Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1066, Part 1062: One or One Hundred (Second Update)

"This is meaningless, Hammurabi." Salomon, surrounded by the Royal Guard, the Sorority, the Knights of the Infernal, and representatives from various countries, walked out of the United Nations headquarters. Pegasus vanished from reality in a speck of light, leaving only the ever-heating Phoenix as his companion. The plaza was filled with fragments of the Hulkbuster armor, burning debris, dripping oil, and shattered glass after the previous battle. The Veronica prison system, its walls ripped open by the welding core warheads and fusion weapons, still stood there. The shattered parts of the Steel Legion were scattered everywhere, and the air was thick with the stench of war. No one in this world had ever brought war to American soil before; now that record had been broken. They should feel fear, they should regain their humility, they should see through the lies told to them by politicians, and they should muster the courage to fight for justice and for the human race.

Of course, he didn't expect a single war machine tour to awaken their consciousness, steeped in ignorance for centuries. Cleansing the stench required time and bloodshed, a thorough and painful cleansing. Latvia and the Immortal City didn't have the resources to commit to a comprehensive cleansing of North America; their domestic operations, along with their management of the Middle East and West Africa, had nearly exhausted their existing administrative staff. The people captured from war-torn regions couldn't handle such meticulous work. Many, even after having mind-programmed, couldn't change their minds quickly enough; some even saw themselves as slaves. Even with food, medicine, and education provided by the Immortal City, they still considered themselves slaves because their past lives were far worse than their current ones.

"If I wanted, I could use a thousand different methods at any point in my life to make everyone praise me forever, because I am the endpoint of human evolution, I am a perfect being whose life form and soul are meticulously designed, and no life in the world could surpass me. But all of this is meaningless. I have never regarded any human nation as an enemy, nor have I ever felt happy because they bowed down to me."

"They should bow down to you, my lord," Hammurabi asked, puzzled. "I can't think of any reason why they wouldn't. Anyone with a brain can see that your work is to save mankind."

"I created you, I created Latveria, because..." The voice, which should have been heard by everyone, echoed only in Hammurabi's mind. The monarch, always the center of attention to others, suddenly fell silent. At the same time, vague memories flooded Hammurabi's mind, and he naturally absorbed the vast amount of information that no ordinary brain could process. It was an image, not a real scene, a manifestation of the monarch's language. On a distant planet at the edge of the galaxy, his monarch discovered and accepted his true nature, and Hammurabi witnessed that arduous spiritual journey from another perspective.

"...because humanity needs guidance, humanity needs laws, even imprisonment. Only by imprisoning our savage nature can we escape the fate behind the veil. This is my ideal, but idealism is evil, even if it's an idealism with a legitimate name that goes against the will of others. But without ideals, savage nature will only be unleashed, creating even more terrible atrocities. This is not a simple question of right and wrong, but a question of trade-offs and calculations. Sometimes, the death of a hundred people can have a greater impact on humanity than the death of one. The reason I invited Steve Rogers is to prevent the tyranny we practice in the name of ideals from harming them, from harming ordinary people. What we need to give them is justice. An opponent can keep everyone sober and help the ordinary people involved in our cause not be blinded by power."

Although that long memory was as hazy and fleeting as a dream, Hammurabi still gained a great deal of knowledge and secrets from it. The Praetorian Guard was a mimicry of the monarch's reflection, created from the physical and spiritual levels using mysterious genetic alchemy. He created them, and they naturally accepted their own essence. Even a blurry reflection is still the endpoint of human evolution, a perfect creation. But Hammurabi believed that the monarch was definitely not as simple as the endpoint of human evolution, but some kind of more complex and mysterious genetic miracle. The genetic alchemy used to create the Praetorian Guard could not create another monarch.

Colonel Rhodes flew nervously across the New York skyline, various air situation information flashing across the HUD projection screen.

Reports came from ground radar stations, reconnaissance drones, and the New York City Police Department. He devoured all the intelligence, trying to glean a solution. After completing his mission on Air Force One and escorting the president to the shelter, he received this long-awaited assignment. His speed from Washington to New York was comparable to that of an F-22, but his actions were far faster, allowing the president to make a decision much quicker.

The situation is far worse now than during the 2012 Battle of New York, because the enemy is humanity, not aliens. The decision to drop nuclear bombs on Manhattan during the Battle of New York wasn't absurd; if New York had fallen, the White House would never have shown the world American weakness. Similarly, the White House would never stand idly by while the enemy seizes America's financial center. The consequences of dropping nuclear bombs are far better than having one's wealth plundered. Bankers with authority are everywhere, but those in New York absolutely cannot defect; the spokespeople for the military-industrial complex absolutely cannot leak secrets; and America's major shareholders absolutely cannot stand idly by while their money is stolen.

With this assurance, the president can boldly and promptly cut his losses without anyone holding him accountable. Instead, the media will be mobilized to portray him as an iron-fisted leader. As for the New Yorkers who died under the nuclear bomb, there will naturally be a set of mourning procedures. Their lives will serve as an excuse for the world to unite in a common cause against Latvia, since the dead can't speak.

As for Secretary of State Ross, who lobbied the Sokovia Accords within the White House, he was severely reprimanded. If the Sokovia Accords had been announced to the Avengers a week later, Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon, and others would likely be in New York now, allowing them to resolve the issue with minimal cost, instead of having to make such a painful sacrifice. Of course, those behind-the-scenes calculations were beyond Colonel Rhodes's comprehension; he had never studied politics or economics. His anxiety stemmed from his desire to save millions of New Yorkers, and he had also seen the news reports of Tony Stark's serious injuries and hospitalization. If the president decided to drop a nuclear bomb, he had to find a way to remove Tony Stark and his family and friends before the bomb arrived, and a better solution was to address the root of the problem: the people at the United Nations headquarters.

Although footage of Tony Stark's fight with one of the men was captured by a news helicopter and uploaded online, Colonel Rhodes remained confident he could resolve the situation. He reasoned that Tony Stark, a civilian with no tactical skills, would be difficult to utilize effectively even with advanced technology. Therefore, as he swooped down towards the UN headquarters, he temporarily shut down the satellite link, intending to address the problem first and delay the president's nuclear launch.

Salomon watched with curiosity the rapidly trailing, blazing white tail of flame that was bathed in the glow of the lights.

Even from a great distance, he could still see Colonel Rhodes's inner thoughts. Colonel Rhodes was repeatedly calling Vision, trying to get help from the cyborg, but his calls went unanswered. Salomon slowly removed his large-caliber explosive pistol from the magnetic strap of his power armor and seemingly casually fired a shot at Colonel Rhodes, at least three kilometers away, nearly deafening the surrounding civilians. Amidst the astonished gazes of others (especially the American representative, who had known Colonel Rhodes would come), the wisp of white flame that represented hope for the American representative suddenly fell, crashing into the East River. The other helpers who were supposed to appear were nowhere to be seen.

The Avengers headquarters was now deserted. The agents (undercover agents) who had worked there had left long ago after Maria Hill's persuasion, and had destroyed a great deal of classified information. Vision, who should have appeared when Tony Stark faced the Imperial Guard, was still there. He had received a call from Colonel Rhodes but was unable to respond because his false, shallow soul was undergoing unimaginable torment.

"I can feel pain?" Vision wondered, examining its own mind as it fends off attacks from two different directions. First, there was the attack from the cyber world. Although it was a simple, direct DOSS attack, the sheer number and frequency of these attacks far exceeded the combined computing power of all the computers in the world. As far as it knew, no supercomputer center in the world possessed this capability. Simultaneously, a large amount of toxic, obsolete code began to cripple its basic functions, and all the communication satellites it attempted to connect to lost their links. All these factors combined rendered it unable to utilize any of the cyber world's power. It opened its eyes and greeted her calmly, "Hello, Miss Maximov."

"Don't speak." Wanda extended her hand, crimson energy swirling around her palm and Vision's forehead. The serpent staff, forged from steel, emitted a blinding red light, filling the room with supernatural power. Strange phenomena occurred: objects moved without force, whispers emanated from nowhere, unnaturally low temperatures, and distorted images of light and shadow. But no one paid any attention to these phenomena—neither Vision, firmly held in place, nor Wanda Maximoff. "It will be over soon."

"I'm curious," Vision's tone remained gentle. "You were involved in the Latveria incident, weren't you? Why?"

"Because it's correct. You're a robot; your logic can arrive at the answer," Wanda said coldly. "It's easy to choose between one and one hundred."

"I can arrive at the answer, Miss Maximov. The question is, who is the one to be sacrificed? Has anyone asked the person to be sacrificed for their opinion?"

Tomorrow, I will definitely take the day off and not write a single word!

(End of this chapter)