Chapter 19 – 19: 3 Godslayers Meets! The Balkan Showdown Begins

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It was midday. Sunlight streamed through the glass windows of a luxurious hotel restaurant in Florence.

Haru and Sora were enjoying an Italian meal. Prosciutto and fresh seasonal vegetables were served as appetizers, followed by the main courses – deep-fried lamb brains, a local delicacy, sausages prepared with a secret recipe by a renowned chef, and Florence’s unique thin-crust bread. The table was laden with an array of dishes, a truly sumptuous feast.

Although the flavors weren’t entirely to their Eastern palates, the food had a unique charm. As they savored their lunch, a shadow emerged from the ground, gradually taking the shape of a human. It was Amakasu Touma, the ninja agent of the History Compilation Committee.

Haru put down his knife and fork, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He had a feeling he knew what this was about. “What is it? Something that requires reporting at this hour?”

“Your Majesty! The ninjas tracking the Hime Miko clan have sent a report. Mariya Yuri has been forcibly abducted by a local secret society in Austria. Due to being on their home turf, the ninjas have temporarily lost track of her.” Amakasu Touma knelt on one knee, his face grim.

Such a major blunder on his first mission… he could already imagine the punishment he would face from the History Compilation Committee upon returning to Japan. But his immediate priority was to appease the King’s anger.

“So, the Wolf King has taken the bait!” Haru said, his face lit up with excitement.

Hearing the unique title “Wolf King” and Haru’s words, realization dawned on Amakasu Touma. He stared at Haru in shock.

“Fabricate a reason and notify Voban to release Mariya Yuri. Also, have James come see me.” Haru gave his orders, a wide smile on his face.

“Haru, what are you planning? Another fight?” Sora asked, frowning as she swallowed a bite of roast suckling pig.

“Something like that. This time, I’m going to beat up an old man.” Haru looked at his lover with apologetic eyes. Despite her dislike for trouble, she always indulged his antics.

Hearing that his opponent was an old man, Sora felt reassured. *An old man shouldn’t be too dangerous*, she thought. However, after witnessing the strength of the 2, she realized her assumption. *There’s nothing normal about Campiones!*

The sound of two pairs of leather shoes echoed through the restaurant. James, the Knight of Purple, followed Amakasu Touma into the dining room, stopping before Haru. “My deepest apologies for keeping Your Majesty waiting.”

“No worries, James. The Copper Black Cross must have people monitoring Marquis Voban’s movements, right?” Haru asked, his eyes gleaming with a sharp intensity despite his friendly smile.

James fell silent. While monitoring Devil Kings was common practice, even a necessity, no secret society would dare admit to it openly. Doing so would invite swift and brutal retaliation. No individual or organization, apart from gods and fellow Devil Kings, could withstand the wrath of those who ruled the earth. So, James remained silent, tacitly acknowledging the truth.

“I need his current location, as precise as possible. And arrange for access to a few surveillance satellites equipped to detect magical phenomena.” Haru finished his request, ignoring James’s troubled expression, and resumed his lunch with Sora.

In a remote mountain range in the Balkans, the weather was dark and oppressive. Black clouds blanketed the peaks, punctuated by flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder.

Halfway up the mountain, nestled within a sprawling, opulent Western-style castle that covered an area of 5,000 square meters…

In a dimly lit, damp meeting hall, flickering candlelight bravely illuminated the space, providing a meager source of warmth and light.

At the head of the table sat an old man, his eyes closed peacefully. He was dressed in a black suit jacket, a crisp white shirt, and a tie, his hair neatly combed back. He exuded the air of an intelligent, elderly gentleman.

The old man opened his eyes, revealing a pair of emerald green irises. However, unlike those of an ordinary human, his pupils were vertically slit, like those of a wolf, radiating a powerful will and a hint of madness.

Sasha Dejanstahl Voban, the oldest living Campione, over two hundred and fifty years old. He was a wild and powerful Devil King, possessing superhuman strength, the agility of a wolf, and an insatiable thirst for battle.

“Are they all here? The witches?” Voban’s voice, cultured and refined, echoed through the empty hall.

A figure materialized behind him, her body covered in countless cuts, as if from various bladed weapons – a testament to a life of countless battles. She wore a tattered tunic and a broken witch’s hat, her attire clearly identifying her as a witch. But her most striking feature was her deathly pallor. Her face was expressionless, her eyes wide and vacant, making her appear almost corpse-like, except for the lack of decay.

“They are all present. The flow of the earth veins and the alignment of the stars will reach their optimal positions in two hours and forty-three minutes,” the pale Death Witch said, her voice filled with an immeasurable sorrow.

After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “…According to reports from my subordinates, one of the priestesses appears to be connected to the newly born King of the Far East. He has requested her return.”

“Ignore the newcomer! If he wants the priestess, let him come and take her by force!” Voban dismissed the matter casually.

“…If we succeed in summoning the Heretic God this time, I will release you from my control.” Voban’s voice was indifferent.

The Death Witch’s dilated pupils contracted sharply, filled with a desperate longing and a glimmer of madness.

“Now, let’s go and inspect the offerings.” Voban rose from his seat and walked towards the castle’s main hall.

The previously dim hall was now brightly illuminated by countless candles. Dozens of young women, clad only in rough burlap sacks that barely covered their bodies, huddled together in small groups, seeking warmth and comfort. Each of their faces was etched with anxiety.

The grand doors creaked open, and Voban entered, his wolf-like green eyes sweeping over the assembled women.

The priestesses trembled, as if under the gaze of a predator, their eyes filled with fear as they looked at the old man standing before them.

“Greetings! I trust introductions are unnecessary. I have gathered you here to fulfill a long-held ambition of mine, and for that, I require your assistance.” Voban spoke with a sincerity that suggested a man burdened by a lifelong dream.

Seeing that the Devil King was not as brutal as the rumors suggested, one of the witches gathered her courage and spoke up. “Could you please let me go home? My mother is gravely ill…”

Before she could finish her plea, she lost all color, turning into a white statue of salt.

“I have not granted you the right to bargain with me,” Voban said, his voice cold.

The remaining witches stared at the oldest Devil King in terror.

“Follow me.” The Death Witch materialized, leading the women away.

Meanwhile, Salvatore Doni, searching for his friend Andrea, had lost his way and was unknowingly approaching the mountain range.

Haru and Sora, riding in a luxurious SUV, sped towards the mountains as well.

Three Devil Kings converged upon the Balkan Peninsula.

The curtain was about to rise.

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To be Continued..

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep