Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1303 Anger and Calmness (First Update)

"Master?" Diana tilted her head and looked at her master on the sofa.

The manor was dark, the last rays of sunlight slanting in through the windows, slowly creeping across the expensive handmade carpet, leaving warm, checkered patterns. Bayonetta and Joan of Arc had taken Milia to London to buy jewelry, along with Rosa and Baldr. Having secured their contract with Kamar-Taj, they planned to leave without any concern for their biological daughter's well-being. This time, Bayonetta and Joan were choosing a gift for Rosa and determining Milia's clothing and jewelry style, with Rosa providing crucial advice. Currently, besides the Sisterhood's android guards dispatched to protect the witch, the manor only had a maid security team led by Dinah.

The Emperor sat on the sofa, where the orange-red sunlight couldn't reach, placing himself in the tranquil shadows. Hearing Diana's question, the Emperor nodded, and the homunculus tiptoed over, deftly removing her black high heels before stepping onto the carpet. With practiced ease, she removed her black high heels, her feet encased in black stockings, and stepped onto the wool carpet, expertly filling his empty glass with dark brown liquor.

Diana noticed the dried, reddish-brown blood on the Emperor's fingers. Silently, she gestured for a towel to be brought, then wrapped it in ice from the ice bucket and sat beside the Emperor, placing the towel on the back of his hand. Since her birth, Diana had never seen the Emperor so angry. Even with the raging fire burning within him, the Emperor maintained perfect control over his body language and facial expressions. Even his drinking was unhurried, appearing more like a connoisseur of fine wine than a drunken revelry. The expensive, strong liquor couldn't soothe the Emperor's nerves, nor could it even flush his cheeks. If he so desired, he could drink the entire cellar's worth of liquor and remain perfectly sober.

No human being could be purer or more resilient than the Praetorian Guard. Each member was a perfect being, personally designed and created by him, a pinnacle of genetic engineering. But the fatal wound Supiluliumas suffered exceeded the limits of the Praetorian Guard's eternal life. If it weren't for the sufficient number of spare organs cultivated from slaves during previous experiments, and if he hadn't tightly grasped Supiluliumas's soul, using spells and prayers to expel the evil forces that were causing the wound to worsen, thus pushing the Praetorian Guard's body to begin healing at a rate exceeding its design limits, Supiluliumas might not have survived the thirty-two-hour surgery.

The injury to the Royal Guard was only one reason for his anger; another important reason was everything he heard and saw after entering the Silver Gate. Even with the gentle and considerate android Dina, whose true nature was Love Doll but who could crush steel bars with her bare hands, whispering comforting words to the Emperor, he still refused to tell anyone, including Dina, about his encounter with Supilulius, because the information was simply too shocking. The Yasoks had gone where they were meant to go; following ancient prophecy, they had voluntarily journeyed to the wound in the spacetime structure known as the Underworld, where the obsidian spear, crafted in ancient times, had played an unexpected role.

If we were to describe it in a way that humans could understand, it would be like the scenes the protagonist in *Interstellar* witnessed upon entering a higher dimension. However, the Emperor's experiences were not so simple; his mind was not easily broken, and he did not entirely believe the information revealed by those higher-dimensional entities. Perhaps it wasn't a lie, but knowing the correct information at the wrong time is essentially no different from a lie. The only information that could be told to the archaeologist, Laura Crawford, was that the Yasoks were naturally evolved humans, and the so-called Blood Moon Goddess was not a deity as the Yasoks imagined.

After anger comes calm planning and calculation, a common practice for emperors to force themselves to quell their emotions. They do not indulge in their emotions like ordinary people, for that would be a shameless waste of time and a desecration of reason, and the responsibilities they bear do not allow them to have personal emotions.

Estimated military production capacity in the Immortal City, Latvia, and the Martian foundry. Industrial orders and agricultural import/export trade settlements in Wakanda. Trade deficit between the Immortal City and Mars, and capacity increases mandated by administrative orders. The impact of natural disasters caused by the awakening of Quetzalcoatl on global food production; income generated by agricultural restructuring in Romanian provinces; grain storage warehouses and oil tanks in Latvia province. Communication between the central bank established by the Regent and the Ministry of the Interior and the European Central Bank and the International Monetary Fund; Albania's debt crisis; political turmoil in Moldova; problems and funding gaps in the citizen healthcare system…

The emperor gasped, picked up the glass, and downed it in one gulp. Diana then poured him another full glass of wine, adding plenty of ice.

In response to Germany's debt bomb and acquisition of an auto manufacturing company, a lobbying group hired by Wilson Fisker in New York began bribing members of the House of Representatives regarding the legalization of recreational marijuana. Gun control, drug control, and combating corruption. Reviewing past budgets and criminal cases linked to gangs. Murder, murder, and more murder. The training of conventional combat troops, special forces screening lists and background checks, joint exercises between the auxiliary military and the Knights. The improvement and development of conventional weaponry, the stockpiling and training of older equipment, and the fight against civilian nationalist and religious armed factions…

Hundreds of decisions ran through his thought process, as he weighed the pros and cons and their consequences with his intellect. The Emperor calmed down. Fortunately, he had Viktor von Dum; otherwise, with the current, incomplete civil service, he himself might not have been able to handle so many things. "Give me a thick slice of fried pork chop. And a glass of whiskey," he said. "Take it to the study; I'll be playing the piano there."

After dinner, as he was nestled in the soft mattress and blankets, he began to recount what he had seen and heard.

Bayonetta and Jeanne d'Arc were always among the few people he could confide in. While witches' wisdom couldn't solve every problem, that didn't stop them from offering their opinions and providing direction. Even without advice, he was willing to confide in them, even if it was just telling silly jokes. However, this time, after hearing the information he revealed, the two witches' usually calm and nonchalant faces instantly turned somewhat terrified. Although they quickly composed themselves, the shock of the news lingered.

"You...you told the Sorcerer Supreme about this?" Joan of Arc asked, frowning. A thin blanket was draped askew around her waist, barely covering her skin, but she didn't seem to care. "Isn't this very important?"

"No, only the two of you know this right now." Salomon shook his head. "The Venerable One forbade me to reveal this information. Knowing the right information at the wrong time could very well lead to the destruction of a certain thread of fate. Now is a crucial moment in the Venerable One's game with Vishanti, and the Venerable One does not want to know this news."

"But that was the cause of the Sorcerer Supreme's death, a matter of great importance affecting the entire galaxy." Bayonetta's expression was unusually serious. "Perhaps the Sorcerer Supreme knew, but he didn't know that you knew, which is why he didn't want you to know?"

"Thank you, Ceresia. I never knew you could utter such a long sentence," Joan interjected, prompting Bayonetta, clad only in black stockings, to throw a pillow at her. "No jokes, but if Your Excellency doesn't want to know, I suggest you accept this suggestion." After the joke, Joan, who rarely offered decisive opinions, looked at Salomon lying on his back while reaching down to feel the sticky sensation. "This will prevent everyone from being sad. Don't be sad, I'll cheer you up. Ceresia, would you like to join me?"

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)