I Was Summoned to Die, so I’m Climbing the Pantheon for Revenge!

Location: Base of the Black Spire, The Eastern Valley

The heavy, suffocating mist that had plagued the Eastern mountain pass for centuries was entirely gone. In its absence, the sheer, imposing magnitude of the Black Spire was revealed. It did not look like a mere watchtower; its architecture was so vast and sprawling that it resembled a dark, vertical palace stretching into the stratosphere.

Below the obsidian gates of the tower, the surviving forces of the Demon Lord’s vanguard were at work. The atmosphere was a somber mixture of triumph and mourning.

A massive, multi-wheeled iron carriage, hastily assembled using reinforced steel and gravity-altering runes, groaned under the colossal weight of the Brume Whale’s corpse. Dozens of blue-skinned demon soldiers strained against thick iron chains, hauling the defeated guardian toward a secured perimeter. Yet, even in their labor, there was a profound solemnity. Other soldiers were carefully carrying the bodies of their fallen comrades—those whose minds had been irrevocably shattered by the soul-eaters—wrapping them in dark banners adorned with the Vileblood crest. Every passing soldier offered a deep, respectful bow, both to the dead and toward the command tent where Demon Lord Sofia Vileblood rested.

Standing near the perimeter, Kyouya Kusanagi observed the grim logistics. He inhaled slowly, his brow furrowing as the sharp, coppery tang of blood and the heavy musk of decaying flesh filled his nostrils.

The scent of death, Kyouya noted internally. His heart rate remained perfectly steady. He felt no visceral horror, only a cold, analytical curiosity. Is this a common occurrence in this world?

<That scent is a direct result of your systemic failure to calculate the soul-eaters' conceptual weight, Host. Those casualties are on your ledger.>

Kyouya frowned, adjusting the cuffs of his dark suit. I lack the context to accept that blame, Nova. I do not remember making such an error.

<Amnesia does not absolve you of mathematical reality. And for the record, your current emotional detachment is highly irritating.>

Before Kyouya could formulate a logical retort to his own AI, a small figure dropped from the jagged rocks above, landing lightly in the snow beside him.

"Hey. Creepy guy," Scarlet said, her voice lacking its usual bubbly enthusiasm.

Kyouya looked down at the silver-haired Abyssal Reaper. She was gripping her sealed scythe tightly, her crimson eyes glaring up at him with a mixture of relief and intense frustration.

She is incredibly loud, Kyouya’s internal monologue deduced. And given her physical proportions and combat attire, she fits the precise parameters of an 'annoying loli' archetype. How troublesome.

"My name is Kyouya Kusanagi," he replied, his tone perfectly flat. "Not 'creepy guy'."

"I don't care what your name is right now!" Scarlet snapped, poking him hard in the chest. "You have a responsibility, you know! You made Sofia-sama worry. She looked like her heart was going to break when you faded away. If you ever do something that stupid again, I’ll chop you into tiny pieces before you can disappear!"

From the shadows of the nearby cliffs, a dark chuckle echoed. Zephyra stepped into the pale light, her toxic purple eyes gleaming with amusement. "Careful, Scarlet. The boy has lost his memories, not his reflexes. Though I must admit, seeing our anomalous savior getting lectured by a child is terribly entertaining."

Kyouya simply stared at them, completely unfazed. "I will take your illogical threats into consideration."

A few yards away, the booming voice of General Vane echoed across the snow. "Heave! Keep the alignment straight! I want this carcass secured and the defensive perimeter established before we breach the Spire!"

Vane, having recovered from his brush with the soul-eaters, was back in his element, ordering the troops with the precision of a seasoned military commander.

Nearby, Sylas the Frost Lich and Xaroth the Necromancer observed the towering black gates of the Spire.

"The residual divine magic is staggering," Sylas murmured, her cold breath turning to ice crystals in the air. "If the Brume Whale was merely the exterior gatekeeper, what horrors has the Goddess locked inside?"

"Does it matter?" Malakor, the Iron Wall, grunted as he slammed his massive battleaxe into the frozen earth. "Let the Divine Being show its face. We are going to destroy the Goddess's puppet, tear down this tower, and pave the way for Sofia-sama. No matter what."

Location: A Jagged Overlook, Three Miles Above the Valley

Far above the valley, hidden by the high-altitude smog and the natural curvature of the mountain, three figures looked down upon the Demon vanguard.

Granger pulled out his heavy silver pocket watch. The intricate gears inside clicked with a rhythmic, metallic heartbeat. He looked every bit the product of a grim, new machine age. He wore a crisp, dark charcoal waistcoat underneath a soot-stained trench coat, his leather gloves tightened around the brass and iron frame of a massive, custom-built magitech sniper rifle. Over his left eye, a mechanical monocle with three rotating lenses whirred softly, automatically measuring the wind speed, barometric pressure, and analyzing the magical signatures in the valley below.

"The target party has crossed the threshold, Lady Gemina," Granger reported, his voice a flat, deadpan drone. "Precisely four minutes and twelve seconds behind schedule. Highly inefficient."

"Oh, don't be such a bore, Granger," Gemina hummed, leaning casually over the rusted iron railing of their makeshift observation deck.

The autumn wind caught her long, midnight-black dress, spreading its split sections like dark, elegant wings against the smoggy sky. Her long ash-white bangs shifted slightly, keeping her predatory red eye safely hidden in shadow, while her visible emerald eye danced with sheer, unadulterated amusement. "They made it. That’s all that matters."

"They look like squishy blueberries!" a squeaky, bubbling voice chimed in.

Sitting on a wooden supply crate next to Gemina was Sulia. The little slime girl, whose entire body was composed of translucent, vibrant blue gelatin, wobbled excitedly. Two large, innocent eyes blinked from her round, watery face. She was currently stretching her gooey blue arms, mimicking the sword swings of the blue-skinned demon soldiers far below.

"They are squishy, Sulia," Gemina laughed. Her voice carried that convivial warmth she used so flawlessly in the Adventurers Guild as she patted the slime girl's gooey head. "But they are going to fight that nasty Guardian in the tower for us. Aren't they helpful?"

"Yay! Fight! Fight!" Sulia bounced happily, her blue body splashing slightly against the crate before instantly reassembling into a perfect little girl shape.

Granger didn't look up from his monocle, though his gloved fingers expertly adjusted a calibration dial on his rifle. "Remind me again, ma'am, why we are allowing a group of low-tier mercenaries and unidentified anomalies to handle a Class-Unknown divine entity. My calculations show a ninety-two percent probability of their immediate demise."

Gemina’s polite smile widened, cracking just enough to reveal a terrifying glimpse of the unhinged monster lurking beneath her skin.

"Because, my dear Granger," Gemina purred, gripping the iron railing so tightly the metal began to bend. "If they die horribly, the Divine Guardian inside the tower will absorb their vast mana and grow twice as strong. And a stronger Guardian means a much, much better meal for me."

Granger let out a long, mechanical sigh, a small cloud of steam escaping his lips to mix with the city's coal smoke. "Understood. I will prepare the heavy-caliber armor-piercing cartridges. Please try not to get your dress torn this time, Lady Gemina. It takes three days to wash the factory soot out of that fabric."

Granger’s loyalty was absolute, born of a dark, complex history. He had not always been an independent entity. In the past, his mechanical heart and intricate clockwork nervous system had been physically integrated into Gemina’s own body—a biomechanical parasite sustaining the Immortal Witch’s experimental phases. But Gemina, ever hungry to optimize her lethality, had eventually extracted him, forging him a separate mechanical body so he could serve as her elite subordinate and long-range executioner.

The trio’s arsenal was as deadly as it was varied. Granger wielded his massive magitech rifle, capable of punching through dragon scales from two miles away. Sulia relied on her raw, terrifying biology—she didn't use weapons, she simply engulfed her targets, dissolving flesh, bone, and magic into her gelatinous form.

And Gemina? From a concealed holster beneath her sweeping dress, she drew a small, ornate pistol. It fired no bullets; instead, its chamber was designed to condense and accelerate her own cursed, immortal blood into hyper-lethal projectiles.

Gemina knew exactly what the Black Spire was. She had researched the immortal texts for decades. She knew of the Divine Being that served as the final Guardian of the tower, and she desired to consume it.

"I wonder," Gemina chuckled creepily, her hidden red eye flaring in the shadows. "What if I let them open the vault? What if I obtain all the Goddess's secrets from that tower... and then eliminate those arrogant little stealers while they are exhausted?"

She looked down at the vanguard, her gaze lingering on the forms of the Six Demon Generals and the two anomalous beings leading them. She felt no fear. To the Immortal Witch, Demon Lords and System Errors were not threats.

They were just the next course on the menu.

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