A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

On the streets of Rome, a custom-designed luxury car rolled smoothly through the bustling city. Inside, Paolo Blandelli, the leader of the Copper Black-Cross, cast a complex gaze at Erica, seated beside him. With his usual elegance and composure, he spoke in a low, concerned tone:

"…Have you made up your mind, Erica? This new King is nothing like Salvatore Doni. He's closer in nature to the Marquis Voban or the Eastern Cult Leader. Following someone like him won't be easy."

Erica was the only daughter of Paolo's elder brother and the last remaining bloodline of the Blandelli family. Paolo had always done everything in his power to protect his gifted and talented niece.

Yet, Paolo also understood that Erica was a person of strong will. She wouldn't willingly follow the path he'd carefully laid out for her. When the time came, she would inevitably leave his protection and set out alone on a journey down an unpredictable road. That time has now arrived.

"This is the King's decree. Even if I were unwilling, what choice would I have?"

Erica's tone suggested she was reluctantly following Roy's orders, but her expression betrayed a different story. Her face radiated determination, and there was even a hint of excitement in her eyes, as though she were preparing to tackle a great challenge—a challenge she, Erica Blandelli, was determined to overcome.

"Don't worry, Uncle! With my skills and abilities, even if this new King is as ruthless and unpredictable as the Marquis Voban or the Eastern Cult Leader, I will surely win his trust and favor. As long as I act cautiously in daily affairs, everything will be fine.

"...This is our greatest opportunity, Uncle! The new King has just ascended and is in dire need of loyal and capable subordinates. Becoming one of his closest allies now is a chance of a lifetime. For both myself and the Copper Black-Cross, this is a golden opportunity. The centuries-long rivalry with the Bronze Black-Cross can finally be put to rest. Victory will inevitably be ours!"

Erica's radiant face glowed with the vibrant beauty of youth and the unshakable confidence of a young woman. Seeing her like this, Paolo couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Inwardly, he offered a silent prayer to his late brother, reassuring him that his daughter had grown into someone capable of standing on her own.

Realizing Erica had already made up her mind, Paolo chose not to argue further. After a moment of contemplation, he asked in a testing tone:

"…What's your opinion on the new King compared to Salvatore Doni?"

"Salvatore Doni is not a suitable leader," Erica said decisively. "His only focus is 'sword' and 'battle.' Two years ago, I met him shortly after he became a God-slayer. With all due respect—though this may sound irreverent—his brain isn't exactly… normal."

After a brief pause, she continued, carefully choosing her words:

"It's precisely because Salvatore Doni is so single-mindedly focused on combat and swordsmanship that he's easier to handle. He doesn't care about betrayal or loyalty; at most, he'd challenge the new King to a duel for fun. And because of his personality, even if we swore loyalty to him, we wouldn't gain much in return—not even reliable protection.

"...But the new King is different. From both the reports and my personal interactions, it's clear that he's a man of strong desires. If we can win his favor, we'll not only gain his protection but also leverage his name and power to expand the influence of the Copper Black-Cross.

"Salvatore Doni doesn't understand human nature, but the new King does. He knows exactly what we need."

Erica's analysis was precise and unwavering. Her strategy focused on understanding the personalities of those involved, dissecting them with remarkable clarity.

Though God-slayers wield unparalleled power, they were, after all, still human. And as long as they remained human, they would have desires, preferences, and weaknesses. Understanding these was the key to successfully dealing with them.

…

Off the western coast of Italy, a magnificent luxury yacht cruised across the Tyrrhenian Sea. Beneath the waves, schools of fish darted about, while seabirds soared and cried in the sky above. Inside the yacht's lavishly decorated observation room, Roy sat enjoying his lunch, savoring the breathtaking view of the open sea through the large glass windows surrounding him.

The observation room resembled a luxurious suite in a five-star hotel. It featured an elegant mahogany desk for work, an exceptionally soft wrap-around sofa, and a spacious bed. A well-stocked bar lined one side of the room, and a massive flat-screen television played a local Italian news broadcast on the wall.

Seated at the dining table, Roy used a knife and fork to savor a perfectly cooked, tender steak, garnished with rare Italian Alba white truffles. He relished the indulgent flavors, letting the richness dance across his palate.

Roy had always been someone who appreciated life's pleasures. Now that he was a God-slayer, wealth was nothing more than a trivial matter to him. With his newfound status, he fully embraced the opportunity to experience the finest luxuries the world had to offer.

In his first twenty years of life, Roy had lived an unremarkable existence as a humble, middle-class photographer. Occasional indulgences had been a rare treat. His second life in the Index world had been defined by simplicity and poverty, where mere survival had been his priority.

Now, free from those constraints, Roy was determined to make up for lost time. He had no intention of denying himself the finer things in life, nor was he one to shun pleasure.

"Knock, knock, knock—"

The sound of knocking echoed through the observation room. Without looking up, Roy placed his utensils down and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before calling out:

"…Come in."

The door opened, and in walked a striking young woman in a crimson dress. Erica Blandelli, clad in fiery red from head to toe, exuded an air of nobility and elegance. Her high heels clicked softly against the polished floor, and her white stockings accentuated the graceful curve of her legs, giving her an enchanting allure.

In her radiant attire, she could have easily come across as gaudy. But Erica's natural charisma and aristocratic demeanor elevated her appearance to one of class and refinement.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your meal, Your Majesty," Erica said, bowing slightly.

Roy, still a teenager at heart, allowed his gaze to wander for a brief moment before quickly regaining his composure.

"What brings you here, Lady Erica?" he asked with a smile.

"We'll be arriving at Ponza Island soon," Erica reported. "According to the Seven Sisters' investigation, Metatron is currently on the island. I wanted to remind you to prepare yourself for the upcoming battle."

Erica's tone was sharp and professional, like that of a meticulous steward reminding her master of his obligations.

Roy chuckled softly at her concern. "Thank you for the reminder, Lady Erica… A good meal before a battle is a time-honored tradition, after all. Care to join me for lunch?"

Erica gave a polite smile and shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but as your exclusive knight, it wouldn't be proper for me to dine at the same table as my King."

"Knight?" Roy raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Lady Erica, I don't recall officially granting you the title of my personal knight."

Standing up, he slowly approached Erica, his piercing gaze locking onto her sapphire-blue eyes.