Read Novel Full Chapter 1321: Old Marcus
Chapter 1321: Old Marcus
Timi’s eyes shifted toward her.
She didn’t look much older than him.
Perhaps sixteen.
Perhaps seventeen.
Her clothes were disordered, and tears stained her face. She kept her head lowered as she hurried past Timi and the guard without saying anything.
Timi’s eyes followed the girl until she disappeared around the corner.
For some reason, the earlier intrusion in his apartment came to his mind, followed by his sisters.
Something cold settled inside Timi.
Fuck.
He suddenly found it difficult to look at the matter the same way.
The girl hadn’t revealed anything new to him, but merely reminded him of the reality of the place he was in.
And more importantly, what kind of person would remain here if something happened to him.
What if I die?
Death wasn’t some distant possibility.
People stronger than him died all the time.
What if he entered the Origin Battlefield one day and never returned?
What happened to his sisters then?
This bastard would eventually put his hands on them.
Maybe not immediately.
Timi didn’t know. He didn’t care to find out.
A thin layer of killing intent surfaced within his heart.
No.
His earlier decision disappeared almost instantly.
I’m killing him.
He’d already reconsidered once because of the settlement.
Killing the leader might cause instability.
People might die because of it.
But now that the man had already begun moving against him, he had to die.
You should’ve left them out of it.
Timi slowly turned back toward the office.
The coldness in his eyes disappeared.
So did the killing intent.
Nothing remained on his face by the time a deep voice came from inside.
"Come in."
Timi pushed open the door.
The office was spacious. A large wooden desk occupied its center, while shelves, maps, weapons, and several pieces of salvaged equipment lined the walls.
Behind the desk sat the man Timi had been calling an old bastard in his head.
Marcus Hale.
At first glance, Marcus looked old enough to be Timi’s grandfather.
His hair was almost entirely gray, with only a few strands of black remaining. Deep wrinkles covered his face, and the skin around his eyes had sagged considerably. Even his hands carried the appearance of an elderly man.
Yet everything beneath the neck contradicted that impression.
Marcus was enormous.
Even seated, his broad shoulders stretched against the fabric of his shirt. Thick muscles covered his arms, while the veins running across his forearms looked like cords beneath his aged skin.
There was nothing frail about him.
In truth, Marcus wasn’t even an old man.
He was only middle-aged.
His current appearance was the price he’d paid for power.
During the earliest months of the apocalypse, remnants of the military had distributed experimental Esper Serums to certain groups of survivors.
Marcus had been one of those fortunate enough to obtain one.
Or unfortunate, depending on how one looked at it.
Timi didn’t know the specifics. His ability granted him monstrous physical strength, durability, and explosive power, but using that power burned through his lifespan.
Whenever Marcus pushed his ability beyond ordinary limits, years that should have belonged to his future were converted directly into power.
It was how he’d survived battles that should have killed him.
It was also why a middle-aged man now looked like someone’s grandfather.
The situation had only improved recently thanks to an Awakener from the settlement who had returned from the Land of Origin with a cultivation method.
The method might not be particularly impressive by the standards of that world, but on Earth it was priceless.
After Marcus began cultivating mana, he discovered he could substitute mana for much of the life force his Esper ability normally consumed.
His lost lifespan hadn’t returned, but at least he was no longer rapidly burning through what remained.
Marcus looked up.
The moment his eyes landed on Timi, a warm smile spread across his aged face.
"Timi."
He gestured toward the chair opposite him.
"Come. Sit."
Looking at that grandfatherly smile, Timi almost wanted to laugh.
Controlling his thoughts, he sat down.
Marcus leaned back comfortably.
"It’s been a while since you’ve visited me."
"You asked to see me."
"I did."
Marcus chuckled.
Timi said nothing.
Marcus studied him for a moment before his smile softened further.
"How have you been?"
"Fine."
"And your sisters?"
"They’re fine."
"Good, good."
Marcus nodded approvingly.
"Family is important. Especially nowadays. You should treasure them."
Timi’s black eyes remained completely still.
Is that supposed to be a threat?
Perhaps it wasn’t.
The old bastard rarely said anything directly.
Marcus reached for a glass of water on his desk.
"I haven’t seen much of you recently."
"I’ve been busy."
"So I’ve heard."
Marcus took a small sip.
"You’ve been disappearing quite often."
Timi didn’t respond.
Marcus smiled.
"Don’t misunderstand. I’m not questioning you. You’re young. Naturally, you have your own matters to handle."
He placed the glass down.
"But these are dangerous times."
His eyes remained friendly.
"If one of the strongest people in our settlement repeatedly disappears without telling anyone where he’s going, people become worried."
People?
Timi nearly rolled his eyes.
You mean you.
Marcus continued.
"We all depend on each other here."
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
"Food. Protection. Information. Manpower. Everyone contributes what they can."
Timi nodded.
"I know."
"And you’ve contributed greatly."
Marcus’s smile widened.
"I’ve never denied that. But as our enemies become stronger, individual strength becomes less important than unity."
There it was.
Timi understood immediately.
The same argument again.
Marcus sighed like an elder genuinely concerned for a troublesome child.
"I worry about you sometimes, Timi. You’re powerful, but you’re still young. The world outside these walls isn’t forgiving."
His gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
"No matter how strong one person becomes, everyone has something they can’t protect alone."
For a fraction of a second, Timi imagined reaching across the desk and crushing Marcus’s throat.
Definitely a threat.
Whether Marcus meant his sisters specifically didn’t matter.
Timi had already decided the man’s fate.
But killing him now would ruin everything.
So, unlike before, Timi didn’t remain silent or give another vague answer.
Instead, he lowered his head slightly.
"You’re right."
Marcus paused.
For perhaps the first time since Timi entered, surprise appeared in his eyes.
Timi continued.
"I’ve been doing things my own way too much."
He raised his head.
"I’ll work harder from now on."
Marcus watched him carefully.
Timi deliberately hesitated before adding the words he knew the man actually wanted to hear.
"And I’ll try to follow commands when they’re given."
Silence filled the office.
Then Marcus smiled.
Not the carefully maintained grandfatherly smile from earlier. This one contained genuine satisfaction.
"Good."
He leaned back.
"Very good."
Timi returned a small smile.
Enjoy it.
His completely black eyes remained calm.
It won’t be there for long.
Marcus continued smiling for several seconds before his expression became a little more serious.
"Still, there’s something else."
Timi looked at him.
Perhaps because Marcus believed Timi was finally becoming more obedient, he was less calculating than before and wanted to show some goodwill to this future subordinate.
"You know those prophets we’ve been keeping away from the estate?"
Timi nodded.
Of course he knew about them.
The so-called prophets had begun appearing several months after the apocalypse.
At first, nobody had paid them much attention.
The apocalypse had produced all kinds of strange people.
Some claimed the destruction of civilization was divine punishment. Others worshipped the monsters that had appeared across Earth, believing humanity had been replaced as the planet’s rightful rulers. There were even groups that treated powerful Espers as gods.
Compared to those people, the prophets hadn’t initially seemed particularly special.
What made them strange was how organized they were.
They didn’t belong to any settlement Timi knew of.
They wandered between survivor communities, sometimes alone and sometimes in small groups, preaching almost identical messages despite appearing in completely different places.
Timi had encountered them several times himself.
They spoke about humanity’s weakness.
About how Earth had entered a greater universe and that humanity’s old understanding of existence had been laughably small.
They claimed the apocalypse wasn’t the end.
It was merely the beginning of humanity’s transition into a much larger world.
That part, surprisingly, wasn’t even wrong.
The stranger part came afterward.
According to the prophets, humanity couldn’t survive what was coming alone.
Earth needed protection and guidance, and there existed a great existence, or perhaps a great civilization, capable of providing both.
The prophets never explained exactly what that existence was.
Sometimes they called it their Lord.
Other times, their Master.
A few simply referred to it as the Great One.
Whatever the name, the message remained essentially the same.
Submit and accept its rule.
In return, humanity would receive protection and power sufficient to survive the new era.
However, though they sounded crazy, the strange powers these cultlike people possessed were indeed miraculous and real.
Thanks to this, some settlements welcomed them.
Others chased them away.
Marcus belonged firmly to the latter group.
"Now it seems they’ve returned again."
*
Please point out any missed mistake. Editing so much is a bit hard.