Just call me Thor

Chapter 575: Did you really think you could escape?



A scene where sword energy crisscrossed, forming an impenetrable prison. The structure was so formidable that if a demon god were to be trapped here, they would have no chance of

escape in this lifetime.

Mike, however, sat calmly in the center of the sword prison, not in a rush to break free. Instead, he waited patiently.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Finally, a notification appeared before his eyes:

[He's gone.]

After confirming that Ares had left, Mike still couldn't calm his mind. Trapped in the sword prison, it seemed like there was only one way out.

But Ares had forgotten one crucial thing: if there was anything Mike excelled at in this life- besides squeezing out every last bit of profit-it was exploiting bugs.

Inside the sword prison, Mike carefully left behind an object that could serve as a coordinate marker, then began testing his bug-exploiting skills.

"Void Exile..."

Stored within Mike's eyes was a skill from the Ultimate Lord, one that could banish a target to the void.

What if the target was... himself?

[Exile successful!]

In no time, Mike successfully escaped the sword prison and found himself in the void.

"Where am I?" he muttered, scanning his surroundings. Feeling the faint presence of his coordinate marker, Mike relaxed a little.

He quickly left the void and headed toward the nearest abyss.

Above the Ninth Abyss, a terrifying rift suddenly tore through the sky. As Mike passed by, he couldn't resist shouting:

"Why are you staring? I wasn't here!"

The Ninth Demon God: ...

This human potential Supreme Being was getting way too cocky!

Sitting on his Demon Emperor's Throne, the Ninth Demon God glanced in the direction Thor had left, a flicker of unease flashing in his eyes. He could clearly sense that Thor's power had surged again. If they were to fight now, he wasn't confident he'd win.

But then, the Ninth Demon God suddenly chuckled to himself.

No more pretending. Time to come clean. I'm a human mole!

Meanwhile, Mike used the Ninth Abyss as a shortcut and continued traversing the void. He had a small task to accomplish, one that required help. Specifically, the help of a white horse.

But how to find that white horse?

Based on Mike's understanding, SSS-level talents were often influenced by their hosts. For example, Apollo's butterfly was aloof, while his own Eye of Truth was mischievous.

Following this logic, Ares' white horse was probably... boastful.

Mike pondered for a moment and decided to try flattery.

"Ah, the strongest SSS-level talent in history! Your speed is so incredible that even the Eye of Truth can't keep up..."

[???]

[You can praise him all you want, but why drag me down?]

The Eye of Truth sounded exasperated.

But Mike's efforts paid off. Soon, he caught a fleeting glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

He doubled down on the compliments, pouring it on thick.

After what felt like an eternity of talking, his throat dry, the white horse finally appeared.

"So, uh... Ares is my second bro. What should I call you?" Mike hesitated. Calling Ares' horse Second Horse didn't seem appropriate.

The white horse stood motionless in front of him, like a statue.

Could it be... it didn't understand him?

Mike frowned. No problem! With the Eye of Truth, communication was his forte.

[Whinny-whinny-whinny-whinny-]

Following the Eye of Truth's translation, Mike attempted to speak in horse language to communicate with the white horse.

The white horse finally reacted, snorting out a puff of white mist.

Just as Mike was about to continue, the white horse suddenly spoke:

"Speak English."

Mike: ...

You can talk?!

Among the Truth Sources mastered by the Supreme Demon God, the white horse was one of the most unique, as it was tied to the laws of time.

In fact, when Ares underwent his awakening, all the Truth Sources went berserk. The white horse, using its abilities, managed to seize the lead.

Of course, a similar scene had occurred during Apollo's awakening.

After much back-and-forth, Mike finally got to the point:

"I want to see more of history. On one hand, I hope to gain insight. On the other, if I want to save Ares and Morpheus, I need to know what really happened back then."

This time, the white horse's gaze turned serious.

Mike understood the look in its eyes: Are you sure about this?

Mike nodded firmly. He was absolutely, positively sure.

He had made up his mind and was ready for anything.

Bring it on!

Then, without warning, the white horse raised its hind legs and kicked Mike, sending him

flying.

[...Well, that was sudden.]

As his vision blurred, Mike saw a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. Slowly, the scenery around him became clear.

This time, there was no nausea. Mike felt like he was finally getting used to it. Of course, it helped that his last two destinations had been the Supreme Abyss.

Where had the white horse brought him now?

Mike was utterly confused, with no idea where he was, how to get back, or what he was supposed to do.

He could only make a rough guess about the white horse's abilities-they were related to time. But after nine awakenings, who knew what the white horse was truly capable of?

Soon, Mike spotted something interesting.

Not far ahead, a child was crouched on the ground, playing with sticks. The game was simple: the sticks were stacked into a small pile, and the goal was to remove them one by one without causing the pile to collapse.

The child's face was blurry, as if veiled by a thin layer of mist, making it impossible to discern

their features.

Sensing someone approaching, the child looked up warily at Mike.

"Who are you? Are you a demon race creature?" the child asked.

The fact that the child could see him surprised Mike, though he hid it well. Instead, he

countered with a question of his own: "Have you ever seen a demon race creature?"

The child shook his head honestly. "No."

By now, Mike had a pretty good guess about the child's identity.

If he wasn't mistaken, this was likely [Young Ares].

Looking at the child, who still had a hint of innocence, Mike couldn't help but think: Ares was

actually a pretty cute kid!

As Mike sized up the child, the child was also sizing up Mike. His gaze drifted to the

Thunderclap Hammer hanging at Mike's waist.

The moment the child saw the hammer, his eyes lit up, and he couldn't help but exclaim:

"What a powerful weapon!"

The more Mike looked at the child, the more he liked him. He was way more likable than the

grown-up Ares!

Ares was smart, even as a kid.

But then, the child's next words wiped the smile off Mike's face.

With a shake of his head and a regretful tone, the child said:

"A great weapon... but it's wasted on the wrong person."

The child reached out, trying to tug at Mike's clothes. Mike dodged lightly and asked, "What are you grabbing at?"

The child scanned Mike up and down and curiously asked, "Where did you get these clothes?"

He seemed to think that wearing such an outfit while slaying demon creatures and upholding justice would look... really cool.

Mike didn't answer the child's question. Instead, he asked, "Kid, where are your parents?"

The child, still crouched on the ground playing with his pile of sticks, replied in a flat,

emotionless tone, "Dead."

There was something unsettling about how casually the child mentioned death. Perhaps his understanding of life and death was different from that of most people.

But still, hearing such a young child speak so indifferently about death made Mike feel a pang

of discomfort.

Mike: ...

"Demon race, it's always the demon race..." Mike muttered under his breath. He didn't need

the child to explain; he could already guess. It had to be the abyssal invasion. The demon must have killed the child's parents.

"What are you talking about?" the child asked, confused. "What does this have to do with the

demon race?"

Mike froze. "Your parents weren't killed by the demon race?"

"Nope," the child said matter-of-factly. "My father drank himself to death at the table, and

my mother left him. She died later too."

Mike: ???

This... wasn't the script he was expecting.

"Is that so strange?" the child asked, tilting his head. "People die, don't they?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Mike struggled to find the right words. "If you could avoid dying, if you

could live forever, wouldn't that be better?"

The child frowned, as if Mike's words were the strangest thing he'd ever heard. "If people never died, wouldn't they just become monsters?"

Mike was stunned. He had never thought about it that way.

In this world, where cultivation allowed people to grow stronger and extend their lifespans,

the pursuit of longevity was almost a given. But where was the limit? A thousand years? Ten thousand? A billion?

Mike was only eighteen, in the prime of his youth. If not for the looming threat of the

Supreme Demon God, he figured he could easily live for tens of thousands of years. But the child's question left him speechless. He didn't have an answer.

And yet, the ancient Supreme Beings had given their own answer. If they could, they wanted

to live forever. That desire had sparked the chaos of the ancient era-the wars, the construction of the Nine Races' Towers, and ultimately, the birth of the Supreme Demon God. Mike suddenly realized something terrifying.

The Supreme Demon God had come into existence because there were simply too many

Supreme Beings who didn't want to die.

When they reached the peak of their power, their only remaining goal was immortality.

But if the only purpose of living was to keep living, then what was the point of life itself? The conversation had suddenly veered into philosophical territory.

The child, seeing Mike lost in thought, continued, "My sisters told me that everyone dies.

There's this really bad kind of cell in people's bodies. If it doesn't want to die, it starts destroying other cells. I think it's called... cancer?"

Cancer cells?

Mike tried to explain. "But what if someone, through their own efforts, could live for a very,

very long time? If they still thought of themselves as human and acted like a human, how

could they be a monster?"

Clearly, Mike was trying to convince the child.

"You're saying all this, but I'm just a kid. How am I supposed to remember it all?" the child

said, crouching back down to play with his pile of sticks. Then he looked up at Mike and asked, "Do you want to play?" Their argument felt like a childish spat-over as quickly as it began.

"Fine," Mike said after a moment, crouching down to join the child. His larger frame made crouching uncomfortable, so he plopped down on the ground instead.

But the moment he saw the pile of sticks, Mike's expression froze.

This wasn't just a pile of sticks.

It was the sword prison he had been trapped in earlier.

Though it was only a crude imitation, Mike recognized it instantly. There was no mistaking it

-this was the sword prison Ares had used to trap him.

He looked up, staring intently at the child. Questions flooded his mind, but he couldn't bring

himself to ask them.

This child wasn't Ares. That much was certain.

But then... who was he?

And where was Mike now?

What was going on?

"Are you going to play or not?" the child urged impatiently. "I need to finish this quickly.

They're handing out fruit later. Today's supposed to be apples."

"Play, play!" Mike said, swallowing hard. He didn't know what was happening, but at least he

wasn't in immediate danger.

Focusing on the pile of sticks, Mike studied it carefully before slowly pulling out one stick.

Success. The pile didn't collapse.

Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the child swiftly pulled out another stick.

"Your turn!" the child said.

Mike: ...

He had no choice but to keep going, carefully removing stick after stick.

The child, however, moved with astonishing speed, pulling out sticks effortlessly. As time

went on, Mike's movements grew slower, while the child's impatient urging grew louder. "Stop rushing me!" Mike snapped.

The two of them-one big, one small-crouched on the ground, completely absorbed in their

game. Finally, there were only three sticks left. It was Mike's turn. If he could pull out one stick without the pile collapsing, he would win.

The child seemed nervous too. If Mike failed, the child would win.

Mike carefully reached for a stick. No matter how cautious he was, no matter how precise his

movements, the pile collapsed.

He had lost.

Staring at the fallen pile of sticks, Mike felt an unexpected sense of relief. It was as if he had

gained some kind of insight.

But just as he was about to say something, a cold voice whispered in his ear:

"Did you really think you could escape?"

The moment the pile collapsed, so did the world around him.

The illusion shattered, and reality came rushing back. In the blink of an eye, Mike found

himself back in the sword prison.

He hadn't exploited a bug to escape. He hadn't found the white horse. He hadn't met a child

version of Ares.

Even with the Eye of Truth, Mike had been completely fooled by the illusion.

And he recognized this technique(skill).

He had once seen the Fifth Demon God tormented by it, driven to the brink of madness.

Now that it had been used on him, Mike finally understood just how terrifying it was. Its name: Illusory Reality.