Erica's blade stabbed through the air, a ruthless strike that was delivered without hesitation. She pulled her blade back, readied herself, then struck again. And again. And again.
Every blow pushed her closer to perfection, honed her surgical precision to a deadly point for the day she would need it in battle. In the background, the sounds of children playing and families chattering filled her ears, unaware of the swordswoman training nearby.
She liked practicing her drills in a park. It helped remind her of what she was fighting for, that these were real people she was defending. And sometimes, when she took a break from her training, she liked to close her eyes and imagine that she was simply another kid playing around, another daughter on a trip to the park with her family.
That was the closest she would be able to get to the real experience; after all, her parents were gone, she had no siblings, and her uncle was a broken shell of a man.
Her grip on her weapon tightened. Whenever she thought about her uncle, a mixture of anger and resentment always bubbled up inside her. She was furious with him. Furious not because he had made a mistake, but because he couldn't recover from it.
Her uncle had been one of the greatest Knights of his time. Emboldened by his many successes and Campione lineage, he had foolishly tried to face a Heretic God head-on and reclaim their family's legacy. But instead, he ended up deceived, beguiled by a god disguised as a human, and inadvertently helped it slaughter thousands of innocents. What was worse was that he hadn't even had the decency to face up to his failure and attempt to redeem himself afterward – no, he'd tried to resign, to run away, but when the leaders of the Copper-Black-Cross refused to let him go, he had sunken into a drunken stupor and contented himself with being another skeleton in their closet.
Erica would never forgive him for that, for running away the instant he was met with the stinging taste of defeat.
It was why she had been so hard on Godou. In hindsight, she knew she had been too pushy, but she couldn't help it.
Godou was too soft. Like her uncle, he had an idealistic view of the world, a world where justice and fairness actually meant something.
But in this world, this dangerous, moonlit world where divine retribution struck wherever it wished, there was no such thing as justice or fairness. Her uncle had learned that the hard way.
She didn't want Godou to make the same mistake. He had already started down that path, striking down a Heretic God . . .
And letting the goddess go.
Showing mercy? To a Heretic God? She had vehemently opposed his decision, but he had stubbornly refused to budge. And before she could bring out her blade and finish the deed herself, the goddess had already slipped off, free to concoct whatever nefarious scheme she so desired.
The goddess would be back, she knew. Gods were prideful, arrogant creatures; to be defeated was the ultimate humiliation for them, and gods could hold grudges for a long, long time.
Normally, when a Heretic God was slain, it would take many decades before they could descend again on the mortal realm. By then, their slayer would've grown much stronger, and they would have to approach their nemesis much more cautiously.
But the escaped goddess didn't have that uncertainty. She knew perfectly well what Godou was capable of, and she was free to strike at any time.
That was why Godou had to become stronger. And quickly. If Athena – no, if that snake struck before he was ready, before he was properly prepared –
Her blade thrust through the air, stabbing forward like it might pierce through her frustrations and grant her relief.
"Why won't he just listen to me!" she growled.
She held that position for a few moments, letting the tension seep out of her limbs, leaving her feeling drained. Drilling always did help her cool her head.
Soft footsteps crunched the grass behind her, and her wards helpfully told her that the person she least wanted to see right now was approaching.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I just came here to talk," Godou replied.
She turned around, rolling her eyes. "Congratulations, we're talking. Can I go now?"
"I mean – clear the air! I wanted to clear the air between us."
Ah, that's right, she had stormed off in a huff the last time they were together, hadn't she? She supposed that was her fault for letting her passion get the better of her.
She opened her mouth to apologize.
"It's not fair, is it?" he said.
Her mouth clamped shut. What was he talking about?
"You spent your whole life training, drilling and practicing just as hard as I saw you do today. I probably can't even begin to imagine the thousands of hours of blood, sweat, and tears it took for you to get to where you are now. But despite all that, despite all your hard work, you can still do nothing but run away from the overwhelming foes you wish to face."
He . . . he wasn't wrong. It was a fact that she had long since come to accept, a fact that every member of the moonlit world had to face one day, that even their best efforts born of tireless dedication would barely scratch the behemoths that roamed this world.
"And then here I come in, a clueless kid who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. And just like that, with a stroke of luck so great that I still can't believe it actually happened, I became a Campione, one of the strongest beings on this planet. Someone like me, a person who had woken up that day thinking that absolutely nothing out of the ordinary would happen." He looked at her, eyes clouded over with some indescribable emotion. "It doesn't seem fair, does it? You worked so hard so you could fight against the Heretic Gods, but you can still barely scratch them. Meanwhile, here I am, a god-slayer who never trained to fight against a god until after I've become a Campione." He let out a low chuckle. "If I were you, seeing someone in my position, squandering his potential because of petty, selfish reasons –
"I think I would be furious too," he finished.
Erica was speechless. He – He was right. All this time, she had been urging him to become stronger not because she was concerned about him (at least, not only out of concern) . . .
But because it was what she would've been doing if she were in his shoes.
She was used to this kind of life. As a Knight, she had grown up with dedication and discipline as her constant companions. She had grown up knowing of the terrible threat they faced, that one day, she may be asked to lay down her life so that dozens of others might have a chance to live.
If the power of a Campione had fallen into her lap, she would've done all she could to cultivate it as fast as possible because she knew how important it was, knew what kind of difference it could make.
But he didn't know. He couldn't have known. She was pushing her unreasonably high expectations onto him, and it wasn't fair to either of them.
"Then . . ." Her throat was dry, but she pushed her words through all the same. "Then . . . what will you do now?"
He gazed in her eyes, a soft, warm radiance, and smiled.
"I'm going to become someone worthy of standing by your side."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"I'm not going to run away anymore," he declared. "I may not be able to earn this power that was given to me, but I can work to live up to it. I'm going to work hard so one day, I can stare straight in your eyes and say, without hesitation, that I deserve to be where I am in this world today."
His smile was so innocent, so pure. He truly believed that hard work alone was enough to make his dreams come true, that hard work alone could stave off the divine vengeance of this world.
It was so optimistic, so naïve. But even so, she wanted to believe in that too. She wanted him to prove her wrong, to banish those dark, cynical thoughts whispering that it was not enough, that it would never be enough –
That was why she stayed by his side, after all.
". . . I look forward to that day," she whispered.
In that fleeting moment, she could feel the connection between them strengthen, reinforced by their iron wills and strong convictions. And as they basked in each other's glow, that tender moment shared between them, she wondered if it might turn into something more, something . . . passionate.
"There you are! I fi – finally found you – !"
The spell was broken, the trance faded, and Erica wanted nothing more than to throttle whoever it was that had ruined the moment.
"Y – Yuri-san!" Godou put his hands in his pockets, putting on his best innocent face. "W – What brings you here?"
Yuri ran up to them, panting, narrowing her eyes as she noticed their awkward expressions. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Nope!" Erica hastily disabused her of that notion. "We were just clearing the air between us, that's all."
"Oh, you two made up, then? That's great!"
Indeed it was, and it would've been even better if someone hadn't suddenly shown up, but she supposed there was no helping it now.
"So, what brings you here? You look like you had a reason for seeking us out," Godou said.
"Oh, right." Yuri perked up, turning to him. "The History Compilation Committee has a gift for him."
A gift? For Godou?
Erica smirked. It was about time the HCC started treating him more like the king he was supposed to be!
"Really? What is it?"
"An all-expense paid vacation to Hawaii over the weekend."
Erica's smile came crashing down.
"A paid vacation trip?! To Hawaii?!" Godou looked ecstatic. "Hell yeah!"
Oh dear. It seemed her slacker of a boyfriend was trying to laze around again. Better reign him in.
"~Oh, Godou-kun~"
Her chilly voice caused him to stiffen, and he turned to look at her with a face as pale as a sheet.
"Ah, Erica . . . I take it . . . you're not exactly pleased about this."
'Not pleased about this' was putting it lightly. She was sure a tick mark had appeared on her forehead somewhere.
"Did you forgot about the discussion we just had?"
"Oh, right, about that . . . can I, maybe, uh, start on that after this vacation?" Godou asked in a hopeful tone.
As her face transformed into a specter worthy of being the subject of Japanese urban legends, he quickly changed tactics.
"Wait, you can come along too!" He paused, quickly turning to Yuri, whispering. "I can bring other people with me, right?"
Yuri grimaced, nodding reluctantly. "You can, quite conveniently, bring four people with you."
"There, see?" Godou turned back to her with a smile. "This'll be a nice chance for us all to relax. Have you ever been on vacation before, Erica?"
She paused. Come to think of it, she had never had the pleasure of traveling for fun. There . . . there had never really been anyone she could go with.
Maybe . . . maybe she would make an exception. Just this once.
Erica closed her eyes and sighed.
"Think of this as training to quickly adapt to an unfamiliar environment."
He smiled, seeing her grudging approval for what it was.
"Will do."
xxx
For a supernatural organization, Minato thought the History Compilation Committee's headquarters looked surprisingly normal.
Cubicles lined the walls, interns rushed around with papers in hand, people were shouting over each other to be heard . . . if he didn't know any better, he would've thought they were in any other ordinary office building.
Their guide led them to a door on the far end of the building. "Here it is." The man opened the door and bowed, gesturing for them to enter. "Sayanomiya-san is waiting for you within."
In contrast to the chaos reigning outside in the main building, Kaoru's office seemed far more organized: books neatly lined a bookshelf on the left, while file cabinets stood rigidly in formation on the right. The girl herself sat behind a desk covered in papers, a hectic mess that shattered any semblance of order the room was trying to achieve.
She shot him a quick glance before turning most of her attention to his companion. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Elizabeth-sama. I'm sorry to have to bother you with such a matter."
"It's no trouble at all! This is the least I can do when your organization is the one doing all the work."
"Then let us cut to the chase." She pulled out several sheets of paper from somewhere within the gigantic mess. "I apologize for bringing this matter up so late, but did you, by any chance, forget to fill in your last name on the form? You did not indicate a last name when we collected your personal information to create your IDs either, which is why we have only been able to forge the papers for your friend."
That was an issue he probably should've seen coming. When Elizabeth had handed him his newly created ID after he woke up one day, he had simply assumed the package they had received contained both of their papers.
"We didn't catch the issue at the time since we assumed that field would be correct, which is a mistake on our part," Kaoru said.
"Ah, I apologize for not clearing it up sooner, but the information I provided is indeed correct," Elizabeth said. "I do not have a last name."
The other girl winced. "Well, that may be an issue in and of itself. Almost everyone nowadays has at least a given name and a family name so it would seem strange if you did not. I would recommend choosing a last name for paperwork purposes at least."
"I understand. In that case . . . ."
Elizabeth's eyes roamed the room, skirting over the various curiosities scattered about before unerringly homing in on him.
"Arisato!" she declared. "That shall be my last name."
Minato barely held back the sudden urge to choke. He wasn't exactly the most well-versed when it came to social nuances, but even he knew that such an act was incredibly forward.
And from the hint of red dotting Kaoru's cheeks as her eyes darted between Elizabeth and him, she knew it too. "Ah . . . I see." She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "That will suffice, at least. Please fill out the forms with your . . . newly acquired last name."
She handed the papers and a pen over to the other woman, who filled the forms out at a breakneck pace.
"Thank you very much." She took the papers from Elizabeth and handed it off to one of the many errand-boys running around. "That will take some time to get processed; if you don't mind, would you stick around in case another issue crops up?"
"I do not have any pressing matters to attend to, so I suppose I shall see this through to the end."
It seemed they were hanging around a bit longer. He was glad he had brought the book along; now, he could sneak in some reading time while they waited for the paperwork to be sorted.
"Excellent! Of course, I would be a poor host if I simply had you sit around twiddling your thumbs while you waited, so how about you and I play a game?" Kaoru pulled what looked like a deck of cards from her desk.
"Oh, a game!" Elizabeth was practically jumping for joy. "I have always been fond of the amusing diversions your society has invented to while away the time!" She turned to him. "Would you care to join us, Minato?"
By then, he had already sat down and buried his face back in his book. "I'll pass."
In the background, he could hear Kaoru explaining the rules of the game to Elizabeth. But as he immersed himself in his reading, letting his mind dream of memories long past, the sound of their match against each other faded into nothingness.
A shudder ran through the building, breaking his concentration and waking him from his happy dream. Outside the office, he could hear people running around, panicking. A messenger rushed in, speaking several hushed words to his leader, then just as quickly ran back out.
She stood up, speaking in a calm tone that suggested this was an everyday occurrence for her. "It seems a Heretic God has descended nearby. It would be best if we took action immediately."
Elizabeth nodded vigorously, her attention still riveted on her hand of cards. "Yes, yes . . . if I do that . . . then that . . . ."
Kaoru frowned at her opponent's rather nonchalant response. "Ah . . . Elizabeth-sama? I do believe it is time you did your duty."
Elizabeth shot to attention. "Oh, my apologies! I'm afraid I was too engrossed in this game. A Heretic God has descended, you say?"
"Indeed. While we are working to evacuate the surrounding areas, the god's rampage will still leave vast swathes of destruction in its wake if we do not stop it immediately. I'm afraid Godou-kun is not around at the moment, so it is up to you to quell it." She walked out of the office. "I will be outside, directing the others. If you need my assistance, feel free to contact me."
"Hmm, this sounds like a troublesome situation . . . ." Her attention returned to her cards, heedless of the fact that her opponent was no longer present. "Minato, could you be a dear and take care of that for me? I am quite loath to abandon a game mid-battle."
He pointed a finger at himself in surprise. "You want me to do it?" His finger redirected towards the empty chair opposite her. "But your opponent left."
"That simply means we will resume once the incident is over! In the time it takes for this to be resolved, I should have finally determined the best line of play in this scenario. In any case, you are perfectly capable of handling this matter yourself, are you not? After all, you even defeated me in battle once."
"You were holding back."
"Only a little!"
They stared at each other, a few moments passing before she finally glanced away with a huff.
"Okay, maybe a lot," she admitted. "But you have grown much more powerful since then, haven't you? I have every bit of confidence that you can do it! I'll even send Mischief along to assist you!"
The cat bounced onto his head and nestled there once again as he sighed. He had no idea how a cat would be of any use against a god, but he supposed he probably wouldn't need the help anyway.
He stood up. This was likely to draw even more attention to the two of them in the future, but with how chaotic this world was, his peaceful life was bound to end sooner or later.
At least, this way, it would be on his terms, protecting those who could not protect themselves.
If the gods of this world thought they could toy with humanity at their leisure, they had another thing coming.
xxx
Elizabeth watched him leave, an unassuming figure that once bore such an enormous weight. He, more than anyone else, deserved peace. It was what she wanted; it was what they wanted for him.
But the world was not always so accommodating. Even when they had cleared the final hurdle in their own world, it seemed this new world was eager to put even more in their path.
How troublesome.
Mischief hopped into her lap, purring softly. Elizabeth ran a hand through her sleek, black fur, patting gently. Having a familiar was truly convenient. The reconnaissance abilities alone were invaluable, not to mention her other abilities.
Mischief's form faded, the illusion fading away like the fake it was. The real Mischief was off doing something important, she knew. Well, something more important than clinging to Minato's head, that is.
She picked up her hand of cards. That little bit about needing time to find the most optimal line of play had been a lie. After all . . .
She set down a card.
"It's my win," she whispered.
To think that the card game Ken had introduced her to would have such a similar version in this world. What were the odds?
Alas, this left her with a wealth of spare time on her hands while she waited for the incident to be resolved. What was it that Ken said players did once victory was in sight?
"Ah, I remember now! They engage in something known as 'bad manners'!"
It was a tactic that Ken had often used when he won against her, a strategy that involved playing as many unnecessary cards as possible before dealing the finishing blow to the opponent. At first, she didn't understand why such a tactic existed; after all, it seemed like a rather inefficient way to close out a game.
But as she encountered this strategy more and more often, she realized that it had merit: it was a rather ingenious way to stimulate one's ability to brainstorm permutations of play while also allowing the opponent to see if their reads were correct.
An end-game ritual that provided an opportunity for both players to improve. How novel!
Of course, she still didn't know why the boy preferred to target his own life total with his damaging spells rather than something more helpful (such as her creatures) whenever he engaged in "bad manners", but it was probably some secret that only veterans of the game would understand.
xxx
Kaoru thought everything was going according to plan.
She had successfully lured the eighth Campione to the designated location using the improperly filled out paperwork as an excuse. In fact, she had purposely chosen not to bring up the issue with the missing last name back at their home for this very reason.
In addition, it had taken some string-pulling here and there as well as shuffling some personnel around, but she had managed to scrounge up enough Hime-Mikos to summon a Heretic God nearby on the outskirts of Tokyo. Using herself as the focus, they had managed to bring forth a weaker god without any casualties, thankfully.
Many would think her crazy, inviting those harbingers of destruction in, but this was all for the greater good. After all, if all went well, this Heretic God wouldn't be troubling anyone ever again.
She entered the observation room, where Amakasu and a dozen operators awaited her.
"The evacuation?" she asked.
"Completed over an hour ago," he replied.
"And the field agents?"
"They are all ready to contain the collateral damage and ward off any who might stray into the danger zone."
She nodded, pleased. "Excellent. Now, we just wait for her to play her part . . . ."
The two of them scanned the displays arrayed before them. Each screen depicted a view of the surrounding area, allowing them to monitor the situation outside as it unfolded.
A flash of movement near the entrance to the building caught her attention.
She waited with bated breath as the door opened, a figure exiting as the door slid shut, revealing . . .
Her heart plummeted. She knew everything was going too well.
"What is he doing?!" she hissed.
She watched as the blue-haired boy who had been with the eighth Campione glance around curiously before setting off deeper into the danger zone where the Heretic God awaited.
Rapidly scanning the other screens, she desperately searched for any glimpse of the woman who should've been the one going outside, only to find nothing.
"What's going on?!" she demanded.
"I'm afraid I am just as in the dark as you are," Amakasu said with a dark frown. "But it seems the boy is headed into danger while the eighth Campione is nowhere to be seen."
She wanted to pull her hair out and scream. She had made several contingency plans, sure, but she hadn't exactly anticipated for Elizabeth to simply decide to ignore the Heretic God!
And the boy, what was he thinking? Did he have a death wish?
"Perhaps Elizabeth-sama asked him to scout the Heretic God for her?" Amakasu speculated.
"If the tale of how she pummeled Erebus is true, I doubt she would need the prior information," she growled. "No, my gut tells me this is something else."
Her gut was also telling her that her plan was about to go up in flames, but she was desperately trying to ignore that premonition for now.
She grabbed one of the operators by the shoulder. "Who's the agent closest to him? Tell them to intercept him and turn him away!"
A burst of rapid-fire speaking before the man turned to her with a pale face. "Sayanomiya-san, the agent . . . he says he tripped and twisted his ankle."
Kaoru thought the world was pulling her leg. "You're joking, right?"
The man's face grew paler as he shook his head.
She growled and clenched her fists. "Well, what about the others? Can they get to him in time?"
"The boy has already crossed into the danger zone, Sayanomiya-san. We . . . we don't have the manpower to chase him and maintain our formation."
The headaches continued to pile on, along with a deep-seated feeling of dread piling in her stomach. If Minato died to the Heretic God, it would be her fault.
She turned around and stalked away. "I'm going after him."
Amakasu immediately tried to stop her. "You mustn't –"
"I can and I will. This is my plan, my mess, so I will clean it up myself. And don't even think about following me; you need to stay here and direct operations in case something else goes awry."
The man struggled and paused, before eventually relenting with a sigh. ". . . I understand."
"Good. You do your job and I'll do mine, and hopefully, we'll all be here at the end of the day."
Including, she hoped, a certain suicidal boy. She didn't know where the eighth Campione was; was the woman still in her office? She could go and try to get the damn woman to do something, but if the situation alone hadn't prompted her to move, she doubted words would. And any second she wasted trying to get the stubborn woman to budge was another second where someone might die because of her.
She wasn't about to watch someone die right in front of her. Not again.
As she stepped through the doorway, a brief, fleeting sensation gave her pause. For just a moment, she thought she felt a brush of fur against her foot, a streak of black crossing her vision.
She shook her head. The nerves and anxiety were already getting to her, it seemed.
Just great.
xxx
At first, Minato thought the man in front of him was simply another person.
Blonde hair, red eyes, a white coat . . . none of these traits exactly screamed "Heretic God".
It was only after he drew closer that he felt the man's presence, an almost palpable aura of authority and arrogance.
"At last, a challenger arrives! I commend you for daring to approach when the rest of your ilk have been busy scurrying away, afraid of the god they willingly summoned into their midst!"
Even the man's voice exuded a sense of superiority, utter confidence that they were above the rabble of this world.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
The man paused, head tilted as he regarded him curiously. "What a strange question. I am here because you mortals summoned me here."
The god was summoned here? Yet Kaoru had stated that the god had descended, implying that it was the god's choice to grace the earth, not the whim of mortals.
He shook his head. That detail didn't matter right now; all that mattered was resolving the situation at hand.
"What do you want?"
"What do I want? What every God of Steel wants, of course! I want a good fight, a worthy adversary to pit my blade against, a great challenge for me to overcome!"
Minato sighed. "Is there any alternative you would be willing to consider that doesn't involve violence?"
The man laughed. "Little boy, you are the first one to have ever asked me such a question. A question with a most obvious answer, for what god of war would I be if I did not slake my lust for battle?" He looked at him with a twisted smile. "It was an amusing conversation, child, but you're not the Campione I was waiting for. Until one of the Devil Kings arrives, I suppose I shall amuse myself by hunting down the rest of the vermin in this city."
A bow appeared in his hands, already nocked and drawn.
"Goodbye."
The shot was fast. Minato only had a split-second to register the attack and another split-second to dodge –
But he needn't have bothered, for the arrow sank into the soft ground on his left, quivering from the force of the shot.
They both stared at it in shock.
The god looked down on his hands, his face twisted like his very body had betrayed him. "Impossible . . . have I truly grown so soft that I cannot hit a child standing still in front of me?" His expression contorted in fury. "This will not stand!"
The bow reappeared, and it was as if a dozen archers had all fired at once, creating a hail of arrows that homed unerringly on his position.
But this time, he was ready.
His fingers brushed the swirling ocean hidden in the depths of his mind, and he felt a shiver as they appeared, answering his call one-by-one. He scanned their ranks, an array of colorful figures, despicable figures, heroic figures, deadly figures, tragic figures –
There. That was who he wanted, who he wanted to become.
He didn't have his Evoker, but that was fine. He didn't need it anymore.
It was only a catalyst, after all. The trauma it induced was a familiar feeling now, so ingrained in his mind that reproducing it was as easy as recalling how it felt.
He was a mighty warrior, a hero of legend who stood undefeated on the field of battle until his final, treacherous demise. With a spear to skewer his foes and a shield to turn away any blows, there were none who could oppose him and live to tell the tale.
A figure sprouted in front of him, a mighty figure who brought up a mighty shield, easily stemming the tide of arrows as if they were naught but toothpicks.
The god stared at the newcomer, stunned.
". . . Achilles?"
The figure grinned. "Hello, Perseus. I see becoming a god hasn't made you any less arrogant."
Perseus shook his head, as if in denial. "What? But how? I saw you. I saw you bickering with Hector as always in the Domain of Immortality, right before I was summoned here!"
"I don't know about whatever version of me you're talking about . . ." Achilles spun his spear around with a flourish. "But I think the time for words is over, don't you think?"
Perseus's face relaxed. "Yes . . . you're right. I don't know what sort of spell the boy put on you to bend you to his will, but with my victory, I shall free you from it!"
xxx
As Kaoru consciously carried out a course of action that was almost certainly hazardous to her continued health, she wondered how she got into this position in the first place.
Oh, right. Since the world seemed to be out to get her, none of her plans went smoothly. Ever.
And now, she was sneaking into ground zero to rescue a boy from a Heretic God who would be only too happy to murder both of them.
Fun times.
She crept through the abandoned area, skittering between buildings as fast as she could while remaining hidden. Her spiritual senses told her that the Heretic God was still idling in the same spot as usual, but she knew that was liable to change at any moment.
Damn it, where was he?! If only she stumbled on him right now so she could drag him back to (relative) safety without the god noticing a thing, that would be perfect.
But whatever god presided over perfection didn't deign to grant her wish, for she soon heard voices echoing between the abandoned buildings: voices that she could easily identify as the boy she sought . . .
And a deep, regal voice that she instinctively knew was the voice of the Heretic God.
Fuck. She was too late to intercept him.
What did she do now? Did she simply abandon him? Leave him to die?
. . . No. She refused. She had come this far already, and a fight hadn't broken out yet, which meant there was still a chance.
Kaoru quickly dashed over, using the sound of their conversation to mask her approach. At last, she arrived at her destination, ducking behind a building while peeking her head out to observe the scene in front of her.
The two of them were facing each other, two lone figures amidst a desolate landscape. As their exchange continued, she wracked her brain for options, plans, . . . anything at all!
She paused as a sudden, treacherous thought occurred to her. The boy was a companion of the eighth Campione. If he was hurt, perhaps even killed, would that anger the Campione enough to unleash her wrath on the offending Heretic God?
Was the correct choice to leave the boy to his fate?
She blinked, and suddenly there was an arrow embedded in the ground next to him, still quivering in place. Just a few feet to the left, and–!
With trembling hands, she turned the body over, praying that there was hope, praying that there was still a chance –
She glanced at the face and screamed.
Because her mother didn't even look human anymore.
She clenched her fists. Wait for an opportunity. Wait for the perfect moment. That was all she had to do.
As her eyes drifted back to the battle, she got the sudden sensation that she was missing something.
A figure clad in armor, wielding spear and shield, was exchanging furious blows with the Heretic God, the two of them a whirlwind of steel that was far too fast for her mortal eyes to follow.
Kaoru was stunned. Who was the new arrival? Where did they come from? She hadn't been lost in her thoughts for that long, had she?
She cursed under her breath. It seemed the world was eager to throw new developments at her every step of the way. What was her move now?
A glance over at the boy revealed him to be standing nearby, an idle observer of the intense melee that brewed a few scant meters in front of him.
She didn't know who the new arrival was, but they had seemingly appeared to protect him. Did she use this opportunity while the Heretic God was distracted to draw the boy back to safety?
No. Now that a fight had broken out, getting any closer would only result in adding herself to the list of possible casualties. The boy would be protected from any collateral damage by his guardian, but she had no such privilege, and all it would take is a single careless sweep for a god to end a mortal's life, as she well knew.
Turning away now felt like a waste, but at least she knew the boy wasn't walking to his death anymore. Now, all she had to do was find some insurance in case his guardian faltered.
She flitted back the way she came, the cacophony of battle still raging in the distance behind her.
Suddenly, the sounds of battle ceased, causing her to pause in her step. What happened? Was it over? And if it was . . .
Who was the victor?
Something brushed by her foot, causing her to stiffen in apprehension. A quick glance revealed a black cat circling around her, golden eyes staring at her with some indescribable emotion.
What? A cat? What was a cat doing here?
Icy water poured down her spine as every one of her spiritual senses screamed that there was a loomingpresence behind her –
She whipped around to see the Heretic God standing right there, eyes roving over her. His form was haggard, a bloody gash trailing his side, but the sinister smile he bore still drove a spike of fear deep into her heart.
"You'll do."
Kaoru felt an overwhelming sense of weightlessness, and then she was falling, falling, falling . . .
Her mind hit the bedrock of her unconscious, and she knew no more.
xxx
The god was weak.
As Minato watched Perseus fight with Achilles, he couldn't help but draw that one, simple conclusion.
The god was weak. But it was not because he was lacking in skill: Minato could easily tell from the way Perseus handled a blade that the god was a highly skilled swordsman. It was not because of a discrepancy in power: he could tell from Achilles's cautious movements that his Persona respected his opponent's attacks and the devastation they could wreak if they landed. It was not even simply arrogance on his part: he could tell from the flow of the battle that the god was losing, being slowly chipped away by Achilles's quick, measured thrusts while struggling to overcome the Persona's impenetrable defenses.
The god was weak because he refused to acknowledge that he was losing.
In the end, it had come down to something as simple as weaponry. As a sword-user himself, Minato knew that the weapon was quite flexible and versatile. It had served him well against the Shadows as he climbed the dark tower, all the way until that final night.
But Perseus was not fighting mindless monstrosities as he had. Perseus was fighting an intelligent opponent, someone who would ruthlessly exploit the weaknesses of his weapon.
And in a battle between two opponents of roughly equal skill, a sword alone simply could not overcome a spear's extended reach and a shield's stalwart defense.
He knew this. Achilles knew this. And he had a feeling that deep down, the god knew it too.
But the god refused to yield. Refused to acknowledge his impending defeat, refused to believe that he could lose in such a straightforward manner.
It was a warrior's pride, a warrior's arrogance. But pride and arrogance had no place on a battlefield.
And it seemed that at last, the god had realized that as well, breaking apart from his latest exchange with several more cuts and scrapes than before, eyeing his opponent with some measure of grudging respect.
"What's wrong, boy? Having some trouble?" Achilles taunted.
". . . As expected of one of the greatest warriors to ever live, your prowess in melee is formidable. If I continue as I have, I will have no chance of victory." Perseus grimaced, as if the very act of saying those words had caused him discomfort. "As much as it pains me to do this, to shatter this honorable duel between warriors, I cannot afford to fall here."
The god raised his hand, and the heavens answered his call.
"Come, my steed!"
A majestic winged horse appeared, its coat a dazzling white, leaving an ethereal trail as it descended. The god mounted it, soaring into the sky as he brought out his bow once again.
"Farewell, Scourge of Troy!"
Another barrage of arrows rained down on them, and Minato was forced to hide behind his Persona's mighty frame as the hero bore the brunt of the assault on his shield. It was clear that since a conventional fight had failed him, the god was now trying to wear them down from afar, using the Pegasus to avoid any kind of reprisal.
Luckily, Minato had plenty more tricks up his sleeve.
His mind shifted, making room for another image, another perception to manifest. This one was a god, larger-than-life, one who shook the heavens whenever he so much as swung his hammer.
He raised his hand, picturing a mighty mithril hammer clasped tightly in his grasp, and gently . . .
Swung it down.
And the heavens roared.
A bolt of lightning crashed down on the unsuspecting god and his steed, sending them both careening into the ground, blackened and scorched. The god staggered upright, wearing an expression of pure disbelief. "Lightning . . . ? Divine lightning? How could a mere mortal –"
The pounding of feet on the ground interrupted him, giving him just enough time to see Achilles barreling towards him, eager to end this fight once and for all. Perseus threw himself to the side, the spear impaling the spot where he had just been. In one smooth motion, he rolled forward, picking himself up and dashing forward, past the now-distracted Persona.
Minato watched as the god charged him, sword extended to take his life. It was clear Perseus saw him as the weak link, that he thought killing him would "free" Achilles.
But the god was mistaken, for they were one and the same.
He tugged on the connection in his mind's eye, and Achilles snapped to the spot in front of him, spear outstretched and ready to meet the god's charge –
Perseus's eyes widened, barely throwing himself to the side to turn what would've been outright impalement into a nasty gash that ripped across his torso. The god tumbled to the ground once again, and as he got back up, Minato saw that the arrogance in his eyes had been replaced with something else, something that very few gods ever experienced:
Fear.
Wordlessly, the god scampered backward, ducking into an alleyway and vanishing from sight.
"Tch. The coward's resorted to running now, hasn't he?" Achilles grumbled.
"There is no shame in running from death," he replied, stepping forward.
"It certainly makes our job a lot harder. The Perseus I know would've stood his ground and fought like a true hero!"
Minato ignored his Persona's complaints as he ducked into the alleyway the god had disappeared into moments prior, noting the trail of blood that clearly marked his quarry's passage. He crept forward, staying alert for the slightest disturbances; now that the god was cornered, he had no idea what Perseus might try next.
As he rounded a corner, he spotted a flutter of white cloth. It soon revealed itself to be the god himself, standing at an alley intersection with sword drawn.
He paused, expecting Perseus to dash away in one direction or the other, but the god did no such thing, simply staring back at him with a hard, steady gaze.
"There you are! Finally decided you would die a warrior's death, eh?" Achilles strode forward, speared levered against his foe. "I'll be happy to oblige you!"
His Persona charged forwards, ready to end the wounded Heretic God once and for all.
The god smirked.
A flash of red flung itself from behind a corner, interspersing itself between the combatants, and Minato's eyes widened as the red flash coalesced into a familiar young woman, one who was now directly in the way of Achilles's charge –
He saw his Persona try to stop, but it was too late; as Achilles ground his heels into the ground, his momentum carried him inexorably forward, and even at reduced strength, his spear easily pierced Kaoru's frail, mortal body, skewering her clean through.
He watched the girl fall, dull eyes turning duller, blood spraying into the air like a shower of accusation. He saw Perseus close in, eyes alight with savage fury as he brought his sword up for a lethal blow against his now hapless opponent –
Despicable. And this god really dared to call himself a hero?
The urge to kill, to rend, to end the cowardly god rose up within him, a powerful killing intent that coalesced into a dark, primal figure –
A wave of darkness rolled forward, tackling the god and sending them both crashing into the wall.
He strode forward, ignoring the god's screams as Death claimed its latest victim. There was no time to play around anymore, not when there was a life on the line.
Achilles gazed at him with a stricken expression as he approached. "I –"
Minato held up a hand. They knew what had gone wrong. They had learned from their mistake. There was nothing more to say.
The warrior bowed and his form faded, returning to the universe that existed inside his soul. He sifted through his mind, already knowing exactly what he needed to do.
He was the one who appeared at the end of time, the one who delivered unto all of humanity their final salvation. He was the one who bore the brunt of mankind's despair, the one who saved humanity from itself.
He was the one who rose again.
Messiah answered him, an angelic, stalwart figure who gazed upon the carnage around them with a pensive sadness. But there was no time to dwell on what had been lost when there was something to be recovered.
A cradle for a broken body. An unjust, violent death. A spark of life that lingered, clinging desperately to the thin tendrils of life as it teetered over the precipice of death.
He reached out and grasped the spark, drawing it back from the brink, giving it form, giving it sustenance, pouring on more and more until it regrew into the strong, vibrant spark it once was –
Minato opened his eyes. Kaoru was in his arms, now bereft of wounds, breathing weakly yet steadily. The alleyway was now empty, with only a bloodstain on the ground behind him to indicate that a struggle had taken place at all.
He felt himself sag as exhaustion finally caught up to him. That had been much more tiring than he had anticipated. How had a simple trip to resolve some paperwork issues escalated into . . . this?
A plaintive meow caused him to look down, where Mischief was staring up at him with piteous eyes. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her at all ever since the fight broke out.
"You weren't much help, were you?"
Another pitiful mew, and he sighed as he knelt and let the cat clamber on him. She meowed in triumph, having finally regained her rightful place on his head.
As he turned and prepared to leave, he spotted a piece of paper lying on the ground, a most conspicuous object amidst all the blood and rubble.
Picking it up, he read the contents.
"I'm not even going to bother showing up for this one."
It was unsigned, but he knew perfectly well who it was from.
He snorted. That was probably a good thing; he didn't feel like dealing with Pandora or any other god anytime soon.