Multiverse's Holy Right

Standing atop the Alps, the view stretched endlessly into pure white. A slightly chilly wind blew across the snowfields, occasionally revealing white-furred creatures hunting prey in this inhospitable wilderness.

Amidst the expanse of pristine white, a crimson figure suddenly appeared. Roy, clad in the resplendent robes of a cardinal, walked alongside Athena upon the snowy canvas, leaving behind a trail of closely spaced footprints.

As the two arrived, the wild animals instinctively sensed danger. Predators and prey alike fled together toward the distant mountains, breaking even nature's law of survival of the fittest—for the two who stood here were beings capable of embodying calamity in this world.

"Frost and sunlight—what a glorious day! Yet you slumber, my enchanting friend. It is time, fair one, to awaken! Open your eyes, lulled shut by comfort!"

Roy stood atop a snow-capped peak, reciting Pushkin's poetry aloud in the boundless wilderness.

"Hahahaha!!"

He laughed like a child, his mirth causing the mountains to tremble and driving the animals into even more frenzied flight.

"That's enough, Roy Crowley! We've come far enough—far from disturbing the ignorance of mortals and sparing the lives of your attendants."

After breakfast, Roy and Athena had walked deep into the Alps. They bore no resemblance to enemies about to engage in battle, instead strolling like friends, chatting idly as they ventured further into the mountains.

Now, as noon arrived, they simultaneously halted atop this peak. The pleasant interlude had to end—the biting chill of winter was upon them.

"I had thought someone as audacious and self-willed as you, who dares harbor improper thoughts toward a goddess, would not care for human lives. Yet, it seems you possess such mercy after all."

Athena stood a few paces before Roy. She wore no rabbit-eared cotton cap today; her silver hair shimmered faintly in the sunlight, lending her an air of nobility amidst the pure white snow—so much so that Roy almost felt he faced not Athena, but Artemis herself.

"Because they are my subjects, who have devoted everything to me. As their king, it is only right that I grant them mercy. If I had no choice, it would be different—but since I do, I will not let my people come to harm."

"...I am the Demon King, a capricious and tyrannical ruler. But tyranny does not equate to bloodlust. I am no murderer who finds joy in slaughter. So long as none defy or oppose me, killing holds no interest for me."

Roy spoke casually to Athena, tossing the Gorgon Stone into her hands. "...The Gorgon Stone is yours, Athena! You've waited millennia for this moment, haven't you?"

Athena caressed the Gorgon Stone, her lovely face blooming with delight like a flower.

"You will regret this, Roy Crowley! You will regret giving the Gorgon Stone to me."

"And I would say the same to you, Goddess Athena! You will regret making an enemy of me. Enough talk—the Gorgon Stone is in your hands. If you wish to make me regret it, prove it with your actions!"

Roy interrupted Athena's words, his expression gradually turning cold. Although he might usually crack a joke or two, in battle he would never underestimate anyone, never allowing himself the slightest chance of failure.

"Giggle giggle~~~ Feel honored, Roy Crowley! Behold my true form!"

"By the true name of Athena, O Night, manifest here! Disperse the blessings of the sun, extinguish the flames of Prometheus, silence the thunder of the heavens, plunge the earth into darkness—let the starry skies and the black winds restore the ancient night!"

As the goddess Athena chanted these words of power, the midday sky transformed into an abyss of darkness. Countless stars shimmered against the blackened heavens, their scattered light the only illumination in a moonless expanse.

This was the ancient night—a primordial calamity, the darkness once conquered by modern civilization. Now, through Athena's incantation, disaster descended once more.

The pristine white of the Alps was swallowed by the encroaching blackness. A howling gale of dark wind surged, fluttering Roy's crimson robes.

Athena raised the Gorgon Stone in her delicate hand, then cast it upward. The stone emblem—a symbol of her ancient identity—dissolved into her body.

"What I seek is the Gorgon Stone alone. Now, Athena reclaims the ancient serpent!"

The scent of the 'serpent' emanating from the goddess grew ever stronger. Beneath the darkened sky above her, birds began to appear—owls, creatures unbothered by the night, thriving in its embrace. Countless owls took flight, circling the heavens as if celebrating the goddess's return.

As the night and stars descended, Athena's body began to mature at a visible pace. She shed her youthful, childlike form, blossoming into a maiden of adolescence, then further into the breathtaking beauty of an eighteen-year-old.

Her short, elegant hair cascaded into long, silken tresses, shimmering faintly with silver under the obsidian sky. Her modern attire transformed into the ancient Greek style—a flowing white robe of silk, reminiscent of the Roman toga, draping over her flawless, enchanting figure.

A wreath adorned her head, revealing snow-white shoulders and delicate collarbones beneath the robe. True to her word, the goddess's ample bosom surpassed Erica's, while her piercing gaze—sharp as the sword of war and wisdom—radiated divine authority.

"Well? Does my form please you?"

The goddess, tall and ethereal, exuded nobility and grace. Beneath her toga, her bare feet, unadorned by stockings, rested upon finely woven sandals.

A fragrant breeze swept past, stirring Roy's senses as Athena stepped forward, her face alight with triumph and pride. She approached him with the poise of a victor.

Then, suddenly, she rose onto her toes. Her lips parted slightly, breath sweet as orchids, and like a maiden in love, she cradled Roy's head with slender fingers. Her voice was tender, almost intoxicating, as she whispered,

"...Foolish child, Roy Crowley. Allow me to bestow upon you the blessing you crave."

With the irresistible tenderness of a goddess, she leaned in.

In that moment, darkness and death descended. A woman's gentleness is the deadliest weapon—how many kings and conquerors have fallen to it? And the tenderness of a goddess was suffocating beyond measure.

The embrace of warmth is the tomb of heroes.

Roy's breath and life began to fade.

***

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