Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode
Chapter 410: An Idea

Chapter 410: An Idea

Morvius was still lost for words.

Another impossible report. Another crack in the order he once believed unshakable. He gritted his teeth hard enough to ache, his knuckles white as he clenched the marble tablet in his hand. The runes flickered under his grip.

His secretary stood silently beside him, but the anxiety in the room was thick between them. She felt it as well. A weight pressing on their chests. It was an unfamiliar and nauseating sense of helplessness.

The Bureau had never been in this position before. They were the watchers, the archivists, the hidden hand that always knew. But now?

Now, they knew nothing.

She glanced at Morvius, uncertain if she should speak.

She had been tasked with tracking all the strange movements, maintaining contact with embedded spies, gathering anything from the Observation Wing. But the results were the same, over and over again, they found nothing. None of their agents had any explanation.

They only received the news of chaos that keeps coming and coming from all over the realms.

Morvius said nothing as he brought the tablet back up and replayed the recording.

Again and again and again.

As if repetition would force the scene to change. As if staring at it long enough would shift the narrative, alter the conclusion, reveal some missing piece they’d overlooked.

But nothing changed.

The screen still showed the same impossible sight: one man, alone, facing both Hades and Gabriel—two of the most powerful entities in existence—and holding them at bay.

He didn’t show any tricks or allies or by catching them off-guard.

He was fighting them at full strength and matching them blow for blow.

It was insane. And it wasn’t the only problem in the footage.

Morvius narrowed his eyes. His gaze drifted to the side of the battle where soldiers—the same ones who had recorded this—were locked in combat with someone else.

A woman.

She moved like a storm, carving through the ranks of elite guardians without pause. The soldier whose memory they were viewing had clearly faced her directly.

His perspective was shaky, blood-smeared, and desperate. The recording caught flashes of her face, wild black hair, and the movements of her small stature that blurred with unnatural speed.

The soldier had survived but just barely. The wounds were severe, and his breathing ragged.

Morvius leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The sweat on his back was cold now, his body numb with dread.

This wasn’t just a strong mortal. This was something worse. This was a collapse of structure, expectation, and the rules of the realms.

He finally looked at his secretary.

"Get me the High Circle," he said, voice low and strained. "Every senior analyst, every master-class observer we have. Pull back every agent from passive roles. Full investigation mode. Now."

She nodded quickly and moved to leave.

But just before she stepped out the door, she paused.

"Sir," she said hesitantly. "What if we still can’t find anything?"

Morvius closed his eyes for a moment. Then he whispered, "Then we stop being observers... and start preparing for battle as well."

The secretary gave a final nod and stepped briskly out of the chamber, her footsteps echoing down the polished marble corridor.

As the door slid shut behind her with a soft click, silence returned to the room.

Morvius slowly set the tablet down onto the desk before him, the runes still flickering weakly, casting ghostly blue light onto his pale fingers. He leaned back in his chair once more, and turned toward the tall window that overlooked the city.

Beyond the crystalline pane, the spires shimmered under artificial stars, suspended high above the ethereal currents that connected the Bureau to the core realms. It should have been a view of his comfort and dominion.

But not tonight it looked fragile.

He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on the armrest. The tremor in his fingers was slight but he could feel it.

Fear. He was afraid.

He didn’t want to admit it but it gnawed at his insides all the same. Something had changed and broken through. The mortal hadn’t just disrupted the balance. It had shattered the illusion of their power.

A single man had stood against Hades and Gabriel. Not escaped them. He fought them head on and matched them. He still cant believe it.

And beside him, a woman of unknown origin with combat prowess that shredded elite soldiers like paper.

How could he not feel fear?

This wasn’t just an anomaly. Something was out there operating beyond all foresight, control, and prophecy.

He stood and walked slowly toward the window, hands clasped behind his back, robes whispering softly against the floor.

They might never find anything about that man. So the only thing left was to prepare for battle as well. Even if it was against something they couldn’t understand.

But then, a thought struck Morvius.

His eyes widened slightly as the idea took root.

"Wait," he muttered to himself. "I still can do that."

He turned from the window, walking back toward his desk. His hand reached out and pressed a faintly glowing orb embedded in the marble surface. It was his direct link to his secretary.

The orb pulsed once, then her voice answered with calm efficiency.

"Yes, sir?"

"Send a directive to the Observation Wing," Morvius said. "Every lower realm that’s participated in a Selection Stage over the last five hundred years, search them. Cross-reference the recordings, the profiles, everything. Look for him. The man in the footage."

There was a pause on the other end. Then her voice returned, this time quieter.

"But... sir, the worlds where we’ve placed Selection Stages are vast. Dozens of realms, some of which were barely stable. Many of them collapsed after their evaluations. Sifting through all that data—it could take so long."

"I don’t care," Morvius snapped. "Search them. All of them. Every last one. Start immediately."

"Yes, sir."

He closed the connection with a sharp wave, the orb dimming once more.

If the mortal came from one of the Selection realms, it meant he had once been registered—evaluated, cataloged, maybe even dismissed as unremarkable.

But if they could find the record, trace his origin, then perhaps they could understand how he had reached this point and risen high enough to stand toe to toe with gods.

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