I, Kurumi Tokisaki, Am a Wanderer

Clang, clang—Kurumi dragged the self-repairing "trash" of considerable size back to the St. Giardino Monastery.

There hadn't been any injuries to speak of, but with the dragging, injuries were quickly appearing.

After all… most of the cuts and scrapes on Doni's body were thanks to the collisions with stones on the road and the jagged edges of milk thistle leaves.

...

Setting aside how the other mages might view Kurumi—or if they already equated her to a witch—in another corner of this story, the Heretic God who stole the Pindaric Poems was facing a bit of a problem.

She had escaped from St. Giardino Monastery.

She was Tritogeneia (Τριτογένεια), the Maiden by Lake Tritonis, an incarnation of Athena.

It was the name sung in worship by the Eusaeans during the distant age when Libya was sacred land.

She was Athena—and yet she wasn't quite Athena.

Gods who detached from myth often appear in different forms depending on how the myths depicted them. For example, take Apollo.

The Apollo whom Marquis Voban killed was Apollo Lyceus—Apollo of the Wolves.

Yet the sun god also has other forms, other names.

Phoebus Apollo, Apollo Smintheus, Apollo Loxias…

On and on.

Such depictions appear in The Iliad or The Argonautica, preserving various interpretations of gods.

The Heretic Gods emerging from these myths may take on different forms, but ultimately, they're all one and the same.

Sensing a familiar presence of herself, Tritogeneia—or Athena—awoke and headed north, towards Britain.

The night was unusually bright, with the streets glowing brighter than the stars or the moon—so much so that it hurt her eyes.

In this age, people seem to call it neon.

Athena despised such brightly lit nights.

She finally reached Britain, only to sense that the presence she'd been following had moved once again.

The young maiden with wise eyes gazed mournfully towards the south, her tender lips pursed tight.

Below her, the earth bustled with flowing traffic, yet not a single person noticed her presence.

Naturally.

An exceptionally powerful Heretic God need only think— I have no time for bothersome mortals.

And with that, ordinary humans would be unable to perceive her existence.

Athena sighed deeply, then used this ability to step into a bakery.

"This… this isn't stealing!"

"It's just taking my due offerings, that's all."

...

The unyielding goddess wielded her power and continued her slow journey towards that ancient tether.

Meanwhile, another monarch was also en route to Italy.

Finally arriving in the countryside south of Florence, Athena had by now figured out where that ancient link originated from.

It was the pact she had made with Prometheus in the age of gods, and the vessel of that pact lay just ahead.

But no matter what she tried, Athena couldn't get close to the pact's vessel—she couldn't even think of approaching it.

The hoot of an owl warned her of the terrifying force that protected it, a force she could not rival.

A Godslayer...

A Heretic God...

And a Saint possessed...

Athena had waited patiently and finally, her chance had come.

The terrifying Heretic God and the Godslayer had both departed for the realm of the living and the dead.

Only that Saint's incarnation remained, yet it wasn't much of a threat.

Her plan was to slip in and steal away the book containing that pact, but she hadn't expected the defenses of St. Giardino Monastery to be so keen, immediately sensing her presence.

The alluring silver-haired girl wrapped her arms around the tablet she'd seized, a slight frown at the image of herself etched upon it.

Now that there was no one capable of stopping her, she intended to simply stroll her way out.

But then, fate's malice turned against her.

—Damn.

The ominous sense of something demonic had arrived; in Athena's vision, she could already see the sky erupting in black and red light.

Her intuition screamed of impending danger, her body tensing like a bowstring, primed for battle.

In that instant, she wondered if she had been overly harsh on the Moirai, personifications of destiny, in ancient times, making them eager to exact vengeance now.

She moved to make her escape, but some fool charged her with sword drawn.

It took considerable effort to shake him off; she had no idea how far she'd run, only that the eastern horizon had begun to lighten.

But… she had finally escaped.

Athena took out the tablet, barely the size of a B5 sheet, etched with the scene of herself overlooking Prometheus creating humans on Mount Olympus.

The stone felt warm, like holding a heater, and even gave off the illusion of breathing.

Athena traced her finger along the stone's edge, stroking the coiled snake that wrapped around it as a border.

A shocking sight unfolded—the snake seemed to come alive, writhing and shedding bits of stone, then transforming into a slender golden serpent that wound itself around Athena's wrist.

At last, it was over, she thought with a light laugh, and made to toss the ancient grimoire aside.

But that's when she noticed she couldn't shake it off.

The ancient grimoire of the divine age clung to her, drawing on her strength, and began to glow, gradually emitting a faint red light.

The stone grew hotter, not in any physical sense, but a searing pain that felt as if it scorched her very soul.

The moonlit maiden whimpered, a pained expression flickering in her obsidian-like eyes.

This was the flame of karmic sin, fueled by guilt, burning fiercely.

Fortunately, she was no sinner.

...

Boom—

The flames fully erupted from the tablet, blazing into a towering figure that enclosed Athena within.

It was the power stolen from the Marquis Voban—Judge's Calamity Flame.

Due to the unique activation mode, this wasn't the apocalyptic scene of Judgment Day but simply the stone tablet, at the center, burning fervently.

"Ugh—aaah!"

The girl whimpered as branches of olive flowers rose at her feet, coiling around her.

She had never expected the grimoire, which should have been unusable, to harbor such a surprise.

Athena didn't understand that there are those in the world who, when given a tool, might immediately find a way to use it—they are players.

...

Just then, all the flames rose sharply; the grimoire flew from Athena's hand, falling into the hands of a tall, slender man nearby. All of the flames surged into his grasp and vanished into the book.

"Who… who are you?"

The rebellious goddess panted lightly, her silky black hair damp with sweat, strands clinging to her cheeks in a slightly disheveled manner.

Her Ionian-style chiton clung delicately to her body, the pure white fabric now damp with sweat, hugging her skin to reveal the faint outline of her bandeau beneath.

Athena was known among the Olympians as one of the most renowned virgin goddesses. From the ancient Cretan hymns that worshiped her, she had always been described with words like graceful and dignified.

She embodied the pure, radiant beauty of a maiden—a beacon of innocence and light.

...

"I am Fëanor."

The newcomer spoke without a hint of concealment, standing tall and straight. He had slender, pointed ears that peeked out from his shoulder-length black hair. Athena saw a shadow of Erechtheus, the Athenian king, within him.

Around his ankle, chains of ash-gray seemed to coil and burrow deep into the earth.

Behind him, a pair of lifeless, twilight-dull eyes were fixed upon his back.

Fëanor's gaze rested upon the rebellious goddess before him. Her beauty rivaled that of Varda, her clear blue eyes—like pristine sapphires—glistening as they stared fixedly at him.

In the myths, Athena had often been praised as a "goddess with bright eyes."

"Would you return the Book of the Covenant to me?" Athena asked in her maiden form, taking a slight step back with her right foot, like a poised leopard ready to spring.

Fëanor weighed the stone tablet in his hand. He had no real use for it, but… he needed it to reach the person behind all of this.

"Of course."

"Then return it!" Athena extended her hand towards Fëanor.

"My apologies… but it might take some time." The proud monarch smiled as he declined her request.

"Then… we have nothing to discuss!"

Golden light gathered into a spear that appeared in Athena's hand. The faceplate of her helmet fell, concealing her lovely features. With golden tassels and her Aegis transformed into armor adorned with serpent ornaments, the goddess's figure was revealed in all its formidable allure.

"I am the Goddess of War and Wisdom! I fight for righteousness!" Athena declared loudly, channeling her divine power into the gleaming golden spear as she lunged toward Fëanor.

"War… and Wisdom, is it?" Fëanor drew a one-handed sword, which glimmered in the early dawn light with blue and silver sparks, brighter than the stars themselves.

"I am Fëanor," he laughed proudly. "The greatest of the Noldor!"

...

Morning in Siena

A sleek, jet-black BMW SUV sped out of the medieval-styled city like an arrow leaving the bowstring.

Inside were Kurumi and her companions.

According to Doni, the ancient goddess had departed from St. Giardino Monastery and darted southeastward.

From the vantage of San Gimignano, the most notable cities to the southwest of the Apennine Peninsula were Vatican City and Rome.

Kurumi had discovered the Book of the Fire Thief in a church in Rome when she'd left the Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress world.

Paolo's intention was to let the matter rest, considering the book had already been stolen, so there was no need to reclaim it forcefully.

Of course, the main reason was that Italy couldn't handle any more disruptions from these two divinities.

If Kurumi and Athena could go wreak havoc somewhere far away, Paolo would be more than happy to sit back and watch the spectacle.

Why was a "Great Knight" like him so scheming, reveling in the misfortune of others? Well, such schadenfreude was only human.

...

But… for Kurumi, someone had broken into her room and stolen something.

This was not something she could tolerate.

Naturally, she had to capture Athena, lift up her skirt, and administer some well-deserved punishment, giving her a thorough lesson.

She'd heard that under the Ionian chiton of Greek women, aside from the bandeau-like breast binding, they usually wore nothing else.

Kurumi's lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"I'm bored… I really need some fun."

...

Sprawled out comfortably in the spacious back seat, Kurumi held a silver-haired cat-girl in her arms, her face flushed, allowing herself to be teased and played with.

She also had a pair of attendants massaging her shoulders, making this life rather enjoyable.

Paolo drove, while Doni sat grumpily in the front passenger seat, wondering why they didn't let Arianna, who had volunteered, drive instead. Sitting next to a burly guy wasn't exactly easy on the eyes compared to a pretty maid.

Only later, after a close brush with death, did he realize Paolo's wisdom in this choice.

Due to her duty of safeguarding the Book in Praise of David's Works, Saint Raffaello was unable to stray far from Florence.

With the rising sun at their backs, the black luxury SUV sped toward Rome.

Along the way, there were very few cars heading in their direction, mainly military or media vehicles like Hummers with press stickers.

Conversely, many vehicles were heading northwest from Rome, with most looking like families in tow… exhausted, haggard, almost like refugees.

Click, click—

Paolo turned on the car radio. After a brief static crackle, the standard Italian northern dialect filled the vehicle.

"Early this morning, in the province of Naples…"

"An earthquake triggered by unknown factors caused severe damage…"

"Mount Vesuvius erupted without warning…"

"The Apennine Peninsula has nearly been torn in half…"

"Italy's boot has snapped…"

The car suddenly sped up as Paolo's foot instinctively pressed down on the accelerator.

Erica and Arianna were thrown forward, landing on top of Liliana.

"Ah!" With a noise akin to a snapping string, Liliana let out a startled cry.

Paolo paid no mind to the girls' antics in the back seat, instead grimacing as he turned the radio dial to another station.

More static crackled…

Paolo aimed the ring on his finger toward the device.

"A report, dated from the early 21st century, confirms that the catastrophic events in Naples were indeed triggered by a Heretic God."

A nearly robotic female voice emanated from the radio, carrying that distinctive, critical tone of a magician.

"Goddess of Ancient Greece, Athena—also known as Minerva, Tritogeneia... a deity possessing complex attributes."

"Goddess of Wisdom, Goddess of War, one of the Twelve Olympians…"

"Mother Earth, Protector of Cities, associated with strategy and craft…"

"As one of the most powerful Heretic Gods known to date, Athena made her initial appearance on April 17th."

"Her first confirmed action was on April 25th, at the St. Giardino Monastery in San Gimignano. There is sufficient evidence indicating that Paolo, the Great Knight of Italy, and his mage association, Copper-Black Cross, along with their Heretic God Kurumi Tokisaki, were present."

"Early this morning, the Heretic God Athena appeared in Naples and engaged in a battle with an unknown Heretic God."

"The aftermath of this clash destroyed Mount Vesuvius, tearing apart the Apennine Peninsula…"

"The Association believes that Paolo and his mage association bear primary responsibility for the incident…"

…

Bang! Normally calm and intellectual, Paolo slammed his fist down on the radio.

Italy didn't have just the Copper-Black Cross and Bronze-Black Cross; they were merely Milan-based associations. As one of the birthplaces of magic, Italy had seven mage associations in total.

Given the extent of the incident, they'd all be eager to throw someone under the bus—and Paolo just happened to be a convenient scapegoat.

No one dared mess with the new Godslayer, and Saint Raffaello was known for her explosive temper. There was still talk of that time she and that infamous witch chased a certain rogue from Milan all the way to the Vatican, nearly storming the Pope's residence had it not been for a Cardinal's intervention.

So the attitude was basically, "Paolo, look at this blame! It's big and round, perfect for you."

Henceforth, perhaps he would be called Tohsaka Paolo.

But in the end, they could only hurl verbal accusations at Copper-Black Cross; after all, Kurumi Tokisaki's track record spoke for itself.

Two centuries ago, the ancient and powerful Godslayer Marquis Voban had been killed by her once—and hadn't reappeared since. The Black Prince of Britain was reportedly still clashing with the Council of Sages, allegedly over the dethroning of Princess Alice.

The Godslayer of the East, the Guardian of Los Angeles, and the Mysterious Queen of Caves were not likely to intervene either.

As for the Sixth Godslayer… rumor had it that she had already devoted herself fully to that Heretic God.

So, their only option was to murmur bitterly with no real recourse.

Disheartened, Paolo drove into Rome.

Further south, roadblocks were already in place, which might prove a bit troublesome to bypass.

Moreover… Kurumi sensed an unusual aura in the heart of Rome.

After parking, Paolo quickly instructed Erica to attend carefully to Lady Kurumi before he left in a hurry. He needed to get a thorough understanding of the events that had unfolded.

But in reality, there was little he could do. No matter how skilled a knight or sorcerer, they could not oppose a Heretic God.

Only another Heretic God or a Godslayer could contend with a Heretic God. Such was the truth of this world.

Arianna remained stationed at the hotel while Kurumi strolled out, taking Liliana and Erica with her.

One of her avatars had informed her of an interesting discovery in Rome.

...

Rome, famously the city of seven hills, is indeed unique. Following the Tiber River westward, Kurumi leisurely walked with the two girls by her side.

There was no specific directive or charm at work, yet their graceful figures and her striking, flawless East Asian features caught people's eyes, making some stop and stare.

It was on the way northwest, as they turned to head toward the Vatican, that they encountered the forlorn young girl.

Though it might be impolite to say, her tattered Ionian-style chiton certainly gave such an impression. The girl looked about ten years old, her lips pursed high with tear-filled eyes betraying her sense of grievance.

Her ankle-length silver hair shimmered like a full moon in the wind, and her skin was delicate, like fine ivory.

The bustling crowd around the little goddess seemed to instinctively avoid her. No one noticed her but Kurumi and her companions.

Naturally so, for a god could sway mortal perception with a mere thought.

The desolate little girl noticed Kurumi and immediately panicked, trying to turn and leave.

Her divine power was all but spent. She was so weak now that she'd probably lose even to Doni.

But before she could make her escape, she realized that a dark red shadow had already spread across the ground. Delicate arms extended from it, pinning her limbs in place under her terrified gaze.

"Up you go!"

That mesmerizingly beautiful, wickedly playful face leaned close, her slender finger resting upon the little goddess's lips.

"Now, now~~~ where are you off to?"

Kurumi leaned in close, her gentle words brushing against the small goddess's ear.

"D-don't come any closer—aaahhh!"

The little goddess shrieked in terror.

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