Marvel's master of cosmic magic-Chapter 780

A Despair Witch possessed one of the most horrifying disaster-class abilities known to occult circles.

Her plague targeted the physical bodies of common creatures, attacking vital organs like the heart, brain, and lungs. From infection to outbreak to terminal collapse, the entire process could unfold in mere seconds. Within a minute, a healthy person could be reduced to a dying husk.

The affected area was vast.

For ordinary people, it was a death sentence.

For Beyonders, the effect was weaker, but still dangerous.

Rowan Mercer watched the gray fog roll across Backlund’s eastern district, his expression tightening.

"What is the Witch Sect trying to pull?" he muttered.

Backlund was not some remote frontier town. It was the capital.

Three major churches maintained heavy presence here. Sealed artifacts, elite operatives, demigods, and even a resident angel tied to the royal family all existed in delicate balance. Any cultist above a certain threshold normally hid like a rat in the walls.

Launching a large-scale disaster here was suicide.

Unless...

Unless the risk wasn’t as high as it appeared.

Or unless the reward was worth everything.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed.

Who benefited most from a catastrophe in Backlund?

The answer was obvious.

The royal family.

Mass casualties created fear. Fear created momentum. Momentum forced legislation through. Reform bills stalled for months could suddenly pass overnight. At the same time, the churches would be forced to divert manpower toward disaster relief and containment, giving the palace breathing room.

If the Witch Sect and the crown were cooperating...

Then the sect wouldn’t need to fear royal retaliation.

Rowan felt a slow, cold anger rise.

Human trafficking. Secret mausoleums. Power grabs.

Those were ugly, but comprehensible within the logic of ruthless ambition.

Unleashing a plague that could wipe out hundreds of thousands crossed a different line.

"That’s unforgivable."

He made his decision.

If the catastrophe had already been staged...

Then he would hijack it.

And use it to carve his own legend into the city.

Rowan gently clouded Chris’s mind, guiding her to return home safely. At the same time, he split off a projection, assuming the same anonymous form he had once used in Tingen.

Twelve radiant wings unfurled.

With a single beat, the angelic figure soared into the skies above the eastern district.

"Grow."

The projection expanded.

In seconds, a colossal angel towered above the city, vast enough to eclipse rooftops and church spires alike.

"Inhale."

The giant drew in a single breath.

The plague fog surged upward like water into a whirlpool, streaming directly into the angel’s lungs. Streets cleared. Buildings emerged. The suffocating gray vanished.

The poison had no effect.

Within his body, the plague was stripped apart and erased.

A voice thundered across Backlund.

"I am the great angel Amon, servant of the Fool. By the Fool’s will, you are saved."

Brilliant light erupted from his wings, sweeping across the eastern district.

Men and women who had collapsed gasping felt warmth flood their chests. Rotting lungs healed. Failing hearts steadied. Fevers vanished.

Old wounds closed.

Chronic illnesses dissolved.

Some who had lost limbs felt bone, muscle, and flesh knit themselves back together.

A miracle.

Then the angel raised his voice once more.

"Trust the Fool and live forever."

Rowan sensed hostile divine attention beginning to converge.

He did not linger.

The giant angel dissolved into light and vanished.

Thunder flickered high in the clouds, searching for a target that was no longer there. After several tense seconds, the storm dispersed.

On the streets below, tens of thousands of survivors dropped to their knees.

They had been abandoned by fate.

Then given new life.

Whatever gods they once worshipped faded into the background.

From this moment on, they belonged to the Fool.

Elsewhere, a woman disguised as an ordinary traveler stood frozen beside her carriage.

The Despair Witch.

Her mind reeled.

"Fool... Great angel... What god is that?"

In more than a century of life, she had never heard of such a deity.

Yet she had just witnessed a miracle that dwarfed most church legends.

Panic surged.

She turned to flee.

The carriage lurched.

And stopped.

A figure stood in front of the horse.

A pale infant with calm eyes.

Rowan Mercer’s true body.

The projection had never been meant to handle her.

This was his prey.

A Despair Witch was valuable.

Very valuable.

Rowan took a single step forward.

The hunt began.

...

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