Campione: Strongest# 438: The Artist and the Ancestor

Ryuunosuke Uryuu was a serial killer.

That wasn't quite right. Perhaps describing him as an artist in pursuit of 'Death' would be more accurate. His strange calling likely stemmed from an innate talent—an unusually sharp perception of the concept itself.

He had been on his path for seven years and had killed over sixty people.

The reason a self-proclaimed artist of death had only killed sixty people was simple: every person who died by his hand perished in a completely unique way. Thanks to this dedication, after trying nearly every form of execution and torture known to man, he had lost his zest for life.

So, a year ago, he had returned to his hometown, hoping to recapture that lost excitement. He intended to visit his first creation, his 'older sister,' whose body he had preserved in a warehouse, and perhaps reclaim the thrill of his first kill.

However, that had proven useless.

Fortunately, in that same warehouse, he found an old book. Deciphering the ancient script, it seemed to be a notebook transcribed from the R'lyeh Text, detailing various sacrificial rituals to gain the favor of ancient evils.

With this book, Ryuunosuke had found his passion again. The murderous rituals described within—he hadn't tried any of them yet.

‘See? Reading random books always pays off,’ he mused.

Initially, he planned to test his new techniques in Fuyuki City, a rumored ley line nexus near his hometown. Unfortunately, the city had been plagued by massive explosions and terrorist attacks lately, and the police were swarming the streets.

After killing a family of four in Fuyuki and testing one ritual from the ancient book with no immediate reaction, Ryuunosuke followed his golden rule and left.

Kill, clean the scene, and immediately leave. That was his principle. It was thanks to this discipline that he had never been identified, never even flagged as a suspect.

Most of his victims simply ended up on Japan's missing persons list. In a country where ninety people commit suicide daily, not to mention the countless missing, Ryuunosuke's sixty kills were a statistical irrelevance.

A year had passed. Though his sacrificial rituals never summoned anything, he remained undeterred. All he truly desired were new, interesting ways to kill. Summoning an Elder God was just a side effect, whether he got an SSR or not was irrelevant.

However, even the best days must end. Flipping through the old book this morning, Ryuunosuke realized only one untested ritual remained.

“After this last one, I guess I’ll have to check the old bookstores for similar texts,” he sighed, scratching his head.

And so, after 10 p.m, Ryuunosuke found himself in a bar in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo. Strangely, he was very popular with women; he was constantly approached. At first, he was utterly confused as to why. So, he tortured and killed a woman who had approached him, demanding to know the reason.

The poor woman confessed, before she died, that he exuded an aura of profound indifference to life. To women seeking a thrill, this strange sense of danger was irresistibly alluring.

Honestly, Ryuunosuke preferred to kill ordinary-looking people; only they produced the kind of raw, contradictory despair he found truly artistic. But with only one ritual left, he didn't have the patience to hunt. So, he returned to the bar to pick up thrill-seeking women for his final performance.

Using the promise of a thrill, he lured a woman and, surprisingly, a man who claimed to be her son and wanted to "join in the fun," to the backyard of a local shrine. The killer, Ryuunosuke Uryuu, couldn't understand their mindset. Join in on the fun with his mother? But he didn't care. He just wanted to kill.

After draining their blood and removing their internal organs, he meticulously drew a bizarre summoning circle in the shrine's backyard.

A shrine—a holy place—for a ritual to summon an Evil God. It was exquisitely COOL!

Standing in the center of the circle, Ryuunosuke chanted with solemn reverence. “Rin, Pyou, Tou, Sha, Kai, Jin, Retsu, Zai, Zen!”

The circle, drawn with viscera, did not react.

“I really should have used a Mandarin incantation,” he muttered with a shrug. He was about to clean up the scene when his eyes widened.

A man, clad in a dark purple suit, wearing black-framed glasses, and exuding an aura of refinement and wisdom, walked into the shrine's front yard. The newcomer looked like an English gentleman, radiating an authority and intellect stronger than any CEO Ryuunosuke had ever killed.

“I’ve been spotted.” Ryuunosuke scratched his head in annoyance, his hand moving to the small knife on his belt.

“I suggest you don’t try that,” a magnetic voice whispered in his ear.

Ryuunosuke licked his dry lips, his eyes filling with immense excitement. The middle-aged man had crossed the dozen meters between them in a single, impossible stride and was now standing right beside him.

The other party was not normal. Ryuunosuke understood this immediately.

A completely new, unknown field—didn't that mean completely new ways to kill? The artist, Ryuunosuke Uryuu, was ecstatic at his discovery.

“Hmm, an interesting ritual. But it seems to lack a source of magical energy, which is why it won’t activate.” The man looked at the summoning circle with interest, completely unbothered by the fact that it was made of internal organs.

With a casual wave of his hand, magical power flowed into the circle. It glowed faintly, then vanished.

“Oh, I thought there might be an interesting reaction, but it was a failure… well, an amateur drew it,” the man chuckled, shaking his head.

“Hey, Uncle, who are you?” Ryuunosuke asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“My name? Right, I should introduce myself. My name is Valery Fernand Vandelstam. But you can just call me Valery.” Valery smiled at him. “And I am a Dead Apostle Ancestor. Though I’m currently being pursued and my subordinates are nowhere to be found, so I can’t exactly prove it.”

“A Dead Apostle Ancestor?? That’s so cool! Hey, Uncle, can I become one too?” Ryuunosuke said, waving his hands excitedly.

“Hmm? You want to become a Dead Apostle?” Valery looked at him with interest. As one of the oldest, the Fourteenth Ancestor, he had seen people willingly accept the curse, but rarely with such excitement.

“Can I, can I?” Ryuunosuke asked with a wide grin, pointing to himself.

“Yes, you can. And it works out, as my forces are being pursued. I'll be short-handed for the next few years, so you would be a welcome addition.” Valery narrowed his eyes slightly. The young man's bizarre enthusiasm was certainly intriguing. The last person he'd seen like this was… Da Vinci.

“Then turn me into a Dead Apostle immediately!” Ryuunosuke’s smile grew even wider.

“Alright. But first, we need to find a cemetery.”

“Huh? Why a cemetery?”

“After your transformation, you’ll need to feed on corpses. That process usually takes a year or two. While we could accelerate it, I’d rather not invest heavily until I know your aptitude.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that’s fine. I haven’t found any new ways to kill lately, anyway. I guess I can sleep for a year or two.”

Ryuunosuke and Valery walked away, their conversation fading into the distance.

Just then, the summoning circle on the ground glowed faintly.

Deep in the Pacific Ocean, in the dark abyss, a colossal black shadow suddenly opened its blood-red eyes.