Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 570

Once Amagiri Rōen joined the fight, Stephen White’s resistance collapsed almost immediately.

Even as the most accomplished dark mage alive, his command of forbidden magic bordering on the sublime, he was still overwhelmed. Minutes later, he lay heavily wounded on the stone courtyard, blood seeping through his robes.

"I didn’t expect this island to be hiding so many monsters," White said hoarsely, forcing a bitter smile. "It’s a shame, really. I never even got to see what that so-called ancient sorcery actually looks like."

His presence on the island hadn’t been purely obedience to the Emerald Concord.

Truthfully, when they captured him, he hadn’t resisted simply because he no longer cared to. Had he wanted to escape, the Concord could never have held him. This mission, sabotaging the Sacred Tree, was something he accepted for one reason only.

Curiosity.

He wanted to see how powerful an artifact born of ancient sorcery truly was.

"Your Majesty," Elia Jones said quietly, stepping forward and pressing his revolver against White’s forehead. "Should I execute him?"

Rowan Mercer shook his head, smiling faintly.

"No need."

He walked over and raised his hand. A crimson glow flared briefly, and White’s shattered body repaired itself in seconds. Bones reset. Burns vanished. His breathing steadied.

"I know why you came," Rowan said calmly. "Stay for now. Watch how things unfold. You might change your mind."

White stared at him in disbelief. "You’re not afraid I’ll strike again?"

He couldn’t understand it. With the Royal Sentinels spread thin and Behemoth’s invasion imminent, the Sacred Tree would soon be vulnerable. Given the chance, he could absolutely destroy it.

"You dare—" several Sentinels snapped angrily.

Rowan raised a hand, stopping them.

"If you think you can manage it," he said to White, almost amused, "go ahead and try."

White met his gaze and instinctively cast a probing spell, reaching out to test Rowan’s mind.

The instant he touched it, his body stiffened.

Cold sweat poured down his face.

The power inside Rowan was endless. Vast. It felt like standing before a cosmic abyss, the difference between an ant and a star dragon. There was no edge to it. No limit he could sense.

Fear, sharp and absolute, took hold.

"Who is he?" Amagiri Rōen demanded, staring at Rowan. "Why is everyone calling him King? And you—" he turned to his granddaughter, "what happened?"

Only hours ago, the throne had belonged to her.

And yet she stood unharmed, while a complete stranger ruled the island.

"Grandfather," Mila Moore said firmly, her tone sharp but protective, "show respect. The King claimed the throne through strength alone. He bypassed the succession entirely and merged directly with the Sacred Tree."

Amagiri’s pupils shrank.

"You’re telling me... he subdued the Tree by force?"

He had lived on this island long enough to understand what that meant. The Sacred Tree was no symbol. It was a living, ancient power.

What kind of existence could dominate it?

Had the outside world really become this terrifying while he hid here?

"Mila," Rowan said calmly, changing the subject, "have all native islanders brought to the palace. Every one of them."

She frowned immediately. "Your Majesty, our people are capable fighters. Spread through the forest, they can harass and wear down Behemoth’s forces. If we gather them here, they’ll be vulnerable to concentrated firepower."

Behemoth’s true danger wasn’t just enhanced operatives. It was scale.

Their gene-soldiers weren’t individually impressive, but outfitted with modern weapons and deployed in numbers, they became devastating. Her original plan had relied on terrain, ambushes, and attrition.

Rowan’s reply was flat.

"They’re not coming to fight. They’re coming to be protected."

He looked across the palace grounds.

"I’ll handle the invaders myself."

Silence fell.

Everyone stared at him.

They knew he was powerful. Strong enough to suppress the Sacred Tree. Strong enough to crush the Sentinels together.

But to face Behemoth alone? Their armies, their gene-soldiers, their warships?

That sounded like madness.

Amagiri Rōen burst into laughter. "Brave words, kid. I like it. No fear at all. If it’s a fight, then let’s fight!"

Rowan didn’t react.

"Carry out the order," he said simply.

He ordered only the native islanders recalled. The outsiders from the Market and the Haven were left alone. Those people had no loyalty to the Tree, no faith in the island. Let the invading forces deal with them.

Natson Island would be purified in the process.

Resources and livelihoods could be solved later. Easily.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Every Royal Sentinel bowed deeply.

They could advise. They could object.

But once the King decided, they obeyed without hesitation.

Far beyond the island, aboard a line of warships cutting through the sea, Ron Keller ended his final call with a satisfied smile.

"Excellent," said the Behemoth Corporation director. "I wish you all the best."

The Fish-Dragon Society had agreed not to interfere, requesting only the extraction of a single islander, Takeda Akira. Once secured, they would withdraw.

Global Response had made a similar statement. They would evacuate any citizens who wished to leave—and nothing more.

Ron Keller looked toward the distant island.

Everything was falling into place.

...

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