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Los Angeles. One of the biggest cities in America, home to people from every corner of the globe.
A melting pot of races, a city where prosperity and decay lived side by side, chaos given form.
It was also a haven for outcasts and exiles.
That history stretched back centuries, to when a mother earth goddess had fallen here. And when a Heretic God die, there was a tiny chance they left behind remains of their body.
European magi called those remains angel remnants—sacred relics said to grant immense magical power to their inheritor. They were also called Dragon Bones in some other places.
And those remains were exactly what Asherah longed for.
As a Divine Ancestor, she desired them more than anyone. With angel remnants, she dreamed of reclaiming her place as a Mother Earth Goddess.
But that dream had been shattered. The relic she found was destroyed by a bullet from a divine gun.
By that caped idiot who called himself John Smith, a man brainwashed by superhero movies.
That was where their grudge began.
From then on, Asherah had chosen the path of terror, unleashing horror on Los Angeles.
The countless corpses she left in her wake were, in her mind, a punishment engineered by the so-called Pluto who guarded this city.
And if her vendetta caused endless pain to that disgusting man, so much the better.
But lately, while preparing to bomb a high-rise, Asherah had noticed something was wrong.
The Netherworld wasn't warning her as much as it used to.
As a Divine Ancestor—the root of witches and priestesses—she was born with the ability to draw information from the Netherworld, sometimes even glimpses of the future.
And as a terrorist leader, she relied on it heavily. Every day, she ran more than twenty precognitions.
Now, though, the responses had dropped. Twelve percent fewer than usual.
A normal witch might brush it off as a bad day. But not Asherah.
She processed mountains of data through her foresight, using it to plan her every move. Her grasp of its nuances was unmatched.
Sitting on a sofa on the third floor of an apartment building, staring out the window, she muttered: "Is it a Divine Ancestor targeting me… or a dozen high-level witches combining their power to cloud my sight?"
The door opened. A conservatively dressed woman stepped in.
"Lady Asherah, it's time to change locations."
Switching hideouts every three hours—that was her standard method to avoid being tracked.
Sometimes she moved on foot, sometimes she used the Netherworld to teleport across long distances. Disguises and false identities were second nature by now.
But this time, none of it felt safe.
Her face darkened as she rose from the sofa.
"Cancel the plan. From now on, I'll personally oversee every relocation."
"Yes, ma'am." The subordinate obeyed without question.
Asherah added with a frown, "And the operation against John Smith? Scrap it. I have a feeling that man is preparing something big."
"Yes." The woman nodded stiffly, raising her head—
And Asherah immediately stepped back, eyes narrowing. "… Who are you?"
"Been a while, Leviathan. Or should I call you Asherah?" A voice like cool spring water flowed from the woman's lips. Her pupils shifted, black and slit like a serpent's.
Her sweet tone carried an unmistakable weight.
"You're only using a vessel here, aren't you? Your real body's hiding in the Netherworld."
The familiar name struck a chord. Asherah froze for a moment. From the faint divine aura, she pieced together the truth.
"Medusa… is it you?!"
The woman's lips curled into a smile. Her pearl-black eyes locked on Asherah. "Call me Athena now."
"Athena…"
Asherah tasted the name, then let out a hollow, sorrowful laugh. "So it's true. The rumors from Europe weren't lies after all. You've fallen again, haven't you, Pallas Athena?"
The reports had spread just three days ago.
That Athena had been slain by mortals. That the new King was from Japan.
Asherah had dismissed it as gossip. But now, staring at Athena possessing her subordinate, she had to reconsider.
It made sense. Mother Earth Goddesses who fell to the steel hero were stripped of their divinity. And Athena, the greatest of them, had lost before.
Once the trinity goddess. Then Metis. Then Athena. Then cut again into Medusa.
Another defeat now was hardly unthinkable.
Asherah's eyes sharpened. "So you've become that new King's servant?"
Divine Ancestors couldn't resist their master's spellcraft once they'd fallen.
Athena's first demotion had surely been forced. And if that King had set his eyes on her, then Asherah herself was next.
"Yes and no."
Athena's answer was deliberately vague.
"I share my eternity with him—my life, my divinity, my very essence. You could even call him my Zeus, for I will be the wisdom that guides his every thought."
"You're insane." Asherah's face twisted in disbelief.
A Divine Ancestor might be bound, but their spirit was free. There were even stories of them betraying their masters.
But Athena… Athena was giving up everything willingly.
Preparing an escape spell, Asherah shuddered. "Has defeat shattered your wisdom completely?"
Athena suddenly laughed.
And in that instant, Asherah went pale.
Her true body, hidden deep in the Netherworld, had been seized.
From the void, black streams of energy coiled like serpents, twisting and lashing, dragging a small figure out into the open.
A petite girl appeared, her figure flat and frail.
She was draped in rough sackcloth, like a suffering penitent, her limbs bound in chains of shadow. Even her head was shackled. Like a butterfly caught in a spider's web.
"This power…" Asherah struggled, but resistance was pointless.
It wasn't a contest of equals. It was raw dominance, the strong crushing the weak.
Wide-eyed, she watched as the silver-haired goddess stepped out of the void, wearing a school uniform and a knitted cap with cat ears.
"You… you never fell at all! You are still a God."
"But how???"
Athena had never been reduced to a Divine Ancestor. Then what was that so-called God-Slayer?
Horror crept into Asherah's heart.
She realized she'd walked straight into a terrifying conspiracy.
"You know too much, Leviathan," Athena said softly.
---
The café
After thirty minutes of waiting, Ryo finally answered his phone.
"What? No sign of her?"
He frowned, set the phone down, and gave Annie a look full of suspicion.
"Tsk, tsk. Miss Annie, your intel seems... a little shaky."
"…Huh?" Annie froze.
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