Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 565

For the King of Natson Island, the situation was simple.

Someone like Rowan Mercer, a figure whispered about as one of the strongest beings alive, did not come to a remote island just to be polite. If he sought her out personally, it was almost certainly because of the Sacred Tree.

And that suited her perfectly.

"Then I appreciate your cooperation," Rowan said, faint surprise crossing his face as he smiled.

If she was this pragmatic, then once he finished studying the Sacred Tree, he wouldn’t mind helping her stabilize the island in return.

"I’ll take you there," the King said, reaching out to grab his arm, intending to teleport them both to the palace grounds.

Rowan vanished before her hand touched him.

"No need. I can feel where it is. I’ll go on my own."

Her pupils shrank.

"That’s... impossible."

She teleported instantly to the Sacred Tree’s chamber.

Rowan was already standing there.

Natson Island was saturated with the Sacred Tree’s power. Even with the island open, teleportation was suppressed across the entire territory. Only the King and the Royal Sentinels were exempt.

And yet Rowan had ignored the restriction completely.

Which meant something else entirely.

If he wanted to study the Sacred Tree, he could have come here anytime. Asking permission first hadn’t been necessity.

It had been courtesy.

"This tree..." Rowan said quietly, studying the massive golden structure before him. "There’s a staggering amount of power in it."

It looked like a tree.

But it felt like something else.

He sensed faith energy. Residual consciousness. Generations of merged spiritual signatures compressed into one supernatural phenomenon. Less a plant. More a magical singularity given shape.

"The Sacred Tree was created using the most powerful ancient sorcery," the King said. "It carries the will of every ruler who came before me."

She paused, then spoke with startling calm.

"If you truly want to understand it, there is a faster way. Break a Golden Branch. Kill me. Become the next King of Natson."

Rowan blinked.

"Your Majesty... you’re not joking, are you?"

"I’m serious," she said, smiling faintly. "Most past kings were powerful even before inheriting the throne. With the Sacred Tree’s authority added, they could protect this island."

She spread her hands slightly.

"I wasn’t born strong. I only have the authority the Tree grants me. But now the outside world is coming. Natson needs a ruler strong enough to fight and win."

She had made the same offer to the Haven’s leader before. He refused. He didn’t want to become a puppet of the Sacred Tree.

But Rowan was different.

Stronger.

Disciplined enough to respect protocol despite overwhelming power.

And genuinely interested in the ancient sorcery bound into the Tree itself.

Most importantly, the Sacred Tree did not reject him.

Not everyone could break a Golden Branch and enter the succession.

Invaders could conquer the island physically. They could move the Tree. Study it. Exploit it.

But they could never become King unless the Tree accepted them.

And the Tree only accepted those capable of sacrifice.

Because only someone willing to give everything would protect the island and the Tree after taking the throne.

She believed Rowan met that condition.

What she didn’t realize was the truth.

The Tree wasn’t accepting Rowan because of noble sacrifice.

It simply wasn’t strong enough to push him away.

His mind and spirit dwarfed it. Any rejection impulse dissolved against his will. The same applied to the island’s spatial lockdown. He wasn’t bypassing it.

He was overpowering it.

"You’re not afraid of dying?" Rowan asked, studying her more carefully now.

She shook her head.

"I am. I don’t want to die. But if it’s for the island... I will."

"I’m not one of your people," Rowan said. "You barely know me. What if I take the throne and sell everything? The island. The Tree."

She didn’t even hesitate.

"When you inherit the throne, you inherit the will of every ruler who came before. Thousands of years of intent. It shapes you. Forces you to preserve the Tree and the kingdom."

She met his eyes steadily.

"You might be strong enough to resist it. If you are... then everything here becomes yours to do with as you please."

Centuries of rulers. Generations of believers. The combined spiritual inertia of an entire civilization.

She didn’t think anyone could overcome that.

"I see," Rowan said, rubbing his chin. "If I become King... will the Sentinels obey me?"

He was tempted now.

Originally, he planned to study the Tree, then leave, maybe clearing out foreign invaders as a courtesy.

But she was offering the throne freely.

And with it, total access to the Sacred Tree and the divine domain built around it.

For researching ancient sorcery and faith-based dimensional domains...

It was extremely appealing.

As for the accumulated will of past rulers?

For most people, it would be insurmountable.

For someone whose power brushed against single-universe scale, backed by external soul anchors from other realities...

It was irrelevant.

"They serve the throne," she said gently. "Not me. If you become King, they serve you."

Rowan smiled.

"Just to confirm," he said. "You are voluntarily offering me the throne. I’m not forcing you."

"If I become King... the Sacred Tree and the kingdom are mine to decide the fate of."

...

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