The Witcher: The Journey to Transcendence from Marvel...

Chapter 467 The Awakener

"Spencer Quentin~"

"Spencer Quentin~"

The sound echoed in the thick, inky darkness, like a ghostly whisper or an ancient curse, drilling straight into the depths of Spencer Quentin's consciousness.

Spencer was jolted awake from his deep sleep, his body jolting violently as if struck by lightning, only to find himself trapped in an endless, boundless fog.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, the deathly stillness seemingly capable of swallowing all sound. Only the calls seemed to come from the distant ends of the universe, or like whispers close to the ear, yet their exact direction remained unclear.

"Who, who's speaking..."

Spencer's voice trembled slightly. His usual decisiveness and fearlessness vanished without a trace at this moment, and fear, like a surging tide, instantly overwhelmed him.

His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, each beat feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest.

Out of instinct, he released intense heat from his hands, the blazing light illuminating a small area around him. That was his superpower that he had awakened after the "Frozen Event"—the ability to control fire.

His palms were like two small volcanoes, with orange flames surging and leaping within them, instantly dispelling some of the cold mist.

As the high temperatures subsided, the fog gradually dissipated.

Spencer slowly raised his head and saw Wes floating leisurely in the air.

Wes looked down at him, his eyes as deep as an endless black hole, as if he could see through Spencer's every thought.

"It's you, wizard!"

Spencer recognized Wess at a glance; Wess's mysterious and powerful magic had left a very deep impression on Spencer during the Battle of New York.

The dazzling magical light is still vivid in my mind.

At this moment, his eyes held not only fear, but also a hint of anger and vigilance.

"What do you want? Where am I?"

He questioned loudly, his voice hoarse with tension and anger, while quickly conjuring a fireball in his hand and shooting it at Wes without hesitation.

However, the fireball passed straight through Wes's body; he was just an illusion.

Spencer froze, his arm still outstretched.

This is not the real world, but a dream; the Wes before me is nothing more than a mass of spiritual energy.

Irritable and lacking in composure.

Weiss silently evaluated Spencer in his mind.

He observed Spencer's every move quietly, as if examining a worthless object.

Spencer Quentin's ability to become the leader of the Awakened was nothing more than his audacity and a bit of luck.

He lacked the composure, wisdom, and decisiveness that a true leader should possess.

When faced with a crisis, he acts on instinct alone, lacking thoughtful consideration and long-term planning.

Wes had no interest in wasting his breath on such a person.

With a gentle wave of his hand, Spencer Quentin was as if he were being held tightly by an invisible hand, and uncontrollably floated to Wes's side.

Weiss reached out and grabbed Spencer's head with one hand.

"Let me help you."

Wes's voice carried an undeniable air of authority.

A powerful flow of information, like a raging torrent, rushed into Spencer's brain.

"what!"

Spencer Quentin let out a painful howl, a sharp and mournful sound, as if tormented by endless suffering.

His body began to tremble violently, his face contorted in pain, his features almost squeezed together.

Immediately afterwards, he sprang up from the bed, drenched in sweat, his pajamas soaked through and clinging tightly to his body.

His eyes were filled with terror and confusion, and he was breathing heavily, as if he had just walked through the gates of hell.

"Is it a dream??"

He was panting heavily as he looked around with lingering fear. The familiar room came into view, with its dim lighting and messy bed. Everything seemed so real, yet so unreal.

It all seems like a nightmare.

However, the pain I just experienced was so real; the pain couldn't be faked, and the deep-seated pain seemed to still be spreading through my body.

He felt his throat was so dry it was like it was on fire, and every breath felt like it was burning his throat.

I subconsciously reached for the water glass on the bedside table.

But the moment he touched the water glass, it instantly melted, turning into a pool of scalding liquid that slowly flowed down the table.

"My abilities?"

Spencer stared in astonishment at his hands, which were now emitting a faint red glow.

My superpowers weren't this powerful before.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Before he could recover from the shock, some information suddenly began to surface uncontrollably in his mind.

The information surged like a tidal wave, constantly assaulting his brain. Ancient political maneuvering, sophisticated leadership strategies, complex insights into human nature... countless pieces of knowledge and ideas flooded in, almost bursting his head.

He writhed in agony on the bed, clutching his head tightly with both hands, his fingernails almost digging into his scalp.

Sweat poured down like beans, quickly soaking the sheets and forming a large puddle.

"Ha~"

"Ha~"

Spencer was breathing heavily, each breath sounding like a struggle.

Wes not only enhanced Spencer's superpowers, but also forcibly crammed a whole host of knowledge about political maneuvering and leadership into Spencer's mind.

All of this will completely change Spencer's fate and will have an immeasurable impact on the entire awakened community and even the landscape of the United States.

Wes concealed himself in the void, his figure perfectly hidden.

Even the most perceptive person would find it difficult to detect his presence.

He was filled with anticipation and curiosity about how things would unfold next.

Under Weiss's "transformation," Spencer Quentin was completely reborn.

Not long after, he held a high-profile press conference.

At the press conference, the venue was packed with people, and reporters from various media outlets, carrying their cameras and microphones, surrounded Spencer.

Spencer stood on the stage, his expression agitated, his eyes reddening, tears welling up in them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand here today to reveal a cruel truth!"

Spencer's voice was slightly choked up, yet full of power, and it resonated throughout the entire venue through the microphone.

He began, with tears streaming down his face, to recount how the US government oppressed the awakened.

Every detail seemed to be stained with blood and tears, piercing the hearts of everyone present.

"They treated us like monsters, like a threat, subjecting us to unwarranted surveillance, arrests, and even cruel experiments!"

Spencer became more and more agitated as he spoke, waving his hands in the air as if to vent all the anger in his heart.

To prove his point, he also presented a large amount of video evidence.

In the video, the awakened individuals are brutally treated by fully armed soldiers, imprisoned in cramped and dimly lit cells, and subjected to inhuman torture.

As soon as these images appeared, the entire venue erupted in an uproar, with reporters snapping photos and flashes going off one after another.

(End of this chapter)