanovans. When the Indo-Europeans were still young, I was already with them. I split from their ancient goddess Mara, of India, like many, many others did. I was still a nameless spirit when I followed my people here, in search of an identity for myself. Then ages passed, and I became Mania, then Charun, then Letus, then Mors… and before I realized, I had a Self, and of the Self I shared the fears."

Their tone is morose, haunted, like that of a soldier recalling the hell of war. Their gaze is fixed on the empty horizon.

"I saw new pantheons, new deities arise and old ones fall, their names lost to time and erased even from my memories… and I learnt a terrible truth. That, with the passing of time, even death can one day die."

The sentence shakes the air. Mors poured no magic in it, yet nature seems to answer to it like they did. I feel it in my bones, in my heart, in my stomach… it reminds me of that… Dulce Mors. An authority, yet a stillborn, unfinished one.

Mors does not seem to realize, too busy with their rambling.

"I… I don't want to go, Reitia! I know, I know it's not fair to ask you for this. We are both Gods of Death, no one understands life's value like we do. But I don't want to go. So I'll have to send you in my place…"

They then stop and take a small breath. The air quiets around them, in the tell-tale suspense that preludes the intonation of an authority. And it's a powerful one.

"A sacrifice for a boon, a blessing for each offering. This is the ancient contract."

A crimson hue envelops both gods, before starting to flow toward the speaking deity. The Venetian Goddess, still trapped inside the Madness, pales like a ghost and trashes fruitlessly in her counterpart's grasp.

"Equality in value, honesty on both side."

The grass around them withers, dead on the spot. A smell of rot and decay fills the air. Reitia's movement lose energy by the second until finally she stops and merely clenches her hands teeth, as if trying to hold tight to her slipping life.

"So what can a death be worth, but-"

Yeah, not happening.

Aiming the gun best I can, I take my shot. I cannot miss, I'm too near. And Mors is still before me. The shot rings and the God stumbles, their authority stopped in its tracks. I keep shooting, unloading the magazine on them, then I charge in, shield up. We clash, and Mors 'unsteady footing sends them sprawling on the floor.

"Truly, you don't know when to die. Let's have a lesson then."

Then they jump back up, charging at me, axe raised. It meets my shield and sends me flying. I land in a roll, thankfully without hurting myself, and stand up again just in time to catch the falling axe on my shield once again. With a kick, I force Mors to back off, and take the occasion to put more distance between us, taking breath.

As long as they have that axe, I can do nothing to them.

But my thoughts are distracted by a mad cackle rising from my fallen companion.

"Fear not, my child! This Goddess shall level the playing field now"

I turn, surprised, and notice that even Mors is shocked by what they are seeing: Reitia has risen on her feet once again,

"…to oppose True Madness… Impossible!"

But Reitia cares not of the impossibility, as she invokes

"My duty is to the children. My heart is to the lost.
My protection's upon you, my child. Know this goddess stands on your side!"

Guide of the Lost

With a spray of blood, Reitia's hand detaches away from her arm, still clenched around the blade of Padania. The weapon is thrown at me handle first. I catch it and hold it, the severed hand opening up like a glove and subsuming my own. It is a gruesome sight, but evidently a necessary one.

"Now take this, my champion! Bound to you is my will, my blessing! Armed of my flesh and blood, slay the enemy of your Goddess! "

Raising her stump to the sky, she then falls on her knees, laughing maniacally.

Recovering from the sheer absurdity and faint horror of the scene, Mors turns once again toward me and raises their axe. We circle one another for a little while, before starting a series of probing attacks, testing each other's defences.

Then, it all resolves in a second. We both moves to strike. A descending axe and a rising sword.

They meet, scratching each other and grinding edge on edge. They break upon one another, heads falling to the ground, meters apart. But that is secondary, for the broken blade in my hand manages to strike true, a deviated lunge piercing deep in Mors' exposed side. They collapse on themselves, but just as I attempt to draw back the broken blade to finish them, they clutch the offending weapon and shatter in it their grasp.

I discard the handle and the Goddess' hand, moving to take the distance once again. Disarmed, I take the time to breathe and think a new plan of attack. For their part Mors stands back up on their feet, their face a mask of grim determination.

"My servants are slayed, my curses expended, my axe broken, my horse dead. I commend and pity thee, Liguori, no, Andrea for I can no longer grant you a swift death."

My heart is beating wildly in my chest, my throat is dry, my lungs grasp for air. Still, I cannot help but firmly declare.

"I will not go quietly. I cannot go quietly. My pride won't let me."

They throw away their mantle, long black hair flowing free in the still air. Then they remove their gloves and crack their knuckles with a gruesome sound. Despite their injuries, they still cut an imposing figure. Solemnly, they announce:

"Then brace yourself. I am coming."

Mors starts advancing toward me in slow, measured steps. I move backward, keeping up my shield, trying to play the distance in my favour. Then, in an instant, they close in with a jab to my head.

I try to catch it with my shield but find nothing. It's a feint. I barely have time to reassess myself as a hook reaches below and smashes into my belly. In retaliation, I fall upon the offending limb with my shield, smacking it with the edge.

In a flash of inspiration, I keep pushing downward with all my strength, trying to guillotine away the arm at the elbow, but I am blocked when the God locks the downward movement of the elbow with their knee, and then pins my shield in place by flexing their bicep.

As I stop, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of such a feat, Mors starts pummelling the shield with their free hand, mystical energy charging and rising.

One hit makes it sound like a gong.

Another bends the metal.

I barely have the time to let my arm free as the third punches clean through the relic, like tissue paper.

But now both their arms are busy. I retaliate with, and my mind breaks a little more as I process this, a roundhouse kick in the back of the God's head, causing it to smack upon the upper edge of the shield. As it bounces backward, I follow up further, with an elbow drop straight to the windpipe.

We fall one beside the other, but there is no time to lay. I feel the retaliating hook coming and roll away just in time to see it strike the ground, right where my head had been. It sends dirt and grass flying high, it would have probably squashed my head like an orange.

I keep rolling and, once there's enough distance between us, get back up.

My left hand brushes against the magical dagger, still stuck to my belt. My trump card. My win condition. I think about drawing it out and start using it as a knife, to maximize the chances of getting a stab. But that's also a wonderful way to get disarmed, since I know nothing about knife fighting.

Still... one stab. One opening. It's all I need.

The though reinvigorates me, and I take a long breath. I feel Reitia's blessing flowing within me, promising power, renewing my strength. I decide to trust in it.

Once again, my opponent and me approach one another. I keep my body low, with my legs coiled like springs. My gaze is fixed on Mors', scanning for a hint, a tell, a warning of his impending move.

I see them start once again with a jab to the head. Instinctively, I bat it aside before moving to parry away the follow up from their other hand. Stepping into their now open guard, I kick Mors' forward shin viciously, before stomping on their foot.

They attempt to grab me in retaliation, but I manage to lock their arms with mine. Our strength might be unequal, but I find my leverage more effective than theirs, locking us in place. Attempting to break the stalemate, be both begin to use our legs, trying to unbalance one another. They then step forward forcing me back but, before I can get my footing, they pull me inward from my arms. Their knee meets my stomach, taking my breath away.

They raise both their arms preparing to bash my skull in but, in that moment, fate turns.

My backfoot slips upon something hard, metallic… the broken shield!

I fall back as it flies, hitting Mors exposed belly. The metal, embued with magic, leave a small cut in the God's midriff, bending them in two and sending them sprawling. Seizing the moment I act, sprinting forward.

I see the deity's right hand now clutching the offending metal and decide to use it. My boot falls upon Mors' fingers, and despite their divinity, they break upon the shield's edge with a gruesome CRUNCH. They scream, as the shield falls and I use the opening to slam their face repeatedly on the broken metal.

"Give in! Give in! Give in!"

I shout, desperate, as they take the abuse. I need them to stagger, I need them to flinch, I need them to…

My thoughts are cut away, as they twist below me and, with superhuman strength, they send my rolling with a punch to the ribs. I can hear some of them cracking.

We both take our time standing up again. I can barely hold myself together and feel despair bubble in my heart, seeing my opponent still tall. Still standing. Still outpacing me in resilience and strength both.

But I cannot give in.

Still, I cannot hold up. A kick breaks my feeble guard, and their right arm grabs mine. They twist it and crash my elbow onto their knee. I scream, I thrash, the pain overwhelming all logic, but the God holds and slams me to the ground. I feel something in my torso crack. My tears flow. My body shakes in sobs. I am defenceless as Mors, visibly exhausted, crawls upon me.

"I'm sorry… but I'll be needing your life force"

They kneel upon me, placing their busted hand on my throat. My legs are pinned by their own, my good arm is locked to my side at the elbow. They hold for a little while, as I stop thrashing and simply start wheezing air in and out.

Solemnly, they intone.

"A sacrifice for a boon, a blessing for each offering. This is the ancient contract.
Equality in value, honesty on both side. So what can a death be worth, but a life?"

One opening. It's all I need.

My left arm uses what little movement it has to reach the dagger on my side. Reitia's enchantment makes it jump to my palm, ready to be used. All that's left of me surges forth, in an instant of lucid, terrible desperation.

With a sudden twist of the hips my good arm slips free, I turn underneath the God, lashing out at the danger and…

Mors Tua Vita Me-

I strike as Mors is ending their aria. They stop, their breath cut short. They feel it, the dagger. The magic inside them is twisting, revolting, their authority is scattered in the wind before they can even attempt to conclude it. They lose cohesion, as their whole supernatural existence starts to decade. They know they'll die, even if they kill me. They let go of my throat and accept their loss.

"Truly remarkable. Such will… I hope you know what fate you have condemned yourself to. The life of a Devil King is never an easy one. Killing a God is but the beginning, the true challenges are the infinite battles that come after."

"I… I did not ask for this. I… I did not want this."

"But you were ready for this outcome. I saw this in your eyes, ever since I casted madness upon Reitia. Perhaps it was there even earlier, had I bothered to look for it."

"Eh, eh… this… ah fuck. Was there… no other way? A solution without loss, without conflict?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe this was simply fated to happen. Maybe this is just my mistakes along the years catching up to me."

They look to the sky. Tears are flowing. They smile, a forced, shaky thing spread upon badly hidden sobs.

"Whatever happens, be proud Andrea, do it for me. You carved this path. Never doubt it."

"Then I will walk it… with no regrets"

"Good. Now claim your right, God slayer"

Their arms fall upon my shoulders, in an embrace. They tighten it, falling upon me, pushing the blade deeper in their heart. It is by instinct that I speak, loud despite my wheezing breath. Unbidden words spring to my lips.

"You needn't struggle. You needn't bleed. This is mercy.
You needn't worry. You needn't scream. This is peace.
I offer thee ultimate rest. Now quiet, my kin, and embrace it."

Dulce Mors

I see their reddened eyes, feel their tear-stained cheeks, and then only the cold air. Mors dissolves into motes of lights.

"What a peculiar sight…"

In a bright white space, somewhere and yet nowhere at all, a child like woman looks to the outcome of the battle.

"…many Campioni I have seen rise; many Gods I have seen slayed. Yet never have I seen a God and a mortal cry together on a battlefield, both for the other and for themselves. Ah, such a tale, how can I not be moved to tear as well?"

Her tone is dramatic, yet sincere. A smile on her face.

"So, welcome… Andrea Liguori. Here you appear at the shore of Immortality, in the liminal space between the after-worlds. And to the circle of usurpation you come, mortal yet Godslayer, fresh of an unwanted victory upon a desperate enemy. Oh, how could I not embrace you as a son of mine?"

With a smile, the All Giving Woman opens her arms.

"A new Campione to walk the earth! An eight child, to walk the earth with their siblings! Oh, how wonderful, your soul is shining now, such beauty! And yet…"

Her face darkens, with a bittersweet expression

"…and yet the sparked you gained is already waning. The God you killed was basically dead already, their power spent, consumed by time. And of them, you only took a fraction."

Her tone gets progressively more dubious, uncertain, as she goes on.

"Oh, surely you would become a Campione. No other way I would accept. Yet you would be a weak one, deprived of the same authority that should be your prize. You'd be defanged, mutilated, defenceless… I cannot accept that, so what am I to do? "

But that's when a new voice cuts in.

"Perhaps, wise Pandora, I could be of assistance in this regard"

"Who-you? Mors? How are you even here?"

"As I was disappearing, I felt a piece of me flow into Andrea. Unwilling to let go, I followed it. I must have been small enough to be able to slip through, into here."

And it is indeed so, the androgynous figure of the late God of Death now stands right before the Witch, proud and immaculate as before the battle.

"I know each of my authorities is not enough to make a new Campione on its own, but I can offer something more. Use all of me, all my essence, all my legends, and in doing so make them in a Campione worthy of their name."

Not trusting the sudden generosity, the All Giving Woman's eyes squint at her fellow deity, inquisitively

"…that would mean to truly kill you by giving you to them. You would not join go to fuse with your successor. You would not know what fate might befall you. You might even disappear from history altogether. It sounds like quite the sacrifice. What are you aiming for, Mania Mors?"

The answer comes, in breath abated and maniacal expression. Mors' eyes shine in burning folly, as they declare loudly.

"A sliver of hope, Pandora. You should be familiar with the concept. I am tempting the impossible rather than quietly surrendering to the common sense. I am hoping to live through in Andrea' soul, to help them through their battles, and by our actions be remembered through them. I hope to forge myself a new legend. By fully dying to them, I hope to defy my own nature and Death itself. There would be no sweeter end for one like me."

They then cackle, letting out the stress, the fear, the doubts. They accept the odds and smile at the risk. They quote their own slayer, proclaiming:

"I will not go quietly. I cannot go quietly. My pride won't let me."

Pandora cannot help herself. She joins in the laugh, before embracing her fellow deity and proclaiming.

"Then Mote it be! Mors will be in Andrea, for Andrea will be new Mors! In Death, a mercy, and through mercy a kind Death! Arise, new child of The Woman that brought forth All Calamities and be a new Sliver of Hope!"

And so, the world trembles in fear and joy, as a new Devil King is born.

End part 3

AN: This was a mess to write, to be honest. I has frustated me greately and I have almost given up twice. Still, it is done even if not perfectly. I hope you enjoyed, and who know, one day I might come back to this story and flesh out Andrea's adventures as a Campione. See ya!