Chapter 1: Jereth

The sky was falling apart.

Not literally of course, but there was no other way to best describe the actual events that were taking place. Metaphors exist for a reason.

Great Sheets of rain were falling from the bruised and clouded sky, with enormous and constant snaps and snarls of lightning illuminating the arena.

Said arena was an ocean, so unfathomably deep that it was nothing but utter blackness, despite the constant illumination provided by the violent thunderstorm overhead. An ocean that had encroached upon the Earth, drowning cities and erasing large swaths of land during the course of it's ravenous journey.

But these were trifling details, a mere melodramatic backdrop to the true events happening upon this battleground.

The real focus was the 12 figures that stood arrayed upon this stage, all proud and powerful, apprehensive yet violent, resigned but excited.

Not prepared to die, but aware it's possibility.

Upon closer inspection the 11 Human figures were seemingly arrayed against the one decidedly not Human body, obviously at odds with each other.

And it was quite apparent that one side had a clear disadvantage when the actual battle would commence.

The 11 were far, far outmatched.

The other figure was one of distended proportions, as if a Whale, Eel and Dragon had been fused into one. It's size was seemingly impossible, a mountain floating across the seas, as unstoppable as it was majestic.

Yet the 11 did not falter. Preparing weapons and powers of legends long past, yet manifested in the current time stream, they let loose a shout of defiance, of challenge, of unwavering bravery.

11 unique and conflicting personalities, with seemingly nothing in common except their duty, and their refusal to back down.

Answering their call with one of it's own, the Beast reared back, a tidal wave of water caused by it's motion, and let loose a roar that shook the world.

Undaunted the 11 figures changed forward, meeting the Beasts challenge as one-


I awoke with a start, heart hammering and breath coming short and fast, the silk sheets plastered to my body from the sweat that adorns my skin and nightdress. Quickly beginning to cough and wheeze as my none too sturdy body begins to spasm due to my violent awakening and shortness of breath, I mentally sigh at the price of my power making itself known yet again.

Luckily Miss Ericson quickly rushes to my side, a cup of water in one hand and a soothing back rub in the other.

"Princess Alice, are you alright? I heard a sudden shout and when I came in you were…it was another vision wasn't it?"

Slowly regaining my composure and breath I take a small sip of the water and sigh in relief, still a little shaky.

"Thank you Miss Ericson, would you mind making some tea? I still need some…time to work through what I witnessed."

"Of course Princess."

Quickly leaving the room she goes to prepare a drink for me, and I slowly lean back and reflect on what the vision meant. It was different from most visions I have. While there is always a certain amount of guesswork involved in my premonitions, there are usually enough concrete details, specific events that allow me to alter events in a useful way, rather than just making changes and hoping for the best.

I frown as I consider what this vision felt like.

While it was definitely meaningful, and clearly warned of events to come, there was a certain…unrealness that pervaded the seeing. Which turns my frown into a full blown scowl.

I hate metaphorical visions. While they clearly warn of events to come, there is so much grey area in them that attempting meaningful action is practically a joke.

I hate merely sitting back and waiting for answers to fall into my lap, I prefer to to take an active role in matters such as these.

Well, as active as I can manage.

I let loose another sigh and decide to take stock of what I might have seen. The large being was almost certainly a Heretic God of some sort…but what one? There was no other indication of it's identity aside from it's appearance, which isn't much to go on since many Gods can change forms at will or simply adopt new forms permanently. The only other clue was it's absolutely terrifying power, which seemed limitless.

I've never heard or seen of a God that powerful before, and I sincerely wish never to do so again.

Although…the drowned and deluged cities might hint at this God being of a water origin.

Food for thought.

The other 11 beings though…I would safely bet that they were Campione. Although that in itself raises plenty more questions. 11 Campione? That means there could potentially be as many as 4 more Campione coming into existence. 8 Campione in almost three decades…that's quite an interesting spread if I say so myself.

Miss Ericson arrives with some chamomile tea and I gratefully take a sip.

"Feeling better Princess?"

"Yes, thank you Miss Ericson."

"…Have you a task for me?"

"Unfortunately I do not. So many things about that vision are unclear or are merely metaphors…although I can tell you this Miss Ericson…there was one very certain feeling I had during this seeing."

"What was it Princess?"

"Fear. Have the Witengamot pay very careful attention to any signs of new Campione or potential Heretic God attacks. If need be coordinate with Royal Arsenal and the other associations, I'll talk to the Black Prince if need be."

"Understood Princess…is it really that bad?"

"Yes. I was frightened when seeing this Miss Ericson. Things are going to change soon, and we need to be ready for it."


A slight curve in the wall where two chairs are set aside for potential guests.

An abstract painting of a California beach during sunset. Of pretty good quality.

The plain metal desk with a few scattered papers and office supplies on it's surface.

An impassive Esoteric like myself keeping a watchful eye on my person, lest I decide to do anything violent.

These are the things in this room I can look at without wanting to kill somebody. To look elsewhere is to catch a glimpse of the other 'Human' being in the room, who's the main reason I'm fantasizing about committing homicide with a blunt rectal thermometer.

I lock gazes with the Esoteric and silently measure my chances. He's not as good as me, but he doesn't have to be. He only needs to distract me long enough for-

"Jereth are you paying attention to me?"

-for the fat bastard in the room to do his thing and ruin my life for the umpteenth time.

Slowly cranking my head around I look at my boss. Doughy skin the consistency and color of spoiled dough. Rubbery lips like those of some disgusting sea creature. Sharp eyes that unfortunately house a very clever mind.

"I'm listening Brother Kollberg. Continue."

Which is much more polite than what I really want to say to him, which would likely consist of some violent threat about rearranging his intestines outside his body after ripping his head off.

Which is actually fairly tame when I consider some of the less savory things I've considered doing to him over the years.

"Very well, I'll need you to leave as soon as you can then. Sister Bianca has your airline tickets and Brother Lucho will meet you at the Lima International Airport. He'll take care of arranging transportation and acquisition of equipment. Any questions?"

"Yah actually. WHY exactly are you sending me to another Branch's backyard when they almost certainly have their own operatives available for something as critical as retrieving a fucking Grimoire. What's the real catch?"

He puckers his lips like the crease of an armpit and condescendingly says, "Why Brother Jereth, I'm surprised that you don't understand. While I'm certain that our fellow Brothers in the South American Branch are perfectly competent in their duties, would you not agree that we are more reliable to handle something as dangerous as a Grimoire?"

Translation: Kollberg just wants all the gravy so that he can baste his turkey better than the other Branches can. What an asshole.

To my disgust he stands up and puts a pudgy hand on my shoulder in a fatherly manner. I eye his fingers and briefly wonder if I could get away with biting one of them off. I bet the fat fuck tastes like pork.

"I wouldn't trust anyone else with this mission other than you Jereth. Do this and you will have vindicated my trust in your abilities."

I resist the urge to sneer. Trust?

Yah right. He sure doesn't trust me enough to take that fucking Commandment Seal off the back of my neck. Which is smart of him, because then I'd likely try to rip his throat out the second I was free.

"Oh, and you are forbidden from using the Grimoire in any fashion until it is returned to me personally."

I feel a slight twinge on the back of my neck that seems to travel to the base of my skull and I fight down the sudden burst of rage that he would dare put any sort of restriction on me…but of course, the universe cares little for my level of personal freedom.

Thankfully he doesn't seem to expect an answer to his command and dismisses me.

I can't leave the room fast enough.

"So how was your meeting Jereth?"

I turn towards the sound of probably my only real friend in the world's voice and wryly reply, "Oh it was great Creele. I only felt like killing Kollberg a couple dozen times as opposed to a few hundred, and had a potential plan to free myself from this friggin Seal shot down before I could even think about implementing it. How was your day?"

He grins and replies, "Much less aggravating than yours apparently. It's my reward for keeping my temper and not losing it all the time."

"Well congratu-fucking-lations. You heard about my next mission?"

"Of course."

You would never guess he was the North American leading Monastic information Brother by looking at him since Creele, a giant African American man of 6'3" and 220 lbs of pure muscle, is someone who looks like he should be off suplexing fools in a wrestling ring.

A rather salient lesson that appearances can be deceiving.

I scowl and complain, "Then you should know that it's practically guaranteed that something is going to go tits up on this mission. And I get to be in the middle of it."

Creele disinterestedly shrugs.

"You have a habit of being the last one standing in the end. I'm not particularly worried."

"Easy for you to say while you get to stick around in the air conditioned office dickhead."

"I'll miss you to Bat-Gwai."

I roll my eyes and move to leave. He clasps my shoulder before I can do so and gives a non-joking nod.

"Stay sharp out there Brother."

I clasp his opposite arm and give a nod of my own.

"Appreciate it Brother."


The Gringo who quite a few of our Monastic Brothers and Sisters know as the 'Apostate' isn't quite what I expected. For someone with such a volatile reputation, he's rather unimpressive. Standing at 5'10", maybe 161 lbs of corded muscle that resembles barbed wire or rusted chain, dirty blond hair that is cut maybe three inches long and a face that straddles the line between handsome and forgettable. Picking him up at Lima international Airport had been a rather awkward first encounter, mostly because he was surprisingly grouchy.

Not aggressive or violent, but like an, 'old woman who was sick of the world and can only bitch about it', kind of grouchy.

Quite a bit different than what I had imagined. From there we had simply moved straight to our ambush point after stopping by a Monastic Abbey to acquire weaponry for our little heist. After we had arrived at the 1S Highway outside the city and settled down to wait he had simply kicked back the car seat, put his feet on the dash and seemingly fallen asleep.

I had merely shrugged and turned on the radio after awhile, more for some background noise than any desire to listen to music. It wasn't until we had been waiting for three hours, watching the traffic drive by as the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon that he spoke up again.

"You know, I've only been to South America three times before, and Peru once. And now that I'm finally here the only thing you play on the radio is crappy English music sung by guys who don't speak English. For the love of God, switch to some native station or something."

I bring my attention back to the music that's playing and find myself agreeing with his assessment. Growing up speaking both languages, the attempt at singing English by the band is cringe-worthy at best, while if the music and lyrics are even tangentially related to the original material, the original piece wasn't too special to begin with anyway.

I randomly flip to a station that's actually singing in Spanish and Brother Jereth sighs in relief.

"Much better."

"You know, you weren't quite what I was expecting Mr. Apostate."

"Well what were you expecting? And don't call me that."

His last sentence is uttered with such clinical delivery that I don't even try to joke about it.

"Well I was expecting a more imposing figure, and one with a far more angry and aggressive attitude. You just seem ornery."

He shifts to face me and I'm stuck facing his astonishingly bright eyes the color of Esmeraldas. I'm further surprised by just how expressive his face can be, an odd trait for an Esoteric assassin. Right now he is without a doubt radiating annoyance and disinterest.

"Well I'm very sorry to disappoint you. So what's your story? How did you end up working with the North American Branch and then end up here?"

I shrug.

"Some thing's happened before, then I did some other things not too long ago which ended badly, and now I'm here trying to pay off the fixing cost for said things."

He gives an uninterested scowl and goes back to his reclined position.

"You could have just said you don't want to talk about it."

"And where would the fun in that be?"

He doesn't reply and I amusedly go back to watching the road.

Another hour goes by without comment and the sun goes down completely, sending the surrounding desert into darkness and reduced temperature.

I sigh and say, "Why are we here doing this? Shouldn't our South American Brothers and Sisters be handling this?"

"They should be, but as you'll certainly come to learn, the Branches have a bit of a dick measuring contest going on between them."

I frown.

"Shouldn't the Council of Brothers be on good terms-"

"The Council of Brothers," He interrupts heavily with, "As a collective whole, can't decide on the goddamn day of the week."

"But our overall purpose-"

"Our overall purpose? The Monasteries have long since forgotten it Brother. Or do you think those guns and our Magic are exclusively for some unprepared and likely un-threatening rookie Magicians? Or are they meant to allow us to go head-to-head with other Monastic agents?"

I scowl as his words ring true. My position as an observer in Lima also doesn't seem quite so innocent anymore. More likely I was just being given busywork until the Branch needed an expendable agent on hand.

I turn to the figure cast in shadow and ask, "Do you have any proof of this Brother Jereth?"

"Proof? Nope. Just a lifetime of experience seeing how the Monasteries do their work. Take that as you will."

My further line of questioning is interrupted as my phone suddenly vibrates with only a single line of text in the message.

"Get ready"

Jereth glances at me and I shrug.

"That was our observer. He says our target is on the way."

He grumbles and jacks his chair back to it's original position.

"So if he can see them why isn't he doing our job for us?"

"He's not Monastic, merely Human."

"Well that's just dandy."

He sighs and kicks the door open, letting in a rush of cold air that he seemingly ignores.

"C'mon Brother, let's get this over with."


I set up a tripod for the AK-47 and check to make sure the infrared scope is working alright. I can Night-see, but any big slip of concentration will ruin my vision, which I really don't need to happen if things go wrong as I expect them to.

Casting a fortification spell on the rifle and camo blanket it's set up on, to better reduce the recoil by magically 'gluing' the two together, I breath out and start watching the road. Lucky break for us, this late at night traffic is sparse, with only one car every 40 or so seconds passing by. Maybe we might actually get away with not killing some innocent poor bastard.

"They're getting closer Brother. Two minutes out. Our friend says they're in a Black Sedan. I'm also getting a strong spike of powerful magic. Seems likely that's our Grimoire approaching."

"All right get ready with the tire brake. If there's magicians, never mind a Great Knight in there I don't want to give em a chance to fight back."


I spend the next few minutes gently practicing moving my crosshairs back and forth between where I assume the driver and passenger seats are going to be. Then it's time to rock.

"Ten seconds Brother."

"Don't wait for my signal, hit em' whenever you're set."

I get no response as the steadily approaching headlights draw closer then I hear him gently murmur, "Heart of Earth, beat wildly. Gaia Spike."

He actually vocalizes the spell in order for it to have maximum effect, and sure enough there's a brief flash of light, right before a giant spear of rock blasts through the highway and destroys one of the Sedan's front axles. It grinds erratically to a halt and I line up the rifle's sights and lay on the trigger.

Not bothering to carefully aim since I'm working with almost no recoil I strafe back and forth across the windshield, watching it spiderweb and then shatter as the 7.62 rounds hit home. I see a brief geyser of blood appear before one of the rear doors is suddenly booted open. Quickly shifting my aim in that direction I see a few rounds spark off the car frame and shred it, as well as a body jerk and hit the ground in a boneless sprawl.

3 seconds and 30 rounds later I stop firing as the clip empties. Quickly slamming a fresh one home I toss the rifle to Lucho and tersely say, "Cover me, and don't shoot me in the back."

He nods and I take a second to plant my hand on the ground before quietly intoning, "Predator of the night, heed the call and seek our enemies backs. Aeger Labrum."

A shadow seemingly detaches itself from the ground and wraps around my arm, before dissipating and leaving a Hisshou style knife in my hands, 13 inches of jet black metal except for a thin spiral of lavender coloration decorating the blade. Pulling an AMT Hardballer from it's holster and resting it across my wrist with the knife pointed outwards I start sprinting towards the torn up car.

I know a lot of the Mage Associations eschew the use of modern weaponry when it comes to combat, but that's their loss. Modern tech is capable of a lot of neat tricks, such as quickly putting a bullet in someone's skull at the speed of sound, which Magic and admittedly do…but not nearly as efficiently. There's a reason us Esoterics are better than your run-of-the-mill mage, and half of it is our open mindset towards equipment.

Arriving at the wrecked vehicle I quickly scan it and note two dead bodies in the front of the car. One took a round through his right eye and sternum, while the other has 4 holes riddled across his chest. I frown as I slowly edge around the car, unable to get a clear view on the guy who made it out of the car. There's a quiet howl as a gust of wind blows across the highway and I scowl. My gut's practically screaming that something isn't right, and if there's one thing I'm confident in it's my guts ability to tell when shit's about to go sideways.

My scowl deepens as I hear what sounds like whispering. Is that my ear playing tricks on me or is that-

"-and sally forth on boots of wind. Air Compress."

Oh shit.

The previously immobile vehicle suddenly shoots towards me with startling force and I barely have time to channel magic through the Aeger Labrum to defend myself. A thin line of shadow almost a meter long erupts from the end of the knife and I swing it downwards, neatly bisecting the car and causing it's two halves to skid by me in pinwheeling vectors instead of breaking half the bones in my body.

The guy who I had thought was dead is suddenly on his feet sprinting directly at me, a knife in his right hand and a blank look on his face. Quickly bringing the pistol around I fire two shots from less than three meters away that he somehow fucking dodges, at which point he's practically in my face driving a knife towards my heart.

Quickly switching to a reverse grip on the Aeger I knock his strike away, the superior weapon cutting his knife's blade apart at the base…only for his left hand to suddenly grab my gun hand and lever my wrist over his back. Instead of letting the fulcrum of his maneuver shatter the bones in my forearm I lean into the throw, getting my feet underneath me after a brief moment spent airborne and wrenching my arm out of his grip. Unfortunately the gun catches on his fingers and our two opposing momentums cause it to go flying off to the side.

Facing him I push off of my back foot and quickly launch into a Silat series of slashes that I fully expect to end the fight now that he doesn't have a weapon. Instead he bends and weaves perfectly, dodging all my strikes seemingly effortlessly before he slips past my guard and drives his stiffened fingers into my throat.

I manage to lean back far enough so that his handspear only causes my throat to cramp, as opposed to crushing my esophagus. It still keeps me from breathing though, which is kind of a problem. He pays for it with a quick slash that takes a chunk of his arm but he couldn't appear to care less as he grabs my knife arm in a blindingly quick hold and drives his heel into my elbow, neatly breaking the joint.

Well this is a shitty place to run into someone a whole assload more dangerous than I am. Hell, he fights like a…

…Like nothing, this guy is a Monastic Esoteric like me. He has to be.

Well this makes things interesting. Not necessarily in a good way though.

I'm brought out of my musings as he throws himself into a roundhouse kick that would have shattered my skull if I hadn't leaned out of the way, and I quickly step forward to drive my knee into his balls. At the last second he twists his hip, causing my knee to strike him on the upper thigh instead of the family jewels, although the impact throws him off balance. Seeing an opportunity I subvocalize a simple wind spell that sets off a small burst of pressure beneath my feet as I jump back, giving my leap an extra two meters or so.

Not vocalizing the words of a spell out loud really sucks the power of it, but it's way, way more quick this way which is really what I need now.

My opposite number quickly moves to follow…right before there's the sound of someone slapping their open palm against someone's chest, followed by the loud crack of an assault rifle. There's two more such noises and the mystery Esoteric jerks each time before seemingly swaying as if drunk. Looking down the both of us see three slowly spreading stains of crimson through his shirt, and he looks at me with embarrassment in his eyes.

"Shit…forgot about…the gun…"

He slumps forward and stops moving.

No longer in immediate danger of being beaten to death I massage my throat until it unclamps and I briefly gag before inhaling a huge breath of air. Glancing at my useless arm I wince and decide I'll have to use a regrowth spell on that, since I'll be needing two working arms real quick if my hunch is correct. Slowly standing up and retrieving my pistol Lucho suddenly speaks up in my earpiece, "Is he dead?"

I take a closer look at the guy and train my pistol on his head.

"No, he's just really good at faking."

"Looks dead to me."

"Quit arguing and bring the Mollifier. I need to ask this guy a few questions. And keep an eye out for any unwanted guests."

I keep the pistol trained on the 'dead' guy until another car pulls up and idles there, the driver clearly wary of what's going on. Careful to keep an eye on the unknown Esoteric I aim the pistol at the car and motion for it to go around. It does so and I sigh. The police will probably be on their way sooner or later now.

Lucho appears by me and hands me a syringe with a clear liquid in it, which I quickly administer while Lucho covers me. Giving it a few seconds to course through his bloodstream I sit down and turn to my sidekick.

"Check the car for the Grimoire, and then make sure no one else interrupts us. I need to have a chat with this Brother of ours."

"Got it."

He walks off and once I'm sure the agents spread throughout his body I drag him over to the car and drop him on his back unceremoniously, he won't bleed out this way. The syringe was full of a drug that keeps the recipient wide awake and alert, but relaxes all the muscles in the body below the neck to the point where they can't move, making it handy for interrogations when dealing with insanely deadly people. I sit down with a sigh next to him and ask, "So, Brother Who-gives-a-shit? What's the story here?"

Almost a full minute goes by and just when I'm starting to think I did a goof and he's actually dead he slowly breathes out.


"You know I never really got your name when you were in the middle of beating me to death."

"How's your arm?"

"Broken. How's your sucking chest wounds?"

"Oh sure, serve one up why don't yah?", he painfully wheezes out.


"You can call me Haywood, Haywood Jablome."

"What are you, the 5-year old queen of smack talk?"

"Your the talkiest damn killer I've ever met, and that's saying something."

"I'm not killing anyone tonight…well at least not anymore. This is a prime deal I'm offering you here Brother. Just answer a few easy questions I have and we all live homicidally ever after."

"Sorry, might as well shoot me."

I roll my eyes and say, "Ok how about this. I'll just talk out loud to myself, and you can listen along however you well please."

He sighs and dryly says, "You know I won't tell you anything."

I ignore him and say, "I find it pretty weird that you were riding along with these clowns anyway. If you were simply after the Grimoire those two would have already been dead and we would still be camped out in the desert waiting like stood-up teenagers at a dance. Instead you hitched a ride with them, and here's where things get strange. Once you stopped kicking the shit out of me and I started talking to you, you immediately went to the, 'I'm not telling you anything' stage instead of going with some bullshit cover story."

He doesn't give any sign that he's listening.

Undaunted I continue with, "Going off of that, it's obvious you were thrown into this with almost no backup or preparation, which suggests this was important enough that you had to throw caution to the winds. That's worrying, because I can't imagine too many things more important than retrieving a fucking Grimoire. Feel like throwing me a bone here?"


I give him a sidelong look.

"I'll remind you that I swore an oath, just like you, like all of our Brothers and Sisters, to ensure humanities future no matter the cost."

"I never broke my oath Mr. Apostate."

"Can I just say I really hate that name? And I never broke my oath, contrary to what everyone seems to believe."

"Yet here I am, bleeding out because you and another Brother from another Branch decided to get a leg up in the world."

I frown and point to the back of my neck.

"We both know that's only because the real Oathbreaker is an asshole and is trying to dip his hand in everyone else's cookie jar. Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, we're on the same side here?"

He gives me the briefest of glances before remaining quite for almost a minute. I hear Lucho shouting at some people before a car drives off before the Esoteric rubs his eyes with a pale, shaking hand and says, "The rest of the deal was supposed to go down at a resort in Lunahuana about 8 hours from now, what little I got from those two was that there are supposed to be three other Grimoires that they're picking up."

I feel my eyes widen.

"Three Grimoires?! Where the fuck did these guys get ahold of those?!"

He shrugs.

"I wasn't told much before I was thrown into this clusterfuck of an operation. How did you know about it?"

"Captain dickhead didn't see fit to fill me in on the details. Not a clue."

"Well the only solid lead I got was that Royal Arsenal is involved somehow. I don't know if they're the ones buying the Grimoires, or maybe it was stolen from them. Kind of in the dark here."

I grumble under my breath.

"Stellar. So should I expect the Black Prince to show up in a blaze of midnight lightning and smite us all with his presence?"

"Maybe. Last I heard he was still at his lab. Four Grimoires might be enough to drag his attention away from his precious research though."

"That would indeed be just our luck."

I groan and stand up, walking over to Lucho. Before I get too far he calls out, "Be careful driving there, that car of yours looks like a stick-shift, and you only have one arm."

I resist the urge to drive my foot into his balls and settle for retorting, "Fuck off."

Sidling up to Lucho he says, "Quite the informative interrogation. What's the plan?"

"Get him back to Lima and stick him in a Hospital or something. Even with magic he's gonna take awhile to recover from those hits. You have the Grimoire?"

He raps his knuckles against his backpack and I hear the sound of stone.

"All taken care of."

"Good. Make sure it reaches the N.A. Branch and tell them I went after the new Grimoires. Hopefully Kollberg won't trigger my commandment seal or anything that way."

"Ok amigo. But how are you getting to the meeting point?"

"I'm taking the car obviously."

He sighs and says, "So I get to explain this shit to the cops eh?"

"It'll be good practice. See you around."

Walking back to where our transportation was parked I hop into the drivers seat and set a healing talisman on my busted arm. I'll need this thing for the meeting, so I have a pleasant 4 hours of intense discomfort to look forward to as the bone goes through an accelerated mending process.

Channeling a bit of magic into the talisman I feel the familiar sensation of ants crawling under my skin as it goes to work. Gritting my teeth I start the car and pull onto the highway, almost stalling as I try to work both the shift and wheel at the same time.

This assignment blows fucking chunks.


Now this was an unexpected turn of events. The Humans who had been fighting near our brethren's chronicled power were apparently heading their separate ways after their altercation had concluded.

This now offers a decision. Follow the one Human without our Brethren's power, or follow the ones taking it with them?

Hardly a choice at all. Follow the Human who had left behind a God's strength, and was already healing his shattered limbs. Even more interesting the Human appeared to be traveling towards where three separate sources of our power were congregated.

We may have manifested early, but this should provide adequate amusement until our beloved enemy is incarnated upon this Earth.

Welcome all to my second project that I've started, Campione: The Theomachy!

(Cue Fanfare)

(And then cue Crickets chirping)

Anyway, maybe a little background on this before we get too far into it so everyone is on the same page.

I HAVE NOT read the light novels (mainly because it hasn't been released on Kindle to my knowledge, and physical space is at a premium. Also more expensive) but I have seen the anime, and I loved it. Also I've gone through the wiki quite extensively, making sure the stuff that already exists that I want to include isn't screwed too heavily.

It's a perfect example of how you can make a light novel, harem genre anime adaptation not be utter shit.

Regardless I've loved the premise of the show and would find myself returning to it once a year or so for a rewatch, and constantly wonder in what direction it would have headed had it ever received a second season.

Well hey, why not write the story I would have been super stoked to see?

In a nutshell, this story is my take on what a Godslayer who is precisely what the Mage Associations fear, a Tyrant with the will and drive to win at all costs, does with the power he is given.

Bear in mind that this story is definitely it's own thing, and while there's a couple bits from the Light Novels I'd like to expound upon, I'll largely be excluding specific story-arcs.

The first three chapters I'll be releasing one week apart as they form the 'introductory arc', and afterwards will likely be switching to a bi-weekly release schedule. This might change as I'm currently enrolled in Multi-variable Calculus, Gen Chemistry 120 and Engineering Properties of Materials so the homework and studying will likely cut into my writing time (As well as my wrists if the stress causes me to go off the deep end) and these deadlines are totally up in the air. But I have zero intention of dropping this story, so sorry in advance people who don't like my work :_(

So yah, Read and Review and all that jazz, I'm curious to see what people think!

(A hint for what Jereth's Authorities will be is in the cover image)