"Welcome back to you both, triumphant." No sooner had they stepped into the villa than they saw Lucretia already standing at the entrance, a smile on her face as she greeted them.
"I've just finished preparing lunch. Your timing couldn't be more perfect."
As a powerful yet indolent witch, it had been years since she'd exerted herself this much.
The first sentence had been delivered with utmost respect, but the next carried the casual ease of someone addressing a guest or neighbor.
Having just witnessed the sheer might of Melusine, Erica couldn't help but marvel at the woman's nerve.
"Lunch, huh... Alright, let's eat first then." Melusine wasn't particularly hungry.
More than filling her stomach—what with the lack of entertainment and her own lazy disposition—she'd rather lie in bed and chat.
But since the meal had been prepared for her, it felt wrong to let it go to waste.
Lucretia was unaware of these thoughts.
Had she known Melusine shared her own slothful temperament, she might not have even bothered coming to the door.
Erica wished she could mirror Lucretia's casual demeanor.
She, too, was shrewd—or rather, it seemed all witches possessed that innate cunning. But she was still young, lacking Lucretia's breadth of experience, and the knight within her still outweighed the witch.
Even knowing this "Sir Lancelot" didn't care much for overly deferential treatment, she couldn't adjust to it in just a day or two.
At the dining table.
After hosting them the previous day, Lucretia had already figured out some of Melusine's preferred dishes and flavors. This time, the spread clearly included more to her taste.
Melusine ate with elegant yet swift efficiency. Lucretia didn't rush to speak, waiting until her pace slowed before finally saying, "This battle truly took everyone by surprise, Sir Lancelot."
Melusine, who had been halfway through lifting a forkful of tomato to her mouth, paused and set her cutlery down.
"There's more you wish to say, isn't there?"
"You see right through me."
Erica's gaze shifted between the two, understanding dawning on her.
The witch of Sardinia made no attempt to hide it.
"Five minutes... to be precise, from the start of the battle to its end: three minutes and twenty-three seconds."
She took a breath, her slightly trembling hands clasping together.
"No battle between a god and a Campione has ever concluded so swiftly. Your fight has been witnessed—or its outcome learned—by countless eyes."
Witches transmit information quickly, thanks to their unique network and regular gatherings akin to "Walpurgisnacht." Compared to magicians, witches share a far closer bond.
Though modern persecution of witches has nearly vanished, the age-old habits and "rules" passed down through generations remain unchanged.
This is tied to their inheritance.
Unlike magicians, who can master spells and magic through study, witches receive their knowledge and arts directly from their predecessors via oral tradition.
To become a witch requires the aptitude of a shrine maiden and the ability to pass on a witch's spells, ensuring the lineage continues.
Erica knew this, but she hadn't delved deeply into her own potential as a witch. She had devoted far more effort to her path as a knight.
Even so, someone like her still had access to this remarkably fluid information "network."
"I see."
Melusine nodded, showing little surprise.
"For humans, the more something defies understanding and inspires fear, the more they feel compelled to comprehend and explore it."
"Exactly." Lucretia's smile remained, but her mood grew heavy.
Had this "Lancelot" fought an epic, earth-shattering battle against another god lasting three hundred rounds, it wouldn't have drawn such intense scrutiny.
But she was simply too powerful. That power had focused the attention of the entire world on this small island of Sardinia, and it would inevitably attract the notice of the "Kings."
Erica had realized this the moment their conversation began.
Even though she was resolved to cling tightly to Melusine's coattails, learning that this place would soon become a battleground for gods and Kings filled her with tension and worry.
After all, it was well-known that Campiones remained undefeated against Heretic Gods not because their power surpassed that of the gods.
If victory required sheer strength, overcoming a superior foe to become a Campione would be impossible.
Campiones are those blessed by miracles—individuals who, in certain defeat, find a way to reverse the tide and seize victory.
For them, miracles are not vague concepts but phenomena that inevitably occur.
Facing such enemies...
Erica's anxiety deepened, yet at a certain point, it solidified into resolve.
No matter what, she had to believe in the one she served.
Even if it began as a cost-free gambit, having now seen other Heretic Gods, she found herself feeling genuine allegiance.
The reason was simple: compared to other Heretic Gods—even Campiones—this "Sir Lancelot" was far too normal.
If she had to pledge loyalty to one of the powers standing at the world's peak, her strongest inclination was toward the current "Sir Lancelot."
"Forgive my impertinence, Sir Lancelot."
Lucretia finally voiced her concern.
"If you were to engage in battle with a Campione, Sardinia would inevitably be plunged into utter ruin. It would be a far more devastating war than this one."
The near-certain victory of Campiones against Heretic Gods was common knowledge.
Even though Melusine had overwhelmingly defeated a God King and an Undefeated War God, Campiones were different.
Until they found a way to defeat Melusine and achieved it, the battle would not end. And every minute such a conflict lasted would bring extreme destruction to everything around them.
"I understand your meaning."
Melusine nodded, acknowledging Lucretia's worry, but it did little to ease the witch's expression.
Exactly as Lucretia had anticipated, the Heretic God continued, "However, should any Campione intend to come here, let them come."
"That I have not sought out the Campiones myself is the extent of my forbearance. If a Campione dares approach with hostile intent, I will not hesitate to cut them down."
So that's how it is.
Lucretia had long prepared herself for her words to go unheeded.
Hearing this now finally severed the last thread of hope she'd been clinging to.
Well, she'd tried. If she couldn't stop it, and nothing she did mattered, what else was there to do?
Erica clenched her fist. In her view, Melusine's response was perfectly reasonable.
After all, the enemy would be coming to kill her; fighting back was only natural. Besides, how could she possibly sympathize with a Campione?
The moment one becomes a Campione, they cease to be human.
If Melusine were the type, like Melqart, whose mere presence would plunge the world into chaos, Erica might have reconsidered her stance.
But setting aside the calamities brought by Heretic Gods, there wasn't much difference between them and Campiones—otherwise, Campiones wouldn't be called "Devil Kings."
What worried her was the Campione's formidable luck and miracles.
As a knight in service to "Sir Lancelot," there was no question where her loyalties lay.
With that in mind, she decided to seek her uncle's assistance, hoping he might uncover information about the Campiones' authorities.
--+--
T/N: I have a Patreon! Webnovel will get 2 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.