Marvel Book of Magical Events

Chapter 1625 Kama Taj·The Dream of the Past

The stairs are really too long.

There were thousands of climbing stairs built along the ridge, and Wanda Maximov had to use a cane to support herself while trying to keep up with the emperor's faster and faster pace. It was as if there were dull explosions coming from the bottom of the valley one after another in front of her that she could not see. The thick smoke from the explosions almost obscured all the starlight that Kama Taj could receive. The further Wanda Maximoff walked forward, The more she could feel the despair, anger and fear surging in the sea of ​​ether, sparkling in the air. Every time she touched the sparkling emotions, she felt a sense of spiritual satisfaction, especially the emperor's anger. It flickered in the air like a flame, making the cold wind on the plateau become so hot that it even burned her fingers.

She looked down at her fingers and realized that it was an illusion, her fingers were still clean and intact.

This is just a metaphor used to describe the etheric sea, not a real physical phenomenon. Just as a person with vision cannot explain the color of the sky to a person who has been blind since birth, Wanda Maximoff is also using a way that her brain can understand to explain the amorphous and indescribable things she sees. Things are just like a thousand different readers who will come to different conclusions after reading the same work. The ether sea in everyone's eyes is different. The only thing that can be determined is that it is a crazy and dangerous dimension. It is the chaotic, spirit-led, mirror-reflective dimension of the physical universe.

I can't tell the difference.

She muttered and clutched the snake bone staff, silently reciting the Hermetic incantation to seek the inner truth. But she could indeed feel the emperor's anger, because it was a real physical phenomenon manifested through psychic diffraction. Her doubts did not last long. Before she stepped onto another level of stairs, she saw the truth - the dirty and thin body was covered with ragged luxurious cloth, and the beard and hair were filled with aromatherapy ascetics. Under the guidance of the leader, he walked into the square reciting the dedication mantra. They followed the instructions and sat on the ground in the center of the square around a mystic in black robes.

Wanda Maximov saw that under the robes made of luxurious fabrics, the ascetic's skinny body was covered with abscesses, herpes and other diseases, and some of his flesh had undergone slight mutations. These ascetics endured the pain of mutation with absolute determination. Their only purpose is to give without expecting anything in return. As the price of sacrifice, their bones will be burned into inorganic matter and then made into stone bricks, which will be laid in the dungeon of Kama Taj. Their bodies and souls will forever fight against the indescribable things that humans cannot resist. They are the most devout believers in the creed of the continuation of human nature. Even if they do not fully understand how to achieve this creed, they know that the greatest threat to the continuation of the human race transcends time and space and eternally threatens all intelligent races in the universe.

They know that all their sacrifices are for the sake of a possible grand future.

Immediately afterwards, Wanda Maximoff heard two simultaneous explosions.

The first explosion seemed to be ringing in her ears, and she could even see the dazzling flames of the melta warhead pouring out of her head, and the terrifying heat almost scorched her scalp; the second explosion seemed to come from a distance, mixed with The exhaust gases of hot metal and propellant fluid, as well as the crisp and fresh cold wind of the plateau. She observes the same thing happening at the same time from a different perspective. This feeling is very novel. She has never dived into the sea of ​​collective subconscious before. At this moment, she seems to have dived into someone's mind, fully experiencing the person's emotions and thoughts, because this is very dangerous.

Something now protected her mind from contaminating her mind with the thoughts of others. It was almost a dream, as if she were diving into the deep sea. The water was light green like emerald. As she dived deeper, the water became like turquoise, and finally became almost black, dark green like silt. . That kind of power was like a deep submersible with a round front porthole, emitting columnar light on the dark seafloor. The solid alloy shell withstood the water pressure that mortals could not bear - this was a metaphor, and she knew it was The emperor is helping her, so she plans to see more - Kamathai has many secrets, and the ascetics don't know much, but she can see why these ascetics came here to become a Kamathai Acolyte Ji.

Because of poverty, war, famine, injustice, and superstition.

Not all of these ascetics had received higher education, and they did not even have what she and Pietro had learned and felt in prison. Their childhoods were filled with hunger and ignorance, until the Sorcerer Supreme pulled them out of the mire and taught them the creed. Their weak talents cannot reach profound wisdom, and their wisdom is not enough to understand overly ambitious goals, so the Supreme Mage teaches them the only wisdom they can accept, the creed that continues human reason.

They worship this creed like a god and the Supreme Mage who practices it. From their perspective, the Supreme Mage is equivalent to a god walking in the human world. The god's decree requires them to dedicate everything to safeguard the survival of human society, so they will believe in and fulfill that seemingly empty creed.

Adored but unable to understand, understood but unable to achieve.

She tasted the taste of black humor on her tongue, which was as bitter as powdered snow contaminated by smoke.

They went through countless penances just to fulfill one wish, which was to witness the arrival of the hope promised to them by the Supreme Mage. So at night more than twenty years ago, the revelation came. Wanda Maximov saw that on that winter night in 1995, the ascetics gathered in the square at the foot of the mountain sat on the stone tile floor covered with light snow. The fire pits placed all around provided a little heat to prevent them from freezing. They threw myrrh and other spices into the brazier, and the pungent smoke irritated the eyes and noses of the onlookers. Their singing and prayers made the foreign tourists living nearby very curious, and also confused the local residents. Because that day was not any traditional festival or ceremony, the locals did not know why these ascetics, who usually wandered the streets and anointed their skin with ashes and spices, gathered today.

Wanda Maximov saw tourists not far away raising their cameras.

The picture in front of her was quickly frozen, and finally fell into the hands of a person. Then the photo stayed in a travel photo album for several years, and was later given to the photographer's friend. The unsealed photos yellowed and faded in the air, but the scene in front of Wanda Maximoff was still fixed on that day.

When the person who acquired the photo died, his children sorted out his belongings and put them up for auction on a second-hand website. Within a few days, the travel photo album was ordered by a folklore professor who claimed to be from Massachusetts. When the current owner of the photo album, the granddaughter of the person who received the photo album as a gift, arrived at the coffee shop, Folklore opened the photo album with her long and well-joined fingers. The scene in front of Wanda Maximoff finally changed. Constrained by a small photo.

This gave her a sigh of relief, when she realized that she had not breathed in more than ten years.

Then she was surprised to find that the person sitting on the other side of the table was someone she knew well.

Long black hair, eyes that bloomed like obsidian with the brilliance of stars in the universe, just as she saw now. She heard the folklore professor explain the location where each photo was taken in a gentle, charming voice, as if he had experienced it himself, and could even name the scenes and people nearby when the photo was taken. As time went by, the sound gradually dissipated as if sinking into water, just like what the woman sitting across the coffee table heard because of the professor's charm and was always staring at his fingers and face. , unable to concentrate and listen to the details in the discourse.

Why are you interested in this photo album, sir? The woman, who is a real estate agent, asked in an interested tone. You don't look like someone who is interested in this kind of thing. It's because you Do you plan to collect relevant information and write words about it, or is it because you and I have a relationship that was unknown to the previous generation?

Hearing this question, the folklore professor raised his head and looked directly into her eyes.

Because I am here, in this photo. A stray dog ​​squatted on the street. She followed the real estate agent's gaze and noticed the stray dog ​​staring at him through the window. Get out, Messenger of Chaos. You don't deserve a place in my memory, and this is not the place where you weave secret spells. Then she woke up, as if after a long journey, she also embarked on the journey. Another set of steps left its own footprints on the thin snow that had never been stepped on before.

She was reminded of Cassandra, the priest of Apollo in ancient Greek fables.

As the disbelieved prophetess in ancient Greek mythology, when the Trojan War ended and the Greeks distributed the spoils, the Trojan women looked at Cassandra in amazement and recalled her prophecy of destruction; but in the face of their tears, Cassandra Della could only laugh with resentment, filled with sorrow for the destruction of her homeland. Others cannot see the horrors he has seen, cannot use mortal wisdom to speculate on the vision beyond the earth and beyond the galaxy. The truth told without reservation will be accused of the ravings of a madman, and the sincere suggestions of altruism will be distorted. Self-serving hypocritical lies, Wanda Maximov asked herself, did she step onto this ladder because she believed deeply in the emperor's prophecy, or was it just that the emperor was her teacher and she had great trust in him?

I can't tell the difference.

Wanda Maximoff muttered, she looked dejected. Her body under the crimson leather jacket was covered with hot sweat, and was immediately blown dry by the cold altitude of the plateau that carried the smell of propellant fuel. She had a fever, her body moved mechanically, and she continued to climb the steps following the footsteps of the imperial guard Amon.

Lord, I think Ms. Maximoff's situation needs attention. Amon frowned and pressed a few small buttons on Wanda Maximoff's collar, and the slender energy lines began to buzz. . The aether density here is too high, and it is easy to cause adverse reactions. I think turning on the psionic suppressor and adjusting it to a high gear may solve the problem. You will feel much better now, Ms. Maximoff.

I……

She walked mechanically, her eyes blurred, like a baby opening its eyes for the first time. Then her mind subconsciously rushed towards the lighthouse in the chaos, realizing where she was, who she was, and what she was going to do here.

I understand, teacher.

[You don’t know enough, Wanda. You don't know why I brought you here and not Bayonetta or Jeanne. 】