Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1587 The Lunar War (Ninety-Nine)

Predators often operate at night, using shadows to conceal their presence and their scent downwind. Anyone with wilderness survival experience knows to light a fire at night. This is not only because wild animals fear fire, but also because firelight dispels the darkness and reveals the presence of predators. Blackcard Burt had just fallen to the ground when a steel bar pierced his abdomen, blood dripping down the slope and disappearing into the unrelated shadows.

He gasped for breath, tilting his head, his peripheral vision fixed on a dark corner beyond the reach of the emergency light—his panting and the smell of blood seemed to have attracted creatures never before seen by light, for pairs of eyes, like those of felines, reflected the light as they emerged from the shadows. These predator's eyes drew closer, like a pack of hyenas approaching a wounded animal on the savanna. These creatures might have once been Inhumans, or perhaps Xenomorphs captured by them, but over millennia and amidst the industrial pollution of the lower classes, they had utterly lost their culture and their original forms—Black Bolt Blackcard Burt's vision blurred, a chill crept across his skin, his breathing became grating, and pinkish blood gushed from the wound in his chest.

Blackcard Burt barely managed to utter a bloody, frothy sound, the sonic waves carrying white mist from his mouth and nose, barely dispelling the nearby timid, strange creatures. His vitality was tenacious; an ordinary person wouldn't have survived such injuries. He struggled a few times but couldn't break free of the steel bar piercing him. Like prey trapped in a snare, he could only bleed continuously, waiting for death to approach; even his initially warm blood was now cold and slippery. He hadn't forgotten the blood relative he wanted to kill; the moment he awoke after the fall, Maximus had vanished.

"I heard footsteps."

His eyes were half-closed, warmth slowly seeping up from beneath him, finally covering his mouth and nose, as if he were soaking in lukewarm water rather than facing death, which made him feel comfortable. Bloody breaths squeezed from his lungs, blood overflowing from his mouth and nose choking him, but his ruptured lungs couldn't hold the air; only the natural reflex of his respiratory muscles caused pink foam to continuously emerge from the wound in his chest cavity. Excessive blood loss made him delirious. Black Bolt Blackcard Burt just felt his past memories shrouded in a lingering fog, realizing his brain was incapable of thought, but then he forgot even that fact. The coldness of death had already climbed onto his eyelids, kissing his pupils, leaving behind a chaotic flash of pink and blue light in his eyes.

There was a voice speaking to him.

It was a warm voice, very much like his mother, Queen Linda's. Blackcard Burt was completely unable to respond; he didn't even realize the voice was speaking to him, but subconsciously, he simply felt it was familiar. His thoughts drifted effortlessly toward the voice, and he felt a sense of comfort.

"Death came to me."

"Death is just a cycle," the voice said. "Everything will eventually return to heat death."

"No!"

Maximus dragged his silver greatsword as he stumbled along the filthy lower deck.

Over the millennia, the upper deck and production deck have accumulated filth such as household garbage and industrial waste. This area is close to the Starfort engine, and the still-operating engine cooling ducts provide a refuge from the cold of the dark side of the moon, but the smell of fermenting sludge makes the air here nauseating.

But he had no time to care about any of that.

Even in the dim light, his eyes, mutated by the etheric energy, could still clearly see the blisters that kept appearing on his skin. The profound runes, like scars left on his skin and muscles, slowly stitched his crushed skin, muscles, and bones back together.

On his unseen back, the runes originally drawn with blood were now burning. Each slowly appearing symbol caused him real pain, but he was powerless to resist. It was as if someone was binding something fiery, vast, chaotic, and insane firmly to his soul. He could almost smell the burning stench emanating from his brain—he could taste the ionization of etheric energy in the air with the tip of his tongue. His brain could read forbidden knowledge, spells and secrets that countless spellcasters in the universe dreamed of, secrets that revealed the truth of another world.

Something fiery, enormous, chaotic, and insane was constantly squeezing his soul.

This knowledge was replaced by excruciating pain, as if someone were tearing at his every nerve, gnawing at his consciousness. Maximus's soul was powerless to resist that powerful force; a certain consciousness, a certain thought pattern, a certain power seeped into his soul, gradually taking control of his muscle electrical signals and neurochemical neurotransmitters. Chains made of runes appeared out of thin air, tightly binding his neck, seemingly trying to strangle him. His hands, twisted and convulsing in extreme pain, gripped the silver greatsword tightly, and black flames surged up his skin, finally engulfing him entirely.

Maximus collapsed in agony into the mud.

The black flames caused the surrounding sludge to gradually boil and bubble. Carrion insects and fungi, which had been thriving in the lower levels of Attilan Star Fortress for thousands of years, died in the intense heat. The piping system and deck, which had been operating for millennia, were melted by the inhuman heat. In the blink of an eye, this naturally formed ecosystem became a forbidden zone for life. His skull began to elongate unnaturally, two curved horns pierced his skin and grew out, bone spurs on his spine gradually protruded, and the blood flowing from his broken skin was greedily sucked up. Then, the surrounding temperature began to drop unnaturally, and the boiling sludge instantly froze into frozen soil. A strange figure, much taller and stronger than before, rose from the icy shell.

After losing their leader, the Inhumans of Attilan, known as the Rebirth Cult, did not fall into chaos.

This organization had been operating smoothly for thousands of years before Maximus's arrival. Although it was merely a suppressed and exterminated branch of a sect within the Kree Empire, the Attiran Inhumans, who inherited Kree culture, still maintained a relatively complete organizational structure. The aetheric beings who emerged from the portal didn't care about so-called sectarian organizations; they came to the material universe simply to satisfy their most primal desires. The Rebirth Cult merely used these so-called "angels" to achieve its goals. Therefore, Maximus's disappearance didn't have much of an impact. Led by the priestess, many core believers, including the priestess, descended the ancient Star Fortress staircase.

They didn't care what the corrupted lower-level mutants and "angels" could do; that was just one of the sect's past goals. Now, the Rebirth Cult's only goal was to explore the truth—every organization has many different ideologies, even the Rebirth Cult—the Rebirth Cult once aimed to summon angels and create a divine kingdom on earth, but the faction advocating delving into the ether to seek truth and abandoning worldly suffering gradually gained the upper hand as it spread among the lower-level mutants. Priestess Ferrier was the leader of this faction after it took control of the cult; one could even say that she herself was a genetically engineered product created for this goal. Because of this, her bloodline was able to maintain a specific mutation in the polluted lower decks, gradually accumulating ether energy affinity genes until a priestess emerged who could communicate with the etheric plane.

"We are about to embark on the path to ascension," the priestess Ferrier announced loudly. "We will enter the realm of the gods!"

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(End of this chapter)