RNP Page 467
Page 467
That's mimicry armor.
Grotesque horn-like structures pierced from the shoulders and the back of the helmet, and cold, scarlet compound eyes shone on the visor! Faced with this extraordinary monster, Ian seemed to have grown two extra arms for himself.
The Black Death Sword and the Eternal Spear were each firmly grasped in these two hands. As for Ian's own original small hands, they naturally held the icy treasure box that had belonged to him since ancient times.
"These things have all been reforged by Lord Ian's divine power!"
The wealthy warrior prepared to fight. However, just as Arios's terrifying, sky-covering body was about to crush him, and Ian was about to swing the Eternal Spear in a desperate last stand...
Whoosh!
A lithe, green figure darted out like a ghost from the ruins of a pile of dilapidated television sets behind him! The movement was so fast that it left only a blur!
The man gave Ian no time to react, grabbing his original small hand, which had just been freed up because he had used one hand to hold the Ice Box high and kill the Statue of Liberty.
Then, with astonishing brute force, he dragged Ian and turned to run away!
The speed was truly incredible. Ian, who didn't have time to resist, was almost dragged to the ground, his legs, which hadn't immediately started moving, scraping against the ground.
Rao is so.
Ian still didn't move his leg.
"What are you doing?! Let me go! I can fight! Don't let my low health fool you, I've always been low health, I can turn the tables! My gear is great!"
Ian was so angry that he yelled loudly.
"Damn it! Let me go! I haven't even gone to the bow of the Titanic to strike a pose and shout that I am the king of the universe yet. Do you know that you've made the universe miss its chance to climb up the ladder?"
"You actually held my hand, my hand! Even my mother has never held my hand this tightly... Holding hands costs fifty yuan! Kissing... wait, something's not right!"
He hasn't finished speaking yet.
The person dragging him seemed annoyed by his noise and suddenly yanked him. In that instant, Ian, through the distorted light reflected from a huge metal can on the side, saw the person dragging him away.
The other person wore a green cloak with slight gold patterns and a horned crown.
There was also a black, tight-fitting combat suit that outlined a slender yet powerful figure, and a profile that carried a hint of rebellion, cunning, and extreme impatience.
"Damn it! You're female Loki! Kissing service is closed!" Ian recognized the other person instantly, and the flirtatious words he was about to say were abruptly changed.
"Shut up!"
Without turning her head, Loki dragged him even harder, squeezing into a narrow crevice made of a wrecked spaceship hull, and growled irritably.
"Why did Loki make me come looking for you, you idiot? Do you think those things of yours can be picked up anywhere..." Female Loki's voice was crisp, full of rage.
So she wasn't able to finish her sentence.
"Zi La~"
Because he had studied with President Trump, Ian, who swore that only his mother could call him an idiot, immediately taped her little mouth shut.
"Whatever you want from me, find another sycophantic Loki. This Loki isn't sweet-talking enough." Ian, who had already realized that the Loki the other party was referring to was probably the strongest Loki, shouted at the air.
"?????"
Female Loki is completely red-hot.
They also directly included the red-skinned race.
His eyes were about to pop out.
Take a day off
My friend got married, so I went to the wedding reception.
Chapter 201 The God of Stories and OAA
Within the "underlying code" of the universe.
Within a region that cannot be described using conventional physical concepts.
Here, all is silent; time seems to stand still, yet it also seems to flow at billions of speeds simultaneously.
Countless thick, winding veins, emitting a faint glow, intertwine and extend, forming a pattern so vast it surpasses imagination, its shape resembling the World Tree from mythology.
This is the center of time, the neural network of the multiverse—once, billions of light veins intertwined like vines, each representing an independent reality, a timeline, a possible "what if." Green light surges like rivers, whispering the birth and death of countless worlds.
Each vein once represented a unique story, a vibrant universe. But now, this sacred realm is almost lifeless.
Most of the veins had long since withered and carbonized, hanging limply like vines burned by a raging fire, with ashes scattering from the broken ends.
Within that utterly decaying "storyline," only one thread still pulsates faintly, flowing with a ghostly green light unique to time and the god of stories.
It is delicate and fragile, as if it could be extinguished at any moment—meaning that, despite the apparent restart of everything after the collapse of the multiverse, the entire Marvel universe is still just one universe clinging to life. At the center of those countless threads, a figure sits alone on a throne woven from time itself.
His body was intimately connected to those enormous veins, as if he himself were part of this giant tree, or rather, as if this giant tree was supporting his existence.
He is Loki.
But not that cunning and mischievous god of pranks.
Rather, he is a god who has undergone baptism and transformation, finally understanding the true meaning of divinity. Powerful and higher-dimensional are synonyms for him after achieving godhood.
In the original Loki story, he was revealed to be the core of the multiverse narrative, with the Time Guardians, the TVA Time Authority, and everything else revolving around "Loki's story."
Within the timeline structure, most lives follow a "sacred timeline," proceeding according to a predetermined script. Loki, however, through constant betrayal, escape, and altering his fate, becomes the only "variable" capable of breaking the narrative framework. Each of his choices can potentially create a new timeline and a new story.
Therefore, his existence is key to maintaining the balance of the cosmic narrative, serving as an anchor. In a major crisis, Loki, in his efforts to save the universe, did not become the "Guardian of Time," but instead chose to become the "God of Stories." He is no longer a prisoner of the script, but the gardener of the story.
This is true transcendence. Allowing all stories to grow freely, he reconnects countless timelines, making every "what if" a reality.
The position of the God of Stories was thus born.
This responsibility should have continued until the end of time.
however.
He is no longer in good health.
This is the price of being closely connected to the multiverse.
Due to the decay of the multiverse, Loki looked incredibly weak, his face pale, and his once bright eyes were now filled with heavy weariness and unfathomable sorrow.
"Where will this final story lead?"
The veins around his body, which should have been radiant and flowing with countless colorful stories, have now mostly become gray, dry, and withered.
Like a forest scorched by fire, only desolate ruins remain.
"Huhuhuhu~"
His heavy breathing, comparable to Batman's, echoed.
Loki's body was so thin it was almost transparent, with green lines connecting his veins emerging beneath his skin, as if his flesh and blood were being constantly pulled away by the remaining web of time.
His head was slightly lowered, his silver hair was scattered, and each breath was a heavy panting. All possibilities, all branches, had been annihilated, leaving only this one main thread, weighing heavily on his shoulders, supported by him alone, maintaining this last fragile existence.
Loki holds everything together, yet he has also imprisoned himself. His body is becoming the pillar that allows this last universe, this final story, to flow and develop normally.
“Ian Kent…” Suddenly, Loki slowly raised his head. This simple movement seemed to have exhausted him greatly, and the veins connecting his body trembled slightly, emitting a barely audible groan.
He braced himself against the armrests of the throne, not for majesty, but to keep himself from collapsing. Two images appeared in the void before him.
One image shows Ian Kent shouting at him, his voice seemingly transcending dimensions.
The other image shows Loki Sylvie with a flushed face and eyes burning with rage, clearly in a state of extreme agitation.
As Loki's gaze fell upon the boy, Ian Kent, the image focused on him. Loki, seated on his throne, offered no response to Ian's booming voice, which seemed to pierce through dimensional barriers.
He simply watched silently, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes, which had witnessed countless rises and falls in the world—a mixture of scrutiny, hope, weariness, and a deep-seated…helplessness. Just that one glance seemed to have exhausted all of Loki's strength.
“There is hope in him…” As he finished speaking, he slowly lowered his head again, sinking into a deeper silence, as if he had become yet another cold sculpture on this withered throne. Only the single, still flowing green vein proved that he was still bearing that endless weight.
The moment Loki lowered his head again, the last remaining timeline, flowing with an eerie green light, trembled very slightly.
It wasn't an internal fluctuation—not a struggle within the timeline, nor the lament of a remnant soul from the multiverse. Rather, it came from the outside, from beyond that story, deeper than nothingness.
Perhaps only Loki, as the guardian of the story, can truly feel this—an indescribable "presence" is approaching their story.
It has no shape, no frequency, no energy reading, and cannot even be captured by the act of "observation." It is like darkness itself beginning to decay.
Just as "non-existence" begins to devour "existence".
Within this decaying network of the World Tree, Loki was the only one who could "perceive" it. Not with his eyes, not with his ears, but with his instinct as the god of stories—an intuition for "narrative integrity." He sensed that something was moving beyond the boundaries of the story.
It slowly squeezed in.
That's not an invasion, that's infiltration.
Like water seeping into parched soil, it is silent and imperceptible, yet it causes everything to begin to crumble.
The withering of the network may not be solely due to the collapse of the multiverse, but rather because this "external force" has been gradually eroding the underlying code of reality over countless years. It doesn't destroy, it pollutes—turning "possible" into "impossible," and "if" into "never."
“It’s still here, it always has been.” Loki’s breathing became even more labored. He felt as if his consciousness was enveloped by an invisible membrane, his thoughts becoming sluggish. He tried to look up, even just to catch another glimpse of that remaining green light, but found that his will was being suppressed by some grander “stillness.”
That might be the real reason why the Marvel Cinematic Universe once faced apocalypse, and even if the universe were to reboot, the crisis might not have truly passed, but only delayed its progress.
The real apocalypse.
It wasn't a particular major war.
Rather, it is the decay of the cosmic narrative itself—when stories can no longer be told, when choices can no longer be made, when the “future” becomes a closed, dead loop.
That was the real end.
This time, Tony Stark's planned reboot of the universe did not truly avert the crisis. It was merely temporarily pushed away, like the tide receding, leaving behind a wet beach.
But it is still far away.
At the "end of all stories," it waits quietly. It is in no hurry. It has no concept of time. It simply exists, and continuously and eternally erodes the "story" itself.
"Only the narrative of the Creator can counter it."
Loki's fingertips twitched slightly. He wanted to speak, to warn, to use his last strength to light a match to illuminate the impending darkness. But he knew that any words would be futile. This "external thing" was beyond the realm of language. It wasn't even beyond the realm of "god."
It is an absolute heterogeneity that even "gods" cannot comprehend.
The green light from the veins dimmed a little more.
The deep erosion continues.
It makes no sound, yet it amplifies the silence of the entire universe; it reveals no form, yet it renders all light and shadow seem illusory. And Loki, the cunning god who once manipulated fate, can now only use his own flesh and blood as pillars to support this final story.