Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1301 Emergency Surgery (First Update)

"Stephen Strange!" The voice instantly silenced the apprentices' hushed conversation in the library. Everyone turned their heads to look at the man buried in his books at the desk by the window. "Stephen Strange, report to me," the librarian urged, finally causing the man's dark curls to stir. The librarian finally noticed the slouching man and strode forward. Stephen Strange also noticed a chubby, anxious-looking Asian man beside him in the library. "Don't delay!"

"What's wrong?" the former doctor asked.

“You don’t need to know now,” Wang interrupted. He sized Stephen Strange up and down. A tough stance was uncommon in Kamar-Taj, and Wang was certainly not one of them, as it didn’t align with his philosophy of enjoying life. Yet, he was behaving as if something terrible had happened, unwilling to linger a minute longer in the quiet library, as if the floor beneath his feet was burning hot. “Come with me,” he said, turning to leave. “Have more confidence; you need to learn a lot in a very short time.”

"I'm learning." Although Stephen Strange said this, he followed along. "Your friend, that future big shot, requires me to study hard," he said, "and now you've dragged me out of the library again... I'm studying works on runes, using folklore papers on Google Scholar as references."

Master Wang ignored Stephen Strange's humor and led him into a training ground that had once been abandoned but had now been restored. A Royal Guard with black shoulder armor approached, pointing to a fighter jet-sized aircraft on the central helipad of the training ground. A fortress-like automated combat robot stood nearby, its massive cannons on its shoulders and arms raised, its head's sensor array constantly monitoring and scanning everything within its firing range. "Hurry up, we're pressed for time," the warden said, his voice amplified by the communication grille on his collarbone, exceeding the roar of the engine. The Royal Guard ignored Stephen Strange's flinch when he saw him and forcefully shoved a data pad into his hand. "Board now. You must use this time to learn what's inside."

"What's the use of this?" Stephen Strange opened the data panel, and an extremely detailed and complex 3D model came into view. It took him two seconds to realize that this was an organ, with a very clear distribution of blood vessels. Whenever he clicked on a part, detailed annotations would appear explaining the function and data of each part of the organ. At the same time, there was also an automatically generated diagnosis and treatment recommendation.

"This isn't a human organ!" he protested. "Is it some kind of magical animal's organ? I'm not a veterinarian!"

"Shut up, board the plane!"

The Imperial Guards didn't board the plane with them, instead riding their own anti-gravity jet motorcycles, chasing after the Obliterator fighters. The aircraft didn't pass Mount Everest, but instead plunged into the snow-filled clouds, then sped along the ridge at an astonishing speed. "This is the first time I've ever seen the Himalayas from such a height," Stephen Strange had to admit, he'd never witnessed such a magnificent view. For some reason, the Master Wang forbade him from going into the cockpit to see the pilots, but he also figured that this completely undecorated plane certainly wouldn't have the various services of a private jet. "Where are we going?"

"Air Defense Identification Code ████·Delta·███, Level Crimson, Guardian Order Number ███·███," Master Wang, wearing his headset, issued a command. Only after receiving a reply did Master Wang relax. The aircraft then accelerated again, the heat from the engine melting the cold clouds before quickly condensing into two white congealed clouds. "Now you need to read the documents," Master Wang said, frowning. "You'll find you need that knowledge when you land. I know you can do it; just put in the same effort you did in medical school."

The only lighting here was braziers. The Watchers stretched out their pale, thin arms from their black robes, the veins beneath their almost translucent, thin skin visible in the firelight. A golden giant, as magnificent as a Titan, strode out of the lightless passage, a dark, deep purple light flashing behind him. He passed without hesitation through the swarm of microbes whose armor barely reached their waists. The giant paid no heed to their pleas, nor did he stop. Hot blood dripped carelessly onto the bald heads of the Watchers, scalding their fragile skin like boiling water. The deaf, blind, and mute Watchers paid no heed to the pain, but followed closely behind the giant, guided by their souls, like dark clouds following a star, yet utterly silent, their footsteps barely louder than their heartbeats.

The giant was covered in blood.

There is the blood of the enemy, his blood, and the blood of the things he created.

The Royal Guard, Supiluliumus, lay in his arms, his golden armor twisted and charred, the exquisite reliefs and gems covered in ash. Cables snapped and sparked, electronic components and mechanical parts emitted acrid, burnt smoke. His helmet, equipped with advanced technology, had been removed and tossed aside. The crimson robe he wore over his armor had been mostly burned by the supernatural fire, the remaining portion soaked in blood reeking of adrenaline, hormones, and combat drugs. The supernatural power in his abdominal wound had been dispelled, but the wound, which had severed numerous blood vessels, muscles, and internal organs, was not so easy to stop bleeding completely. The modified organs and the power armor's life support system automatically diagnosed the wound and struggled to maintain his vital signs with large amounts of secreted emergency substances and injected drugs. Supiluliumus had entered an artificial hibernation state created by his new brain organ to sustain his life, emitting no sound other than the rumbling of his multiple hearts and his faint breathing.

The emperor clutched a golden radiance in one hand—the soul and life of Supilulius. He was here; he would not allow any of the Praetorian Guards to die in such a humiliating manner.

The High Priest of the Sora Redwood Druid Order awaited. All necessities, including diagnostic equipment, surgical instruments, and medicines, were prepared. The mechanical arm operating on the power armor was activated, ready to execute the optimal dismantling procedure for the patient on the operating table. Two jailers and guards pushed a wheelchair to the Emperor, taking away the severely wounded Supilulius. From that moment on, all equipment and personnel operated at extremely high efficiency. The 300-square-meter stone chamber instantly became the operating room. The only one out of place here was the bewildered Stephen Strange—he was nearly driven mad with fear. Both the guards and the mechs were nightmares for ordinary people. Now he didn't know which was more terrifying: a human without eyes or a tongue, unable to distinguish between male and female, or a half-human with a lobe removed, numerous implants inserted, and nutrient fluid flowing through its veins.

"I am the chief surgeon, and you will be my deputy," the emperor said. "I hope you have already learned the relevant knowledge."

"I'm a cripple now," Stephen Strange said, mustering his courage. "You definitely have someone better."

“There are better candidates with work to do.” The Emperor entered a prefabricated, sealed room filled with electrostatically filtered and sterilized air. A robotic arm began the cleaning and disassembly process. A minute later, the Emperor emerged with several servants clad in heavy orange-red protective suits. He wore a green surgical gown and walked with his hands raised through a sealed glass passageway in front of Stephen Strange, through an airtight stainless steel blast door, and underwent a sterile cleaning. Everything here was built to the specifications of a Level 4 biochemical laboratory. The wounded entered from the other end and met with sterilized medical personnel in the operating room. “The automated surgical robot with the Imperial Guard surgical protocol programmed into it isn’t here,” Stephen Strange heard the Emperor’s voice through his earpiece. “So I need a deputy, not a nurse handing over a scalpel—those servants can do that. I need a deputy, do you understand? I need your creativity in surgery, Stephen Strange.”

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)