Morningstar Campione

Third POV

The aftermath of our battle was nothing short of horrifying—a grotesque testament to the savagery of war.

None among those gathered was spared from the unrelenting brutality of the battlefield.

Even the grand pillars of the palace bore deep, jagged cracks, and the once-pristine marble floor was shattered and scarred under the crushing impacts of our clash.

The air reeked of blood and ash, a suffocating reminder of the carnage that had unfolded.

Princess Hatsune, her delicate frame trembling, slumped into the throne with a face drained of color, her wide eyes reflecting the slaughter that had taken place before her.

Around her, the survivors panted heavily, their bodies sagging under the weight of exhaustion.

And yet, amidst this scene of devastation, there were those who reveled in the chaos—Campione, Athena, and the infamous Monkey King all grinned with savage delight at the unbridled destruction they had wrought.

In a chilling display of dominance, Kudou Asuka unleashed her terrifying gift upon two spellcasters whose wills proved too fragile to resist her command.

"Kill yourself."

Her voice rang out, sharp and unyielding, and the hapless mages, their faces contorted in despair, reached into their robes to draw daggers.

Without hesitation, they plunged the blades into their own throats, their lifeblood spilling onto the already blood-soaked ground as they crumpled lifelessly.

Meanwhile, the Monkey King, true to his chaotic nature, held nothing back.

His eyes glowed red with laser as he unleashed devastating beams that tore through the air, while his golden hoop spun wildly, hurtling indiscriminately toward everyone in sight—ally and enemy alike.

Chaos incarnate, Sun Wukong seemed to delight in the pandemonium.

Asuka, however, refused to stand idly by.

Summoning every ounce of her resolve, she shielded her allies with those with weaker wills foes, forcing them to use their own bodies to block the devastating blows, ensuring that the Monkey King's wrath did not result in their allies' deaths.

Her furious glare bore into him, filled with unspoken rage.

But the Monkey King, ever irreverent, merely scratched his head in feigned confusion, his expression one of indifference.

With a dismissive shrug, he turned his attention elsewhere, searching for fresh targets.

However, to his dismay, there were none left to challenge him.

The battlefield lay silent, the corpses of foes and unfortunate allies strewn about like discarded puppets.

He sighed dramatically, his voice echoing in the stillness.

"Campione, why are they so weak? This isn't even fun anymore."

Hoshino Kun, his expression unreadable, shrugged casually in response. "I didn't expect much from them either. But don't worry. You'll have your chance to fight more worthy foes soon enough."

Monkey King smirked at the thought, his mischievous grin returning. "I'll take your word for it, Campione. For now, I'll take my leave. Don't disappoint me next time."

As the words left his lips, a cloud descended from the skies, seemingly summoned at his whim.

Without another word, Sun Wukong leapt onto it and soared into the distance, disappearing into the horizon as the remnants of his carnage lingered in his wake.

Upon witnessing the scene unfold, Athena stepped forward and approached Hoshino-kun with her usual regal composure.

"We should take our leave as well, Campione. We have fulfilled our obligations. Now, I shall await your news regarding the Gorgon Stones," she stated, her tone steady yet laced with finality.

With those words, Athena turned and bid him farewell, joining the many others who had already departed.

Even Asuka herself took her leave, offering a brief, bittersweet farewell to Hoshino-kun before vanishing into the distance.

Now, he was left alone in the grand hall, accompanied only by Hatsune Miku, who still sat resolutely upon the throne.

Around her floated Mujika, while Kaoru, the leader of the Committee of History, lay prostrated at Miku's feet, silent and unmoving.

When the hall finally fell silent, Miku's demeanor crumbled.

"Hoshino-kun..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

The once-calm and composed façade she had displayed was gone, replaced by a raw, vulnerable expression.

Unable to hold back any longer, she threw herself into Hoshino-kun's arms, clutching him tightly as tears began to pour down her cheeks.

"They're dead, Hoshino-kun... They're dead because of me!" she sobbed, her words choked with grief. "I should never have come here. I should never have asked you to claim my throne or to seek vengeance against Susanoo. But now... now..."

Her voice faltered as fresh waves of anguish overtook her, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

"They... they... they're gone... because of my selfishness," she insisted, her sorrow palpable, as though blaming herself could somehow atone for the blood spilled.

Hoshino-kun said nothing.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her gently and began to pat her back in a soft, comforting rhythm.

He held her as she sobbed, her grip on him tightening as her body trembled under the weight of her guilt and exhaustion.

As her energy drained away, the overwhelming grief and weariness that had consumed her finally caught up.

Her sobs grew quieter, her breathing slowed, and she succumbed to the darkness of her fatigue, her eyes closing as she collapsed into his arms, asleep.

"She really cares for you, Hoshino-kun," Mujika remarked softly, her voice tinged with both sadness and reproach as she hovered nearby.

"You've gained her trust, her loyalty, and her love—yet you've taken so much from her. She knows, you know. She knows you used her legitimacy to claim Japan as your own. She knows you manipulated her to free Sun Wukong and to hasten your arrival here, striking down your enemies before reinforcements could respond. She even knows that her reclaiming the title of Princess served only your interests."

"Her feelings, her memories, her very essence—she knows it's all been entangled in your plans. And yet, she remains loyal to you. She takes the blame for sins that should be yours. She's given you everything." Mujika paused, her voice growing softer, more pleading.

"She's a good girl, Hoshino-kun. Better than most would deserve. Please, don't see her as just another tool. Love her. Cherish her. Make her yours."

Hoshino-kun didn't respond immediately, his gaze steady as he looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms.

At last, he nodded, his voice quiet yet resolute. "I will."

Satisfied, Mujika floated closer, her gaze lingering on the slumbering Princess.

With a final sigh, she spoke no further.

Instead, she delved into the depths of Miku's soul, retreating into her essence and disappearing to grant them their privacy.

Hoshino-kun carried the Princess away, his steps deliberate as he disappeared into the corridors beyond.

The hall was silent once more, bearing witness to the lingering echoes of choices made and the burdens borne in their wake.

.

.

.

"Hoshino-kun…"

"Hoshino-kun…"

"Hoshino-kun…"

"Hoshino-kun…"

In the dead of night, Hoshino-kun woke up to the soft voice of Miku.

His eyes flicked open, and the first thing he saw was Miku clinging to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, her body pressed against his.

She wasn't dressed for bed—no, she still wore her signature outfit: the sleeveless turquoise dress with black accents, the short pleated skirt brushing against her thighs, and her thigh-high stockings that left just enough of her skin exposed to make his breath hitch.

"What is it, Princess?" he asked, his voice low and a little rough from sleep.

"Make love to me, Hoshino-kun…" she whispered, her words barely audible.

If it were anyone else, they might not have caught it. But Hoshino-kun wasn't just anyone.

He was a Campione—a Godslayer. His senses were sharp, and he heard her loud and clear.

Even in the dark, he could make out the blush spreading across her face, her lips trembling as she spoke.

It was her first time, and it had clearly taken everything she had to say it.

He didn't need her to ask twice.

Leaning in, he kissed her without hesitation.

Her lips were soft and tasted faintly sweet, and when she gasped in surprise, he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Miku's arms tightened around his neck as she kissed him back, her breath hitching.

Hoshino sat up, pulling her with him until she was straddling his lap.

Her skirt rode up slightly, revealing more of her creamy thighs, the black stockings framing them perfectly.

He could feel the heat of her body through the flimsy fabric.

As they kissed, her hips started to move on their own, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants. The friction made her moan softly against his mouth.

His hands weren't idle. One slid up her back, the cool fabric of her sleeveless dress doing nothing to stop him from feeling her warmth.

The other moved lower, grabbing her waist and pulling her tighter against him.

Miku moaned softly into his mouth, her movements becoming bolder as her hips rocked harder against him.

Their kisses turned messier, more desperate, saliva mixing as their tongues tangled.

Miku's breathing grew heavy, her small gasps and moans filling the room.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen from their heated kiss, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at him with pure lust.

"Hoshino-kun…" she whispered again, her voice shaky but needy.

Her body trembled slightly in his hands, and he could see how nervous but excited she was.

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he kissed her neck, biting gently just to hear her gasp.

"You're mine tonight, Princess," he said, his voice husky and full of intent.

Miku shivered, clinging to him even tighter as his hands roamed freely, exploring her body without restraint.

Her soft, breathy moans only urged him on, the heat between them growing more intense by the second.

The rest of the night was theirs, filled with nothing but the raw passion and overwhelming lust they shared.

A/N: I have to admit, my mood is in the gutter, and my motivation to share this story is almost nonexistent. Honestly, I've considered myself retired from writing smut or harem.

I'm tired of dealing with harassment from assholes whose brains are completely twisted by hentai.

One guy, in particular, had the nerve to quibble and claim he wasn't using alternate accounts to spread hate on my story. But let's be real—I'm not blind. I saw it. He had two accounts, both showing up in my review section at the same time, both bashing my story.

The accounts? Laddu1234 and Azreal1234. And guess what? They're obviously owned by the same person. Yet this clown has the audacity to deny it, thinking he's some kind of genius at covering his tracks.

It's pathetic, really. The gall of this guy to spread hate and then act like he's innocent—it's almost laughable if it weren't so draining.

But, well, none of it matters anymore. We deleted our arguments, wiped the slate clean, but the damage is already done. My trust in my readers? Broken. Completely shattered.

I don't feel like updating regularly anymore. Why should I? It's just not worth the effort to write in an environment that's so hostile, so toxic, and so unfriendly to me.

Instead, I'll shift my focus to another story of mine, one where the audience is more supportive, where the environment doesn't feel like it's suffocating me.

As for this story? It'll only get updated when my motivation is high—when I actually feel like it. Until then, don't expect much.