Marvel's Shendu: Dominating the Multiverse

Chapter 155 Unstoppable

The Heavenly Gods' forge has no name.

To be precise, the Celestials don't name their things. Naming is a habit of lower civilizations; using language symbols to mark things is essentially due to insufficient cognitive bandwidth. The Celestials don't need to. They use coordinates, frequencies, and quantum states to locate everything, including each other.

But the recorders of the less advanced civilization still gave this place a name: the Forge.

This is where the Celestials created planets, races, and tools. The entire space is embedded in the core of a neutron star, where the density of matter is so high that light cannot travel in a straight line, and the gravitational gradient has been artificially twisted into a ring-shaped topology.

The six celestial beings stood here.

Ethan spoke first: "The Eternals of Olympia have sworn allegiance to him."

This statement travels at nine thousand times the speed of light on public frequencies because the Celestials' communication doesn't rely on electromagnetic waves, but rather on the direct mapping of quantum entangled states. The time interval between the information reaching the consciousnesses of the other five Celestials is no more than one Planck time unit.

No one responded.

The Celestials didn't need silence to express their shock; their emotional reaction patterns were completely different from carbon-based life forms. But those few seconds of silence were, in the history of Celestial communication, a long pause.

The analyst was the first to provide feedback.

His information flow is not language, but a complete mathematical model, starting from the energy record of the Holy Lord's first appearance in the known universe, to the actual combat data on Olympia, to the energy decay curves of the fourteen individuals of the Eternal Race. Everything is packaged and compressed into a self-consistent evaluation framework and directly injected into the public frequency band.

Translated into a language understandable to a lesser civilization, the conclusion is simply this:

His current output limit has exceeded the peak power of a single Celestial group.

This conclusion lingered in the forge for a full three seconds.

The judge removed one parameter from the model and ran it again, obtaining a result with a deviation of less than two per thousand. He released the verification result back to the public frequency without further comment.

"How much more?" the eradicator asked.

The analyst provided a multiplier accurate to fourteen decimal places.

The Eradicator didn't press for more numbers; that wasn't his concern. "The individual damage output limit has been broken, but how far is it from the total output of a coordinated all-out attack?"

The analysts adjusted the model's weight distribution and output a new set of data. The gap still exists, and it's significant. Theoretically, if all active Celestials applied pressure on him simultaneously, suppression could be achieved.

"In theory," Ethan repeated the two words.

In the context of the Celestials, "theoretically" is never a reassuring prefix.

"I object," Ethan said.

The eradicator's message stream pulsed sharply, a sign of his impatience. "Your reasons."

"Three." Ethan began his deductions on the public frequency. "First, the analyst's model is based on known data, but the energy growth curve of this target does not conform to any evolutionary laws we have mastered. The level of power it exhibited on Olympia has jumped by more than an order of magnitude compared to the observations seventy-two hours ago. Incorporating this rate into the model will reduce the confidence level of the prediction interval to an unacceptable level."

"You're saying he's getting stronger too fast." The Eradicator's information stream cut out all the mathematical rhetoric in Ethan's words, directly extracting the core meaning.

"I'm saying our computational iteration speed can't keep up with his growth rate," Ethan replied. "The multiplier the analyst just gave was based on his state three hours ago. And now? Can anyone tell me where his ceiling is now?"

The public frequency band quieted down for a moment.

The analyst didn't answer the question because he couldn't. His model required input data, and the planet Olympia, where the Holy Lord was currently located, was within the Eternals' information barrier—or more precisely, a barrier erected by the Holy Lord himself. The analyst had lost real-time monitoring capabilities of that area forty minutes prior.

"Second," Ethan continued. "His choice of Olympia as his first step was itself a message. He didn't seek out any Celestial nodes, nor did he disrupt any ongoing racial experiments; he took one of our tools. A tool that we ourselves were almost obsolete."

"The Eternals are not discarded," the judge interjected.

"The Eternals are the product of the fourth batch of experiments. Their design redundancy is three percentage points higher than the Anomalies, and their energy loop utilization efficiency ranks second to last among all batches." Ethan's information flow was devoid of emotion, purely a statement of data. "He chose to target the one we care least about. Don't you think that in itself is something to be wary of?"

The eradicator's pulse jerked again. "You mean he's testing the limits?"

"He's controlling the intensity," Ethan corrected. "The person testing the limits is looking for the red line, while the person controlling the intensity already knows where the red line is but deliberately avoids crossing it. Of these two types of opponents, the latter is a hundred times more difficult to deal with than the former."

Subtle ripples appeared in the gravitational circulation within the forging field, an interference of frequency bands in the information fields of the six Celestials. It wasn't a conflict, but a resonance; they were simultaneously processing Ethan's logical chain.

"A third reason," the eradicator urged.

"Third, he possesses two Infinity Stones."

After those words were spoken, even the analyst's data stream experienced a momentary tremor.

"Has the source been confirmed?" the judge asked.

"The Mind Stone and the Reality Stone have a 100% match in energy characteristics. Furthermore, I detected resonance traces of the Space Stone on the outskirts of Olympia, which is highly likely to be the third one." Ethan posted the raw data from the detection on the public channel. "Three Infinity Stones, plus a spell system we can't analyze at all, plus an energy core with a near-exponential growth curve. Now tell me, if we gather all the Celestials to besiege him, what are our chances of winning?"

The analyst ran the model again.

This time, he added the Infinity Stones variable, and the entire framework's prediction range completely collapsed. It didn't just produce an unfavorable number; the output became a divergent sequence. In other words, the model couldn't find a convergent solution.

"Unable to calculate." The analyst posted these four words on the public frequency band.

For a group of gods whose sole purpose is calculation, admitting that they cannot calculate is more embarrassing than admitting defeat.

The eradicator's information flow became dense and sharp. "So we're just going to do nothing? Watch him slowly devour our chessboard?"

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t do it,” Ethan replied. “I said it’s too late to act now. The window of opportunity has passed, and forcing it will only maximize uncertainty. His current pattern of behavior is limited expansion, not indiscriminate destruction, and the difference between the two dictates that our response strategy should be completely different.”

"Limited expansion makes us eternal today, but what about tomorrow?" The eradicator's pulse grew harder and harder.

No one answered the eradicator's question, or rather, everyone present had their own answer.