Marvel Magic Event Book

Chapter 1751

Without a doubt, Bayonetta's planned vacation was completely ruined.

Giant glaciers towering in the North Atlantic are slowly approaching the Arctic Circle, while the entire British Isles and northern Europe are shrouded in torrential rains, and even the Panama Islands and the Caribbean are filled with storms. Rescue teams from various countries are rushing to the Faroe Islands ruins, trying to figure out what happened there.

On television, climate experts spouted nonsense, claiming that the extreme weather was caused by the greenhouse effect and demanding that the Copenhagen Climate Conference formulate carbon emission rules as soon as possible. As for why a cyclone suddenly appeared over the North Atlantic, they said it must be due to extreme weather!
However, none of these things had anything to do with Salomon, who had returned to his Oxfordshire estate.

Laura Crawford, having just woken up, walked through the portal. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she grabbed Miss Peanutbutter, who rushed up to greet her, and the bewildered Cheshire Cat, and ran into her room without looking back, leaving Salomon alone in the living room to face the two witches.

The air here was almost frozen. Only the android maid, Dina, stood calmly beside Salomon, holding a cup of hot coffee with copious amounts of sugar. Outside the window, a fierce storm from the North Atlantic continued to ravage the garden; petals, leaves, and raindrops rattled against the windows, and lightning flashed intermittently. Only a few lights illuminated the manor hall, barely enough to light a few sofas.

“I remember you hate coffee,” Bayonetta broke the silence first.

“Darling, eight thousand years is enough time to change some tastes.” Salomon shifted his body and found a comfortable position on the sofa.

"Including tastes in women?" Bayonetta rolled her eyes dramatically. She was wearing a loose-fitting Salomon t-shirt, her long, slender legs crossed and propped up on the sofa armrest, looking very relaxed. However, she seemed to be treating Salomon's clothes like dresses, just like Joan of Arc. Salomon had no idea when his wardrobe had become a witch's wardrobe.

“That female spy, she can have as many children as she wants.” Bayonetta poked Salomon’s chest viciously with her finger. “But from now on, you have to listen to us. The biggest mistake of my life was accepting Kamar-Taj’s supervision, because the Sorcerer Supreme threw you here. Besides Wanda, there’s also lovely Laura, no more than that!”

“It’s my fault.” Salomon put down his cigar and downed his piping hot coffee in one gulp.

He licked his lips and sat down next to the witch.

Joan of Arc did not object; she merely raised her head proudly, but her posture still leaned towards Salomon.

The Shadow Witches' Order and the Light Sages' Order's millennia-old assets are now in the hands of Bayonetta and Joan of Arc. Even the Oxfordshire Manor, the Rose Mansion outside Paris, and the Caribbean resort island are actually the witches' properties. A few months ago, Bayonetta's father, Baldr, returned to his own timeline via Kamar-Taj, but her mother, Rosa, remained. Bayonetta bought Rosa a manor nearby.

Salomon couldn't possibly do that, because his personal assets and most of Kamar-Taj's funds were now invested in Yugoslavia, including the money Hydra had given him. He appeared successful on the surface, but in reality, he had practically nothing to his name except the cash in his wallet. In this situation, a cup of hot coffee was hardly a punishment, especially since the witches had catered to his tastes by adding plenty of sugar.

Bayonita gestured for Diana to bring out a plate of cold meat sauce from the kitchen. She personally placed the plate in Salomon's hands, watching him devour all the noodles and sauce. Salomon could taste that it was Joan of Arc's cooking; she always liked to add a lot of Provençal herbs when making the meat sauce, giving it a distinctly southern French flavor—a small insistence of hers as a Frenchwoman.

He would absolutely not dare to say at this point that he had already eaten.

Before Laura Crawford woke up in the Immortal City, Dina specially prepared a 5-kilocalorie pork lard, cheese, bacon, and fries dish, along with a giant three-layer Wagyu beef burger. It wasn't that Dina only knew how to make these high-calorie blue-collar lunches, but Salomon needed these foods to replenish the calories he'd lost after his duel with Odin. He was already quite full, but could still manage to eat a little more.

“I know what you’re going to do next, so I won’t dwell on such trivial matters. I just want to know when you’ll come back,” Bayonetta said. “Every night I think about the past, even if only a few months have passed in reality, I’ve spent eight thousand years with you in my dreams.”

Bayonetta is like a lioness when she's angry.

What she didn't say was that the effects of the dream continued.

The research of the first Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto, revealed that the dreams of intelligent beings are related to the tides of outer dimensions, especially those of gifted spellcasters, whose dreams are a reality to outer dimensions. From these dreams, he learned of an experiment conducted by the first Shadow Witch, Inanna, and Salomon eight thousand years ago: an experiment to transform primordial wild gods into social deities by imitating the Olympian gods. The Eye of the World, passed down between the Lightbringers and the Shadow Witches, is an experimental creation born from the division and fusion of the powers of Inanna and Salomon—an artificial, lesser deity.

The ultimate goal of this experiment was not merely to free Inanna from the influence of the outer dimensions, but to attempt to create an outer-dimensional energy rectifier. A similar experimental subject was Mephisto, known as the King of Hell. However, every incarnation of Inanna projected into the material realm has been entangled with Salomon, and because Bayonetta can also be considered an incarnation of Inanna, Bayonetta herself still dreams of their experiences.

"You bastard! I will never wipe your blood off the floor again. Once is enough!"

This feeling was unpleasant, like watching an immersive VR movie, but she couldn't control her body or mind. Salomon wiped away Bayonetta's tears with his fingers. Bayonetta slapped his hand away. Witches couldn't cry, or they would be as disgusting as a weeping cockroach.

"And my vacation plans are ruined too. As compensation, you have to stay here for two weeks!"

Salomon stroked Bayonetta's earlobe and embraced Joan. After a while, Bayonetta calmed down, and she and Joan returned to their old routine, even exchanging a few jokes with Salomon. "I can let Laura and Wanda join us," Bayonetta said, "the bed is big enough anyway."

“Add cream as well, Ceresia,” Joan of Arc said suddenly. She raised her delicate eyebrows and looked defiantly at Diana beside her. “I can smell it. My dear little maid has already tasted the special cream. Her tongue is cloyingly sweet.”

The black-haired witch became interested. She moved closer to Salomon, sniffing him, her eyes full of curiosity. "You have this new way of playing?" Her fingers hooked around Salomon's belt. "I don't mind trying it here. For our newlywed life after eight thousand years, hmm?"

The android maid was calm, with a satisfied look on her face, as if all the turmoil in the outside world had nothing to do with her.

The two witches really weren't going to let him go; he didn't leave his bedroom for a whole week.

According to Bayonetta and Joan of Arc, they had to catch up and not let Natasha Romanoff get ahead. Although they knew it was futile, Salomon complied, filling their seats as much as he could. Wanda Maximov came to the manor twice, each time resting in her room for a whole day. Laura Crawford also went into the bedroom once, then had to return to her room due to a muscle strain, and disappeared for the next few days. Athena also came once, but she didn't go in; the witches wouldn't allow it either.

Victor von Doom had practically bombarded the manor's phone lines with calls, but thankfully Salomon still had time to answer them; otherwise, Victor von Doom would have simply breached the manor's defensive runes and opened a portal to come in.

"I thought you died in the witch's bed," the regent said gloatingly.

“Shut up! You have no idea how much effort I put into calming them down. The space station's supplies depend on their investment!” Salomon stretched lazily, trying to relax. Witches' physical abilities far surpass those of mortals. Even a superhuman like Laura Crawford couldn't compare to their bodies, which had been constantly exposed to extradimensional magical power. After the first night, the archaeologist had to return to his room to apply traditional Shadow Witch ointments, because mortals couldn't heal muscle injuries so easily.

"Alright, let's get down to business." "Gideon Malik wants to see you."

“Gideon Malik doesn’t have the guts to ‘want’ to see me, and he hopes I’ll never see him. I believe you said that.” Salomon’s tone was sarcastic. “So, what do you want me to do in America?”

“I received a document today,” Victor von Doom readily admitted. “The Stark Industries loan has been wired, but the engine and chip production lines are still stuck at the port. That triggered a trade embargo—I mean a European one—and Tony Stark isn’t stupid enough to put our address on the delivery address.”

"so?"

“So your false identity is going to come in handy. I remember one of your identities there was that of a pharmaceutical company CEO,” Victor von Doom said. “Dr. Whitehall’s pharmaceutical company made us a lot of money selling the rejuvenating drug, and we also have a contract with the International Vaccine Alliance. In addition, Agent Victoria Hand told me that because Dr. Whitehall has been out of the public eye for so long, that company has been shorted. Someone is planning to acquire Dr. Whitehall’s company and find the secret of the rejuvenating drug. You can handle that; a few parties and backroom deals won’t involve much exercise or alcohol.”

“Stephanie can handle this; she doesn’t even need to send General Hale.”

“Since you can put your efforts on seven women, I think you certainly wouldn’t mind having a few more. I believe those noble ladies are very interested in you. General Hale’s daughter, that girl named Ruby, is also very lovely.”

“I could go to your office right now and shoot you in the head, Victor.” Salomon looked around, like a small fish poking its head out from under a shallow coral reef. “You definitely want to kill me, Victor. You know Malik has been trying to get Stephanie into my room. And General Hale, she’s terrified, and Gideon Malik hasn’t figured out what to do with her yet.”

“I have to find you something to do. The boarding has been delayed by a week. I need to make sure you don’t suddenly disappear when things get really tough,” the Regent said with a smile. “At the very least, you have to protect the sales of the Rejuvenation Potion. Gideon Malik told me that the faction in the Pentagon that supports the Super Soldier program is very interested in the Rejuvenation Potion. Anglo-Saxon Capital and Wall Street have teamed up to try and take the profits.”

"Damn Jewish rabbis, they're still so greedy after two thousand years! I should have crucified them all back then!"

“You didn’t have that ability back then.”

“I’ve learned my lesson. There won’t be a next time, Victor.” Salomon’s face was grim.

He tried to establish order under different identities, but none of them worked out well.

In this eternal war, humanity's ultimate goal is absolute order and morality. His efforts proved not in vain, but the results came too slowly; he could always awaken in some people a yearning for morality and order. However, the world still harbored many beasts dressed in fine clothes, drinking human blood. Worse still, the organization he established to liberate slaves turned out to collude with the oppressors, and without exception, all of them degenerated into oppressors, even regarding joining the organization as a privilege.

The thought of this was agonizing for him, every minute of those millennia. He used to be a moderate, with only lecturing, education, and community organizations at his disposal, perhaps with a few more students. Now he was a radical, having learned to solve problems with guns and swords while still maintaining his education and lecturing.

"But are you sure I need to wade through the world of fame and fortune to solve this problem? I can open JPMorgan Chase's vault anytime I want, let Fisker Wilson launder the money through Mexico, and kill those Wall Street wolves while I'm at it. You've been using mortal methods for too long, Victor. If we do it discreetly enough, no one will even know that we're the ones who brought down Wall Street."

“You’ve been too mild in the past, and now you’re too aggressive. This approach won’t get us the biggest slice of the pie, at least not before the Greek war. Our fleet is still escorting ships in the Strait of Gibraltar. Only when we completely occupy Spain and control the entire Mediterranean will we have the right to say this,” Victor von Doom said. “I have only one request: that it not attract attention. Or rather, that there be no supernatural intervention. The five permanent members of the Security Council are very sensitive about this. I can have Ms. Victoria Hand handle this; the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents we recruited have all changed their identities and gone back undercover, but none of them have acted as quickly as you.”

“I brought this up only because you were complaining about the employment rate.” Salomon waved his hand impatiently, knowing he was being too hasty again. Viktor von Doom wanted to use Salomon’s false identity to accomplish this, but he didn’t want it to involve supernatural forces. The power displayed by the Emperor’s identity had already exceeded the imagination of many countries’ military experts. If the Emperor were to do something like a direct attack on the UN headquarters in New York, Yugoslavia would face far more than just an economic blockade.

So Salomon planned to end this as soon as possible. Killing the troublemakers was a good option. Killing people with guns is a human method. Moreover, the barrels of these guns were all cut by Salomon himself, which are so-called black guns. They would be destroyed after use, so neither the CIA nor the Department of Homeland Security could trace them.

A similar arsenal exists in Texas.

For two centuries, the identity of that large rancher, landowner, and oil company director had bred many houseboys, generations of whom worked on the farms and oil fields, loyal to the Savage family. The boys, upon reaching adulthood, were sent to the army and returned to the farm after their service. The Savage family armed them with an arsenal to protect the farms and oil fields. When necessary, these houseboys could also become officers leading the Texas militia. Now that armed force belonged to Natasha Romanoff, and Salomon had no intention of using those houseboys; the matter wasn't as serious as Viktor von Doom had made it out to be.

"Okay, I'll spend a day solving this problem."

“One day? You’re leaving again?” Joan lifted her head from between his legs, a smear of whipped cream still clinging to her lips. She swallowed what was in her mouth and sat on Salomon’s lap. “Ceresa, are you sure this big boy has learned his lesson? I feel like I was rewarding him just now.”

The black-haired witch still had olive oil residue on her skin, and her hair was still sticky and clinging to her shoulders.

“I can’t say,” Bayonetta said, her eyes glazed over.

“No other women.” Salomon picked up his phone and dialed another number. “Lorna Dayne doesn’t count.”

After taking a quick shower and having a meal, Salomon opened the manor's gun storage room.

He took out an HK USP pistol and two magazines, an HK 416D assault rifle, equipped with an SMR MK15 handguard, an EOTECH EXPS-3 holographic sight, a Magpul RVG vertical grip, and a Surefire SOCOM 2 suppressor. At that moment, Diana walked in, expressionlessly removing her maid outfit and changing into work pants, a stretch vest, and body armor. She picked up an SR25K marksman rifle, fitted with a Nightforce ATACR 4-16 x 42 F1 rifle scope.

“I can’t live without you anymore, Dinah.” Salomon blinked. Dinah was wearing a strappy bra, the style he liked.

The android maid smiled but didn't answer. Eight thousand years of companionship needed no words.

Adding Dinah wasn't enough; he needed a trustworthy observer. Athena's adopted daughter, Lorna Dayne, was the perfect choice. He prepared a P226 9mm pistol for Lorna; without this gift, she would never have given up her weekends watching television to work for him.

Stephanie Malik and Gideon Malik probably thought he would directly change the minds of several people, or help Hydra take a bigger slice of the pie.

He doesn't intend to do that.

His plan was to find out at the party who was trying to encroach on his interests, then storm in that night and shoot them in the head. Simple, brutal, but effective. It would also keep the Malik family in check; Gideon Malik, as the largest faction in Hydra, had been getting too big for his britches lately—Roosevelt was able to tax capitalists up to 90 percent because he possessed military power—Salomon also possessed military power, and he could also make Hydra pay taxes.