I am Humanity's Last Hope?

In the winter midnight, a deserted hospital room.

Well, not completely deserted. Surrounded by white walls, Adam Victory lay on his hospital bed.

The room, though empty, had some features that made his stay slightly more bearable. An old, worn armchair sat beside the bed, a place where visitors like doctors and nurses would sit. On the side table, there was a small warm light lamp, casting a soft, comforting glow in the environment, alongside some stacked books and a vase with wilted flowers. The window, with its partially open blinds, allowed the faint moonlight to enter, casting gentle shadows on the white walls.

Adam glanced at the clock. It was already 2 a.m., but he remained awake, his mind racing, desperate to make the most of the time he had left. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was almost hypnotic in the stillness of the night.

It might seem absurd, but his life was miserable. To survive in this cold and relentless world, even the dying cling to moments that slip through their fingers like sand. The city outside was a maze of indifference, and his small, sterile room was his final fortress against it.

Adam's life had always been filled with mystery and sorrow. At six years old, his parents disappeared suddenly without a trace, leaving him completely alone in a world that seemed to care little for the fate of a lost boy.

Although they had left behind a modest inheritance, managed by a law office specializing in child care, it did little to fill the void their absence created. The money met his basic needs but couldn't shield him from the cruelty of the world.

At school, he became an easy target for bullying. The other students, perhaps sensing his vulnerability, relentlessly tormented him. They mocked him for his silence, his loneliness, for the parents he no longer had. He endured their taunts in silence, retreating further into himself with each passing day.

His only solace came from the pages of novels. These stories offered him an escape, a way to forget the torment and isolation he faced daily in reality. The heroes of those tales became his companions, their courage and strength a stark contrast to his own fragile existence.

He devoured books whenever he could, losing himself in worlds where anything was possible, where magic was real, and where he wasn't alone.

But as soon as he turned sixteen, life dealt him its final, cruel blow. He was diagnosed with a mysterious illness, a degenerative condition with symptoms resembling cancer. What began as persistent fatigue and weakness in his limbs soon turned into something far worse. His body grew weaker each day until he lost the ability to move.

The disease spread like wildfire, sapping his strength and leaving him a shadow of his former self. The once energetic boy was now bedridden, his frail form ravaged by the illness.

His physical condition deteriorated rapidly. The disease left him thin and pale, his skin stretched tightly over his bones. His once bright emerald-green eyes grew dull, dark circles forming beneath them as sleep became increasingly elusive.

Each breath was a struggle, his lungs burning with every inhalation, and his chest felt as if it were being crushed by an invisible weight. The paralysis prevented him from performing even the simplest tasks, confining him to a passive existence.

Pain was a constant companion, tormenting him day and night.

Despite the agony and despair of his situation, Adam found some peace in his decision to donate all the inheritance money his parents had left him.

He no longer needed the money and ensured it would be put to good use—perhaps to help other orphans like himself or to support those fighting battles like his own.

Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, his head felt impossibly heavy, the room spinning around him. He thought about calling the nurse for help, but the inevitability of his situation kept him silent. The pressure on his frail shoulders was immense, a constant reminder of the burden he could no longer bear.

He looked at the novel beside him—a book he was trying to finish before his time ran out. It was his final story, one he would never complete.

"Just a few more pages," he thought, regretful that he wouldn't see how the novel ended.

But the strength to continue began to leave him. His vision blurred as his eyelids grew heavy, the weight of the world pressing down on him. The pain that had haunted him for so long now seemed distant, replaced by a cold numbness that seeped into his bones.

"It seems I really need to sleep in peace now."

Realizing the seriousness of his condition, he tried to shift positions, seeking comfort in that cold winter night. The bed was an inviting oasis, and he leaned back, hoping for some warmth.

But it was already too late. He was truly at his deathbed this time.

With one final, trembling breath, Adam Victory, a lonely boy who lived in books, left the world in a silent and solitary way. Darkness enveloped him, a final cold embrace, and the book beside him slipped from his hands, its story left unfinished, much like his own.

...

..

.

...

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This was a beautiful place, a lush, verdant forest stretching to the horizon, with tall, leafy trees whose dense canopies filtered the sunlight, creating a play of soft light and shadow on the ground. The air was fresh and humid, filled with the earthy aroma of moss and leaves.

Narrow, leaf-covered paths led to tranquil clearings where small streams of crystal-clear water meandered between the stones. Ferns and colorful wildflowers dotted the ground, while the melodious sound of birds and the murmur of wind through the leaves completed the serene and enchanting atmosphere.

In the heart of the forest, a valley opened amidst the dense vegetation, a secret haven where nature showcased its full beauty. At the center of the valley, a stream gently glided over smooth stones, reflecting the blue sky above.

The natural atmosphere was disrupted by a young man clutching his stomach near the stream.

"Ugh... my stomach..." groaned the young man with pale skin and dark hair combed back in a formal style, a few strands falling over his face and reaching his emerald-green eyes. He struggled against the urge to vomit, enduring a sensation akin to his stomach being twisted like a rag. He couldn't help but notice he was wearing formal black clothes, but instead of focusing on that, his eyes widened as far as they could go when he realized he could move again.

If his memory served him right, he should have been in a hospital bed. However, after regaining consciousness, he somehow found himself in this place, able to move once more! When the confusion subsided, the first feeling to arise was shock mixed with countless emotions, leaving his mind chaotic. Wasn't he paralyzed since he'd been confined to a hospital bed? What was going on?

The young man looked around in confusion.

Around him, the tall trees formed a natural arch, their intertwined branches creating a green canopy that filtered sunlight into golden rays. Butterflies danced in the air, their colorful wings contrasting with the intense green of the leaves.

He should be dead...

That thought echoed in his mind.

Had he been reborn...? His instincts told him yes, everything within him screamed that this was the answer to his situation, no matter how crazy it sounded, no matter how unreal it seemed... He had been reborn.

As Adam Victory came to this realization, he felt his mind being invaded by foreign memories accompanied by a splitting headache.

The memories belonged to a boy who had lived until the age of eighteen in this world, sharing the same name as him. An orphan who had won a lottery ticket granting him a European tour, visiting many paradisiacal places.

Unfortunately, he got lost during his sightseeing trip, an unexpected event that turned his journey into a true adventure. He found a cave while exploring an obscure trail surrounded by tall trees and dense vegetation, almost camouflaged by the entanglement of leaves and roots.

The entrance was narrow, but his intense curiosity drove him to enter.

Inside the cave, the atmosphere was shrouded in mystery.

The walls were covered with moss, and shadows danced to the rhythm of the faint light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. Scattered on the floor, he found several ancient scrolls, some faded and torn, others surprisingly well-preserved. The scrolls were filled with intricate drawings and texts in an incomprehensible language, emanating a sense of ancient wisdom.

As he approached the center of the cave, he noticed circles formed by strange symbols arranged methodically, as if part of an ancient ritual. The symbols glowed faintly, reflecting a mysterious light that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. In the middle of this enigmatic setting lay a book with worn covers and golden details that gleamed in the dimness. He wondered about the secrets that place held and the story behind the scrolls and the book, which seemed to be waiting for someone like him to discover them.

He began to read all the information on the scrolls and books, learning about the [Campiones] and [Heretic Gods], about [Magic] and [Authorities], things he initially found absurd but began to believe over time.

The [Heretic Gods] are gods, heroes, and divine monsters who step out of myths and legends to manifest in the mortal world, endangering its people.

Born of myths and legends, they embody the essence of the world and beyond, forming the supernatural core of gods. For some gods, however, the forms and nature of their myths become burdensome, leading them to rebel against them, manifesting in the world as Heretic Gods and bringing disasters.

The [God-Slayers], also known as Campiones, are individuals who have succeeded in killing these Heretic Gods, gaining much from such a reckless act.

He came to believe this after touching a book—a grimoire—and feeling the magic emanating from everything in the cave. He also learned about a magic called [Ain Ein Sof], which borrowed the power of various gods to annihilate everything with a magical attack capable of destroying the indestructible within the grimoire.

This magic was an [Authority] left there by some unknown ancient god, something the cave's owner had discovered and left behind.

The [Authorities] are the divine powers, attributes, qualities, and weapons of gods, heroes, demons, and monsters, making them invincible to normal humans. If a Heretic God is killed, their Authorities are stolen by the human, transforming them into a god-slayer.

Little is truly known about Authorities, except that they are the gods' magic, far surpassing mortal magics, granting them the right to rule. Their specific powers are shaped by the myths and legends that give rise to them and reflect the god's history.

Most spells depend on which god their power is borrowed from, although only a negligible portion is used.

The only ones capable of performing magic otherwise were the [Divine Ancestors], who are goddesses that lost their divine position but retained part of their power, and [Witches], who were their descendants and inherited some of their strength.

Grabbing the [Grimoire], he left the cave, trying to process everything he had learned. When an explosion occurred, he was thrown through the trees for kilometers like a broken kite.

Landing in this valley, he ended up dead, and his soul took over the boy's body?

Adam remained calm after all the memories were imprinted in his brain, and the headache slowly subsided.

As someone who had read countless novels and seen various mangas, he had figured out which world he was in—it was the world of the manga Campione! As someone who had already accepted his demise, he faced this with an inhuman calm. Deep down, he had always believed that different worlds existed, so this wasn't a surprise.

He took a deep breath and looked at his appearance. His body should have been injured, but strangely, it was intact, and his clothes weren't even wrinkled. Was this another mystery of his rebirth?

Did a soul taking over a dead body have this effect?

After recovering from these events, he stood up and walked toward the stream, seeing his reflection.

Adam was somewhat captivated by his appearance reflected in the water, a visage so diabolically beautiful that even a lifeless stone or emotionless automatons would be susceptible to being charmed by it. He already knew he was handsome thanks to the memories of his predecessor in this world, someone who was the center of attention everywhere he went, but seeing it in person was of another magnitude.

He was interrupted by an overwhelming sense of dread and the sound of trees being devastated! His eyes shifted to the horizon, and his mind filled with terror.

"What is happening?"

Through the trees, a few hundred meters away, he saw a figure. No, to be precise, two figures, one floating above the one who had fallen.

They could only be described as beings of overwhelming presence, as if they came from a world where good and evil fused into an eternal battle.

The one who had fallen was a colossal entity, a giant figure. His long, disheveled hair floated as if constantly moving, even in the absence of wind. His eyes were strange; one remained closed while the other was open, sending shivers down anyone's spine.

His skin was marked with scars, bearing witness to ancient battles and past conquests, and his face was a combination of beauty and horror, with angular features exuding an aura of power. He wore armor seemingly forged in the depths of an abyss, adorned with symbols and runes emanating a dark, ancient energy.

In one of his hands, though he lay fallen, he held a staff or scepter whose tip glowed with a sinister light, as if carrying the essence of a storm.

Standing before him was a man of imposing stature. Tall and robust, his posture exuded the confidence of a warrior who had faced epic battles. His long, blond hair fell softly around his face, contrasting with his golden eyes, which seemed to reflect the weight of centuries of existence. He emanated an aura of unyielding authority, resembling a powerless sun.

Together, they represented a balance between chaos and order, destruction and redemption intertwined in their existences. They stood at the epicenter of the chaotic energy around them, ignoring everything as if it were nothing.

The memories of the boy from this world flashed in Adam's mind. He remembered something he had read in that cave while meddling with a ritual circle. It stated that two [Heretic Gods] could be summoned. That place had been created by a magician aspiring to become a Campione.

He recalled the ritual circle glowing when he accidentally spilled a liquid on it, but since nothing had happened, he'd felt relieved. Shortly after leaving the cave, he was launched through the air and killed.

He understood now.

He had caused his own death by summoning two [Heretic Gods]!

Adam looked at the figures before his eyes and then at the [Grimoire] that had landed a few meters away by the stream. He immediately ran toward it and picked it up.

The moment he touched it, it was as if the [Grimoire] had recognized the [Heretic Gods] around him. He instantly learned their identities.

The one lying on the ground could only be Balor, the feared god of the Fomorians, known for his destructive eye and his role as a being of curse and death in Celtic legends.

Balor's presence evoked a sense of decay and scorching heat, like a blazing sun. He was a being of devastating power, whose single open eye could annihilate entire armies instantly, embodying chaos itself.

His gaze then shifted to the other figure, the man wielding a spear that sent chills down his spine. He noticed some Celtic symbols on his garments and felt a warm aura reminiscent of the sun. The light surrounding him and the warmth emanating suggested he was Lugh, the Celtic god of the sun and light, but the Grimoire confirmed it.

Lugh, also known as Lug, Luga, or Lugus, was more than just a god of light. He was a powerful warrior and wise figure, a god of justice and, at times, portrayed as a trickster god. His presence there signaled that an epic battle was about to unfold—a clash between the sun and darkness, between harvest and plague.

"What luck I have. Waking up right where two [Heretic Gods] have descended into the world…" Adam murmured, grateful at least to have the [Grimoire] for some form of protection.

The legend of the rivalry between Balor, the king of the Fomorians, and Lugh, the god of light and skill, is one of the most iconic stories in Celtic mythology. This rivalry is filled with betrayals, ambitions, and the destiny of an entire nation, reflecting the eternal struggle between darkness and light, chaos and order.

Balor was the one-eyed monster, capable of destroying everything he gazed upon with his malevolent sight. He ruled over the Fomorians, an ancient race of monstrous beings who had dominated Ireland for a long time. With his terrifying strength and destructive power, Balor seemed an unbreakable threat to anyone who opposed him.

On the other hand, Lugh was one of the greatest heroes in Irish mythology, the son of Cian and grandfather of the great hero Cu Chulainn. Lugh was renowned for his many skills—proficient in all arts, including warfare, medicine, music, and magic. He was also the god of light, symbolizing wisdom, creativity, and leadership.

The rivalry between Balor and Lugh began with a prophecy that said Balor would be destroyed by his own grandson, born of his daughter, Ethlinn. Fearing this prophecy, Balor, with his wicked and paranoid nature, kept Ethlinn away from any contact with men, hoping to prevent her from conceiving the child destined to fulfill the gods' prediction.

However, Lugh, with his skills and cunning, found a way to reach Ethlinn, and eventually, she conceived a child—who would become Balor's destroyer. That child was the hero Cian, and after his birth, Balor ordered his daughter to be imprisoned.

Over time, Lugh's and Balor's forces clashed in a great battle known as the Battle of Mag Tuired. During this epic confrontation, Lugh, with his abilities and determination, faced Balor, finally fulfilling the prophecy.

These two figures had now manifested as [Heretic Gods].

That is to say, it wasn't impossible. If he remembered correctly, after a dragon manifested in the manga, the Hero Slayer of Serpents, Perseus, manifested in response. But they were related by myth. It was rare for two [Heretic Gods] from opposing myths and legends to fight…

Adam looked toward the two [Heretic Gods], and an unfamiliar emotion began to stir in his chest, burning like a growing flame. It wasn't just anger or hatred but something deeper, something emerging from the depths of his soul. It was something he had never felt before but now seemed to define his existence.

He did not want to remain weak and debilitated as in his past life. He did not want to be someone who bent to others' wills, someone ordinary, purposeless, like his predecessor in this world.

The memory of his previous life brought forth an unbearable need for change.

He had been reborn, given a second chance!

He was no longer the same. The defeated, voiceless Adam, without choice or power… no longer existed. Now, he was someone who desired to shape his own destiny, someone who would no longer yield. He wanted power. Power to free himself. Power to become the master of his own journey. Power to defy the very universe if necessary.

With clenched fists, he felt the force of determination coursing through his arms, and with his other hand, he gripped the [Grimoire] with a visceral firmness. The book was no longer merely an object of knowledge but a key to his own ascension. He knew his path would not be easy, that fighting gods was not a battle any mere mortal could win…

But he would do it. He would become a Campione…

Killing a [Heretic God] transforms one into a Campione by stealing the god's divine power.

The problem was, to do that, you had to kill a god first!

For a human to kill a god requires several factors; to begin with, it's a miracle on the same level as the birth of Christ. The person must have ridiculously abnormal luck; beyond that, they need to be a fool willing to attempt the impossible and possess unshakable determination.

Power and wisdom mean nothing before a god. No matter how strong or wise humans become, they can never reach the level of a god.

Every mortal before them is as insignificant as an ant.

But even so, it is not an impossible feat.

The greatest of knights may never scratch a god, but a foolish human might succeed in killing one.

Whether you use strange objects or accept help, it doesn't matter.

All that truly matters is killing a god with your own hands.

He would do it.