Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1277 The Pythagorean Prophecy (First Update)

"Prophecies are merely references and possibilities; it is our duty to explore those possibilities and find the right path." The emperor continued to leisurely peruse the scrolls and books, the papyrus recording divine pronouncements from thousands of years ago making a soft, rustling sound under his fingers due to its dryness. "I have spent too much time on this work. I have heard too many stories; I am not foolish enough to follow the path of prophetic tragedy. We still have a choice."

"I believe you, but I don't know whose misfortune you know, that you'd recklessly stay in the library." Victor von Doom turned to look around. It was quiet. The bustling discussions of the library's foyer were shut out by the heavy metal doors, and the sunlight from the windows was blocked by black fabric. Candles were the only light source for the Emperor's reading. Perhaps there was also the faint glow of the indicator lights from the fortress-like automated combat robots in standby mode, but that firefly-like light was far too weak. "You've also approved all the official documents." The Regent looked at the mountain of scrolls and books beside the Emperor and sighed deeply. "How long has it been since you slept? How long has it been since you returned to Oxfordshire Manor?"

"Since arriving in Kamar-Taj, I've spoken with the witches, and they've granted me temporary permission to leave." The Emperor's expression was calm. "You yourself have the authority to approve official documents, Victor. You possess all the power I have in Latvinia and the Immortal City."

"That'll take about three days." The Regent, feigning ignorance of the Emperor's reminder, brought him a chair and then unceremoniously retrieved the wine that should have been lying in the Emperor's wine cabinet from under his cloak. He waved aside the curtains, scrutinizing the Emperor's face. The long, sleepless nights hadn't weakened the Emperor, who had been studying prophecies in asceticism; the man remained energetic, showing no signs of fatigue, even his lips were still moist. The Emperor wasn't wearing powered armor, and his body wasn't connected to the life support system—the intravenous fluid system that combined dialysis and nutrient replenishment. "Are you looking at the Pythian prophecy of Apollo that led to the Orpheus tragedy? Why don't you read Nietzsche's *The Birth of Tragedy*?"

Although Victor von Dum's metaphors were highly complex, the Emperor understood the Regent's reminder of the "Dionysian spirit," otherwise he wouldn't have attributed the ancient Egyptian papyrus in his hand to the prophecies of the ancient Greek Apollo priestesses. As Nietzsche described in *The Birth of Tragedy*, the tragedy in Greek mythology stems from the individual's powerlessness in the face of the overwhelming force of primal life, constantly manipulated by fate. The Dionysian spirit, knowing the inevitability of existential tragedy, still resolutely embraces cruel destiny and pursues the tragic beauty of life.

This contradicted the emperor's own ideas. His "Apollonian spirit" challenged the impossible with a humble and fragile rationality and order, using almost cold-blooded methods. He was not unaware of his actions; the contrast between the emperor's rational bestiality and the emotional humanity of modern society, and the deviation from basic emotions, was tragic in itself. However, the emperor also knew that this was the only way for humanity to escape the abyss of tragedy. Humanity is astonishingly incapable of learning from history; emotions can be salvaged, memories can be forgotten, history can be rewritten, but objective facts will not change.

Viktor von Doom was equally aware of the price they were about to pay, but they still plunged in without looking back, searching for a path to a perfect ending from endless possibilities. Meanwhile, Viktor von Doom also made a small joke, attributing the Emperor's eagerness to peruse prophecies to a mother complex. "We are all fools, so for our foolishness, I don't mind having a drink," the Emperor said, accepting the glass of wine poured by the Regent—his first drink in three days and two nights. He hadn't been without gains during this time; from ancient historical records, he discovered some actions that were completely inconsistent with the thinking of people at that time—undoubtedly the work of time travelers.

To be more precise, it was the emperor himself. After all, not everyone has the ability to break into the Temple of Apollo, abduct the priestess Pythia, and then do nothing but demand that those young and beautiful virgins wash his clothes. The emperor had already foreseen a conflict with the Olympian pantheon, as such a thing would be a humiliation to Apollo, but he didn't know whether he would do this before or after the conflict. He was quite self-aware; this absurd act was very much like what he would do in a moment of unbridled indulgence. Judging from the priestess's records, her attitude towards this intruder wasn't so bad; she even referred to him as an immortal in her notes and prophesied several of his false deaths.

For example, choking on nosebleeds while sleeping at night.

"And, screw Floyd."

"Go take a shower. It's not like you can't shower during ascetic practice," Viktor von Doom said with a laugh. "Hurry up, we have a lot to discuss!"

In Kamar-Taj, the apprentice quarters lacked private bathrooms. It was common for apprentices, both men and women, to return to their dormitories soaking wet, their hair dripping, after traversing the training grounds from the bathhouse. Even now, the Emperor's room remained in the apprentice quarters, as he had lived in the witch's apartment when he became a butler, making a change of residence unnecessary. Now, Mordo had reassigned the Emperor a room, and as Salomon, still with his wet hair, emerged from the bathroom and basked in the breeze on the marble steps of the new room, Hammurabi and Amon of the Royal Guard were still moving things from the old room, including his small refrigerator for snacks and some early inventions.

"Weren't you waiting for me at the library?"

"Modo's causing trouble again," Victor von Doom said, sitting next to the Emperor. "He looks like he'd love to fight me."

"I heard you used to have a good relationship with him," Salomon said, flicking his hair back. "And then you left Kamar-Taj without a word, practically deserting him."

"That's why I won't bother Mordo. I left to form a guerrilla force because I believed Kamar-Taj couldn't change the status quo in Latvia." Victor von Doom shrugged. He felt the Emperor, who was shaking his head, flicking water droplets onto his cloak, but he wasn't angry because he knew that solemn demeanor was just Salomon's disguise. "My draft design for the power armor's neural link was also learned at Kamar-Taj. I won't lay a hand on the apprentices taught by the sorcerers and the Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar-Taj."

"I suggest you fight Mordo. At least here, the spells we use are limited," the Emperor said. "If you hesitate, Mordo will overthink things, turning anger into resentment. That's his nature; he's very prone to self-destruction. The Venerable has reminded me more than once to be mindful of Mordo's mental state. Remember, avoid using non-lethal spells. Spells like Hellfire Ray, which can burn people to a crisp, are best avoided. In our hands, that spell is practically equivalent to a molten lava gun."

The proposal was quickly accepted, and Mordo rushed over excitedly, declaring that he would make Victor von Doom, that traitor, know the consequences of betraying Kamar-Taj. Meanwhile, the Emperor had already returned to his room to find something to eat, completely oblivious to how Victor intended to handle his relationship with Mordo. He knew his regent, as a seasoned politician, was capable of striking the right balance, unlike the ever-enthusiastic Mordo.

Even as a gunshot rang out outside the window, the Emperor remained unfazed, munching on the snacks the Sorcerer Supreme had brought in from the refrigerator. "Want some Johnnie Walker?" he said to the somewhat nervous Hammurabi. "Don't worry, Victor assured me no one will die today."

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(End of this chapter)