Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1425 The Nightmare of the Dead (First Update)

The tactical gloves were covered in snow powder and mud, mixed with the smell of gunpowder and cigars.

Laura Crawford heard heavy breathing. Without turning her head, she kicked, but hit nothing. She felt her foot being firmly gripped; a pair of hands grabbed her ankle and dragged her backward with all their might. Unable to regain her balance, Laura Crawford fell to the ground, terror instantly overwhelming her. Instinctively, she curled up to protect her head and spine from injury, gripping her HK USP pistol tightly. Her free leg kicked wildly. She fired just one shot when the hand holding her ankle vanished. Then, a figure darted out from the side, a combat boot kicking her wrist.

The pain from the clash between metal and bone forced her to drop the gun, and tears welled up involuntarily from her tear ducts. She did not give up the fight; the dagger strapped to her thigh was immediately pulled out, but her attacker noticed her movement, and the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed against her forehead, while her arm holding the dagger was pinned down by a knee.

"I'm not dead, Laura Crawford!"

The figure emerging from the darkness reached out and gripped her throat tightly with a filthy hand, covered in mud, dried blood, and broken nails. She could even feel the man's fingerprints. Despite the poor light, she recognized him. The terror was more horrifying than the physical pain, for she was certain this man would rot in the dungeon, could never be here—Constantine, commander of the Trinity mercenary organization, the blood brother of Anna, Richard Crawford's girlfriend, a madman obsessed with religious prophecy, a fanatic who believed the wounds Anna had etched on his skin were stigmas. "I can't be here, can I?" the Trinity commander spat, his face contorted with rage, spitting blood-tinged saliva. He pressed his weight down on her, extinguishing any resistance. "I should die in the dungeon, alone in that place where the sun never shines, beside my sister but unable to see her, right?"

He gradually increased the pressure on her hands, and no matter how Laura Crawford tried to pry his fingers open with her other hand or attack his face, it was to no avail. "I should enjoy this moment," he whispered, leaning down, and Laura could almost smell the sour drug odor on his breath. "I should enjoy this moment, and Anna should see your death."

Laura Crawford opened her mouth in vain. Her back was tense, and pain in her throat, back, arms, knuckles, and knees almost overwhelmed her; the rapidly decreasing blood oxygen levels nearly made her lose consciousness. She didn't know what she had grabbed, but she still swung it at Constantine's head, fueled by the hatred of learning the truth about her father's death, the rage of her survival instinct, and the burning desire for revenge for her companions who had nearly died at Constantine's hands during their adventure.

Through her blurred vision, she saw a man screaming, calling out broken, mutilated names, shattered teeth and bloody saliva flying with his roars. She could hear nothing anymore; the blood vessels in her ears throbbed like war drums, almost drowning her senses. She couldn't hear, but the screams sent a chill and a stinging pain through her bones. When she regained her senses, she was wildly swinging her axe, her spasming fingers gripping the handle so tightly that even she couldn't let go. If it weren't for the faint pain in her throat, she wouldn't even be sure if it was a hallucination, because she saw no corpse or blood, and the axe in her hand was still perfectly clean.

There was no blood on the ground, only some black dust that had melted and evaporated like snowflakes.

Laura Crawford looked around in horror, but saw nothing but the still silent darkness.

The HK USP pistol lay discarded to the side, her clothes covered in dust, her back and thighs drenched in a cold sweat. The lack of oxygen was real, the pain was real; she couldn't even swallow to ease her aching, parched throat. She scrambled to pick up the pistol, gaining a much-needed sense of security—what had attacked her couldn't possibly be Constantine. She knew Constantine was in the Immortal City's dungeons, and even if someone escaped the dungeons, they couldn't leave the Immortal City itself—Laura Crawford didn't know what had attacked her, and she didn't know if the pistol would even be effective, but having a weapon was better than nothing.

The pain wasn't just physical. Something brushed past the edge of her sanity, like a fingernail scratching glass, making her brain itch and sting. She couldn't remember what she had seen; in fact, even the things she had seen seconds before, whether illusions or not, were gradually blurring. As the black ethereal matter drifted down, the invisible words engraved on the bookshelf emitted a pale blue glow, but she saw nothing.

Then came the sound of gunfire.

From the initial sporadic gunfire to the continuous barrage, only a few seconds had passed. Laura Crawford clearly heard the gunfire coming from the floor below; even the stone floor trembled with the intense gunfire. She heard pistols and rifles, the tactical phrases of the Trinity soldiers, and saw the muzzle flashes briefly illuminate the once-dark passageway. She heard the dull thuds of large-caliber weapons, then the intense gunfire began to subside, followed by agonizing screams and abruptly silenced wails.

"The resurrected dead, one of humanity's most fundamental fears," Joan of Arc commented, raising her glass. "The question is, why him? The death of that Trinity commander has nothing to do with you; neither morality nor law can hold you responsible."

"I don't know," Laura Crawford shrugged. She'd warmed up after a glass of warm, sweet wine, "but the story isn't over yet."

"Let me guess, next up is your father's girlfriend, your stepmother." Bayonetta mercilessly shattered Laura Crawford's carefully maintained composure. "You watched her die, and you enjoyed it—something you subconsciously dare not admit. But your nature forbids you from doing such a thing; it has left a scar on your soul. The Sea of ​​the Soul is a mirror, reflecting all our emotions and thoughts; no matter how deeply hidden the secret, it will be faithfully reflected in the Sea of ​​the Soul."

“Beyonda is right, because the veil between the material universe and the illusory world in the library is weakening. As the only intelligent being on the other side of the mirror, your thoughts will create ripples in the Aether Sea. All your thoughts are reflections.” Wanda held out her hand, showing Laura Crawford the snake-bone staff. After a long and arduous period of study, she was no longer the novice in Strucker Castle who couldn't even control her own power. At least under the indoctrination of forced learning, her theoretical knowledge was quite extensive. “I command this staff by releasing my mental power in the Aether Sea. You can think of it as me manipulating my reflection to issue commands.”

"This is not a third-rate horror sitcom, nor is it a magic trick."

Laura Crawford was a little annoyed. Another android maid promptly handed her a fresh glass of mulled wine. The wine, heated with lemon, cinnamon, cloves, honey, and other ingredients, was sweet and comforting, perfect for the snowy night. "Lady, this isn't some magic trick," Bayonetta said. "Something's watching you. You were naked in that world; you showed them everything. You had to learn how to control your mind, which is why you're here."

"Who are they?"

"demon."

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(End of this chapter)