Just call me Thor - Chapter 623

Chapter 623: Three tombstones
“No!”

Mike and Professor Gregory almost simultaneously rejected Maxen’s proposal.

Cedric tapped the armrest of his wheelchair twice with his left index finger.

Calderon sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Cedric says you’re an idiot.”

Maxen: ???

Was that even possible? Could Calderon really understand Cedric’s silent gestures?

“Joseph… has other plans,” Mike interjected, skipping over the topic entirely and moving on to the next candidate.

Nine-Star Lords weren’t exactly rare among humanity, but they weren’t abundant either.

Within Guardian Shadow, there had originally been ten Nine-Star Lords or higher.

Unfortunately, Shadow Nine, Shadow Two, and Violet were reportedly out of commission, leaving only seven who could be deployed.

However, using Shadow One or Shadow Three to guard the Tower of Truth seemed like a waste of their abilities.

Mike’s earlier investment in strengthening Guardian Shadow was now paying off.

The top fifteen members of Guardian Shadow all had Nine-Star Lord-level combat power, with the rest steadily improving.

From Guardian Shadow alone, twelve Nine-Star Lords could be allocated.

Across humanity’s various corps, only eight more could be gathered.

That made twenty in total—still far from the fifty needed.

“I’m worried that some floors might require more than one Nine-Star Lord to hold,” Professor Gregory said.

He was attending the meeting via video, as he still couldn’t leave the Tower of Truth’s range.

“We’ll have to find more manpower,” he added.

Humanity had several trump cards that had gone unused in recent years due to the lack of existential crises.

Now, with Thor stepping into the role of Supreme Being and the conflict with the Supreme Demon God reaching its critical stage, it was time to reveal those cards.

Professor Gregory began listing a few options:

“The research institute has a type of machine capable of self-destructing with the power of a Nine-Star Lord. We have two of them, and a third could be built within ten years.”

“If the demon gods are willing to give us an Abyss Core, we could create source monsters capable of self-destructing with similar power.”

“The Arbiters have nine Nine-Star Lords, but their personalities make them difficult to persuade.”

“And, if necessary, we could call upon the Sword Servants…”

Over the past decade, the Supreme Demon God’s control of the upper half of the Tower of Truth had created a bottleneck in humanity’s talent pool.

The supreme power that should have surged under Thor’s leadership had been delayed by ten years.

As a result, when humanity now needed to mobilize its top combat power, it found itself stretched thin.

“Professor Gregory will handle the specifics,” Mike said, his voice calm but authoritative.

Despite being the youngest in the meeting, Mike’s words carried the most weight.

He understood one thing clearly: professional matters should be left to professionals.

“If there are no objections, we’ll start by reclaiming floors fifty to sixty tomorrow.”

The meeting adjourned.

Humanity could muster enough forces to guard ten floors for now.

The deeper floors would be more challenging, but it was better to start with the easier tasks and work their way up.

As the meeting ended, Calderon glanced at Thor, hesitating as if he wanted to say something.

“Forget it. I’ll leave it to you young people,” Calderon muttered before turning to leave.

On his way out, he kicked Cedric—wheelchair and all—out the window.

This was a route Calderon had specifically designed for Cedric: one kick, straight out of the room, fast and efficient.

The two injured veterans didn’t say much.

Given the current situation, if Thor could handle it, there was no need for them to meddle.

If Thor couldn’t handle it…

Well, then they’d all just have to wait for death.

Calderon had made peace with that.

Maxen was quickly assigned a task and left the meeting room.

In the absence of a Supreme Being, Maxen had been the one holding things together for humanity.

In some ways, Maxen could be considered 0.01 of a Supreme Being.

Fortunately, Maxen’s honest and straightforward nature meant he never abused his power.

The others also left the meeting room one by one, leaving only Mike and Professor Gregory.

“There’s something I’ve been debating whether or not to do…”

Mike hesitated, looking at Professor Gregory on the screen.

Professor Gregory seemed to guess what Mike was referring to, his expression growing serious.

If it was about that, it was indeed a delicate matter.

After some thought, Mike finally spoke.

“Maybe it’s time to announce Morpheus’s death.”

Professor Gregory’s expression didn’t change much—he wasn’t surprised.

In fact, this was something humanity’s leadership had considered before.

Every so often, the topic would be brought up for discussion.

But each time, the conclusion was the same:

Wait a little longer. It’s not time yet.

They couldn’t be sure whether humanity could handle the news.

Morpheus represented too much for humanity.

What’s more, announcing the death of a Supreme Being would inevitably shake people’s faith in the Supreme Beings.

But Mike’s reasoning also made sense.

What Morpheus needed most now was to rest in peace.

If his lingering soul remained restless, it would do more harm than good.

Only by allowing him to truly let go and die could there be a chance for him to be reborn.

Announcing his death publicly was the most straightforward way to achieve this.

Professor Gregory understood this, which was why he found the decision so difficult.

From humanity’s perspective, if this was important to Morpheus, then no matter the cost, they would do it.

They had survived their darkest hour.

Now, with humanity growing stronger by the day, there was no reason to grow timid.

“This matter…”

Professor Gregory hesitated before saying,

“You should talk to him about it.”

The affairs of Supreme Beings should be decided by Supreme Beings.

Whatever the outcome, humanity would accept it.

Mike nodded.

“Alright.”

—

Forest of Truth.

Shadow Two returned, and led Mike to a secluded corner.

There, Mike saw three tombstones.

“These two are mine,” Shadow Two said proudly, pointing to two of the tombstones.

He had built two tombstones for himself.

Pointing to the last one, he added,

“This one’s for my Godfather.”

Morpheus was Shadow Two’s Godfather, which technically made Apollo Shadow Two’s “aunt.”

The relationships between Supreme Beings and their relatives were not to be messed with!

Mike looked at the middle tombstone.

The stone coffin he had brought back was buried beneath it.

Nathan wasn’t one for pomp and circumstance, and being buried in the Forest of Truth was the best resting place for him.

Shadow Two left, leaving Mike alone to speak with Nathan at the grave.

The tombstone was blank, without even a name engraved on it.

The reason was simple:

They had buried Nathan, but they believed he would come back to life.

There was no need to carve a name.

Sitting in front of the tombstone, Mike yawned and drifted off to sleep.

In his dream, he saw Morpheus, still as gentle as ever.

Mike explained his thoughts and concerns.

After listening, Morpheus shared his own perspective:

“There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.

You can announce a list of those who died in battle and include my name among them.”

Morpheus’s reasoning was simple:

“When I was born, no one announced it to the world.

When I die, it’s just one more person dying.

How is that any different from anyone else?”

There was no need.

Everyone was the same.

Mike was silent for a moment before nodding in agreement.

That’s how it would be handled.

After that day, a new set of statues appeared in the square outside the Forest of Truth.

Every day, visitors came to the square to look at the statues, remembering history and honoring the past.

They laid flowers, said a few words, and let the sunlight shine on the faces of children.

The laughter of children echoed above the Forest of Truth.

Among the statues was one that seemed unremarkable.

Half of its face was obscured, making its features indistinct.

There was nothing special about it.

It was just one of the people.

It was protected by those around it, and it protected those around it in turn.

This was one of the warriors who had sacrificed themselves for humanity over the past three centuries.

Nothing more.

The only curious thing was its shadow, which stretched unusually long.

Perhaps it was this shadow that caught the attention of a little girl.

She ran up to the statue, her voice soft and childlike as she struggled to read the name engraved on it.

“Nathan…”