The mont Marcus started drinking Mithras' blood, the Nerva King felt as if he'd nosedived into a volcanic eruption, sinking in a boiling ocean. The Weaver's pale-gray flas flashed in Marcus' eyes, supporting his flesh and soul as he attempted the legendary feat of consuming the Sun!
But here, Marcus connected to Mithras' soul, and his mind went reeling—overwheld and devoured by Mithras' mories! Marcus reford in the mory Hall of Mithras' Soul World, watching a projection of a tall and imposing youth standing by the edge of a mountain peak, with a flock of Sun-Kissed Birds flying around his neck.
Mithras—or so it seed, at least. But though the youth looked like a golden-haired version of Mithras, as he looked at his gold and scarlet eyes, Marcus couldn't help…but shiver from top to bottom.
Wrong. There was sothing horribly wrong hiding behind those dazzling eyes. Just waiting for an opportunity, an excuse, to erupt and overturn creation.
"Gramps? You got the mo?" The Sun asked, and in a puff of gray smoke, a black-robed old man appeared—silently dropping at the Sun's left.
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"Alas! And I'm just as pissed as you. This is absurd and irrational. Our Will has lost its damn mind," the Weaver replied, nibbling his lips as he wondered why the guru of all Fundantal Principles expected him to beco the Devil.
"It was always a bit on the mad side, but this one is gold. Drop my wife, slay my family, and marry the Lord? What's next? Why not ask to repopulate the next universe with the Lord while we're at it?"
"Crass. Please don't give nightmares. Ba'al Agan could cut you down and by association."
"Drama Queen. Ba'al Agan is good...but not on your level."
"True. So what's the plan, sun boy? You're obviously not abandoning your darling Vritra—much less wiping out your mischievous siblings. So, how are you going to deal with this?"
"Dunno. And here I was thinking it was ti for to take a vacation. The timing couldn't be worse."
"Vacation? You an…"
"Yes…if you agree, of course. I wouldn't intrude on your turf."
"Mhm…your little wifey and you are always welco in my universe. But I think you overestimate it. The sa things that revolt you in the paradises are there as well. It might even be worse. My universe is a ss. And I the number one contributor to its irregularities.
Sun boy, you got your priorities backward. You don't need a change of scenery. You need a goal. Your true problem, Mithras, is that you're bored."
"Oh. Am I now?"
"Of course you are. Mithras, to be born mighty is a curse. And to start out quasi-supre…an absolute death sentence.
It's like starting the ga at level 99. So what if there's a lvl 100 Boss hiding in the wild? You're lvl 99! The ga is over! The ga just started, but it's already over. How can you not go mad?
Boredom will kill you. Boredom…will make you go insane.
So, Mithras, I don't bla you for wanting out. Because vast as my universe may be. Only I can understand…your boredom and loneliness.
I just don't think turning your back on the Astral Paradise is the answer. If you can't find fulfillnt with your people…why would you find it in my world?" The Weaver asked with a shrug. And to this, Mithras had nothing to answer.
"Fair. And what about you, gramps? How did you manage…to cure your boredom?"
"Hohoho! By coming up with…a variety of ways to elevate people. Find the diamonds in the rough…and polish them into sparkling gems! Recently, I've been having a lot of success. Who knows…maybe one day I will find a way to elevate you, sun boy…and cure your boredom for good.
That or start a dog shelter. Maybe both!" The Weaver broke into laughter, making Mithras roll his eyes at his gramps' bizarre sense of humor.
Marcus couldn't believe his eyes, unable to make sense of these images of Mithras and the Weaver standing like…family.
"Sothing doesn't add up. It is now painfully obvious that the Blood-Slting Art originates from the Sun. And yet it would have made more sense if it truly ca from the Weaver.
The Sun possesses Authority over Light and Life. The Beast over Monsters and Annihilation.
The Beast is fine. But the Sun's Authorities and overall abilities… feel like they should belong to the Creator.
The Wrathful Gods, the Astral Paradise, and who knows what else. The Sun was too good at creation. Why are there two mbers of the Triumvirate so good at creation?
Unless the Sun…doesn't count as a mber of the Triumvirate?"
As he pondered that question, Marcus had the intimate conviction that the answer would uncover the final and greatest mystery of Mithras' existence. A mystery that would have impacted his life in cruel and unprecedented ways…if he'd not just turned into the Nerva King's dinner.
"You think you can afford to be dwelling on that now?
Marcus, you're dying." But as Marcus' thoughts wandered, the Weaver looked over his shoulder, nailing Marcus with a disturbing stare.
"W-what?" Flummoxed by this breach of the fourth wall, Marcus backpedaled. The mories collapsed around him. Marcus returning to the Temple of ditations where Mithras' Essence of Perfection threatened to reduce him to ashes!
"Persist." The Weaver's voice bood in Marcus' mind, followed by a rush of transcendent energies that suppressed the destructive power of Mithras' blood.
With the Master of Creation to back him up, Marcus drank at will, letting Mithras' perfected blood transform his body and enhance his abilities!
'The Weaver…be praised!' Marcus kept this thought to himself—unaware of the little spark flickering in Mithras' eyes.
anwhile, on the Muk'Bal field, Mithras' crew had lost its shine. Shaken by his disappearance. Initially, Ishtar didn't share the others' fears. But as ti went by, the dragoness' poise made way for grimaces.
"My brother…is in danger," Ishtar said in a grim and somber tone. And though the gang couldn't tell where she got the information from, none doubted her.
"I can probably use the Sixth Secret to connect our plane to Marcus' palace. The problem is…" Vel started. Her words trailing as her eyes narrowed at the newcors lining up by the stadium seats. The gang followed her look, watching a cohort of pale-gray gargoyles arise from the seats, all surrounded by the Winds of Destiny.
A colossal armored knight led the Destiny Beasts, their dark-gray eyes rippling with unmistakable divine power!
"I'm just not sure they will give us a chance to act." Vel ca to a most reasonable conclusion. And as if to validate her words, the Fate God stepped forward, leading a cohort of 300 Destiny Beasts at Mithras' crew!
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