Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 561

A mountain cave deep within Nason Island’s forest opened onto a small clearing where two old men sat across from each other, locked in a quiet board game.

"Seventeen, your move. What’s taking so long?"

The ragged old man chuckled, sliding a piece across the board and capturing his opponent’s defender.

"Check."

Across from him, a bald, heavyset man frowned at the board, rubbing his chin in frustration.

"Give me a minute... let me think."

The ragged man pulled a chocolate bar from his coat and bit into it loudly.

The bald man glanced up.

"You went back to the market again?"

"Yeah. Needed a change of flavor."

The bald man sighed.

"With the method I taught you, you’ll never starve. You don’t need to risk going near outsiders. You’ve only been on this island three years. You don’t understand how dangerous it can be yet."

The ragged man burst into laughter.

"You worried about me, Seventeen?"

The bald man nodded without hesitation.

"Most of my old friends are dead. Not many people left who can call me that. So... stay alive a little longer, will you? Master what I taught you first. Then go wandering if you want."

The two finished their game in companionable silence.

Afterward, they sat facing each other and began practicing the bald man’s personal technique. One of the most feared forbidden arts among awakened circles.

The Six Vault Devourer.

The air around them pulsed faintly as their breathing synchronized.

Then eight figures emerged from the forest.

"We’ve come to bring you home, Master Elias Voss."

The clearing went silent.

The bald man slowly stood.

"...I’m getting old. Hearing’s not what it used to be. Mind repeating that name?"

The temperature in the clearing seemed to drop.

For years, he had hidden behind the alias "Seventeen." Not even Nason Island’s intelligence networks knew his true identity.

But these people did.

The lead attacker activated a defensive relic.

"Master Elias Voss. Did I say something wrong?"

His sentence ended halfway through his neck.

Elias appeared behind him, hand still raised.

Instant kill.

The remaining seven attackers didn’t panic. They moved immediately, activating enchanted gear and surrounding him in coordinated formation.

All of them were high-tier awakened combatants. With relic protection and teamwork, even Elias couldn’t end the fight instantly.

Beyond the cave, two distant Nason sentries triggered emergency comms.

"Report to the Monarch. Immediate."

From the moment Elias first stepped onto the island, the Monarch had sensed him. His power was too dangerous to confront directly, so surveillance had been the only option.

Back in the clearing, the fight intensified.

"We’re outmatched!" shouted a spirit-binding awakened fighter. "If you don’t find an opening soon, we all die here!"

A man in a baseball cap sat cross-legged and began chanting.

Strange syllables vibrated through the forest.

Elias’s expression changed instantly.

"...That chant... I’ve heard it before. The Self-Demon Invocation."

His vision blurred. Reality warped. For a split second, he slipped into a mental illusion.

That was enough.

Another attacker drove a relic blade into Elias’s abdomen, injecting venomous energy.

Then a voice spoke from above.

"Looks like someone beat me here."

Rowan Mercer landed in the clearing.

He glanced around once, instantly recognizing them. Elite operatives tied to Quinn Thorne’s network.

He already knew her long-term objective. Capture Elias. Break his mind. Extract his knowledge.

The attackers froze when they saw him.

Elias was terrifying.

Rowan was something else entirely.

"Elias is under my protection," Rowan said calmly. "Tell your employer to stop wasting time."

The lead survivor swallowed hard.

"Mr. Mercer... We don’t have to be enemies. Hand him over. Our director will compensate you generously."

Rowan didn’t even look at him.

"Leave."

One word.

Cold. Final.

Quinn had already outlived her usefulness to him. She had been a transaction, nothing more.

"Then forgive us."

The man’s skin turned metallic gold as he lunged.

The baseball cap user resumed chanting.

The rest attacked simultaneously.

Rowan released a fraction of his aura.

That alone blasted them backward like leaves in a storm.

But the chant continued, scratching at his mind like distant static.

Rowan’s eyes sharpened.

"Now this... is interesting."

The spell was crude, but its design was clever. It could bypass raw power and attack consciousness directly.

If he learned it... paired with his psychic abilities...

He vanished and reappeared in front of the caster, grabbing his head.

Soul search.

Across the clearing, the surviving attackers struggled to stand.

"It’s over," one muttered.

"If his aura alone can break us... we never stood a chance."