Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1559 The Lunar War (Seventy-One)

Several priests in long robes and hoods formed a circle around Maximus. A priestess, holding a jeweled bone bowl made from a skull, dipped her fingers in the liquid and, amidst the priests' chanting, applied it to Maximus's face and chest, skillfully creating intricate, dizzying patterns. Maximus knelt on the ground, frowning, impatiently undergoing the priestess's tedious ritual—many of these rituals and symbols had been altered over time and by successive priests, but from a magical perspective, the key information remained intact, even remarkably complete. In other words, it was a complete magical ritual, but Maximus was completely unaware of it; his gaze was fixed on the greatsword on the platform.

Just as he had seen in his dream, the greatsword shimmered with a supernatural silver glow.

The priests chanted incantations of the Lord of Darkness, the God of Truth, and the powerful being beyond time and space bestowing favor upon the recipients. To the astonishment of the armed men, several other priests stepped forward and, with daggers forged from armor plates, slit the throats of those participating in the ritual. The latter died with smiles on their faces, a look of bliss and satisfaction on their faces, their blood flowing freely into the circular magic circle carved into the ground. The priestess's voice suddenly rose high, trembling, an intense pleasure shooting from her toes up her spine to her brain; the bone bowl in her hand fell to the ground. Her eyes lost focus, as if she were seeing something that didn't exist in the real universe; she even lost control of her bladder, collapsing to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably.

Maximus opened his eyes and found himself not in the slum temple.

As the most powerful mind reader in the royal family, he had undergone the most rigorous training in psychic and psionic abilities. He could control his powers in most situations and also sense the psionic power of others when necessary. But this time, no matter how he tried to recall what had happened before he opened his eyes, he vaguely remembered his father and mother summoning him to the depths of the royal residence. From the time he was born, that area had been forbidden, and no matter which member of the royal family he asked, he couldn't get a definite answer, as if some information had been erased from their minds—Maximus understood what this meant. He had once deliberately harmed a small animal, then erased the memory from a few minutes earlier, and the animal would approach him again as if nothing had happened—only his father and mother, the King and Queen of Attilan, had the authority to do this, meaning they didn't want anyone to know something.

"You've always been clever, Maximus. You may have deduced some of the truth from snippets of conversation. I'm sorry I haven't been able to tell you the truth. For now, forget whatever information you've deduced, because I will tell you the whole truth, without any concealment. You have an older brother, Maximus, who was the eldest son of your mother and me a hundred years ago. However, because his abilities are too dangerous and would endanger anyone, even Attilan, he has to stay in isolation."

"I have an older brother?" Maximus looked up excitedly, quickly putting aside his doubts. "Really?"

"He saw you as an infant, and he liked you very much," King Argonne said with a smile. "Would you like to meet him?"

"Of course, he is my brother," Maximus answered without hesitation. "May I bring Medusa with me? She might be happy to see him! She is my future wife, and if I find out about this, then the future queen will also find out."

King Agung's expression was complicated, but he finally nodded.

Maximus sat by the fire, the dense forest he had never seen before shrouded in the deep, silent night. The branches crackled in the fire, and smoldering embers fell from the tips. He was not alone; several weary travelers shared the warmth of the fire with him, their faces hidden beneath thick travel cloaks, their faces obscured even by the firelight. Beside them leaned a silver greatsword that Maximus recognized all too well. Maximus felt he knew these travelers; even though he couldn't recall their names, he had an uncanny familiarity with them, as if he had known them since birth.

"Come here, my friend." Maximus looked into the darkness that the firelight couldn't illuminate, where a tall figure stood at the end of the road, shrouded in thick shadow like the other travelers. "I wish to share warmth with you on this cold winter night."

A stranger slowly approached and stood before the campfire; Maximus was certain he did not know him.

"Do you know what a winter night is?" With a gesture of his arm, the stranger's cloak fluttered slightly, and Maximus saw a faint golden light shimmering beneath it. "Do you know which tree the branches thrown into the campfire came from? To be precise, do you know what a tree is?"

"Why worry about that?" Maximus asked. "It's cold, but the campfire is warm. What could be more important than that for such a long journey?"

The stranger remained standing, slightly raising his head to let Maximus see his noble face. "Have you ever experienced winter, Maximus?" he asked. "The long winter, when everything is covered in snow, the mountain cabin is like a white tomb. No air can enter, the burning fireplace constantly consumes oxygen, the door is blocked by tightly packed snowdrifts, and the person inside can find neither food nor air, and can only watch helplessly as they slowly suffocate and die."

"Why are you saying all this?" Maximus was getting angry. "If you don't want to share the campfire, then leave!"

"Look closely at the firewood in the campfire, Maximus." Maximus instinctively looked down and discovered that what was burning in the fire weren't branches, but severed arms and legs. At the top of the fire was a charred skull, licked black by the flames. The stranger turned to the others sitting around the fire. "This is human business; you'd better leave now."

“No. We extended a hand of friendship to you, but you rejected it.” Maximus heard one of them speak. It was a voice he had never heard before, filled with boundless carnage and rage. “We can fail countless times, but you only have one chance. This universe belongs to us, and you will never be victorious. Now you still have a chance to become one of us, as long as you sit by the campfire.”

"No, I reject you, forever," the stranger whispered. "I would rather walk into the eternal night, raise a torch, than share in your filth."

Another traveler grasped the silver greatsword beside the campfire and placed it in Maximus's hand.

"Destiny has already been written in the great sea of ​​souls. You will become one of us, sooner or later, just like other unborn gods. You don't need to be so hostile to us. We are merely extensions of the consciousness of the etheric sea, and you cannot defy destiny. Everything you do will lead to prophecy, because it is all destiny, and you cannot resist yourself."

"Let's go. This time, our game is over." The stranger looked up, and Maximus saw his noble face, a composite of countless kings, etched with rage. A golden greatsword, sheathed in its case, was at his waist, its hilt gripped tightly. "Get out of here!"

"That's not necessarily true. We are everywhere, and you and humanity can never get rid of us."

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(End of this chapter)