Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1000: Number Two's Name (Second Update)

Constantine was kicked out before lunchtime because he couldn't understand the love between Aragorn and Arwen.

Although the concept of love was frequently mentioned in the literature and history he had read, and Salomon and the witch had personally demonstrated to him what emotional life was like, the Royal Guard had no need for women or love, neither emotionally nor physically. Their only emotions were loyalty to Salomon and the desire to fulfill their mission. Therefore, even though he could appreciate the beauty of the descriptions of elves in the books and admire the artistry of the writing, Constantine could only understand Aragorn and Arwen's relationship in his own way, applying a very rational perspective to fit this relationship into reality to help him understand it.

That is love between humans and aliens.

From a certain perspective, the elves in the book are quite in line with human aesthetics in both appearance and mind, so cross-species romance is not impossible, which Constantine fully understands. However, as one of the leaders of the "Secret War" operation, during the extermination of the Skrulls, Constantine has seen reports more than once of human women who accidentally discovered their husbands' true forms, yet still insisted on developing feelings for them, even at the cost of resisting armed personnel. But apart from a few with special fetishes (such as wanting to become a certain female celebrity today), such things are extremely rare between male and female Skrulls, at least according to the sample data collected so far.

This led Constantine to marvel at the genetic instinct for human reproduction, which extended to the relationship between Neanderthals and Homo sapiens. He then discussed with Salomon in a serious manner why this behavioral pattern was beneficial to the reproduction of the species and even enabled early humans to gain a numerical and military advantage.

Now he used this example to demonstrate how rare and precious the bond between Aragorn and Arwen was in Middle-earth, like that between a male human and a female Skrull. Then he was chased away by the cursing Salomon, who didn't even get lunch—Salomon described him as "I swear by my beautiful long hair, your brain, forged of gold with excellent electrical conductivity, is completely incomprehensible," and went on to say things like "you suitably armored goblin," and "the stupidity of your decaying brain gives me psychogenic pain," until Constantine reached the tarmac and finally understood what he meant. Although Constantine was used to Salomon using various forms of "fuck" to describe things, this time it was far too refined and civilized, making Constantine very worried about the monarch's mental health.

However, he didn't really need lunch. Only a day had passed since the last replenishment of his power armor's life support system with nutrient solutions, combat drugs, and other supplies. Furthermore, the metabolic fluids collected by the life support system, after external purification, were sufficient to support his energy expenditure. His appetite had long been suppressed; he only ate nutrient mud containing special ingredients (large amounts of minerals, nano-alloy powder, and vitamins) when necessary. Now, he wasn't the only user of that food; the two newly converted, untrained Guardian candidates also consumed nutrient mud, as it aided in the Guardian's bone development. This was an order issued by the Guardian's creator, the monarch of the Immortal City. Constantine vividly remembered his first meal after emerging from the incubation chamber—also tasteless nutrient mud.

Constantine needed to travel from the British Isles to Kaiserslautern, Germany, within two hours to connect with agents already infiltrated there and obtain satellite data from Ramstein Air Base—NATO's largest air base in Europe and one of the key locations the Immortal City needed to monitor after the start of the Latvian War. If the United States were to make any large-scale military moves in Europe, Ramstein Air Base and other transit points would be unavoidable.

With the air power of the Immortal City and the transfer capabilities of the Sky Sword Space Station, this is entirely possible. Assault transport ships can transport passengers to the orbital space station in a very short time. The reason they are not that fast normally is simply because the passengers cannot stand it. The Immortal City has a great advantage in electronic warfare, but it is hampered by industrial capacity and demand. Stephanie's Department of the Interior hopes to take over NATO's air military power completely.

In short, the plan is to modify and reuse US military equipment, which would save a significant amount of money needed to train the Latvian Air Force. This is crucial for the Immortal City, which is currently facing a tight economic situation. Even though the Immortal City's own aircraft don't have such a high premium and have excellent performance, manufacturing aircraft still incurs costs. Furthermore, some parts need to be ordered from Wakanda or exchanged for industrial raw materials. Stephanie, who is in charge of finances, must live frugally.

She requested assistance from the Imperial Guard, and Constantine, concerned for the sustainability of the Immortal City, agreed. Stephanie, Constantine, and Victoria Hand then held a lengthy holographic video conference to finalize their tactical deployment against NATO. Thanks to Nick Fury's long-standing distrust of governments and his underhanded tactics, intelligence agencies could impersonate S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to gain the trust of former S.H.I.E.L.D. spies and extract valuable intelligence. Even if these spies had already been turned, intelligence agencies could lay in wait around them, and the agents responsible for monitoring the spies and those monitoring the spies could provide effective information to force the former S.H.I.E.L.D. spies to cooperate.

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Even in the never-ending darkness, the crimson sand pit was illuminated by dozens of blinding spotlights surrounding the arena, every mark on the sand bathed in unobstructed light. Beside the pit were mechs equipped with heavy bomb guns, plasma weapons, and various melee weapons. Each mech was covered in battered armor, and each weapon bore the marks of repeated use. This was a training arena; every trainee who entered risked their life to participate in training. Only the Royal Guard was authorized to activate and use these dangerous armed mechs, participate in such perilous training, and emerge unscathed.

The basic knowledge and combat skills implanted in his brain were used by his genetically edited, powerful muscles. Although somewhat rigid, he successfully dodged the rockets fired by the armed servants, closing to the limit of his halberd-wielding range before thrusting forward with force. The halberd pierced his armpit, which was not covered by armor, separating the weapon-wielding arm from his body. Even so, he dared not relax, for his master wanted to see his performance—he ran towards the next servant, red dust rising behind him. The high priest-level silent servo motors and electronic muscle coils, combined with the electrical signals transmitted by the fully developed bio-plastic blocks implanted under his skin, made every movement increasingly fluid.

Number Two, this is Number Two. The lights surrounding the arena began flashing at an extremely rapid pace, and a bomb exploded on his shoulder armor. The immense force caused him to tilt slightly to the side, barely maintaining his balance. The surge of adrenaline made him ignore the pain, and before the next bomb could be fired, he twisted his trembling shoulder, using his memory of the enemy's location and the outline of the enemy marked in his helmet to pin his servant to the ground from top to bottom.

He stepped forward and stomped the heavy bomb gun on the ground, crushing the armor and the bones beneath it.

"Number Two." He heard his master behind him, his brain automatically judging the distance of the voice. He wanted to turn around, but he dared not stop what he was doing. Just hearing that voice made him feel an immediate urge to swear allegiance, but he couldn't do that yet, because he wasn't qualified to be. He didn't have a name yet; he had to prove that the centuries-old genetic alchemy hadn't failed on his body. Only then could he receive a name from the monarch, the name that belonged to him from his genes—this test lasted for several hours, and the ammunition in his magazine had long been used up.

"Your name is Hammurabi Badya," Salomon said gently. "You're next, number three."

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(End of this chapter)