Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1347 Sharpening the Knife (First Update)

As night fell in Budapest, trapped flying insects thrashed against old glass domes piled high with charred remains of their dangling bodies under the orange-red streetlights illuminating the city streets. Aside from the occasional passing vehicle, the streets were eerily quiet, with hardly any residents strolling. In the silhouette of the streetlights, the war engines standing near the Parliament Building cast long, blurry shadows like mythical Titans, their signal lights flickering intermittently like stars falling from the atmosphere. The pinnacle of steelmaking craftsmanship assembles and forges alloys at the atomic level, creating various materials for war engines and heavy armored vehicles. Even now, this technology seems beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. The only similar technology on Earth is powder forging. While the technology used on Mars also evolved from this primitive method, the resulting armor plates far surpass alloys produced on Earth in terms of strength and heat resistance; only Wakanda's vibranium can rival it.

Every Budapest resident knew their conqueror was seated in the magnificent Parliament building. No need for the sight of the Ministry of Justice's armored vehicles roaring through the streets, no need for the noise of laser weapons and explosives; order descended naturally. From downtown Budapest to the Pest district on the outskirts, all was quiet. Drunkards rarely remained sober, LBGT supporters refrained from their lewd displays of pleasure in the streets, and even the roaming pet dogs and shadowy thieves vanished.

Hammurabi's usually icy face was unusually filled with helplessness, because the emperor's prank had escalated once again.

Behind the ornate dark brown desk, a single doll, the kind commonly found in fashion boutiques, sat atop a chair prepared specifically for the Titans, looking utterly comical against the backdrop of its towering back. Clearly, the Imperial Guard hadn't noticed the Emperor's escape in time. Amon, returning to his office to deliver his mission, frowned at the absurd scene. "Should we activate the operational plan? As far as I know, you should have stayed by my side the whole time, Captain."

"When the Emperor doesn't want us to find him, we can't find him. Besides, we can't disobey his orders." Hammurabi waved his hand, his other hand gripping a heavy halberd heavier than an ordinary person's. He was the one who had stood at the polling station entrance, blocking all the members of parliament from entering, as the Emperor intended, while the First Secret Service soldiers blocked the members' families and certain political brokers with vested interests. Now it seemed that was just one of the Emperor's little tricks. However, Hammurabi wasn't angry. After all, this wasn't the first time such a thing had happened. If the Emperor wanted to stroll around alone, he could simply order the Royal Guard to withdraw. This behavior was merely a tacit understanding between master and servant.

"Report this to Commander Constantine." Hammurabi could easily imagine the commander's expression upon receiving the message; it would certainly be quite amusing. He wasn't worried about the emperor's condition. The Praetorian Guard had absolute trust and loyalty to the emperor; it was an phenotypic trait etched into their miraculous genetic code. If the emperor decided he could go out without the Praetorian Guard, it meant there was no need for them. "Above me, only he has the authority to veto my decision not to activate the emergency plan," Hammurabi said with the air of someone who had been through it all. "This isn't the first time this has happened; he probably thinks it's not appropriate for conspicuous warriors like us to be around right now."

"What will His Majesty do?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's just taking a walk?" Hammurabi scanned the screen on his combat monitor, but found no trace of the emperor he was looking for. The police reports also indicated no involvement from him. Perhaps it was due to the laziness of Hungarian law enforcement; even Hammurabi, monitoring the communications network, heard several unresolved emergency calls, mostly concentrated in the Pest district, a veritable slum. Preserving old buildings isn't wrong, but neglecting modern infrastructure while preserving them only leads to historical buildings gradually turning into slums. Even after reinforcement, the 13th-century houses remained dark and damp; even installing natural gas and running water was a problem. "Nobody can figure out his intentions, not even Constantine."

"I'm sure he can."

Amon instinctively spun his halberd backward, but before his brain could process it, he forced his muscles and nerves to engage his powered armor and halt the immense inertia. Even so, the sharp blade still carved a long crack in the marble floor, the ear-piercing noise of metal scraping against rock like icicles from the material universe, nearly deafening the mortal soldiers guarding nearby. The commotion caused a black-armored soldier from the First Secret Regiment to rush into the passage five seconds later, raising his laser rifle in that direction. The Emperor could even hear the responses from other combat teams over the soldier's communicator, as well as the heavy footsteps and bell-like heartbeats of the soldiers defending other parts of the Capitol.

The emperor waved his hand, ending the urgent mission of these dutiful soldiers and sending them all back.

"My lord," Hammurabi bowed his head. He realized that every time he saw the emperor, the emperor was taller than him. He had always believed this to be the emperor's true height, but Amun had a completely different answer on the same issue. He believed that 2 meters was the emperor's true height, but the emperor could change his size and appearance at will, so whether it was true or not was meaningless. "I am glad you returned in time."

"No problem here. Thank you for your responsibility, soldiers. Please proceed with the original deployment. Don't worry, Amon. I'm glad you remain vigilant; that's the value I placed in you. Hammurabi, when have I ever been irresponsible?" The Emperor yawned and pushed open the office door. Hammurabi noticed some subtle details, such as the Emperor's increasingly cold tone, but he didn't dwell on them, attributing it to the Emperor's less-than-ideal walk rather than anything else. "The work here can be completely handed over to the First Secret Regiment. Victor will arrive in 30 minutes; prepare to receive him. I trust Victor will be able to resolve the issue."

"My lord, do you have a secret communication channel with the Regent?" Amon followed closely behind the emperor, almost stepping on his heel. "May we check the confidentiality and security of this secret communication channel?"

"There's no need to worry about the security of etheric communication. It's not the Guard's forte. Amon, you and the other Guards were born to control the material universe. There's no need for you to understand the mysteries of outer dimensions; basic knowledge is enough."

If it weren't for the ever-increasing workload every night, the Emperor's arranged courses and recuperation programs would have made her feel like she was on vacation. Working through the night left Victoria Hand drowsy; perhaps the sedatives given to her by the sorcerer Hamil were working, as she fell asleep in her small cabin as soon as she boarded the assault transport ship. It wasn't until the crew woke her that she realized her brief respite was over, and she would soon be back to her demanding work—Bochum, Hungary. Just thinking about those names gave her a headache. Long before the Emperor rose to power, the Balkans were one of the world's largest transit points for weapons, people, and drugs, especially Budapest, a city almost as renowned as Vienna as a spy capital. She herself had personally dispatched spies and agents to Budapest—the mission to recruit Natasha Romanov wasn't the only story to take place in Budapest.

The assault transport ship landed in the square in front of the Parliament Building, its thrust vectoring engines scorching the greyish-white ground. Victoria Hand saw that Budapest's most magnificent building, the Parliament Building, had been transformed. The First Secret Group had set up layers of security, deployed numerous heavy armored units to guard key tactical positions, and even several field anti-aircraft missile vehicles were parked in the square, radar constantly scanning the surrounding airspace. "What kind of trouble are we facing here?" Victoria Hand asked her deputy as soon as she disembarked. "Any reports?"

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(End of this chapter)