Warriors will die if they charge.

Chapter 72 Feathered Serpent, I am your father!

In the underground plaza, hundreds of meters high, Marcus was following the Smoke Mirror through the corridor leading to the central pyramid. On both sides were countless mummified corpses that were almost identical to Houqin, their chests cut open by obsidian sacrificial knives, empty inside, having sacrificed everything to the gods.

He couldn't see exactly how many corpses there were; they were like an anthill swollen by rain, with swarms of ants emerging from the ground and piling up in layers on the mud, stretching as far as the eye could see.

He didn't feel the fear one would feel when surrounded by corpses. If these people were sacrificing themselves voluntarily to continue civilization, then they were heroes.

Awe, desolation, and sorrow swept through the soldiers' hearts, but were quickly soothed, replaced by more pressing matters.

"Can't you deal with the serpent god Seth yourself? I've seen it in my hallucinations; it's nothing more than a tiny worm stuck between the feathered serpent's scales."

"I'm bound here by Kukulkan's spell, kid. Do you think I don't want to go out and tear that worm's throat open? It's quite a joke that the feathered serpent, known for its wisdom and benevolence, would be targeted by a worm crawling in the mud. If I had a glass of tequila, I'd definitely have to drink two to celebrate. Ha."

"But friend, you are a god. Even Houqin's remnant soul could hold off a whole bunch of snake monsters. Are you just going to hide in your lair and be a mascot?"

"I'm a god, my friend, of course I have to hide in my lair and be a mascot." Smoke Mirror repeated Marcus's words in a sarcastic tone.

His personality is quite interesting. Unlike the gods that people usually imagine, after recounting Navatl's past memories, he is more like an older brother who is bragging and talking to people in a tavern.

At the entrance to the pyramid's steps stand two ancient bronze statues.

The statue on the left wears a giant python helmet and holds a long-handled knife inlaid with many feathers. Its expression is solemn and calm, which is very similar to Houqin's temperament.

The statue on the right, however, appears much more rugged. Its face beneath the black panther helmet is glaring with fury, its strong body is partially covered by a leather battle robe, its right hand grips a battle staff inlaid with obsidian blades, and its left hand holds a short spear. Its fierce aura is like that of a panther pouncing in the rainforest.

Marcus observed for a moment: "They are, warriors?"

"Soldier, yes, alas—soldier."

After a sigh, the dried corpses piled up in the sacrificial pit seemed to be silently responding to Smoke Mirror's regret that they had done it voluntarily.

"Go in. If Kukulkan is willing to accept your blood, this temple will survive, and you and your companions will leave this apocalypse and return to a peaceful life in the material world. If he is not willing—" The black gem embedded in the head of the smoke-gazelle flashed with the voice: "Then offer your blood to me. You will die, but your companions will live."

"That sounds like a cruel deal. So you were just trying to get close to me so I'd give my life for you, weren't you, Lord Smoke Mirror?"

""

"Go, boy, don't be polite to a stubborn fool. Use your talents to awaken the sleeping feathered serpent."

""

Marcus walked step by step up the steps stained with dark brown blood. This was a graveyard of civilizations, and it was truly remarkable that the residents of the riverside town, who had lived on the Nileca River for nearly a hundred years, were completely unaware that a civilization was hidden on the other side of the river.

The entrance was carved into the head of a feathered serpent, which he had seen in his hallucinations. This time he could see it clearly. To be honest, it was just an ordinary, feathered, bluish-green giant serpent.

He entered the pyramid and walked along the corridor of the pyramid. Countless voices seemed to whisper in the cracks between the bricks, doubting whether a mortal with only a faint connection to Navatl could shoulder the heavy responsibility of awakening the feathered serpent.

At the end of the room was a circular room. The moment you stepped in, the obsidian lamp standing in the corner lit up. The light source inside the lamp was a magical turquoise, and the eerie green light illuminated the countless kneeling corpses in the room.

They slit their wrists, hollowed out their chests, and devoutly faced a giant python helmet enshrined on a stone platform.

The mask is incredibly lifelike. After countless years, the red feathers inlaid on the edge still stand upright. The helmet is carved from a single piece of turquoise without any trace of splicing. Four silver fangs gleam, and hollow eyes look down at the mortals entering the sacrificial chamber.

As she gazed at the mask, the golden scales she held tightly in her hand emitted a long, sorrowful sound, almost identical to that heard in the tranquil pool.

It's all fake, nothingness.

"Feathered Serpent!" Marcus took a deep breath, preparing to awaken the slumbering god, and roared at the giant serpent helmet, "I am your father!!!"

After a moment of silence, the pyramids began to tremble violently, as if the entire underground was shaking because of the great gift of the tongue that the warriors had offered to the gods.

Marcus weaved through the densely packed, chessboard-like corpses, his mouth taunting, "Did you hear that? I'm your father! Your living father! I know you're watching. From the moment we entered the Tranquil Pool, you've been spying on me, wanting me to kneel before you, to become your worshipper, your water ghost son. But I'll say no!"

"Do you think I don't know? Those snake people are all fake, just a deception. You secretly laid your eggs in the swamp so that I would run into this temple and kneel in front of you to lick your asshole."

"What? This is the end of the world? The death of the known world? Ha! I've lived on that bitch's bed on the Nile River for nineteen years. I know exactly where the water ghosts like to poop. How could there be an unknown civilization in the riverside forest? You're the water ghost queen! You want to infiltrate the town through me so that your water ghosts can climb ashore, drag all the men into the river, and have sex with them!"

"

"The Water Ghost Queen is a bitch. Don't fucking pretend to be some kind of alien from another planet and try to elevate your image by associating yourself with ancient and mysterious civilizations. You don't deserve it!"

He spat on the ground, which landed right on the face of a dried-up corpse. He didn't care and continued cursing: "Come and touch it if you dare. It's all fake. It's a hallucination caused by taking a voodoo potion. I'm definitely still sleeping soundly in the tranquil pool. Nobody knows the Riverside Forest better than me!"

Marcus quickly approached the platform holding the giant python helmet and slapped at the "Water Ghost Queen" whose empty eyelids were glowing red.

"It's all fake, but even if it's fake, I'm still going to slap you across the face."

,

He slapped the side of the python helmet, and in a daze, he saw a giant python devouring the sky enter his vision. He cursed, "Fuck you," and his fan-like hand landed firmly on the helmet.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through his right hand, turning into a searing agony. He looked closely and saw countless fine, long fangs piercing his palm.

"Still trying to fool me? I'll slap you again, you idiot."

Undeterred by the pain, the speed bump pulled out its hand, pierced by the fangs, and slammed it hard against the other side of the helmet once more.

The fangs reappeared, piercing through the palm.

The degraded version of Troll Regeneration allows his wounds to heal at an incredibly fast pace, and he tirelessly taunts and curses the "Water Queen."

He slapped her hard again.

After being struck hundreds of times, the hard turquoise python helmet shattered into pieces, and blood stained the altar. Marcus spat on the ground disdainfully: "Bullshit water ghost queen, is that all?"

'

He turned and left, preparing to provoke the pretentious Hagi Leopard. What was with all this talk about the night sky, war, and witchcraft? He was just a magical construct that knew a little bit of witchcraft.

I saw it with my own eyes. Old man Ike from the town's mage association had a mud golem that he used to put on a show. Inside its empty head was a music box that played tunes to fool the uninformed villagers.

A crisp snapping sound, a snake's unique hiss, and the air currents created by flapping wings made Marcus's movements as he walked back stiffen.

No way, my friend—it turns out the Water Ghost Queen's golden scales were a hoax; she was just an illusion.

As he turned, he caught a glimpse of the fragments piecing themselves back together along their original lines, like water flowing back into a cup. He opened his mouth to protest, "Lord Feathered Serpent, this is all a misunderstanding—"

No one responded to his explanation. The shattered python helmet was restored to its original state, and a sentence floated into Marcus's mind.

A voice that had been heard in a hallucination before now felt incredibly real.

1

Wear it, Marcus Norfitz, my child.