Campione : King

The blistering Egyptian sun bore down on the golden dunes of the Sahara, a sea of sand that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. Amid the shifting sands, a lone figure trudged forward, his every step purposeful despite the oppressive heat. Alexios Niketas, the seventh Campione, had become accustomed to such grueling conditions over the past year and a half. Ever since he had ascended to god-slaying status, the world had been anything but kind.

"Demigod Bane," he thought wryly, his lips cracking from the arid air. That was what the Bronze Black Cross had called him during one of their countless attempts to understand him. The phrase had stuck, not just because it amused him, but because it felt oddly accurate. Especially after he slayed his second heretic god six months ago and the heretic god was also a demigod.

The air shimmered with heatwaves, and the faint scent of ancient stone wafted through the desert, mingling with the occasional gust of dry wind. He paused atop a dune, scanning the expanse below. In the distance, the faint silhouette of a temple emerged from the sands, its jagged spires clawing at the sky like a long-forgotten monument to the gods of old.

Alexios had slain Hercules eighteen months ago, a feat that should have been impossible for any mortal. Yet, through sheer wit, a stolen grimoire, and a gamble that nearly cost him his life, he had succeeded. His victory had been as much a curse as it was a blessing. The world of gods and magic had erupted into chaos at the emergence of a new Campione.

"A year and a half, and I still feel like I'm fighting to keep my head above water," he thought, his boots crunching against the coarse sand.

Since slaying Hercules, Alexios had been pulled into the machinations of the magical organizations that monitored beings like him. The Bronze-Black Cross and the Copper-Red Cross, powerful mage associations based in Europe, had reached out almost immediately, offering "guidance" thinly veiled as surveillance. Despite their politeness, Alexios knew better. He was a nuclear weapon with a heartbeat, and they were desperate to keep him from going off.

He had dealt with them as diplomatically as possible. By agreeing to let them observe him, within reason, he had managed to carve out a fragile peace. Still, he rarely trusted their envoys, no matter how respectful their demeanor.

"They fear me," he mused. "And rightly so."

His thoughts wandered to his territory, the city of Thessaloniki in Greece...well technically all of Greece was his territory now. After slaying Hercules, the land almost seemed to choose him, resonating with the divine blood in his veins. The city, steeped in myth and history, had become his base of operations.

In Thessaloniki, he had surrounded himself with a small but loyal group of retainers:

Sophia Markos, a prodigious mage who served as his advisor and occasional voice of reason. She was sharp, cunning, and unafraid to speak her mind, which Alexios appreciated more than he admitted.

Andreas Koris, a retired soldier turned bodyguard insisted on protecting Alexios as best he could despite knowing he was hopelessly outclassed. His steadfast loyalty had won Alexios' trust.

Eleni, a young oracle with an uncanny ability to foresee events related to the divine. She had been essential in tracking heretic gods.

Their headquarters was a villa overlooking the Aegean Sea, a sprawling estate gifted by the Bronze-Black Cross in a rare moment of goodwill—or perhaps calculated generosity.

"They think they can keep me leashed with gifts and courtesies," Alexios thought, his lips curling into a smirk. "Let them try."

His thoughts snapped back to the present as a wave of energy rippled through the air, subtle yet unmistakable. A heretic god had descended. He could feel the divine presence emanating from the temple below, a suffocating weight that pressed against his chest.

This was why he was here. The gods were capricious beings who often disrupted the mortal realm for their amusement. It was a Campione's duty—no, his curse—to confront them.

He reached the base of the dune and began his approach to the temple. The structure was ancient, its sandstone walls adorned with hieroglyphs depicting Set, the god of chaos and storms. The oppressive aura grew stronger with each step, and Alexios felt a familiar mixture of dread and exhilaration.

As he stepped into the temple's shadowed interior, Alexios couldn't help but reflect on how far he'd come. When he had first become a Campione, he had been reckless, angry, and unsure of his place in this new world. Slaying Hercules had granted him unimaginable power, but it had also painted a target on his back.

Over time, he had learned to wield his authorities with precision. He was no longer the desperate man who had clawed his way to victory against a god. He was a warrior, a tactician, and, above all, a KING.

The oppressive air of the temple was suffocating, the weight of a divine presence pressing down on Alexios as he strode forward. Torchlight flickered weakly against the looming walls, and hieroglyphics seemed to shift, alive with chaos. This was the lair of a god.

Alexios felt it in his bones: Set, the god of chaos, storms, and deserts, was here. He flexed his fingers, the gauntlets of the Nemean Lion gleaming faintly with golden light. Each step brought him closer to the heretic god.

Ahead, the jackal-headed figure of Set loomed, his form shimmering with a power ancient and primal. His golden eyes burned with disdain as he gazed at the intruder.

"So, you are the one who has stirred the heavens and defied the divine," Set rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "A mortal who dares to tread in my domain."

Alexios tightened his fists. "I've sent gods to the grave before you. You're next."

Set's laughter echoed through the chamber, shaking the walls. "Do you think chaos can be slain, boy? Here in my desert, I am eternal. You are but a speck of dust to be scattered by the storm!"

The ground beneath Alexios shifted, sands pouring from the cracks in the stone as Set invoked his authority:

"Chaos Unbound, rend this world asunder! Let the storm of the ages rise!"

The air erupted into a maelstrom of sand and wind. The walls of the temple crumbled as the storm engulfed the room. Razor-sharp grains of sand tore at Alexios' skin, and jagged shards of stone materialized, hurling toward him like spears.

Alexios reacted instinctively, invoking his first authority:

"By the labor of the Nemean Lion, let my flesh defy blade and claw!"

A golden sheen enveloped his body as the lion's indestructible hide imbued him with invulnerability. The storm's fury battered against him, the sand and stone bouncing harmlessly off his shimmering skin.

He lunged forward, fists glowing with the power of the lion, and struck at Set. The blow connected, sending a shockwave rippling through the air and forcing Set to stagger. Not finishing there he channelled the e authority of the lion to summon his personal signature weapon. His hand erupted with light as gauntlets appeared.

~LIONS ROAR~

"Nemean Cetus" the gauntlets take the appearance of a roaring, silverish gold lion, with black on the sides. The gauntlets also feature spikes on them, some curving back and others curving forward.

Alexios struck out delivering a devastating concussion wave from his blow.

Set snarled, raising his hand.

"Serpent of Apep, rise from the abyss and strike down my foes!"

The sands twisted and coiled into a massive black serpent, its scales glinting like obsidian. It lunged at Alexios with fangs dripping venom.

Alexios dodged to the side, invoking another labor.

"From the marsh of Lerna, the Hydra's venom courses through me. Let its poison corrode all it touches!"

Green energy surged around his fists as he struck the serpent. The venom of the Hydra clashed with the serpent's chaotic form, the two energies crackling and sizzling as they tore into each other. The serpent recoiled, its body disintegrating as Alexios pressed the attack.

Set's laughter boomed. "You are strong, mortal, but strength alone cannot match chaos!"

He raised both hands, summoning another authority:

"Desert's Wrath, engulf this land in desolation and despair!"

The ground quaked as massive dunes rose around them, shifting and collapsing in an endless cycle. The battlefield expanded into a vast desert, the temple now buried beneath the sands. Lightning arced across the darkened sky, striking the ground with deafening cracks.

Alexios grinned despite the chaos. "Two can play that game." He raised his hand and chanted:

"By the treasures of Uruk, let the armory of kings stand before me!"

Golden portals materialized, opening to reveal an array of divine weapons. From the portals emerged weapons tied to myths and legends of great renown, All of which fired at supersonic speeds toward the God of Chaos

Set was forced to dodge and weave, his godly flesh could ignore most of these weapons, but the feeling of dread welling up in him, indicated there were some in this onslaught capable of ending him Alexios charged forward, delivering a flurry of blows that sent shockwaves rippling through the air. Each punch carried the weight of the heavens, cracking the dunes and sending Set skidding back.

Set roared, his form growing larger as he invoked his ultimate authority:

"Lord of Storms, unleash the chaos of the heavens! Let the desert rise to consume all!"

The sky split open, and a colossal sandstorm descended. Tornadoes spun across the battlefield, tearing apart the dunes and hurling debris with devastating force. Set, now towering and surrounded by swirling sand and lightning, radiated power.

Alexios braced himself, invoking another labor.

"By the labor of Erymanthos, let my charge be unstoppable!"

He dashed forward, the redish-gold aura of the boar enveloping him. The storm could not slow him as he barreled into Set, his fist colliding with the god's chest. Upon impact, the mighty roar of the Namean lion echoed across the desert. The impact shattered the storm momentarily, creating a pocket of stillness.

Set was sent hurtling towards the desert below, greatly injured but not yet defeated. 

Set snarled, blood dripped from his lip and his chest looked somewhat indented, He staggered to his feet summoning his serpent once more, this time imbued with the full force of his chaos. The serpent lunged, its fangs bared.

Alexios countered with the final labor he had yet to use:

"By the labor of Cerberus, let the guardian of the underworld grant me dominion over death!"

A spectral image of the three-headed hound appeared behind him, its growls shaking the air. Chains of golden light shot out from the hound's mouth, ensnaring the serpent and dragging it into the earth.

Set, now weakened, raised his arms in defiance. "You cannot kill chaos, mortal!"

Alexios raised his fists.

"By the labors that shook the earth and the deeds that earned my place among the stars, I unleash the wrath of a hero divine"

The air distorts as golden energy gathers around Alexios, forming an ethereal image of Hercules behind him.

"Chaos or not, gods fall before Campione. TWELVEFOLD WRATH"

He swung his fist, and the energy unleashed from his blow cascaded forward like a divine storm, obliterating everything in its path. Set's roars of defiance were drowned out as his form and essence were eradicated, and the desert split forming a gorge that extended for miles.

The storm faded, and the desert fell silent. Alexios stood amidst the ruins, his gauntlets dimming as the power receded. He looked out at the endless sands, his chest rising and falling.

"Another one down," he muttered, the weight of his deeds pressing on him. "And the world keeps spinning."

The sands had settled, and silence enveloped the vast desert. Alexios removed the Gauntlets of Kingship, which dissipated back into golden light, and ran a hand through his hair. His muscles ached, his breathing ragged, but a grim smile tugged at his lips.

Set was no more.

Before he could relish the victory or contemplate the repercussions of slaying one of Egypt's most prominent gods, a familiar buzzing sound echoed in his pocket. He pulled out a sleek, enchanted device—an amalgamation of modern technology and magecraft.

The voice of one of his most trusted subordinates, Sarah Valmont, crackled through the line.

"Milord," she began, her tone steady but edged with urgency. "There's been a request for your presence from the Copper-Black Cross. They've sent an envoy to your territory. It seems urgent."

Alexios frowned, wiping sand from his face. "The Copper-Black Cross? They're rarely direct. What's the nature of the meeting?"

"They wouldn't say over the link," Sarah replied. "But given the timing, I'd wager it has something to do with your recent activities."

Alexios chuckled darkly. "By 'recent activities,' you mean the heretic god I just put in the dirt."

"Precisely. I've already sent transport to your location. Shall I prepare the council chamber for their envoy?"

"Do it," Alexios said, his voice firm. "And tell them they'll have my attention, but not my patience. I don't play games."