Apocalypse Forecast

Chapter 1273: Chapter 972: Sweet Child O’ Mine

Cairo.

Hot wind slammed into his face.

On the open-top off-road vehicle, Luo Su raised a hand to press down his headscarf and gazed at the yellow sand swirling in the distance. The farther they drove from the city, the sparser the greenery became, until in the end, aside from a few low shrubs for decoration, only the forest of buildings stood on the horizon.

In this ancient and sealed-off country, everything seemed to have nothing to do with outsiders.

The residents lived peacefully, day after day; even if travelers from distant lands occasionally arrived, they could only take a cursory, tourist’s glance at the scenery here, never truly stepping into these people’s lives.

No matter how warm the smiles, there was always a cold barrier between them.

Even those who occasionally went abroad to study or work rarely spoke of their life back home, though ”here” and ”there” were not so different in truth.

It was impossible to say whether it was indifference or arrogance.

Self-sufficient, absorbed in their own lives, maintaining few exchanges with the outside world, and not particularly concerned with what was happening beyond their borders.

Under the Pharaoh’s dominion, this nation had stretched on for thousands of years, and would surely continue to endure.

Now, a mighty convoy wound along the road and drove into the city gate.

Passing through layer upon layer of doors, in the end only one vehicle stopped in front of the last plaza.

The black-robed old man who had been waiting for a long time looked displeased.

”You’re a little late,” he said. ”You’re about to run over the allotted time.”

”Something came up on the way, sorry.”

”I heard about that Golden Dawn business. You did well, but it still doesn’t count as an excuse.”

The old man did not harp on the lateness. He beckoned and walked ahead, leading the way in quick strides: ”You really are never on time, are you... Even if you don’t care about the setting, at least look at who you’re meeting?”

”Luo Su, be serious. Miss this village and there’s no next inn; you’d better cherish the chance.”

Luo Su was puzzled. ”Why are you more anxious than I am?”

”Probably because I’m not a ’piece of shit who always wears that fake I-don’t-give-a-fuck look on his face to fool people even though deep down he cares like crazy’ kind of moron, huh?”

”Hey, we haven’t seen each other in decades, can’t you be a little friendlier?”

”No. I can’t.”

The old man glanced back at him. ”If it weren’t for the time crunch, I’d still feel like hitting someone. Thirty years ago, I’d have snapped your damn neck with one swing of my staff.”

He could feel the agitation and urgency written in his old friend’s face.

”Fine, my bad.” Luo Su raised his hands in surrender. ”Actually I already tried my damnedest to keep the appointment, but those Wang Ba bastards from Golden Dawn just have to stir things up.

There’s always an accident, my friend.”

”But some things are not allowed to go wrong.”

This man, who in the Egypt Genealogy stood just one step below the top, the High Priest of Thoth God, said, ”You’d better hurry up, and move faster.”

”What’s happened?”

”His Majesty is entering Deep Sleep ahead of schedule. Who knows how long before the next awakening.” The High Priest of Thoth God said, ”All I can arrange for you is this one meeting.”

”My thanks.” Luo Su composed himself and offered sincere gratitude.

”Before I returned to Egypt, I was once a member of Utopia. Since you want to reorganize the Heavenly Kingdom Genealogy, naturally I won’t just stand by. But I’m afraid this is all I can do for you.”

The High Priest spoke hastily: ”Half an hour ago, His Majesty just issued an imperial decree to seal the borders. Starting tomorrow... if you arrive even a day late, you likely won’t be able to enter Egypt at all.

In this round of war between the realms, aside from necessary defense, Egypt won’t be taking part in anything else.”

”That serious?”

Luo Su was stunned. ”What happened?”

”I don’t know. But if His Majesty chooses to do this, he naturally has his reasons.”

The High Priest’s steps paused slightly; finally he turned back to give a solemn reminder: ”I know you like to crack jokes, but here, you’d better show some respect... If you still want His Majesty to make a prophecy for you.”

”I will.”

Luo Su nodded, and the playful look vanished from his face.

Before the pitch-black gate rose the final palace of the most exalted Emperor in this world.

The funerary tomb.

The Afterlife hall into which the Pharaoh entered upon death—or rather... a cage.

Within, awaiting him, was the seventeenth Pharaoh named ”Amenhotep,” and among the many mortal incarnations of the Nine Pillar God, the one most famed for foresight.

His gift was prophecy.

Fixed prophecy.

Far surpassing all past Pharaohs; combined with many strands of Divine Nature, his Power was near absolute foresight.

Anything he spoke would inevitably come to pass, and would inevitably come without any discount or deviation. There was no wordplay, no such thing as a lucky break.

Prophecy that was absolutely correct.

Prophecy that was absolutely impossible to alter.

But the price was Divine Nature distortion that far exceeded that of any Pharaoh before him.

He was a man of few words; aside from a handful of decrees, he had never again spoken. Even so, he was still forced at the age of thirty-four to move early into the funerary tomb, relying on the Mystic Rituals within the Pyramid to suppress the boiling god-blood in his veins.

Amid solemn chant and prayer, Luo Su shed his clothes, washed off the dust, and changed into a long robe.

Step by step, he walked into the darkness.

With no one to accompany him.

He strode alone into the vast labyrinth.

The farther he descended, the more immense the Power he could feel. It was like a savage, trapped beast panting in its cage, hoarsely swallowing its own blood.

Enduring pain.

Solemn praises and heavy Incense could not conceal this essence that was gradually congealing.

In the end, Luo Su even began to doubt whether he was walking in the Current Circumstances, or passing through the palace of the Ruler of Hell itself.

Perhaps something even more grotesque than that...

What he was about to face was the eternal Emperor of the mortal world, forged from the combined Power of the Nine Pillar God, the Pharaoh struggling for decades in the mire of congealed and distorted being.

This seething, terrifying darkness was not some prop he used to mock his guests; on the contrary, it existed to protect them.

Now, as he passed through the deep corridor, he finally arrived in a hall whose end and shape he could not discern.

Above the layered darkness, the dim lamp-light traced the outline of the royal Seat, and that gaunt human figure.

His long hair flowed like water, winding out of the dark, lit by the leaping flames, making it impossible to tell whether it was material or a Phantom.

Faintly transparent.

His face was blurred; no matter how intently one tried to gaze, one could only glimpse a patch of elusive shadow.

No Ritual Officer, no attendants, and no Witnesses of any kind.

The withered Pharaoh faced Luo Su from afar.

A hoarse murmuring drifted down from the high dais, like sleep-talking, impossible to make out clearly.

”Your Majesty.”

Luo Su pressed a hand to his chest and bowed.

”Needless words... are unnecessary...”

The Pharaoh’s voice echoed through the many layers of darkness, yet one could not tell if it was old or young, thick or shrill, as if the darkness itself were sounding.

The Emperor upon the royal Seat panted, enduring the pain of Transformation. ”I already know why You have come. I shall answer Your request. But Luo Su, You must understand... prophecy does not come without a price.”

He said:

”—The price of prophecy is prophecy itself.”

At the foot of the long steps, Luo Su smiled and inclined his head.

”I will gladly accept it as sweetness.”

In the darkness, a long silence.

As though some distant gaze had descended.

So cold, so indifferent, overlooking all the Transformation of the human world.

Foreseeing the Future.

In that instant, Luo Su heard a voice coming from the Future.

.

.

An hour later, the High Priest waiting outside the funerary tomb once more saw Luo Su walking out of the darkness.

Wearing a tranquil smile.

As if returning from a country outing, light and unburdened.

In the moment they passed each other, the two men inclined their heads in mutual salute, a final courtesy. No more was said; the two who had once belonged to Utopia parted thus, each knowing this would be their last meeting.

The High Priest stepped into the darkness again.

And Luo Su walked toward the outer palace.

Behind him, the palace gates closed for the last time, and as he departed, the Ferry of the Afterlife turned to a Phantom and vanished into the eternal storm and mist.

Two hours later, Luo Su handed over the passports of himself and Marcus to be inspected at the checkpoint. After the stamp fell, the last car left the border of Egypt.

On both sides of the checkpoint, the iron gates slowly folded inward.

This ancient country once again sealed its frontiers.

And along the winding road, countless shoots of green were slowly budding; the wind rushing toward them seemed to grow gentle, blowing in moisture from afar.

”Spring is almost here.”

Luo Su raised a hand, put on his sunglasses, turned on the radio, and amid the soft crackling of static, a song from long ago drifted out.

It made one unable to help but hum along under one’s breath.

In the passenger seat, Marcus woke from Deep Sleep, quietly watching the scenery beyond the window, his mottled white hair fluttering in the wind.

Listening to Luo Su’s muffled singing, his clouded eyes seemed to grow clear.

Returning to the bright days of youth.

”Luo Su, are You very happy?” he asked, puzzled.

”Indeed.”

Luo Su nodded, delighted.

Watching his animated expression, the old man asked curiously, ”What has happened, to make You smile with such contentment?”

”Nothing has happened yet, my friend.”

Luo Su considered, then nodded. ”I simply remembered something joyful—”

”Something about the Future?”

”Yes.”

”About us?”

”Exactly.”

Luo Su answered with a smile: ”About the Future us, and them... and everything. Whether good or bad, it makes one look forward to it.

As long as there is a Future.”

At last he glanced back, at the ancient land behind them slowly sinking beneath the horizon.

He drew back his gaze.

Thus, they gradually went farther and farther away.

Exuberant, impatient, full of joy and anticipation, welcoming the Future that belonged to them.

.

.

”Luo Su, the Heavenly Kingdom Genealogy will one day be reborn.”

In that palace severe and cold as a tomb, the Pharaoh self-imprisoned in darkness awoke from a long Dreamland and uttered a prophecy from the Future.

He said:

”—After You die.”

This is the finest thing in all the world.

After I die, there will be no more cataclysmic floods.