Ren stood in the center of the glassed crater in France, ignoring the distant sounds of approaching sirens and the chaotic fluctuations of the planet’s magic system.
[Acknowledged.
Generating viable dimensional coordinates based on Host’s parameters A translucent blue screen materialized in front of him, scrolling rapidly before locking into a curated list of three parallel realities.
[Destination Option 1: High School DxD Universe] [Destination Option 2: Jujutsu Kaisen (JJK) Universe] [Destination Option 3: DanMachi Universe] Ren paused, reading the third option carefully.
A high-fantasy city renowned for its food, where the gods had voluntarily sealed their powers to play guild master?
It sounded perfect.
Sealed gods meant no one would be dropping meteors on his cafe, and a bustling fantasy metropolis meant he could find a quiet, luxurious corner to simply exist.
“Lock in Option 3,” Ren commanded.
[Target Reality Locked.
Initiating Transit.] In the dead center of the glassed crater, an elegant spatial tear ripped open, rimmed with the deep, starlit energy of the cosmic void.
Ren adjusted the collar of his ruined jacket and stepped through the doorway, leaving his conquered home base behind.
The transition was seamless.
One moment, Ren was standing in the superheated ruins of a French town; the next, he stepped onto a lush, vibrant expanse of green plains.
The starry edges of the portal dissolved into the morning air behind him, sealing off the Campione universe entirely.
Ren took a slow, deep breath.
The air was crisp, pristine, and entirely devoid of industrial pollution.
A cool breeze swept past him, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.
A few miles ahead of him lay a metropolis unlike anything on modern Earth.
It was a sprawling, magnificent city encased within massive circular walls of pale stone.
At its very center rose a colossal white tower that pierced the sky, its peak disappearing into the clouds.
Before heading toward the city gates, Ren decided to properly evaluate his new biological baseline following his usurping of the Norse myth.
“System,” Ren spoke into the quiet wind.
“Status.” A sleek, minimalist blue interface materialized in his field of vision.
[Host: Ren] [Title: The Eighth Campione / Godslayer] [Active Authorities / Armaments:] – [Gate of Babylon]: The King’s Treasury.
Contains the prototypes of all human myth – [Domain of Absolute Frost]: The Ice Authority.
Grants absolute conceptual control over absolute zero, temperature manipulation, and glacial creation.
– [The Undying Core]: The Immortality Authority.
Grants high-speed, flawless cellular regeneration and absolute immunity to mortal decay.
– [Megingjörð (Zenith of War)]: The absolute pinnacle of kinetic force and durability.
Bone density, muscle fibers, and structural integrity permanently rewritten to match the apex of a War God.
[Current Location: DanMachi Universe (Orario)] [World Status: The Labyrinth City.
The Gods of this world reside among mortals, acting as administrators.
Their divine powers (Arcanum) are strictly sealed by a celestial pact.
No active planetary defense mechanisms detected.] Ren read over the screen and dismissed it with a thought.
His arsenal was flawless.
Between the absolute zero of his Ice Authority, the perfect regeneration of his Immortality, the physical durability of a War God, and the infinite offense of his treasury, he was truly untouchable.
And now, he was in a world where the local deities had willingly chained themselves.
He began the walk toward the massive gates.
As he approached, the sheer scale of the city became apparent.
The main road was bustling with merchant caravans, armored mercenaries, and travelers from various fantasy races—elves with sharp ears, dwarves with heavy axes, and humans clad in leather armor.
They all gave Ren wide berth.
To them, he was a strange anomaly.
He was walking toward the most dangerous city in the world unarmed, wearing strange, torn aristocratic clothing that looked completely alien to their medieval-fantasy aesthetic.
Ren ignored their stares.
He reached the massive iron-wrought gates of the city, where a line of heavily armored guards was processing entrants.
“Next,” a gruff guard called out, stepping into Ren’s path.
The guard looked Ren up and down, his eyes lingering on the torn, expensive fabric of his suit.
“State your name, business in Orario, and pay the entrance tax.
If you’re here to enter the Dungeon, you need to register with the Guild.” “I am here on vacation,” Ren replied, his voice calm and entirely devoid of inflection.
“I have no interest in your dungeon.” The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly unused to such blatant indifference.
“Vacation?
Look, kid, nobody just comes to the Labyrinth City for a—” Ren didn’t let him finish.
He had no patience for bureaucratic small talk.
He reached into his pocket, subtly opening a miniature golden ripple from the Gate of Babylon inside the fabric of his trousers.
His fingers brushed against the infinite mountains of treasure within.
He pulled his hand out and placed a single gemstone on the wooden ledger in front of the guard.
It was a ruby the size of a quail’s egg.
It was flawlessly cut, glowing with a deep, mesmerizing crimson light that instantly caught the morning sun.
In a world where adventurers bled in dungeons for copper and silver coins, the gem sitting on the table was worth enough to buy a minor noble’s estate.
The guard choked on his own spit.
His eyes went wide, and he instinctively looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the staggering display of wealth.
“Will this cover my entrance tax?” Ren asked smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto the guard’s.
“Y-Yes,” the guard stammered, his gruff demeanor instantly dissolving into a cold sweat.
He didn’t know who this teenager was, but anyone who casually carried a king’s ransom in their pocket was not someone a gate guard should anger.
“A-Absolutely, my lord.
Welcome to Orario.” Ren offered a polite, hollow nod and stepped past the checkpoint, leaving the trembling guard behind.
The moment Ren’s boot crossed the threshold of the city walls, the atmosphere shifted.
But high above, in the luxurious penthouses of the Babel tower, and deep within the high-end manors of the city’s elite, the true rulers of Orario all collectively flinched.
The Gods of this world had sealed their Arcanum to live among mortals, treating the lower world like an endlessly entertaining chessboard.
They were immortal, bored, and utterly arrogant in their absolute safety.
But in that single fraction of a second, every deity in the city felt an inexplicable, visceral shockwave ripple through their sealed souls.
In a high-end tavern in the entertainment district, Loki, the Goddess of Trickery, suddenly dropped her mug of ale.
The heavy wooden cup shattered against the floor.
Her Familia members turned in alarm as the usually boisterous goddess gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.
A cold, suffocating sweat broke out on her forehead.
For the first time in millennia, her immortal instincts screamed a single, primal word: Prey.
At the very pinnacle of the Babel tower, Freya, the Goddess of Beauty, gasped aloud.
The silver wine glass slipped from her elegant fingers, staining the plush white carpet.
Her eyes, capable of seeing the true color and brilliance of mortal souls, stung with a sudden, blinding agony.
She had looked toward the city gates, expecting to see the colorful, shimmering soul of a new adventurer.
Instead, she saw a void.
She saw a soul forged in the blood of dead pantheons.
She saw a walking extinction event—an apex predator whose very existence mocked the concept of immortality.
“Lady Freya!” her attendant, Ottar, cried out, rushing forward.
“Don’t look,” Freya whispered, her voice trembling as she covered her silver eyes with her hands.
“Whatever just entered my city…
do not look at it.” Ren, entirely unaware and completely uncaring of the divine panic he had just incited, walked through the cobblestone streets of the wealthy district.
He evaluated the city with the critical eye of a bored tourist.
The architecture was pleasing—a mix of pristine white marble and polished wood.
The streets were clean in this sector, and the ambient noise was manageable.
He eventually stopped in front of a massive, opulent building nestled at the edge of the noble district.
It was an elite inn, boasting pristine gardens, armed guards at the doors, and an aura of absolute exclusivity.
Ren walked past the guards, who were too intimidated by his cold, sovereign presence to stop him, and approached the front desk.
The innkeeper, a sharply dressed half-elf, looked up.
He took in Ren’s ruined jacket, ready to dismiss him, until he met Ren’s eyes.
The half-elf’s customer service smile froze.
“I require your largest, most secluded suite,” Ren said, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation.
“I also require a hot bath, a change of clothes—something tailored and directions to the best culinary establishment in this city.” Before the innkeeper could demand payment or explain that the penthouse was reserved for high-ranking nobles, Ren opened his palm.
Three solid, rectangular bars of pure, ancient gold clattered heavily onto the polished mahogany desk.
The innkeeper stared at the gold, then back at Ren, his mind struggling to process the sheer absurdity of the transaction.
“Right away, sir,” the half-elf managed to squeak out, frantically sweeping the gold behind the counter.
“The top floor is yours.
I will have the finest tailors in the district brought to your room immediately.” An hour later, Ren was a new man.
He had discarded the ruined remnants of his fight in France.
He now wore a bespoke, deep charcoal dress shirt, perfectly tailored dark trousers, and a sleek, long black coat made from the finest Acromantula-silk equivalent this fantasy world had to offer.
He stepped out of the inn, feeling refreshed, clean, and finally ready to begin his day.
Following the innkeeper’s frantic recommendations, Ren navigated the bustling streets until he reached the commercial district.
He found a high-end, open-air cafe with pristine wooden tables, overlooking a quiet, crystal-clear canal.
He took a seat at a corner table When the waitress brought his order, Ren took a slow, deliberate sip from the porcelain cup.
Ren closed his eyes, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
This was absolute perfection.
A block away, the highest echelons of the Guild and the strongest Familias in Orario were scrambling in absolute, terrified chaos, desperately trying to locate the source of the divine anomaly that had just brought their Gods to their knees.
Ren didn’t notice, and he didn’t care.
His vacation had finally begun.
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