Morningstar Campione

A/N: Okay, pals, your voice is loud and clear—you prefer leaving the vile backstories for heroines out the window. However, you also want it to be realistic enough not to portray married women or ancestor-type characters like Runeas as overly idealistic.

Now, can we have your power stones, friends? Pretty please? Yes, it's a bit less—much less—than what we received in earlier chapters, but we can fix this!

Additionally, I will release chapters on weekends if we receive many power stones.

However, I plan to take a vacation on weekends if the numbers remain this low.

Yes, we should be aggressive in climbing the rankings.

...

Third POV

Trashzuma (Konosuba): Hello, is everyone here? Why is the chat group so deserted?

Oujou-sama (Mondaiji-tachi): Of course, they are here. Have you not received the quest too?

Trashzuma (Konosuba): I did, but they're asking me to go to another world! How could I even be capable of crossing worlds when I was just a NEET to begin with? I don't have any superpowers or abilities that would allow me to isekai myself!

NEET Princess (Touhou Project): Why don't you kill yourself? Ahem, I mean, why don't you try Truck-kun? Perhaps that method will help you get isekai'd.

Trashzuma (Konosuba): You're literally asking me to kill myself, aren't you? Admit it!

NEET Princess (Touhou Project): Of course not! This princess is merely giving you the best suggestion for how to get isekai'd. Haven't you seen how it works in every anime? The protagonists always start with Truck-kun, don't they?

Keikaku Shinigami (Bleach): I think she might be right. It's unlikely that the Chat Group would give you a mission doomed to fail from the start. After all, they wouldn't have invited you to this chat room just to die, would they? I believe that if you were to die, your soul wouldn't end up in heaven or hell. Instead, it would lead you to the isekai they've suggested. However, it's not just about fate—you'll need the courage to make the leap yourself.

Satou Kazuma read through their messages and reluctantly admitted that what they were saying actually made sense.

As if struck by a sudden epiphany, he couldn't help but slap his own face in exasperation.

He couldn't believe it—was he seriously considering their ridiculous suggestion?

Was he so desperate and depraved that he'd actually entertain the idea of killing himself for the sake of a quest?

But then, his eyes flicked back to the quest reward.

The Sharingan.

Those impossibly cool eyes that could copy moves, cast illusions, and burn everything to ashes with Amaterasu. Just imagining himself with that power made his heart race.

He could picture it already—blinding everyone with Tsukuyomi whenever anyone annoyed him, or roasting some people alive with Amaterasu if they pissed him off.

It was almost enough to make his mouth water.

"Damn it, that's just too tempting!" Kazuma groaned, clenching his fists. "Fine, if this is what it takes, I'll do it!"

Determined, he turned toward his computer, erasing every trace of his dark history—from the countless porn tabs to the embarrassing online arguments—and wiped his hard drive clean.

If he was going to die, at least no one would find his shameful secrets.

After turning off his computer with a dramatic flourish, Kazuma donned a tracksuit, laced up his sneakers, and stepped outside.

The world seemed eerily bright, almost as if fate itself was shining down on his soon-to-be heroic act of lunacy.

Jogging through the streets, he scanned his surroundings like a predator searching for prey.

Then, at last, he spotted it.

The holy vehicle of destiny.

Truck-kun.

A massive delivery truck lumbering down the road. Its shiny metal exterior glinted in the sunlight like a divine chariot sent from the heavens.

"Here I come, Truck-kun!"

He sprinted forward with all his might. In his mad dash, he saw a girl crossing in the middle of the street.

Without hesitation, Kazuma picked up the girl and yeeted her out of the way with surprising strength before throwing himself directly into the path of the oncoming truck.

With open arms and a manic grin, Kazuma embraced the truck as it barreled toward him.

And then...

Nothing.

No pain.

The impact never came.

Instead, he heard the sound of mocking laughter.

"Hahaha!"

"Bwahahaha! I can't believe I just witnessed something so stupid!"

Kazuma opened his eyes to see a blue-haired girl clutching her sides, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

"W-what the hell is this? Am I dead already? Why is there a mentally retard girl with blue hair laughing at me?!"

The girl wiped her eyes and smirked. "Dead? Oh, you wish. You're in for something much worse, Kazuma."

Kazuma blinked. "Wait, how do you know my name? And who the hell are you?"

The girl straightened up, flipping her hair dramatically. "I am Aqua, the goddess who will guide your sorry ass into the next world! Though honestly, after what I just witnessed, I'm not sure you deserve it."

Kazuma's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me..."

.

.

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Hatsune Miku's POV

"Father, did you truly intend to send me to him, to Susanoo?" I demanded, my voice heavy with accusation as we stepped into the grandiose throne room.

Amakusa Touma, ever-watchful, remained hidden in plain sight, his lithe form concealed behind one of the towering pillars of the palace.

He was there for my protection, ready to intervene if the situation spiraled out of control, prepared to ensure I would not be outnumbered or captured.

My greatest fear loomed—being forced by my father into a vile marriage with that rapist god.

"You know about this?" The Emperor sighed deeply, his gaze shifting toward his imperial guards, an unspoken command lingering in his eyes.

"Leave us," he ordered curtly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," they responded in unison, saluting sharply before filing out of the chamber, their armor clinking softly with each step.

The room fell silent, save for the faint echo of their retreating boots.

"Now, it is just the two of us—father and daughter," the Emperor said, his tone both ominous and strangely intimate.

"Yes, I know. And I know you had a choice," I snapped, my words laced with bitterness. "Yet you still decided to throw me to him. Why? Because he is powerful? Because you think we need him to maintain our nation's authority on a global scale? To keep us alive in a world dominated by monsters and gods?"

His gaze hardened, yet he did not flinch.

"Precisely," he replied with chilling calm. "We are but humans, fragile and fleeting. If we wish to survive among such beings, we must forge alliances—even with the heretical and the unthinkable."

"Forge alliances?" I barked, my voice rising with anger. "You've sold our orphans to demons, Father! You sent innocent children straight into their ravenous mouths! And now you're trying to do the same with me!"

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound that echoed in the vast chamber like a specter of malice.

"And if I did? So what?" His words were cold, dismissive, as if my accusations were nothing more than childish tantrums.

"You still don't understand, do you, my precious daughter?" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with something vile as he continued, his tone laced with venomous mockery.

"Do you know why I let you live as an idol? Why I spoiled you with luxuries, adorned you like the moon surrounded by stars?"

He stood from his throne, his movements slow and deliberate.

His arms stretched outward in a grotesque mockery of an embrace, his chest heaving as he took a dramatic breath, as if savoring the weight of his words. "It was all for the greater good."

"The greater good?" I hissed, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails bit into my palms.

"Yes. Everything I've done has been for the survival of our empire," he said, his voice rising in twisted fervor.

"You see, heretic gods share one universal desire: to break their prey. The stronger their victim's spirit, the sweeter the victory. And Susanoo is not just a god—he is also a man. And do you know what men crave above all else in this life?" His lips curled into a sinister smirk.

"It's the breaking of a proud woman," he continued, his words dripping with malice. "To see her pride crushed, her will stripped away, her brilliance dulled until she exists for no purpose other than to serve him."

"Susanoo desires nothing more than to make you grovel before him, to extinguish the light in your eyes until you are his and his alone. And when he has you, body and soul, do you know what he will give me in return?"

I stared at him, trembling with rage and disgust, but unable to speak.

"Eternal life. Absolute power. Imagine it! The god who possesses a princess worshipped by millions, the idol beloved by an empire, all for his private enjoyment, while the rest of the world believes you live a life of carefree luxury in this castle."

"The truth, of course, would be far darker. But what does it matter? You would be his sacrifice, and I would be a god among men."

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber like the toll of a death knell.

But his laughter was cut short.

A wet, gurgling sound filled the room as blood sprayed from his mouth.

His eyes widened in shock, his body convulsing as the blade pierced through his chest from behind, the tip emerging crimson and glistening.

I recoiled in horror, my breath catching in my throat. My father—murdered before my very eyes.

The coppery scent of blood filled the air as my stomach churned violently.

It was the first time I had ever witnessed death so closely, and the reality of it left me pale and trembling.

Touma stepped out from behind the throne, his dagger slick with blood.

Calmly, methodically, he wiped the blade clean with a handkerchief, his expression unreadable.

My knees threatened to give way beneath me as I stared at the lifeless body of my father, the weight of his sins—and the suddenness of his demise—crushing down on me like a tidal wave.

Touma finally turned to meet my wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Is this truly necessary, Touma? Why did you have to kill him? My father…?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of grief and seething anger.

Touma, standing tall and unbothered, turned his cold, calculating eyes toward me.

"And what would you have me do instead, Princess? Give him the chance to tell the tale of your treason against the Heretic God Susanoo? To let him capture us both and drag us to our doom?" His voice was calm, disturbingly so, as if he were explaining a simple fact rather than defending his actions.

There was no trace of regret, no flicker of remorse in his expression as he methodically sheathed his bloodied dagger back into the scabbard at his waist.

The finality of his movements sent a chill down my spine.

Yet, even amidst the cold, detached exterior he presented, I caught something in his tone—a faint, unmistakable thread of satisfaction.

He hadn't done this purely for me, that much was clear. No, this was personal. It wasn't just about protecting me or ensuring our survival. This was his revenge, a cold dish served against the man who had caused his suffering.

My father, the Emperor, had shaped Touma's tragic existence, forcing him to become an assassin and a ninja. It was a debt Touma had been waiting to repay, and now, he had done so with a blade and my father's blood.

"Forget about it. Let's leave it as it is," I said eventually, forcing an even tone as I struggled to suppress the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me.

Anger, sorrow, regret—they clawed at my chest, but I knew better than to let them take control now. I still needed him, no matter how much I hated him in this moment.

Without Touma, there was no escape from this nightmare.

Everything had spiraled too far, the situation had gone beyond my control, and arguing here would only waste precious time.

I could already foresee what was to come: the guards would arrive any moment, and when they found my father unresponsive, his lifeless body slumped on the imperial throne, they would label me a fugitive and a murderer.

There would be no trial, no chance to explain myself.

In a normal situation, I might have been able to mount a defense, to prove my innocence, but this was no ordinary circumstance.

Susanoo, that depraved rapist of a god, had already set his sights on me.

This was his opportunity—a perfect moment to paint me as a criminal, to strip me of my dignity and use me as his personal plaything.

He wouldn't even have to dirty his hands.

I knew what awaited me if I didn't act swiftly. My identity as a beloved princess would be reduced to nothing but a tarnished name, a fugitive hunted by her own people.

The thought churned my stomach, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Touma's voice interrupted my thoughts. "If you regret this so much, Princess, you can always ask the king to resurrect him. He possesses the Authority of Time, a power he obtained from Lucifer Morningstar himself."

His tone was still infuriatingly calm, as if what he'd done was no more significant than brushing a speck of dust off his sleeve.

I said nothing.

There was no point in answering him. Instead, I turned my eyes toward my father's lifeless body one final time.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, clenched my fists, and turned away.

One day, I vowed silently, I would make this man pay for what he had done.

How dare he be so arrogant, so callous?

How dare he trap me, a princess, in this web of deceit and force me into becoming a fugitive?

Everything had gone according to his plan, and I hated him for it.

Regret gnawed at me as we left the imperial throne room, the heavy silence between us broken only by the sound of our footsteps echoing in the empty halls.

Touma followed a few paces behind me, his presence a constant reminder of my bitter reality.

I had trusted him, foolishly believed that he would help me.

Now, I was paying the price for that mistake.

As we walked toward an uncertain future, I could feel the weight of my anger and despair pressing down on me.

My path was shrouded in obscurity, but one thing was certain—this was far from over.