Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1235 The Mutant Cult (Second Update)

"Hey!"

"What?" Amon tilted his head and pulled the trigger. A bullet the size of a machine gun flew out of the barrel and blasted the target to pieces.

"Ammunition!" Laura Crawford was a semi-expert in shooting, a British member of both the IPSC (International Practical Shooting Association) and the USPSA (United States Practical Shooting Association), and had achieved good results in the .0.45 ACP pistol shooting competition at the 3GN Championship. Just from the spent cartridge cases lying next to Amon's boots, she could tell that the Imperial Guard used ammunition with a caliber larger than the Soviet 14.5x114 mm bullet. One could imagine the absolute dominance this anti-aircraft firepower would possess in today's shooting environment.

Her only worry was that Amon might not have enough ammunition. After all, the magazines to hold this kind of ammunition were large and heavy, making it difficult for an ordinary person to even carry one during strenuous activity. In fact, this worry was entirely valid; even if Amon was unerring, he would still have to face this problem. "Five rounds left," Amon frowned, covering Laura Crawford as she walked towards the rocky bunker. "Yasok has been forced back, but there are too many Trinity mercenaries. I can't lead you all the way out unless you're willing to wait here for a while."

"What are you planning to do?" Laura Crawford asked.

"Charge! Kill them!" Amon pulled the trigger again. This time, he aimed at a mercenary carrying an anti-tank missile. As the mass reaction fuse pierced flesh and made contact with metal, a high-temperature jet immediately erupted from the missile, blasting both the anti-tank missile and the soldier into charred fragments. "I don't know how many anti-tank missiles Trinity has left. I can dodge them, but you definitely can't."

"Uh... I still have three magazines left." Laura Crawford pulled the pin on the MP5 submachine gun she had found, glanced at it, and then deftly cocked it. "You take care of the machine gunners at 3 o'clock and 10 o'clock, then I can go with you and we'll meet at the exit. I'll go to the right; there's plenty of cover there, and I need fire support. I mean grenades. I've seen you throw grenades; they're practically mortars."

Amon agreed to the plan.

He quickly fired two shots to take out the machine gunner and his gunner, and taking advantage of the brief lull in the fire, he dashed out. He and Laura Crawford were at least sixty meters from the Trinity mercenaries' firing position on the cliff face, but to the soldiers, the Golden Armored Guards charged at them like a runaway bull, reaching them in the blink of an eye. The mercenary blocking the Guards' path didn't even have time to dodge before crashing into Amon's shoulder armor. His skull, spine, collarbone, and ribs were struck like a pendulum used to demolish a concrete structure; his body flew through the air like a rag doll, fragments of bone piercing his skin and splattering out.

As Amon thrust his spear, pinning two mercenaries to death, Laura Crawford was still running and firing her rifle behind them. Before her enemies could mount an effective counterattack, a grenade descended with a precise arc, exploding in the crowd and buying her valuable time. She finally reached cover, kicked over a wounded soldier blocking her path, and fired a few shots to kill any soldiers attempting to retaliate. After emptying two magazines, she heard shouts and screams in the distance. At first, she thought Amon had charged into the enemy ranks and begun the slaughter, but to her surprise, Amon was waiting for her at the exit, while the screams of the Trinity mercenaries outside continued unabated.

A heavy stench of blood permeated the cave, with chunks of flesh and entrails shattered by large-caliber bombs clinging to the rough stone walls. The murals once depicting the Aztec gods were now covered in blood and dismemberment, their exquisite paint blurred and indistinct. However, Laura Crawford had no time to lament the destruction of these artifacts; she had many questions to answer.

"Our help has arrived." Amon gripped his Guardian Spear. Before him stood a Black woman in a red robe, wielding a silver spear. "Good morning, Nakia. I didn't know you had become Dora."

"Who are these people?" Laura Crawford asked, puzzled. The long archaeological expedition had left her somewhat out of touch with the world; she had no idea about Wakanda, the high-tech African nation that had caused such a stir globally. Even after a brief self-introduction, Laura Crawford remained confused. She only knew that these female warriors were allies of the Royal Guard, which was enough for the current situation.

As for Nakia, she was even less likely to recognize the Royal Guard's identities. The Royal Guard's overly familiar tone led her to mistake Amon for Hammurabi, who had participated in the civil war in Wakanda's Golden City. In fact, Nakia's transfer from the War Dogs to the Dora Guard was not her personal wish, but rather a requirement of Queen Mother Ramonda. All Black Panther Queens had to come from the Dora Guard; this was an unwritten rule passed down from a certain period, and even Ramonda herself was no exception.

"The problem has now been resolved."

Nakia gripped her vibranium spear and spoke lightly. Behind her, the agile female warriors were clearing out the remaining enemies one by one. After shaking off the blood from their spears, they formed a seemingly loose but actually tight battle formation behind Nakia. Amon immediately realized that the true mission of these Dora Guards was not only to protect King T'Challa, but also to protect the future Queen Nakia. Those Dora Guards not in the database were all wary of the tall Royal Guards.

"Come, the King wants to speak with you, Laura Crawford." Nakia glanced at the Royal Guard, then casually added, "And the Emperor of Latvia, he's here too."

"You, take your squad and charge with me."

The noise of bullets whizzing through armor did not drown out Supiluliumas's shouts. A tribal warrior wielding a laser gun excitedly burst from his cover, firing as he charged toward the rampaging Royal Guard. Their opponents included not only Trinity mercenaries but also members of the Kukulkan Order, clad in green robes and feathered headdresses—all Paititi, who had helped Amaru oust Onuratu from the throne.

Even though the Kukulkan followers were all compatriots, the rebels showed no mercy to them, instead employing even more brutal methods to treat these traitors. These rebels had long been hunted and captured by these traitors lurking in the town of San Juan (formerly Paititi), and now they finally had the chance for revenge. They even went so far as to drop their laser guns and draw their clanging chainsaws to hack and slash at the Kukulkan followers.

"For the Queen's sake, you traitor!"

Supiluliumas's halberd sliced ​​through the air, cutting through human bodies. He dodged an anti-tank missile fired from enemy lines, turned and fired a shot that shattered the enemy, then leaped into a makeshift barricade made of sandbags, crushing the Trinity mercenary who had fired the anti-tank missile with his boots, and then smashing the head of a terrified Kukulkan follower. He didn't continue to rally the rebels, who were still consumed by vengeance, but instead began to rally the next group—Camilla's squad was the true fighting force of this attack. They worked seamlessly with Supiluliumas's Royal Guard, able to quickly fill the Royal Guard's firepower gaps, far more efficient than the Queen's army, which lacked discipline and tactical awareness. The weapons they carried were the ones truly issued to the Latvinian regular army.

A scorching mass of plasma swirled through the morning rainforest, melting the Trinity machine gunner and his weapon. Supiluliumas, in the burning jungle, seized a fleeing Kukulkan cultist by the neck, holding him up for a close examination. Unsurprisingly, he found a red and blue feather and scale on the cultist's neck.

"This place is contaminated!" Superuliumas cursed under his breath, then relayed the information to Camilla's squad at the rear via the communication channel. "Retreat! Don't approach! Execute the bombing clearance procedure!" Camilla glanced at the Queen's army charging forward madly, trying to call them back. However, these tribal warriors were too engrossed in the joy of battle; the roar of their chainsaws was as violent as their heartbeats. The Royal Guard initially tried to use Quechua to order the Queen's army to retreat, but no matter what, the blood-covered tribal warriors refused to retreat an inch.

Supilulimas gave it one last look. "Continue, laser guidance. Hurry!"

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(End of this chapter)