Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1322 Feeling Disturbed (Second Update)

Water flowed from the brass faucet, nearly boiling water overflowing from the exquisitely embossed rim of the brass bathtub, splashing onto the mosaic tile floor. A white dress hastily tossed aside was soaked by the overflowing water, becoming blurred and transparent. Athena hugged her knees, curling up so the water was above her chest. She closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath; the muscles in her back, honed through training, and her weary spirit gradually soothed from the hot water. This temperature couldn't harm her at all; the high temperature that a household electric water heater couldn't reach was exactly what she needed. The Emperor withdrew his fingers from beneath the water; the extradimensional power coiled around his palm transformed into flickering sparks and then vanished. He was the one who had briefly acted as the water heater; summoning a torrent of boiling water was no trouble for him.

Athena lay on the edge of the bathtub with a big smile on her face, her half-open eyes filled with thick steam.

"Take it." She stretched out her wet, steaming, and dripping arm, holding the damp sponge up to the emperor with an almost domineering air. "I offer you prophecy, and you offer me service. Isn't that a reasonable thing?"

The emperor, expressionless, took the sponge, placed it in the bathtub to draw out the scalding water, and then pressed it against Athena's shoulders. The hot water squeezed out of the sponge and rolled down her smooth, white back, disappearing beneath the surface of her milky-white body. From the beginning of his education, Athena had been his guiding light in classicism and the aesthetics of ancient Greek art. Her body best illustrated what beauty truly was. It was a supernatural beauty; her flesh and bones were created by concepts of outer dimensions, filled and anchored by mythology. From any angle, in any state, she possessed a dignified beauty. Even when she served as a human model, using herself as an example to teach the emperor painting and sculpture, the same eternal beauty permeated everything, as unshakable as a star.

"When I was fifteen and eighteen, you made me do this every day," he said bluntly. Even though some time had passed, the smell of ashes from a burned dream still lingered in his nostrils until it was extinguished by the thick steam. "It's the same now. I think you're just looking for an opportunity to enjoy being served by me."

"Prophecy is a very tiring thing, and it is for me as well, so this is a reasonable reward."

Athena did not open her eyes at all.

She knelt curled up in the bathtub, like a female deity in a classical oil painting, her head resting on the arm of a bronze angel statue resting on the edge of the tub. Her silky golden hair cascaded down like a waterfall, half floating on the water's surface, the other falling outside the tub and brushing against the emperor's exposed skin, which was covered by his rolled-up sleeves. Sharing consciousness is a very intimate matter, something only those who are mutually honest can do. The emperor did not choose to be completely honest with Athena because he had too many secrets that could not be known to others. Athena needed extra energy to share her consciousness; otherwise, she wouldn't even be able to traverse the emperor's superficial mental labyrinth. This would undoubtedly be an offense and a great hurt to her self-esteem, and even if she wanted to express anger, it would be understandable.

She provided the emperor with the interpretation of the omens that followed, which took a considerable amount of time.

The space inhabited by consciousness has no concept of time; what feels like hundreds of years in physical time might be just a blink of an eye in reality. Few can immerse themselves in it so deeply; the mere discrepancy between perceived time and real time is enough to drive a person mad. After all, not everyone can endure the aging of their soul and ensure that their soul doesn't get lost in the vastness of time and the confusion of experiences. "I've seen your marble sculpture, Saint Teresa's Fanaticism, that piece you spent many years completing," she murmured, her eyes closed, in a dreamlike murmur. "Can you say that when you sculpted the female form, you didn't use me as a reference?"

"Indeed, there is," the emperor nodded in acknowledgment, "but I also referenced the image of the witch."

The emperor's keen hearing caught the barely audible sound of her voice. She was right; he was willing to paint the scene before him, employing the Rococo style, which he rarely explored, for only this style could depict her posture and expression after she had laid down her weapons, removed her gown and armor. François Boucher's brushstrokes are worth studying, such as in his 1742 painting, *Anna the Moon After Her Bath*, but in terms of the erotic expression, Jean-Honoré Fragonard's *The Bolt* is more powerful, more in line with Athena's state at this moment, and more in line with the restrained emotions she displays.

Athena gave a brief response, then fell silent, enjoying the emperor's gentle caresses and the scalding hot water. After a while, she raised her head again, opening her clear, azure eyes, like the surface of a lake under the sunlight, to look at the emperor. Cooling water droplets rolled down her chest and hair, but her expression remained tender. "Come in and keep me company. Opportunities like this are becoming increasingly rare; I don't want to miss a single second."

Stephanie Malik glanced at her watch, her frustration evident.

Four hours, a full four hours, and the Emperor hadn't emerged from the apartment. She waited a long time in the passenger seat, exchanging no words except for a few phone calls from her father and Diana Lister. Stephanie knew what was in the glove compartment, something brought to New York from the liquor cabinet in the Washington car, the humiliation of which nearly drove her mad. She rested her pistol on her lap, chain-smoking until the Emperor appeared, steaming hot, and only then did she slowly breathe a sigh of relief.

"Your hair is a little wet," she noted. The damp ends of his hair left thin, cold streaks on his black wool coat, but the emperor paid no attention. He simply shook his head, letting the supernatural steam pass through his hair to prevent it from freezing in the weather. "Where are we going next?"

"Castle, I need you to hand over the keys to Victoria Hand." The Emperor started the car and drove it out of the garage. Before Christmas, the temperature in New York had already dropped to levels where it could snow. Perhaps snowflakes had already begun to fall unnoticed, melting into sewage on the streets and then freezing, testing the tire traction of every passing vehicle. The Emperor's car hadn't been fitted with anti-skid tires; he was still using summer road tires, so he drove very carefully, even though it was already late at night in New York.

"Regarding General Hale, whatever the past Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. may have, you must cooperate," he said, glancing at the image reflected on the screen in the rearview mirror. "I cannot tolerate a Kree outpost loitering in the Corboy Belt. When the Black Order arrives, that outpost will become the spearhead of the Kree Empire's attack."

"So, what about support?" Stephanie Malik put her pistol back into the glove compartment. She had seen satellite images of the outpost; though it was just a blurry gray silhouette against the asteroid, it was actually a massive star fortress built with alien technology, using the asteroid as its material, completed and put into service when human civilization was just beginning. "According to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s analysis of the Kree's autopsies, ordinary humans and small-caliber live ammunition are no match for the armor used by those aliens." She looked into the Emperor's eyes in the rearview mirror, not mentioning his experience in the apartment. "I need soldiers."

"A Knights Squadron, comprising two tactical squads and one tactical support squad, along with supporting armored vehicles and air power." The Emperor turned the steering wheel, driving the car towards the intersection. "It won't be drawn from your security forces, but from the Second Company. I will give you a formal order; this force is sufficient to flatten a modern city. I believe such armed forces are enough for you to solve your problem."

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(End of this chapter)