The sky was blanketed by thick, oppressive clouds, the occasional flicker of lightning casting a ghostly white glow before vanishing into the gloom.
It was impossible to tell if it was day or night.
The setting was an expansive plaza—or perhaps a temple. Whatever it had once been, time had not been kind. Only remnants of a hall remained, accompanied by weathered stone pillars and cracked stone slabs strewn across the ground.
Despite the ruin, the place was occupied by dozens of girls of similar age, all dressed in matching garments. Some stood in uneasy silence, while others appeared visibly distressed, soft sobs occasionally breaking the heavy stillness.
These girls had been gathered from all corners of the world—Scandinavia, Italy, even as far as Japan.
They were here as key "components" in a forbidden ritual: the summoning of a god of rebellion.
The concept of sacrificial rites was broad. Such rituals could involve offerings of prayer and gratitude, acts to appease divine wrath, or summoning gods to descend upon the mortal realm.
The first two were the basis for countless traditional festivals worldwide. The third, however, was a forbidden taboo.
In this world, gods were walking calamities. Even powerful nations were not guaranteed survival when faced with such disasters.
The only beings capable of standing against gods were Campiones, the god-slayers.
And to summon a god required priestesses—or witches.
These witches were unlike traditional female magi. They bore a special bloodline, one inherited from ancient priestesses who once served mother goddesses.
It was this divine lineage that made them ideal for summoning rituals, though the bloodline had grown exceedingly rare over the ages.
Liliana was one such girl.
Though her family had served Marquis Voban for generations, even that did not spare her. She had been brought here to serve as sacrificial fodder for the ritual.
No one would speak on behalf of the girls gathered here. After all, no one dared oppose the will of a Campione.
[Campione: God-Slayer]
The tyrant who slays gods and usurps their divine power.
The ruler who wields godly authorities to dominate the mortal realm.
The demon king who stands unparalleled, for no mortal could ever rival their strength.
This was the nature of Campiones—unbeatable, terrifying, and absolute.
The girls around Liliana bore expressions of despair. Even Liliana, who prided herself on her strength and resolve, felt her nose sting with the threat of tears.
She knew the grim truth: few, if any, of these priestesses would survive the ordeal.
Every god-summoning ritual ended in tragedy for the priestesses involved.
It wasn't the ritual itself that killed them—if successful, the priestesses would only faint from exhaustion.
No, the true danger lay in what followed. The summoned gods' overwhelming curse energy, or the collateral damage from their battles with the Campione, would inevitably claim lives.
Even if Liliana succeeded in summoning a god of rebellion, her chances of surviving the aftermath were slim.
Among all the gathered girls, none believed they could endure the coming storm.
Liliana, though trained rigorously in both magic and swordsmanship, was still painfully aware of her insignificance in the face of a Campione or a god of rebellion.
Her grandfather, a Great Knight—an elite among magi—was just as powerless before such beings.
What will my fate be?
Clutching her arms tightly, Liliana shivered. The cold, biting air around her only amplified the chill of her despair.
Suddenly, the other girls grew agitated.
From the shadows surrounding the plaza, figures emerged—men in long robes, their bodies skeletal and mummified.
Each of these undead figures took up a position around the girls, spaced roughly ten meters apart, enclosing them within a circle.
These undead, once Great Knights or powerful magi, had been enslaved by Marquis Voban after death, now serving him as his loyal Death Servants.
Each one was as strong as her grandfather. The sight of them, subjugated so effortlessly, filled Liliana with a profound sense of dread at the Campione's power.
"Good. The numbers appear sufficient," a cold voice declared.
Marquis Voban stepped into view, his figure perched atop the ruined temple's steps. His gaze swept across the gathered girls, a slight nod of approval following.
The magic associations had done their part—there were even more priestesses than he had requested.
"The ritual is ready. Begin," he commanded.
Though Voban possessed the authority to wield all known magical spells, he had no interest in conducting such trivial tasks himself. His Death Servants—once skilled magi in life—were more than capable of handling the ritual's complexities.
While the priestesses chanted solemn and ancient incantations, the ritual circle began to draw out their magical energy.
Their faces quickly grew pale as their physical and magical reserves drained at an alarming rate.
At the center of the magic circle lay an artifact.
It was a divine relic Voban had unearthed in these ruins, chosen specifically for summoning a god of rebellion.
While summoning gods without such relics was possible, Voban was not interested in weak opponents. He desired a worthy adversary, and the artifact exuded the aura of [Steel], a divine force known for its pure and destructive might.
The ritual progressed rapidly. The once-ordinary-looking artifact erupted with an immense surge of cursed energy, which spiraled upward into the darkened sky.
Lightning rained from above, and the earth trembled violently.
The atmosphere became saturated with an overwhelming aura of sharpness, power, and ferocity.
Then, he appeared.
The heretic god descended from the heavens, his aura an all-encompassing storm of madness.
He had wild, flame-like black hair and wore jagged black armor adorned with scales and spikes. His sharp features radiated an unrestrained confidence and a feral arrogance.
"I feel it... a battle worthy of a rival!"
His glowing eyes locked onto Voban, a manic grin spreading across his face.
"Was it you who summoned me, Campione?"
Most of the priestesses had already collapsed unconscious.
Liliana, owing to her exceptional aptitude, remained awake. But as the god roared, the sheer force of his voice was like a hammer to her skull. Her mind was thrown into chaos, nausea overwhelming her senses, and her ears rang ceaselessly.
She couldn't tell whether she was still conscious or if she had already blacked out.
Drifting in the darkness, she eventually regained clarity.
"Are you awake?"
The first thing Liliana saw upon opening her eyes was an abyssal black.
Standing before her was a familiar figure: Artoria.
Her golden eyes reflected Liliana's dazed face, her expression as serene and emotionless as a frozen lake.
"It seems you're awake. If you hadn't come to your senses soon, I might have resorted to more... direct methods."
Seeing Artoria's face, Liliana was utterly bewildered.
I must still be hallucinating... she thought, her mind in disarray.
Liliana, what on earth is wrong with you? Why is your hallucination of all people... Miss Artoria?
If someone were to save her, she would've preferred it to be a gallant, dashing knight—someone like Lancelot, Gawain, or King Arthur himself.
But why... Artoria?
---
...
Huh. You really stuck it out all the way to the end.
Didn't think you had the patience. Guess I was wrong.
WiseTL's the one who actually made all this come together. I'm just here putting a bow on it… or, well, shoving it in a backpack and calling it a day. Same thing.
If you had fun, you know what to do:
👉 [patreon.com/WiseTL]
Heads up—Patreon's 50% off for all tiers during May. So if you were on the fence? Now's the time.
And if you're the social type, there's a Discord too. Pretty decent spot to hang out—no battles required.
👉 [discord.gg/wisetl]
Alright. That's enough standing around. Go on—before you make it weird.
—Leaf