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Morningstar Campione

Lucifer Morningstar has been slain by a Campione, and that lucky bastard is none other than the degenerate brother of Ai Hoshino. What will the world become when an amoral man, capable of wielding the power of Morningstar reigns supreme? [Evil MC] [Crossover] [Multiverse Chat Group]

Great_Darkness · Tranh châm biếm
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
14 Chs

Her World

Hatsune Miku's POV

Standing on the rooftop of the hotel, we were greeted by a breathtaking panorama of Tokyo, its sprawling expanse illuminated by a sea of shimmering city lights.

From this vertiginous height, every detail of the bustling streets below was visible, each car's headlights slicing through the night, and even the faintest glimmers of activity could be discerned with startling clarity by my naked eyes.

The rooftop features a glass infinity railing, allowing for an unobstructed panoramic view of Tokyo.

Ambient lighting strips line the edges, casting a soft golden glow to enhance the luxurious feel.

A small, sleek bar area with chromatic neon accents sits in one corner, where patrons can sip cocktails while admiring the view.

In the center is a circular seating arrangement around a modern firepit, offering a cozy yet sophisticated vibe.

Potted plants and small trees are scattered tastefully, adding a touch of greenery and privacy.

A transparent dome structure covers part of the rooftop, protecting against weather while still showcasing the sky, ideal for others to gaze at stars in comfort.

Ever since Hoshino-kun handed me his Cursed Gear, my vision has undergone a remarkable transformation.

Even in the deepest night, there seems to be no limit to the distance I can perceive.

From up here, I can clearly make out the outlines of individual faces on the ground, their features distinct despite the impossible distance.

Each and every movement below is now vivid to me, a testament to how drastically my eyesight has improved thanks to the sword's unnatural power.

It seems Hoshino-kun was not lying.

The contract between me and the demon residing within the sword has already begun to take effect, even though I have yet to formally communicate with the entity or learn its true identity.

Its influence seeps into me, unbidden but undeniable, reshaping my very being.

As for my strength, the changes are equally astonishing.

When I sprinted through the grand, opulent hallways of this five-star hotel to reach the rooftop, I felt no fatigue whatsoever—an experience utterly alien to me.

My legs carried me faster than I've ever moved before, my endurance unyielding.

It's clear that my physical capabilities have undergone a significant transformation, bolstered far beyond anything I previously thought possible.

Now, the two of us—Hoshino-kun and I—stand alone atop this towering building.

None of the hotel's other guests are present; they were conveniently compelled to vacate the premises, their minds gently hypnotized into compliance.

The once-bustling rooftop is eerily serene, the silence punctuated only by the distant hum of Tokyo below.

In this moment, it feels as though the entire world belongs to us, and yet the unsettling presence of the cursed blade reminds me that I am no longer the same person I was before.

"Are you happy with your transformation, Princess?"

Hoshino-kun lounged comfortably on the sofa, cradling a cocktail in his hand, the dim lighting of the rooftop bar casting a golden hue over his relaxed figure.

Reclining against the plush pillows, he exuded an air of quiet confidence.

His sharp, appreciative gaze lingered on me as I stood at the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the vibrant, bustling streets of Tokyo below.

The city's neon lights danced in my peripheral vision, but his eyes demanded my attention.

Turning to meet his stare, I folded my arms across my chest, both a challenge and a shield against his intensity.

The way his lips curved into an amused chuckle told me he had caught onto something I hadn't yet realized myself.

"You're blushing, Princess," he teased, the smug satisfaction dripping from his voice.

"No, I'm not!" I snapped back instinctively, but my voice betrayed me—firm yet shaky.

My eyes darted away in a futile attempt to mask the heat rising in my cheeks.

Why did my heart race like this every time I saw Hoshino-kun's face?

Why did the mere thought of his proximity make my chest tighten and my hands clammy?

I hated that he noticed, hated that he had this effect on me, and yet I couldn't bring myself to deny the truth.

"Regardless, we're not here to discuss that, Princess." With deliberate care, he set his cocktail down on the small wooden table beside him, his tone suddenly shifting to something more serious, more probing.

"I want to know what happened to you. What caused such a drastic change? And don't skimp on the details."

His demand lingered in the air, heavy and pressing. While I knew I had no real obligation to answer him, there was an unspoken bond between us that made it impossible to dismiss his curiosity outright.

After all, Hoshino-kun had given me Cursed Gear without asking for anything in return. Despite his strength and his undeniable ability to control me if he so desired, he hadn't used it to exploit me.

Not once.

Sighing, I gave in.

Sliding into the seat across from him, I grabbed the glass he had just set down and took a long drink.

The taste of the cocktail was sharp and intoxicating, yet it wasn't enough to drown out the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

"Let me get drunk first, Hoshino-kun," I said, my voice tinged with exhaustion. "I can't tell you anything under normal circumstances."

Before he could respond, I tipped the glass back, finishing its contents in one long gulp.

Yet it wasn't enough.

The emptiness of the glass mirrored my own dissatisfaction.

Without a word, Hoshino-kun rose from his seat, his movements fluid and unhurried.

He made his way to the bar and returned with a fresh bottle of liquor.

Carefully, he refilled my glass—the same one he had been drinking from earlier.

It occurred to me as he poured that this was, technically, an indirect kiss.

But what did that matter anymore?

We had already kissed before—hot, desperate, and messy in the dimly lit hallway of this very hotel.

We had tasted each other in ways far more intimate than sharing a glass.

As I brought the glass to my lips, the memory of that kiss flashed vividly in my mind, making the alcohol burn a little more fiercely as it went down.

Hoshino-kun kept his usual gentlemanly demeanor, silently refilling my glass each time I emptied it.

"Hoshino-kun..." I murmured, my voice growing slurred. My head swayed as the alcohol took its toll.

Despite all my physical enhancements, my tolerance for drinking remained laughably low.

The room tilted, spinning lazily around me as I hiccupped, unable to focus on anything but the man sitting before me.

Before I knew it, I was in his arms, his steady presence grounding me amidst the dizzying chaos in my head.

My inhibitions crumbled like sand beneath a tide, and the words tumbled from my lips without restraint.

"Hoshino-kun... please..." My voice was soft, pleading, tinged with a vulnerability I didn't even recognize as my own. "Make love to me. Help me forget it all... just for tonight."

He didn't respond with words, only the soothing motion of his hand stroking my back.

His silence, far from cold, was imbued with an understanding I hadn't expected.

I kept mumbling incoherently, the alcohol robbing me of coherence, yet Hoshino-kun remained patient.

When my ramblings finally slowed, he leaned in, his face mere inches from mine.

My breath hitched as his lips claimed mine with a deliberate softness that melted away every fragment of resistance I had left.

The kiss was slow and consuming, his lips coaxing mine into surrender.

My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as I gave in to the warmth, the passion, the fleeting peace that only he could provide.

Then, he began to resist, trying to push me away.

I, however, felt deeply dissatisfied with his feeble attempts and responded by pressing my lips more firmly against his.

My tongue ventured into his mouth, aggressive and unyielding, exploring him with an almost desperate fervor.

His protests weakened, and soon I could feel his resistance melting away.

He started to respond, his lips parting to welcome me, his breath mingling with mine.

It was intoxicating—until his hand brushed against my nipple.

That single touch, so electrifying, sent a sharp jolt through my body.

My mind, once clouded with impulsive passion, became startlingly clear in an instant.

My cheeks burned fiercely as the realization of what I'd just done hit me like a tidal wave.

Embarrassment surged through me, and I felt utterly exposed.

Without a word, I pulled back abruptly, stepping away from him in a rush.

My legs carried me back to my seat almost on instinct, where I buried my face into my arms, crossed over the table, trying to hide my shame.

How could I be so bold? So reckless?

Despite the turmoil roiling within me, Hoshino-kun said nothing.

Not a single word of complaint escaped his lips.

He sat there, silent and patient, waiting for me with the same quiet understanding he had always shown.

From the very beginning, he had been the one to accept my selfishness without question, without anger.

And yet here I was, wasting his time, letting my emotions run wild and out of control.

Time that could have been better spent discussing the urgent matters I had come to him for.

Instead of acting with clarity and purpose—sharing with him what had transpired in the Imperial Throne room—I had blushed and faltered like a maiden in the heat.

As my thoughts settled, clarity began to return.

My heart slowed, and my expression hardened with determination.

Lifting my head, I met Hoshino-kun's gaze, my resolve now firm.

"Hoshino-kun," I began, my voice steady despite the residual heat lingering in my cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for taking so much of your time, for burdening you with my willfulness." I rose slightly from my seat and bowed deeply, my sincerity laid bare in the gesture.

"I will tell you everything now—everything that has happened."

With that, I launched into the retelling of events.

I spoke of the confrontation I had with my father in the Imperial Throne room.

I described in vivid detail Susanoo's intentions. His purposes were vile and explicit, demanding that I become nothing more than a sexual object for his lust and conquest.

I recounted how my father, driven by his hunger for power, was willing—no, eager—to hand me over to Susanoo without hesitation.

But the situation spiraled out of control. Amakasu Touma intervened at the crucial moment.

To protect me, he plunged a dagger into my father's back, killing him without mercy.

In the end, everything unfolded as it is now, and we were forced to flee from the relentless pursuit of the Imperial forces.

It was Touma who ensured my escape, guiding me and ultimately leading me here, to this hotel where I now stood before Hoshino-kun.

However, I chose my words carefully.

I omitted any mention of Touma's decision to commit murder or the fact that he had orchestrated the chain of events that turned me into a fugitive.

As much as I found his presence utterly repulsive and his methods repugnant, I couldn't deny the debt I owed him for saving me from Susanoo's grasp.

Without him, I would have become nothing more than a sexual object for that rapist god.

I didn't want Hoshino-kun to harbor hostility toward Touma—or worse, to seek revenge on my behalf—despite how reprehensible I found Touma's actions and character.

So, I painted Touma's role in a positive light, leaving out the grimmer details of his deeds.

"I understand now, Princess." Hoshino Kun's once frivolous demeanor shifted drastically into something far more serious, his playful air replaced by an intense solemnity as he fixed his unwavering gaze on me.

"Let me ask you, Princess," he began, his tone now imbued with a weight that demanded my full attention, "do you desire to reclaim your name? Your position? Your status as an idol?"

"I do, Hoshino Kun," I responded with resolute determination, my voice carrying the firmness of my will. "I want to take back everything that was stolen from me."

"I see." A proud smile graced his lips as he nodded, clearly satisfied with my conviction.

Then, without hesitation, he knelt before me in a display of theatrical yet sincere devotion, taking my hand with a romantic flourish that sent shivers down my spine.

"Since that case, be my princess, Hatsune Miku. I will conquer Japan and the world for you. I will not only make you sit on the throne but also bring retribution to every single person who has wronged you."

"Hoshino Kun..." I whispered, his name trembling on my lips as my heart raced uncontrollably.

This...

This is so romantic...

How could I possibly refuse him?

How could anyone refuse him when he offered me not just his strength but the whole world on a silver platter?

I didn't doubt his capabilities for even a second.

How could I?

He was a Campione, a godslayer.

A being capable of extraordinary feats that defied logic and reason.

The world itself trembled before the might of a Campione.

Everyone knew it. Everyone feared it.

It wasn't mere speculation; history itself bore witness to their might.

A Campione wasn't just capable of conquering nations; they could subjugate entire continents if they so desired.

Marquis Voban was proof of this.

That oldest Campione had claimed dominion over Northern Europe, reducing even the mighty King of Gods, Odin himself, to a shadow of his former self.

Odin dared not emerge from Asgard, too cowardly to step foot in lands he once ruled, for fear of the god-slayer who had taken them.

This was the reality of a Campione.

They were not just strong.

They were unbeatable.

Invincible.

My gaze lingered drunkenly on the man before me; I couldn't resist his irresistible allure.

"Let me become your princess, Hoshino-kun," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "My king."

I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his hand, my lips lingering for a moment. He chuckled, his laughter warm and rich, wrapping around me like a protective cloak.

"I didn't bring a ring, unfortunately," he said, regret tinging his voice.

Then, rising to his feet with effortless grace, he extended his hand toward me, his palm open, inviting. "Let's go, Princess. I will take you back to your home— your throne."

Without hesitation, I placed my hand in his, allowing him to help me to my feet.

The same gentle hand that had stolen my heart.

My cheeks burned, unable to meet his eyes for fear of being completely undone by the depth I would find there.

Before I realized it, I found myself falling into his arms.

It wasn't only represented visually, but also my heart was beginning to fall for him.

And hopelessly so.

Not only did my heart respond to him, I also found the comfort in his embrace.

Unknowingly, he began to enter my world and occupy every part of me.

Even so, I found the joy in his presence.

Joy to become part of his life, to become his princess.

My smiles were brimming with happiness in each of our steps as I hugged him tightly, refusing to let it go.