Pharaoh King

"Hurry up."

Mubarak looked up at the sky. "The sun will soon reach its designated position!"

"Yes!"

More than a dozen burly men carrying a wooden crate, their expressions solemn, delivered it deep into the corridor.

Then.

They carefully removed the crate's outer layer.

Inside was the recently stolen Tutankhamun's Golden Sarcophagus!

Half an hour later.

The twice-yearly sunlight would pass through this narrow corridor and shine upon the golden sarcophagus.

All of this.

Had been deliberately arranged by someone.

A thousand years later, Tutankhamun would lie within the Pyramid of Khufu and be illuminated by sunlight once more on the anniversary of his ascension to power.

At this moment.

The usually cold Mubarak wore a solemn expression tinged with panic.

He clenched his fist and looked toward the distant sky again.

Rumble, rumble.

A helicopter slowly approached.

Before it had even landed, a figure jumped down from more than ten meters in the air.

He was also a powerfully built man.

He tore off the veil covering his face, revealing a vicious visage marked by a knife scar.

Like Mubarak, he was of Northern Egyptian descent.

He hurried to Mubarak's side, dropped to one knee, and presented a long wooden box with both hands.

"Greetings, Lord Vizier!"

In the Northern Egyptian language, the word "Pharaoh" was equivalent to Emperor.

And "Vizier" referred to the highest-ranking person beneath the Pharaoh, equivalent to a prime minister.

Mubarak slowly nodded.

Trembling, he opened the wooden box.

Inside was a radiant staff.

It was forged entirely from gold, its head shaped like a semicircle, resembling an enlarged question mark.

This staff was called "Hansemu," meaning the Staff of Light.

It, too, was one of the world's most precious cultural relics, stolen three days ago!

Mubarak slowly stroked the Hansemu before him, his expression