After a brief moment of astonishment, he immediately became alert, his hand moving toward his waist as he warily watched the suddenly appearing young girl.
"You... who are you? Why are you here?"
Although the person before him was a blonde, blue-eyed girl, ever since the incident with Angela, he had grown deeply wary of mysterious figures who appeared to be young girls.
"Jack, it seems you haven't been paying attention to international news lately... This is a very important person. Acting like that could be dangerous for you."
John Best smiled tiredly.
"Erica Blandelli, the newest Godslayer. There are even rumors that you defeated the most ancient king, Marquis Voban. I don't quite believe that, but the recent unrest in Eastern Europe is indeed a fact."
"Oh~ Even though you're not part of SSI, Professor, your information network is quite impressive."
"John Best. I can barely count as one of John Pluto Smith's assistants."
Erica nodded. "From what I heard in your earlier conversation, it seems you've discovered signs that Angela is still alive?"
"Angela... how do you know about that?" Jack stared at the girl with suspicion.
"There are many powers in this world beyond your understanding. Do you want me to give you a lecture on them right here?"
Erica looked at the SSI agent and said casually, "For example, Angela survived even after self-detonating because she is the heretical Leviathan—the undying serpent. She is someone who can revive even after death. That's why she could drag that so-called man who can defeat any opponent, Smith, into mutual destruction."
From Erica's impatient tone, Jack once again recalled the black silhouette from that night.
"That serpent's name is Leviathan. A terrifying sea monster feared in legends all over the world. A god passed down through stories as a serpent that brings calamity. And there are many examples of serpent goddesses possessing immortal divinity. Surviving even after perishing together with Smith was likely the result of such a blessing."
"An immortal goddess? How can something so absurd exist!"
"Absurd? Smith was known as a Godslayer. As his partner, don't you know why he bore that title?"
"I thought it was just an exaggerated way of emphasizing how special he was."
Even the Black professor at the side could not ignore such an amateurish response.
"That is not the case. The term should be taken literally. Smith once killed a god. He is a warrior who usurped immense Authority—just like Miss Erica here."
"!"
Godslayer... chosen warrior...
That man who always carried a strange sort of aristocratic pride... who would always arrive late, yet precisely at the right moment... the man admired and feared by so many...
Were those grand titles truly meant for someone like him? Was he really that great?
Yet when that black figure swept his dark cloak behind him and charged toward the colossal white serpent capable of raising a tsunami, what words could possibly describe him?
At that moment, Jack was completely stunned.
"Moreover, as far as I know, only another Godslayer or a true god can fight a Godslayer to a draw. That is an absolute law. For Angela to defeat Smith, she had to transform from a cultist into the serpent god Leviathan. That's all there is to it."
"But how can a human possibly become a god!"
A pained expression appeared on Professor Best's intelligent face. Though Jack understood little about magic, he could still grasp how desperate their situation was.
"In any case, if Angela is resurrected within the next few days, then we are destined to lose. I don't believe they will spare either the professor or me."
"That might have been true before. But now that Miss Erica is involved, the situation isn't quite so hopeless."
"Hey. You two keep saying Smith and that giant serpent perished together. But do you truly understand the power of a Godslayer?" Erica interjected. "For a Godslayer, as long as there's even a single breath left, they won't die so easily."
Hearing this, Professor Best responded in a reflective tone.
"To be honest... I have felt the same way. That man doesn't seem like someone who would die so easily. How could a being known as the Pluto simply perish?"
"But it's been nearly a week since the incident. If he's still alive, why hasn't he contacted us?"
Jack rejected the old man's comfort with a pessimistic outlook.
That rare display of anger from the Black professor followed.
"Then what do you plan to do? March alone into the Fly King's stronghold and get yourself killed there?"
Unwilling to back down, Jack glared back and spoke words that were foolish yet tinged with passion. "That's right. To protect this city, people like you, and everything I hold dear."
"You sure talk big. With someone like you, what exactly can you protect?"
Though their words seemed confrontational, they were in fact the most sincere concern shared between comrades who cared deeply about one another.
But reality was still reality.
Trying to stop the resurrection ritual of a god with nothing but hot blood would be underestimating the capabilities of those dark sorcerers.
In the end, Erica said, "Fine. Leave this matter to me. It was one of the reasons I came here anyway. A technique that turns humans into gods is far too dangerous. I will not allow such a method to fall into the hands of evil."
...
While Erica was negotiating with the two of them,
On the university sports field, Satsuki, dressed in a short jacket, was strolling leisurely alongside the system, which had returned to the form of Metis, as if no one else existed.
For Satsuki, traveling abroad was not particularly rare. After all, she had traversed multiple worlds before.
However, walking through a foreign university campus like this was still an uncommon experience—this environment stirred faint echoes of her distant past. Those memories had grown too remote and blurred, leaving behind only vague silhouettes.
The people around them paid no attention to their presence. That was because the two of them were currently within a Folded Space created by Satsuki. She and Metis could see the outside world, but those outside could not perceive them.
That said, it was not entirely a leisurely stroll—she had merely grown curious about a certain woman who had suddenly appeared.
From the way others greeted her, this somewhat stiff-faced woman was named Annie Charlton.
She was Professor Best's research assistant and a graduate student. She had short red hair that resembled burning flames and wore a black women's suit.
It was easy to see that she was an ice-queen type beauty—rational, calm, observant, refined and well-mannered, yet not particularly adept at social interaction.
But Satsuki knew that this woman's identity was anything but simple.
The reason was straightforward: Satsuki discovered that her Tenseigan's detection ability failed when directed at this woman.
This was not the first time such a phenomenon had occurred in this world. Whenever Satsuki attempted to probe a Heretic God or a Godslayer with her Tenseigan, the interference of the Divine Arena would cause the attempt to fail. That was also why she had later chosen to win over the Hime-Miko, Yuri Mariya.
However, although the Tenseigan could not directly probe such targets, this failure itself provided a conspicuous piece of information.
Targets that cannot be detected are highly likely to be either Heretic Gods or Godslayers.
In other words, the taciturn woman before her was, with high probability, either a god or a Godslayer.
"How interesting. Just taking a casual stroll and I run into such an intriguing target. What a coincidence."
"I sense only something repulsive from her."
Metis, the system's manifested form, clearly held no goodwill toward that woman.
"Oh? For even a goddess like you to feel disgust... that makes her identity rather obvious." Satsuki watched with interest as the woman entered the research building. "Still, this outcome is quite dramatic."
"Should we inform Miss Erica?"
"No need. Since she has disappeared for a week without showing herself, she must have her own plan. Besides, we are not enemies in terms of position, so there is no need to disrupt the current balance," Satsuki said calmly. "Compared to a Godslayer, I'm more interested in another target... the undying serpent Leviathan. That Authority is quite similar to Athena's, isn't it?"
"It is hardly unusual for a god to possess immortality as an Authority. My own immortality comes from being a goddess of the underworld. The serpent attribute stems from the Gorgon. None of that has anything to do with Leviathan. And when it comes to immortality, most gods possess it to some degree. I see nothing particularly special about it."
"Perhaps. But there's something even more interesting about her. It may have been shattered by her last self-detonation, but even a broken corpse would be worth studying. Of course, a living specimen would be preferable."
Hearing that, Metis gave a cute shrug. "Another poor soul targeted by the Host~"
"At least it means she still has value," Satsuki replied indifferently.
While the two chatted, Erica and Jack emerged from the research building.
It was obvious that the atmosphere between them was far from harmonious. Jack remained wary of this stranger who claimed to be a Godslayer—perhaps after witnessing Angela, he now harbored suspicion toward all mysterious young women.
Erica bid him farewell and walked straight toward where she had parked, and Satsuki and Metis revealed themselves beside the red SUV.
"Erica, have you determined where those flies are holding the ritual?"
"I have. But there's an annoying fellow insisting on joining us." As she spoke, Erica jerked her chin in the direction Jack had driven off.
"It doesn't matter. We can simply hypnotize him with magic and toss him out of the battlefield when the time comes," Satsuki said flatly.
"How simple and direct... But Satsuki, are you really going to let that woman's resurrection ritual succeed?"
"Of course. Only if she revives will she have greater value. Besides, with our strength, dealing with a newly resurrected god will be effortless."
...
Three days later
The sun had set. Night had quietly descended. The full moon hung slightly west of center in the sky, and the sea reflected the fading glow of dusk.
The moment the final trace of sunlight vanished, the luxury cruise ship docked at Long Beach Harbor suddenly raised anchor and set sail toward the deep sea.
Choosing to depart at such an hour was hardly wise. Yet everyone aboard remained silent about it.
More than their departure time, however, their attire was even stranger.
Dressed as though attending a masquerade ball—or perhaps a carnival—around fifty men and women of all ages wore bizarre and anachronistic outfits.
They donned various formal suits, cloaks, hats, and scarves, as if clad in costumes from the wrong era.
Hidden among them, Jack knew full well that these were no leisurely gentlemen and ladies. They were all sorcerers of the Fly King—fanatics gathered for the resurrection of Angela, the Progenitor Goddess.
Using this seemingly playful night banquet as a cover, the dark magi had assembled at this crucial moment.
Two of them carried a coffin and placed it at the center of the deck. Inside lay Angela's corpse—their leader, whom they intended to revive.
The timing of the resurrection was closely tied to celestial phenomena and ley lines. According to their calculations, it had to occur when the full moon stood high in the sky. At that moment, immense magical power would be born between heaven and earth. By harnessing that power, along with the vast oceanic attribute surrounding them, they would create the opportunity to resurrect the Progenitor Goddess.
Now, less than an hour remained.
The prelude to the ritual began. The sorcerers gathered around the coffin started chanting incantations.
"O god who shelters us, grant our queen your blessing!"
"O god who shelters us, grant our queen your blessing!"
As an undercover agent, Jack showed a trace of displeasure—yet he joined their chorus.
Though he had received no formal training and knew little about magic, as someone who had followed Smith as an assistant, he possessed at least a negligible degree of magical aptitude.
And even that slight talent allowed him to feel the curse power within his body slowly increasing. The other sorcerers around him were likely experiencing the same growth in their own magical power.
—The moment was near.
As the full moon rose higher into the sky and Jack prepared to act, suddenly, the head of a sorcerer beside him exploded.
Like a smashed watermelon mixed with white fluid and fragments of bone, it burst apart violently, splattering blood across the deck and staining the surrounding believers.
Yet the anomaly drew no reaction from the sorcerers present.
As though submerged in some abyssal trance, their unified chanting did not cease for even an instant. Thus, explosions of flesh continued one after another.
One believer's hands. Another's abdomen. The neck of the man beside him. Sorcerers whose bodies burst apart in pieces collapsed to the deck.
"Even with favorable timing and terrain, they still require sacrifices to sustain the ritual? It seems these sorcerers are not particularly skilled," Erica said with a frown from the shadows where the three of them concealed themselves. "This ritual shares certain similarities with the summoning of a Heretic God that Liliana once mentioned."
"Watch Jack's movements. Don't let him interfere with the resurrection," Satsuki's voice came from the side. Yet her gaze briefly flicked toward another sorcerer who was chanting, and a playful smile appeared in her eyes.
This cult gathering was truly pitiful—permeated like a sieve without even realizing it. A fly was still a fly. Adding the word 'king' to it did not change that.
At that moment, the ritual in the center reached its climax.
As more and more people died, the remaining participants grew stronger in curse power. That power was channeled through the core sorcerers closest to the coffin and injected into it.
With a drawn-out creeeak of wood scraping, the magnificent coffin was forced open from within by some unseen power.
Then, the arrogant voice of a young girl—one Erica had once heard on television—rang out from inside the coffin.
"I am the heavens. Tremble before me! I am the earth. Curse me!"
From within the coffin, a brown-haired girl stood up.
She appeared around ten years old, with a face as beautiful as an angel.
"My head is Enlil. My face is the light of noon..."
"The incomparable goddess Uraš guards me! Around my neck hangs the necklace of the goddess Ninlil..."
"My hands are the radiant lunar sickles of the western heavens! My ten fingers are willow branches formed from the bones of revered gods..."
The young girl recited sacred verses in a clear voice. Then she removed the red robe she wore, exposing her naked skin.
Her slender body bore not an ounce of excess flesh, nor did it possess voluptuous curves. Yet that very lack created the tender beauty of an unripe fruit.
"O gods who protect me, dispel the demonic curse upon my body! O King Edinna, O Latarak, you are my chest and knees! O Mura, grant me strong legs!"
The terrifying voice of the adorable girl echoed across the night sky.
She was the master of the ritual.
She was the ruler.
She was Angela—the Progenitor Goddess who led the Fly King!