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[Crossover] Ch 221: The Seventh Campione?
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 17:56:17 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Diana Milito. The person who taught Liliana the arts of witchcraft.
A witch with a face that never aged, fond of elaborate frilly dresses that made her look like a schoolgirl, though her real age had long since slipped beyond anyone's guess.
As a high-ranking officer of the Bronze-Black Cross, she had shaken off her subordinates and come alone to Milan, a city she knew well. But as she stepped off the train—delayed hours longer than planned—her heart churned with unease.
She had no way back now.
No matter her choice—bowing to the two Gods, or to Salvatore Doni the King of Swords—either path spelled disaster.
Offering up the relic to the King of Swords might be loyal, but it meant sacrificing Liliana Kranjcar, the Fairy Knight.
That, in turn, would draw punishment from the Bronze-Black Cross. So if she wanted to avoid outright betrayal, then trading the relic to buy Liliana's life and protection was the best compromise she could see.
And if it was Lord Salvatore… surely, as long as he had gods to fight, he wouldn't mind a bit of betrayal on the side?
With that faint hope, Diana carried the sealed relic into Milan City. Her instincts as a witch led her, improbably, to a couple's hotel.
"…"
She wanted to groan. Of all the places, why were two gods staying here—and with her beloved student, no less?
Still, she grit her teeth and walked in.
The hotel attendant's look was… peculiar. He guided her upstairs, but just before leaving, Diana caught a muttered comment in a tone dripping with envy:
"Three at once… that guest must have a monster in his pants. Wonder what his secret is…"
Face burning, Diana drew in a breath, steadied herself, and pushed open the door.
The instant she stepped inside, a wave of pressure rolled over her.
It was the kind of suffocating divinity mortals only ever felt in places like great cathedrals, ancient shrines, or ruined temples. Only this was tens of thousands of times stronger. It nearly knocked her flat.
Clutching the case, she shut the door behind her with a click.
At the window, Ryo lifted his head lazily. "Well, took you long enough."
Diana dropped to one knee and bowed low, not daring to meet his eyes.
"I've arrived later than promised. I beg your forgiveness, my lord."
"No worries. You're earlier than I expected, actually."
Ryo flicked his hand dismissively, then grinned and pointed at the case she carried.
"Hand it over. My dear Athena's been waiting."
Thunk!
A small foot smacked his shin under the table.
Athena, sitting prim and expressionless above, had delivered the blow. But Diana and Liliana—heads bowed in reverence—didn't notice the goddess's childish sulkiness.
"I understand," Diana said quietly.
She rose, lifting the case onto the glass table still cluttered with breakfast dishes. For just a moment, she let her gaze flick toward Liliana.
Thank heavens. No wounds, no bruises. Only a shadow in her eyes, her spirit clearly shaken.
That alone told Diana the two gods here were not mindless tyrants. Not entirely, at least. She let out a slow breath of relief.
Kneeling once more, she opened the case. Inside, cushioned in red cloth, lay the metal medallion of the Gorgoneion.
Athena's eyes lit up.
"My snake!"
She snatched it up with trembling hands, cradling it to her chest as her face blossomed into a smile.
"At last… at last it is returned. The dignity of the Mother Earth, the essence stolen from me by thieves…"
Ryo chuckled. "Hey now, don't forget. A part of your wisdom's still in me."
"That makes no difference. In you or in me, it remains mine."
Athena's childish features softened into a smile radiant with joy as she stroked the relic.
Liliana and Diana, meanwhile, were both reeling.
Wisdom… in Ryo?
Couple that with Athena's identity and everything they had overheard… Liliana's heart skipped.
If—if there was only one Athena, the goddess herself—then what did that make Ryo?
A human carrying divine authority?
A Campione?
Diana's mind raced the same way. Athena, Metis, and now this snake—records all placed them under a single divine identity. Meaning there weren't two gods here.
There was one god… and one man.
A man with a god's essence.
A new Campione.
The seventh Campione.
Diana's eyes gleamed.
She remembered a rumor about Campiones. Some, after defeating a rogue god, could bind them as familiars.
That must be it. Ryo must have defeated Athena, bound her, and now carried part of her essence.
It explained everything. After all, no myth had ever spoken of a male Athena. That was absurd.
But if it was like this…
Diana shot her disciple a knowing look.
Liliana, cheeks scarlet, instantly averted her eyes.
So she'd realized it too.
Diana's lips curled into the sly smile of a village matchmaker eager to make a profit.
A young, vigorous male Campione.
A Campione who had just claimed Liliana as his personal servant for three hundred years.
The future was obvious.
Bronze-Black Cross's bloodline improvements… Liliana, I'll leave that in your hands. Diana winked at her repeatedly.
Liliana wanted to sink into the floor. Her whole face glowed red. She dared not reply, trembling with shame and—worse—fear.
And then Athena's earlier words came back to her.
The new Campione… liked her type?
W-wait… could this really be… the start of one of those novels she herself had once written?
The Domineering Demon King Loves Me Hard?
No, no way. That's too romantic.
Her heartbeat went wild.
Meanwhile, Athena pressed the snake to her chest, reabsorbing it into herself.
Though the absence of divine wisdom still left her incomplete, joy radiated through her.
She clambered up onto the table without hesitation, looped her arms around Ryo's neck, and kissed him on the cheek.
"My saint! To Sardinia—we march to war!"
"War? That flatters them," Ryo replied with a crooked grin. Confidence brimmed in his voice.
"All I will bring them is devastation."
He rose, casting a glance toward Liliana.
"Stay close. Countless enemies lie ahead, yet none can match me."
"Yes, my lord!"
The words leapt out of Liliana before she could think, her body moving on pure instinct.
.
.
.
