Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1070, Part 1066: My Sweet Boy (Second Update)

This is an interesting phenomenon with significant implications for the future administrative structure of Latvinia. While the Immortal City and Latvinia's administrative structure are renowned for their efficiency under the monarch's rule, the monarch cannot afford to waste all his time managing mortals. Maintaining the efficiency of an administrative system composed of mortals is a highly complex issue. Given the prohibition of advanced artificial intelligence, this problem seems to be solvable only through brain modification and the removal of mortal emotions. I uploaded my question and offered my opinion to my private communication channel.

"Because Latvia is too small, and the mortals are too foolish." Superuliumas was surprisingly calm, as if his earlier annoying mutterings were just a facade. His voice carried a slight click from a broken respirator; if he weren't required to maintain decorum in front of a monarch, he would have reached out and patted the device inside the helmet.

"Although mortal kingdoms are no match for monarchs, they are still functioning. Therefore, the monarch has selected mortal kingdoms with whom he can cooperate, helping them to fight against the United States. This is both protection and deterrence. We need resources, we need workers. We don't have time; we must unify the Balkans as quickly as possible. Expressing goodwill will help resolve the issues of Latvia and Yugoslavia quickly. After all, when we rescue those mortals from the unbridled exploitation of the Western military-industrial complex and from the ignorance of religious superstition, we must also ensure they are well-fed and secure." His words carried his usual sarcasm and complaint. "The vast majority of mortals are ignorant. They don't realize the monarch is saving them. They don't even understand what they oppose. They can only let those who want to plunder them incite anger and fear, as if they had ever possessed freedom."

Freedom, a word that spews venom.

Humanity fantasizes about freedom, yet it doesn't know its definition. Whenever this word is mentioned, Supilulius always sneers, claiming that mortals always ignore reality, blindly believing that all men are born equal or similar concepts have already been realized. Even as the anecdotes of Marie Antoinette repeat themselves, they still ignore how the intellectually challenged children raised in ruling-class families are blind to their hardships. The ruling class keeps the masses ignorant by cutting back on basic education, severing their connection to truth and access to deeper knowledge. Simultaneously, they create abundant and exciting pastimes to stifle their desire to explore knowledge, cultivate enemies for the masses to vent their frustrations, and create divisions to vertically separate the human race, preventing them from uniting to discover the truth and overthrow them.

From beginning to end, these ruling classes viewed themselves as shepherds, managing mortals like livestock. This way of referring to theocratic and royal rulers spread from Mesopotamia to ancient Greece, and from Greece to Rome, eventually throughout Europe and America. From a fundamental cultural perspective, this also explains why atheism could not flourish in these countries: no one ever provided ordinary people with a spiritual pillar that could replace religion. The sanctification of the ruling class transformed into the sanctification of the bourgeoisie, and money and religion together became the faith of the new era.

Modern tycoons are akin to nobles of the old era; their wealth will be passed down through generations, like noble titles and fiefdoms. This is why monarchs have so many enemies: their ideology breaks down the worship of money and religion, reuniting the divided human race while focusing the goals of many on its future. This is a grander goal that short-sighted people cannot see or reach, and a situation that vested interests and the ruling class desperately want to avoid. Therefore, they want the monarch dead, and therefore, they will die.

I uploaded my brief thoughts to the Imperial Guard's knowledge base via voice recording, intending to later write them into a paper, trying to find connections. However, even during the speech, the monarch still graded the document; I don't even know how he did it, but this feeling of recognition made my ribs tighten, like a not-so-robust teenager. This is my only desire: to serve forever.

"My lord, should I deal with that person?" Superuliumas asked over the communication channel.

While assault transport craft possess flight speeds far exceeding those of fifth-generation fighters, their maneuverability within the confined airspace of New York City cannot match that of the Iron Man suit. After all, these nearly thirty-meter-long aircraft are essentially small transport shuttles with powerful firepower, not dedicated aerial combat vehicles. Their primary function is to break through enemy blockades and deliver deadly passengers to strike locations. They have different modification variants depending on the mission; this was not a bombing mission, so they carried relatively few missiles.

To ensure air safety, Tony Stark crammed a large number of miniature missiles into Colonel Rhodes' equipment as an anti-missile system. Whenever an expensive anti-aircraft missile flew toward Colonel Rhodes, a cheap miniature missile would intercept it. The continuous flashes of light turned the sky above New York City into a thick soup of orange-red and gray-black. The distant explosions sounded like muffled thunder coming from the clouds. The huge war machine that was carrying out the destruction mission decisively opened fire with its secondary weapons when Colonel Rhodes tried to get close. Blood-red lasers painted the sky wildly against the backdrop of the night.

Even so, while adhering to restrictions such as not harming civilians, not using weapons indiscriminately, and not straying too far from the monarch, the wolf-pack of assault transports was still closing in on Colonel Rhodes. If it weren't for Friday's incredible braking and evasive maneuvers using his Iron Man suit, the laser cannons mounted on the transports would have already destroyed him. But the battle had dragged on for too long, and Supiluliumas decided to settle things cleanly on his anti-gravity jet motorcycle. Hammurabi believed that Supiluliumas's previous carelessness and mistakes under the Veronica combat system were largely to blame. He stated that he had learned his lesson and needed to correct it, and the monarch glanced at him and nodded in agreement.

The monarch ordered the assault transport ship to return and land, carrying the Fire Knights and the Sisterhood. The seventy-meter-long super-heavy attack transport ship, the monarch's vehicle, also emerged from the clouds and landed. As this steel fortress-like aircraft landed steadily, ordinary people realized that its length was almost equal to the United Nations International Training and Education Center near the plaza. The pilot had roughly occupied all the space in front of the UN headquarters plaza, mercilessly crushing the weak concrete with its landing gear—the sound was like stepping on ice in spring, making it seem as if the aircraft might sink to the ground at any moment.

"Five minutes, before entering low orbit." The monarch walked up to the hatch ramp and said solemnly to the mortals, "I still have many wars to fight. Don't make me waste time on Earth."

--------

"It seems I've raised him well, Sorcerer Supreme." A blonde woman in a white robe appeared nearby, the chilly evening wind ruffling her clothes and golden hair, which shimmered like silk. Her arms and legs, not covered by fabric, were long and slender. Mordo broke out in a cold sweat at the sound of the voice. He hadn't expected anyone to be nearby, but after realizing the Sorcerer Supreme wasn't moving, he learned not to act impulsively. "My sweet boy has grown up. I wonder if he'll still be infatuated with his mother?" The woman stroked the golden gauntlet on her wrist, answering herself. "I think he will. I've never seen anyone kinder than him."

"If you want to argue with me about whose educational achievements are more important, Athena, you should understand to whom his displayed kindness is directed. He is indeed kind, but this kindness is far too vast for ordinary people to bear." The Sorcerer Supreme didn't even bother to respond to the last sentence. "This is the path he was destined to take, the predetermined path for him as a weapon, as a tool. A hymn woven from trillions of threads of fate sings of his destiny; he has heard the chanting behind the veil since he became conscious, even if he himself was unaware of it. Now he accepts the fact that he has no free will; you and your father will both be his enemies, but the Olympian pantheon is not without its end."

"Zeus will not yield; you know him. If he is not allowed to call himself a god, he will consider it an insult."

"So he will die, because of Salomon's arrogance, because of his own arrogance." The Sorcerer Supreme laughed disdainfully. "Athena, what is your choice?"

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)