A Certain Multiverse's Holy Right

A tempestuous surge of violent magical energy erupted, shredding the door of the Ritz-Carlton hotel's presidential suite to splinters. Inside, the luxurious suite was reduced to a whirlwind of flying debris as furniture and decorations were hurled about like mere toys. The room, once an epitome of elegance, was now a scene of utter devastation.

Alice, the White Princess, turned pale, her fragile body trembling under the oppressive weight of the aura. Despite having been partially healed by Roy's authority, her constitution was still far from robust. Even as Europe's most powerful witch, her spiritual power seemed laughably insignificant when faced with the overwhelming presence of a Campione.

As heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed from beyond the ruined doorway, Alice swayed slightly, clutching the back of a chair for support. She stared at the entrance with growing dread, where an elderly man stepped into view. The corridor behind him was lined with staff petrified into salt statues.

The intruder's appearance was nothing short of paradoxical: a refined gentleman in a long overcoat, with impeccably combed white hair and a crisp, spotless suit beneath. His demeanor radiated the elegance of an aristocrat. But those wolf-like green eyes betrayed a feral cruelty, chilling enough to freeze one's soul.

"Marquis Voban!"

Alice's trembling voice broke the silence, her body instinctively recoiling in fear. Her gaze darted nervously toward Roy, the young yet unpredictable Devil King. She could not decide which was more terrifying: the ancient wolf-like tyrant who had just entered, or the crimson-clad youth standing resolutely before her.

Even her reputation as Europe's most renowned witch offered no shield against the presence of the oldest living Campione. Voban's legacy of fear stretched back over two centuries, making him a name of unparalleled terror in the magical world.

Suddenly, a crimson figure moved before her. A warm coat was draped over her slender shoulders, enveloping her shivering form. Alice looked up in surprise to see Roy stepping in front of her, his broad back shielding her from the storm of magical energy.

"In front of an unfamiliar man, you should at least dress modestly, Alice. Even if that man happens to be an old geezer one step away from the grave."

For a moment, Alice blinked in astonishment, staring at the crimson-clad figure standing protectively before her. Her trembling eased, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of warmth. That protective back, unwavering amidst the storm, gave her an inexplicable feeling of safety even though he was younger than her by four to five years and not even an adult yet. A smile crept onto her lips.

Roy's calm but resolute words broke through her daze.

"Don't worry, Alice. I'll protect you. There's no need to fear an old man whose days are numbered."

Alice's heart stirred, and her fear of the approaching Marquis melted away. She had always been the one to step forward, the one to face the Devil Kings of the earth head-on. For the first time, she was on the receiving end of someone else's courage—a sensation that was both alien and exhilarating. This was something that Alexander Gascoigne was incapable of doing.

Meanwhile, Roy's golden, double-pupiled gaze never wavered as he locked eyes with Marquis Voban. His voice remained light, but his tone carried a razor's edge.

Despise the enemy strategically and take the enemy seriously tactically. Roy would never really look down on Marquis Voban, even if in his opinion the Marquis' greatest advantage was just sheer versatility and variety of authorities. In real battle, he was less threatening than the Eastern Cult Leader and the Italian King of Swords.

This is because no matter how many authorities a Campione has, there is a limit to their divine power (magical energy). The reason is that no matter how many gods a Campione slays, it does not result in increase of divine power. This is the main reason that there is no qualitative gap between the oldest and youngest Campione, and hence can result in young overthrowing the old and experienced.

However, Marquis Voban should not be underestimated because of this. In battles of the same level, the sheer versatility of his methods makes him a very difficult opponent to deal with.

"I'll admit, Marquis, your presence here is somewhat unexpected. But given your age, it's commendable you can still walk unassisted. Shall we resolve this the way only we can?"

The old Marquis stopped just within the doorway, his long overcoat swaying slightly with his steps. His piercing green eyes, sharp and ruthless as a wolf's, scanned the room before settling on Roy and the trembling figure behind him.

"Ah, the romantic notions of youth. Protecting a maiden in distress, offering warmth with chivalrous flair... These are the privileges of the young."

Voban's voice was hoarse but carried a commanding resonance, like an ominous growl echoing through a canyon. Yet, his tone dripped with sarcasm, mocking Roy's seemingly idealistic stance. This wasn't an old man who had accepted and conformed to the ways of the world. But he was rather a demon king who shaped the world to his whims and killed Heretic Gods for entertainment.

"My newborn kin, I have no right to comment on your actions. All my kin have their own quirks. But as an old man whose days are numbered as you said, I must remind you boy, sentimentality is the undoing of great men. You may shield the little girl at your back, but what of the two girls you sent after your quarry? Can you protect them as well?"

Roy's expression hardened. He recalled Voban's rumored authority over death—his ability to enslave the souls of those he personally killed, turning them into unyielding thralls. If Voban had indeed dispatched his undead minions, his knights, Erica and Liliana, might be in grave danger.

However, Roy quickly quelled his doubts. Erica and Liliana were among the most capable of their generation. Even against undead thralls, they could hold their ground long enough to retreat if necessary. It was the situation of the miko, Mariya Yuri, that was far more precarious. If she was captured by those thralls then it would be very difficult to get her back from the Marquis.

"Your wit remains as sharp as ever, Marquis, but your threats are little more than empty bluster. My knights will not fall so easily."

Voban chuckled darkly, his sinister grin revealing the predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Hmph, I didn't expect that one of my servants, Kranjcar, would have such an outstanding granddaughter who is a witch. Its likely because I didn't pay her much of my attention. No matter, that girl's power is far too precious to waste. Indeed, her destiny lies with me. And I thank you for healing the body of the little girl behind you, this way my ritual can be held two years in advance.

"…But you, boy, are too greedy for daring to steal what is mine without permission, you've already invited retribution."

Although Marquis' tone was arrogance incarnate, he did not underestimate Roy. Those who became Campione were not ordinary people. He had already learnt this lesson at the hands of Salvatore Doni two years ago.

"And yet, here I stand, perfectly unscathed. Funny how that works, isn't it?" Roy's tone was laced with amusement, but his body radiated deadly focus. Lili's grandfather was actually one of Marquis' servants. I had no idea, but I suppose its not surprising.

The two Demon Kings stood at an impasse, the storm of magical thickening the air around them. Voban's shadow loomed like an executioner's axe, but Roy's crimson figure did not waver.

…

"Enough talk, Marquis. For men like us, words are but the prelude to action."

With those words, Roy struck. He first looked into the fearsome wolf like eyes of Marquis Voban to have his ace reflected in them.

"Hahaha! Well said, young man. It seems you are not boring young man. From this point of view, I have to commend you!" The Marquis laughed loudly in cold beastly manner that shook the walls of the room.

While Marquis was busy laughing, Roy silently activated the fearsome authority of Face of God.

As the radiant light of divine wrath emanated from his face, Voban flinched, momentarily blinded by the sheer majesty of Roy's visage.