Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1069, Section 1065 Hammurabi (First Update)

I heard the monarch's voice again, but not in a dream. Compared to the gentle, mild voice in the dream, his voice in the real world was full of enthusiasm, determination, and courage, like an orator explaining profound philosophy to ignorant commoners in a public setting, or like a consul inspiring the army at the front.

The time displayed in the upper right corner indicates that the time spent traversing that long period of memory and digesting the knowledge gained from it was only a millisecond in the real world. However, for me, the perceived time spent understanding that memory was almost equivalent to ten years. The Royal Guard is not merely a weapon of destruction; our power is a tool to protect the coming new era. The monarch bestowed upon each of us knowledge beyond war. He personally taught us subjects such as philosophy, theology, mathematics, art, politics, science, and mysticism, making us his comrades, advisors, and craftsmen. Some of this knowledge was known to the world, while some was the most obscure mystery. This allowed us to understand what he was saying and the meaning behind his words, even if only a few words were full of profound meaning.

Even so, the memories given by the monarch remained obscure and difficult to understand; I was unable to fully comprehend all the knowledge.

What impressed me most were the omnipresent evil entities in my dreams, those deformed and bizarre extradimensional energy forms. Their deep-seated madness and wickedness sent chills down my spine. They relentlessly tempted me, killed me, berated me, praised me, and tried to make me join them. The malice displayed by these energy entities far surpassed that of the creatures in the real world they corrupted. I heard them speak my name, names I knew and names I didn't know, names of who I had become, who I would become, and who I could never become. I was not afraid; my body and my soul were incapable of fear. I wielded my weapon and killed them with my rage, one after another—some monsters were about the size of an ordinary person, yet possessed evil and filthy magic; some were as huge as mountains, possessing unparalleled violence; others were far more bizarre, seemingly a haphazard collection of organs and limbs, their abilities impossible to judge by the most intuitive methods. I know these are all enemies that the monarch once faced. I am now standing in the same place where the monarch once fought, repeating the feats he once accomplished. This sense of honor almost overwhelms me, but at the same time, the tension brought by the immense pressure keeps my nerves on edge.

"They're already dead," I told myself. "They died at the hands of the monarch, and now they're going to die again."

When I awoke, the dream lingered in my mind, overlapping with reality, as if the real world were veiled by a semi-transparent gauze. Just as a human might shift limbs due to a sudden fall in a dream, I read, rested, learned, and fought within my memories, ceaselessly and endlessly, until I was awakened. The disorientation of time caused my muscles to suddenly contract and my lungs to expand, almost making me swing the halberd "Laws," forged by the monarch himself, to kill the non-friendly units around me. But fortunately, my elevated brain realized the situation before my muscles, stopping the movement in time, even though the blood-red battle robe draped over me still moved. I wasn't sure if it was the evening breeze blowing from the river or my movement; if it was the latter, I would feel extremely ashamed, because it meant I couldn't perfectly demonstrate my physical abilities, willpower, and training results, indulging in the impulses given by the dream.

"They are not enemies, Hammurabi." The monarch's voice was heard again by everyone present, but to me it was a reminder and warning to my subconscious actions. I glanced at the mortals surrounding the monarch; their expressions seemed to indicate that they were ignited by this oratory skill, as if they had gained immense security from the monarch's words. I knew who these people were; to ordinary people, they were knowledgeable and possessed authority unimaginable to most. But the monarch's presence touched a deep-seated instinct within human genes—that pursuit of perfection, that aspiration for the ultimate goal of evolution, rooted in genetic information.

It was an unconscious act; bathed in the monarch's radiance, it was hard not to accept every word he uttered, even as anti-tank grenades clanged against Supilulius's armor. Most mortals failed to notice the unfortunate man rejoining the ranks—the monarch's order wasn't to kill Tony Stark, but to destroy the false confidence and security instilled in the people by the American ruling class—the same logic as a massive war machine destroying Wall Street. Yet Supilulius had dragged out a battle that should have been resolved in seconds, a disgrace to the Imperial Guard. I can still hear Supilulius's embarrassed mutterings on the private communication channel; he seemed eager for another chance to prove himself—it appears neither of us performed well tonight, making me somewhat worried about the positions the monarch was about to bestow upon us. Even if our presence could intimidate others, it didn't mean we were perfectly capable of fulfilling those heavy responsibilities.

The monarch raised his head and looked up at the sky filled with light pollution.

He raised his voice, a voice that seemed to emanate from the clouds, carrying the roar of war machines to everyone's ears. Everyone in New York City and neighboring Jersey City—whether elegantly dressed socialites, ordinary people frantically fleeing, drug addicts dozing on the street, or homeless people—whether asleep or awake, frantic or composed, the Monarch's voice was clear as if he were right beside them. I had witnessed the use of this spiritual power in Latvian; those who heard the Monarch's voice fell silent, just as those who had seen him in person were enveloped in his radiance, even the most argumentative souls became calm. If one were to go to the slums now, one might see those bewildered gangsters cease their shooting and looting; a single word from the Monarch could rival the work of a so-called superhero all night. I feel saddened by the stupidity of those "superheroes" who never see the root of the problem. The ordinary people of this country have been fooled for far too long, taught that others like themselves are the enemy, like ignorant believers who are eager to attack heretics who are no different from themselves.

"Ruling the galaxy is the inherent right of the human race. Enemies still await us among the stars. The Dark Tyrant Thanos and his thousand warships are merely one of the countless trials we will encounter on our path to seizing humanity's rightful right. Asgard is now doomed, and when the end comes, we will personally experience the first trial this cruel universe has given us. We will kill the Dark Tyrant, crush his fleet, and throw his corpse and the corpses of his slaves into the stars. The legend of humanity's victory over the Dark Tyrant and his shame will be remembered by all intelligent races throughout the galaxy."

He turned to look at the ordinary people, but none dared to meet the monarch's gaze. The assault transport ship circling above the United Nations headquarters suddenly increased its thrust, heading towards a figure emerging from the East River, trailing a white plume of flame. But this unexpected event did not interrupt the monarch's speech; the hot air spewing from the engines merely blew open his blood-red shroud robes, having no effect on his solemn dignity.

"They should fear, for we are glorious humanity, the most promising intelligent beings in this universe. We will overcome all challenges that stand before us with warships, missiles, bullets, and swords. The blood of courageous and sacrificed martyrs flows in the veins of every one of us, and we will proudly ignite it to forge the epic of the human race, to challenge the false gods, to annihilate all alien species that threaten human survival, and to build a perfect ideal nation belonging to humanity. No alien hybrid can stop the wrath of the human race, no creature can stop us from seizing the laurel of the galaxy, and no race can disturb the eternal peace and tranquility of future generations of the human race."

Supilulius and I listened intently to the monarch's voice. I had to admit that the monarch's oratory skills in manipulating the audience's emotions were unparalleled, but at the same time, I didn't quite understand why the monarch didn't kill these people. Even if these people defected here, it didn't mean they would agree with the monarch's will. After they returned, driven by vested interests and the flaws of mortals, they would fall back into the abyss of satisfaction and greed. Because inefficient mortal organizational structures always have vested interests to satisfy and power to contend for.

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)