Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 573

"Looks like this just got interesting," Samuel Drake muttered. "We might not even need to step in and sabotage anything."

Standing on Evan Clarke’s other side, Samuel had already spotted the man seated on the throne. He remembered all too well the crater Rowan Mercer had carved into the ground that day. If Behemoth thought brute force was enough to wrest the Sacred Tree away from someone like that, they were in for a rude awakening.

"You really think he can handle this scale?" Martin Gray asked quietly, still struggling to believe anyone could stand against Behemoth’s full deployment.

"Watch and learn," Evan Ward said with a grin. "If it somehow goes south, we can always jump in later."

Their attention wasn’t the only one drawn upward. Mercenaries hired by the Jade Covenant, the Seven Sins from the underground lists, and veterans from the Debtors’ ranks had all noticed the same thing.

Natson Island had a new king.

Not everyone knew who Rowan Mercer was. But everyone could feel that something had gone off script.

Before long, a sleek, heavily armored helicopter descended and landed at the palace gates. Ron Keller, Behemoth’s overall commander, stepped out.

Hyena, Demoman, and several of Behemoth’s elite operatives immediately formed a protective ring around him. Unlike the Sentinels or the King, Ron was just a man. One careless moment and the operation would collapse.

Behemoth’s enhanced operatives fell into two camps.

One operated in the open, led by Sean, recruited through official channels. Most of them genuinely believed they were fighting crime. They were kept ignorant of Behemoth’s darker projects and rarely ordered to cross legal or moral lines.

The other group worked in the shadows.

Hyena, Demoman, and their peers were former criminals, failed experiments, or captured enemies forced into service. They handled the bloodier work. Massacres. Abductions. Operations like the seizure of Natson Island.

To keep them obedient, Behemoth had implanted micro-explosives in their brains.

Sean’s people would never have agreed to this mission. They’d have turned their guns inward first.

Ron raised a loudspeaker.

"King of Natson Island," he called out, his tone measured but firm. "I know you’re powerful. But look around you. This is hopeless. Cooperate with us, and I guarantee safety and prosperity for you and your people."

Rowan laughed.

The sound echoed across the palace grounds, carried by magic until everyone heard it clearly.

"Hopeless?" Rowan said. "You brought trash and toys, and you think that’s enough to scare me?"

The words landed like a slap.

Only a handful of people present actually understood what he was capable of. For everyone else, it sounded like sheer arrogance.

Ron’s patience snapped.

"Then shoot him."

High above, snipers with enhanced vision squeezed their triggers.

Hundreds of armor-piercing rounds screamed through the air. Each bullet maintained supersonic speed well past a mile, still capable of punching through armored vehicles. Fired together, they could shred Behemoth’s toughest operatives.

Every bullet stopped.

All of them froze less than a meter from Rowan Mercer.

Rowan calmly conjured a cup of steaming green tea, took a sip, and sighed.

"I told you. Toys."

He exhaled.

The bullets reversed direction, accelerating even faster than before.

Explosions of sound rippled through the sky. From the ground, sharp-eyed observers saw helicopter canopies splatter red in an instant.

"Snipers down! All snipers eliminated!" came the panicked reports over Ron’s headset.

Ron’s face hardened.

"Third protocol," he snapped. "Area-wide suppression. Eliminate everything."

Missiles ignited. Rockets roared. Heavy machine guns opened fire, saturating the palace entrance and everyone standing behind Rowan.

Hyena frowned.

"They can teleport. This might be pointless."

Ron snorted.

"They won’t run. They’re protecting the palace."

That was what Elia Jones had told him. The Sentinels would die before letting enemies breach the palace grounds.

The plan had already gone better than expected. The defenders were concentrated. No ambushes. No guerrilla resistance.

They wouldn’t abandon their post now.

Then Ron froze.

Every missile, every rocket, every bullet stopped in midair.

All of it, suspended before Rowan Mercer like decorations on an invisible wall.