Campione! - Volume 18 - Chapter 9.3

Part 3 

London's nights were dark and gloomy, despite the large number of gas lamps erected in streets all over the place.  

This was a sight belonging only to the starting point of the Industrial Revolution, the great empire's capital which stood as its industrial heartland.  

However, the flames burning within the glass cases on the very top of slender poles were quite small and weak. One could imagine the brightness accordingly.  Furthermore, London's urban areas were shrouded by exceptional smog.  

What allowed Britain to become the world's biggest empire was the development of mechanized industry—and its power source, the steam engine, which required burning vast amounts of coal to drive.  

In addition, ordinary families used firewood in their furnaces.  

The chimneys of homes, factories and locomotives kept spewing black smoke nonstop.  

Consequently, the smoke hanging over London's urban areas, combined with winter's heavy fog, gave rise to this famous "Fog Capital."  

Even several tens of thousands of gas lamps would be insufficient to illuminate the night through this smog.  

Voban loved these dark nights and filthy environment.  

"Hmph."  

Simply walking on a street at night made his lips twist naturally in a grin.  

For Voban who had slain the sun god Apollo—thereby obtaining the wolven authority of "darkness and the beast of the land"—the night's darkness felt comfortable to him.  

Also, tonight was particularly cold.  

No walking figures could be seen on the street.  

The noise and bustle of people and horse-drawn carriages, unique to large cities—Such daytime imagery seemed almost like a lie. The surroundings were dead quiet.  

A gentleman walked up to Voban while he was enjoying this peace and quiet.  

"Lord Marquis... You grace me with your presence."  

"Hmm, so you're Sir Brennan huh?"  

The rendezvous point was "London Bridge."  

A bridge of stone built on the River Thames, it was not only sturdy but also very massive.  

A structure with an actual length of 310 yards (roughly 282 meters) and a width reaching 17 yards (roughly 15 meters).  

As a side note, the famous nursery rhyme of "London Bridge is Falling Down" originated here.  

Just as described in the lyrics, London Bridge was originally a wooden bridge that easily collapsed. However, it was rebuilt twenty years ago and now made of stone.  

Fortunately, it did not collapse ever since.  

"You are the one who sent the letter requesting a duel, aren't you?"  

Voban jeered quietly.  

"Sorry, but after reading it, the contents did not quite catch my interest. I was rather disappointed."  

"Then allow me to make myself clear again, O Lord of Magi."  

Sir Brennan was a middle-aged man. Roughly fifty or so.  

He was also quite massively built. Standing six feet tall (roughly 180cm), he was almost the same height as Voban. However, he was quite plump and more than three times as stout as Voban.  

The frock coat and shirt worn on his body were almost bursting at the seams.  

"Lord Marquis, if anyone on earth were to be closest to the title of Devil King, it would undoubtedly be you. Nevertheless, many of your statements require corrections."  

"Hmm, such as?"  

"Insane boasts of having killed gods, the current blasphemy of searching for 'Heretic Gods' worthy of killing, as well as weird nonsense about no one on earth capable of opposing you."  

"But it's all true."  

"Hahahaha. Please stop being ridiculous."  

Shaking his obese belly, Sir Brennan burst into laughter.  

"But I did witness with my own eyes."  

"What?"  

"Gods manifesting upon the earth—The appearance of Heretic Gods and their authorities."  

"......"  

"Gods are truly powerful and terrifying. It is absolutely impossible for them to meet defeat at a human's hand. And to think you are shamelessly boasting of victory."  

No sooner had the obese mage spoken than he shook his head.  

"If anyone could accomplish the great feat of slaying a god, it would only be a fellow deity. Lord Marquis, though you may be a powerful mage beyond compare, you are still limited by a human body. This is precisely why I have challenged you to a duel."  

To mistake a former vagabond who had never learned even the basics of magic for a "mage."  

This man named Sir Brennan was truly blind. However, Voban suppressed his urge to mock and spoke in a rather gentlemanly manner:  

"I see now. If you manage to defeat me, it would prove that I, Voban, am merely a pitiful son of humanity—"  

"Indeed. This will prove it."  

Currently, there was no one on London Bridge apart from Voban and Sir Brennan.  

Pedestrians and carriages crossing during the daytime frequently caused congestions here.  

However, there was apparently no one bored enough to venture out on this bonechilling night of fog. It was also possible that Sir Brennan had used magic to drive away the populace.  

Voban surveyed the vast London Bridge while scoffing audibly.  

People like Sir Brennan would show up once in a while, rejecting the existence of godslayers like Voban based on their half-baked knowledge. Voban originally had no interest in responding to this type of person, but this was a special exception.  

Despite feeling displeased that his opponent for this duel was definitely too insignificant a character, Voban accepted it as within toleration for evening entertainment. Thus he spoke and urged:  

"So, Sir Brenna. Isn't it time you show me the trump card you took such great pains to acquire?"  

"Oh my, you have already heard?"  

"Were it not for the existence of this artifact, I would have ignored your invitation in the first place. You are truly a lucky man... No, perhaps it would be better to say you are unlucky."  

"Dear me, if this was what secured my chance to have a duel against you, Lord Marquis—"  

The challenger who overestimated himself began to laugh proudly.  

"Then sure enough, I am in luck!"  

Sir Brennan suddenly revealed an steel-crafted weapon in his right hand.  

Summoned by magic. In Europe, this would be quite an exotic item. But for Voban who had traveled far and wide across the world, it was something he recognized.  

A short rod made of steel, a foot (roughly 30cm) or so in length.  

The rod's two ends were each split into three sharp prongs, almost like a fork. It was the the "vajra"—the weapon of choice for oriental monks wielding Buddhist magic.  

A weapon with its ends split into three prongs, this was apparently known as the "three-pronged vajra."  

A weapon of sorts. However, its role as a focus in religious ceremonies was far stronger.  

"I see now. That's a weapon of the gods, huh?"  

Voban nodded.  

It was an artifact that an English adventurer had "brought back" from a historical temple from the Tibetan plateau. Sir Brennan had reportedly purchased it for a handsome price.  

Even if Sir Brennan's abilities were top notch, he was ultimately just a human mage.  

But if he were to possess sufficient determination to challenge Voban, perhaps—  "Awaken, three-pronged vajra! Om Vajra tishtha Hum!"  

Sir Brennan suddenly chanted spell words.  

Then the three-pronged vajra fired powerful lightning at Voban.  

"Hoh."  

Voban muttered indifferently.  

The cheap apartments where working-class commoners lived would probably get blown away simply from the impact of this lightning strike. Furthermore, any surviving construction materials would burn intensely, resulting in the tragic incineration of the entire building.  

Nevertheless, a godslayer's body possessed "resistance against divine power and magic."  

The incoming lightning did not have the power to break through that resistance. The instant it struck the wolf king's body, the lightning's heat and shock suddenly vanished.  

Even so, Voban still narrowed his eyes. Indeed, the power was quite insufficient.  

However, he could sense the potential hidden in the three-pronged vajra—A sliver of it.  

"Hahahahaha! Don't tell me this is the end!"  

Voban roared with laughter with a bestial demeanor.  

"Totally not enough. Draw out even more power. Put your soul and entire being on the line to execute a full-powered attack against this Voban here!"  

"You don't need to tell me that. I intended to do so from the start!"  

Sir Brennan yelled. He was evidently growing anxious.  

But even so, he still infused magical power, admirable in quantity for a human mage, into the three-pronged vajra. As one might expect, he was a master-class mage after all.  

The three-pronged vajra shot lightning again towards Voban.  

And not just a single strike. The second strike came close behind. Then a third, a fourth, a persistent release of lightning. However—  

The godslayer's body effortlessly dispelled all of these attacks.  

The mage finally began to hyperventilate in shock. His flabby face turned pale.  

Perhaps he finally recalled. His past encounter with a Heretic God, witnessing the despairing disparity in power, the scene of utter defeat.  

"This is nowhere near enough, Sir Brennan."  

Thinking this was not working, Voban decided to instruct his opponent.  

Suppressing his fighting spirit, Voban spoke in a calm voice.  

"A man of your level will never create lightning sufficient to harm me no matter how much magical power you pour in. Even with a divine artifact—a rare treasure of antiquity."  

"Gah...!"  

His will to fight was probably provoked by the opponent's taunt.  

Sir Brennan gnashed his teeth in chagrin and released the fifth lightning strike. Dispelling it with casual wave of his hand, Voban spoke like a teacher at a lectern.  

"There is a method to surpass limits. Namely, by consuming one's life."  "!?"  

"The magical power stored in an ordinary human's body does not even measure up to a teardrop shed by a god... However, if you were to burn your soul with the majority of your lifespan as the price, it could become slightly stronger."  

"What nonsense are you spouting!?"  

"However, just think for a moment. If you fail to defeat me, then only death awaits you. Or rather, a pitiful death."  

Voban's honest advice remained logical to the very end and rather cold.  

He neither mocked the enemy nor gloated in his own victory. He simply wished to enjoy this battle as much as possible. Apart from that, he desired nothing, so he said indifferently:  

"At least, you ought to choose a manner of death worthy of your pride. How about it?"  

"Curse you!"  

Sir Brennan finally took new action.  

He tossed the three-pronged vajra in his right hand upwards overhead. The divine artifact from the Tibetan plateau thus flew up to the sky—  

It stopped at a point in midair. With sparks erupting, it began to release lightning.  

Suddenly manifesting over London Bridge was something akin to a small star.  

"...Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life!"[8]  

Spell words filled with anger and feelings of humiliation.  

Words from holy scripture about the sacrifice of life. Life energy, white in color, rose up from Sir Brennan's body of flesh and was absorbed into the three-pronged vajra high above.  

The obese body turned thin within the blink of an eye—His flesh atrophied.  

In contrast, the three-pronged vajra's lightning output gradually increased. The brightness illuminated the darkness shrouding London that even gathering ten billion gas lamps would not defeat.  

Abandoning his pride, Sir Brennan had taken Voban's advice.  

In an attempt to fill the excessive gap in power, he gambled on a chance of one in ten thousand.  

Enveloped in extremely powerful lightning, the three-pronged vajra descended upon Voban.  

"...Let's reminisce a bit. It happened roughly seven years ago."  

Voban raised his right hand to the sky and spoke quietly.  

The three-pronged vajra and lightning approached from the sky. With a trail resembling a meteor's more than lightning's, it flew towards London Bridge, descending on the godslayer's head.  

This three-pronged vajra—Voban casually caught it in his hand.  

A ferocious bestial grin surfaced on the corners of his lips again.  

"Back then, I met three gods while wandering in Asia. A trinity of gods, whose members governed wind, rain and thunder respectively. Those guys rained lightning down for fun... Yes, you achieved one tenth of their power, Sir Brennan!"  

Actually, let alone a tenth, it was doubtful whether he even reached half of that.  

Voban was deliberately flattering him while secretly snickering to himself. The lightning infused in the three-pronged vajra instantly disappeared. It was absorbed into Voban's right hand.  

The massive glowing lightning that had lit up London's smoggy night was gone.  

Having gambled everything on that attack, Sir Brennan was shocked to see that it had ended so anticlimactically.  

Meanwhile, Voban toyed with the weapon while speaking quietly.  

"Finally obtaining victory over the three gods, I usurped an authority from them. You are quite unlucky after all. In truth, I too... have some insight on the usage of lightning."  

Calling forth winds and clouds, bringing downpours, summoning the descent of lightning.  

An authority of "storms" usurped from ancient gods in Korea—Feng Bo, Yu Shi and Lei Gong.  

By the time anyone noticed, the sky was filed with dark clouds. Large raindrops began to fall and turned into a downpour within the blink of an eye. Strong gusts of wind also blew.  

Then the sky rumbled heavily and lightning began to descend.  

A stormy night had arrived.  

Whether wind, rain or thunder, none of it seemed like it would end that quickly.  

Cleansing the metropolis of its filthy fog and darkness, it raised the curtain for a divine disturbance.  

"This is actually my first time using this authority in London. Although I haven't used it for a while, I evidently haven't gone rusty."  

"Eeeeeeeeek!?"  

Too preoccupied to pay attention to Voban's cold whispers, Sir Brennan screamed loudly.  

Having lost his lifespan and flabby flesh, Sir Brennan cowered in fear.  

It was probably due to the incessant lightning falling upon London Bridge. Every lightning strike was more powerful than Sir Brennan's ultimate lightning just now.  

The marble used to build the bridge was smashed and pierced by the impacts, shaking violently.  

A sturdy and massive bridge of stone. In spite of that, it was getting trampled by the relentlessly descending lightning, swaying like a rope bridge in hurricane.  

Had he the intention, Voban could even use rain to flood the River Thames.  

A flash flood could easily break London Bridge and wash it away.  

However, Voban had no such intent.  

Just summoning some wind and rain as appropriate for two or three hours with some arbitrary lightning would be good enough—Voban spoke quietly to the thunder clouds in the sky above.  

He had better hurry away from London Bridge. Unlike the rapidly departing godslayer, Sir Brennan was collapsed on the bridge.  

Due to pouring the majority of his life force into the three-pronged vajra earlier, he did not even have enough remaining strength to walk. He was probably going to end up devoured by falling lightning or blown away by the raging wind.  

Marquis Voban had no interest in terminating such trash personally.  

Whether Sir Brennan was to live or die—  

Let his luck decide. Perhaps his miniscule life might be spared if fortune were to favor him. Naturally, it was impossible to know what final fate awaited him.