Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1495 The Lunar War (Part 7)

Aura leaped over the molten jagged edges of what had once been airtight doors, over orange-red spacesuits and the bizarre limbs encased in them, over bomb craters soaked in pus and blood like lakes, chasing after the assault team through the intricate, pitch-black tunnels like a ferocious mother leopard. Behind her were several other girls, also armed with heavy molten weapons and combat knives, all excited about the mission. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed around the corner, and a warm golden light illuminated the vast, deserted area. Aura knew she had caught up.

"Break down the door," Derrick calmly gave the order. Aura and the other two homunculus then walked through the passage cleared by the Royal Guard's formation. The other homunculus and the girl stood with their backs to the Royal Guard's protective formation, their eyes fixed on the area behind them that was not illuminated by the Emperor's light. Derrick and the other Royal Guards had no objections to this action. "How long?"

“You shouldn’t have asked such a foolish question.” Aura looked at her creator, not Derrickson, who had wielded the Guardian Spear and posed the question. Two other androids, armed with heavy molten weapons, were already facing the thick airtight door, pulling the triggers to unleash stellar heat onto the special alloy created by the Inhumans. Derrickson looked at his superior, Constantine, but the latter simply shook his head. “I will serve, my lord.” She looked at Hammurabi, with whom she had cooperated many times, who immediately directed another Guardian to join him in firing at the molten airtight door over the communication channel. “The second combat group has departed; we will soon receive our first ammunition resupply and heavy fire support.”

"Thank you for the notification, Aura. Obtaining ammunition resupply and heavy fire support is contingent on completing our mission." The Emperor's affectionate address didn't halt the team's advance. The thick, molten airtight door was blasted open by the bombardment, a torrent of metal pouring down like melting glacial meltwater. This was a Level 3 airtight blast door, far superior to any previous airtight facility, designed to protect the heavy industrial elevator and the shield core. "Continue forward. We can't allow Attilan to restore its shield. Contact the Martian technicians of the Second Combat Group. According to the plan, we need to over-control the heavy industrial elevator and the shield's turbine assembly. Constantine, let's continue towards the Gene Council."

She swaggered before several Inhumans clad in special equipment, who bowed respectfully to her. The skin of this Gene Council member was suffocating, but she was used to disguising herself as others, including a female mutant with red, cold-blooded animal skin and claws. She had dragged the enormous corpse of this female Inhuman into the ventilation duct—she had been tracking her for a long time, from posing as a working Alpha primitive, a member of the youth management department, to a Gene Council clan servant, gradually approaching the Inhuman and other Gene Council members she encountered. This identity was short-lived because the female Inhuman's size was so immense that after consuming a portion of her flesh, she had to expel the rest into the sewers and hide the remainder in the ventilation duct. She had to use this identity to complete her mission before other equally powerful or perhaps more sensitive mutants entered the washroom and smelled the stench.

"We haven't found Desius, Mother Evo," said a tall, blue-skinned male Inhuman in a tight-fitting suit, his expression grave. It was barely "grave," as she couldn't decipher the features of this equally deformed, cold-blooded mutant. As members of the same clan, they shared similar epigenetic traits, and under the principles of genetic breeding and eugenics, these mutations were becoming increasingly pronounced and stable. "Clan Mother Medusa has issued a decree summoning the Genetic Council, and Mother Corradi has sworn to comply and is rallying other clans to discuss measures against the external enemy."

"What about the Chimilian clan?" she asked in a hissing voice, disguised as Matriarch Evo. "What do those long-skulled bastards think?"

"No news." The blue-skinned male Inhuman, clearly serving as a guard and secretary, gripped the floor tightly with his claws. Far behind the glass wall in front of them lay the bustling commercial district of the Ghost Clan Inhumans, though they were looking down upon these civilians from a different angle. Currently, under the protection of the clan's internal security forces, the civilians believed the situation was merely a problem with external maintenance work, and that the water and power outages would soon be resolved. "But some rumors claim that the Chimilian Clan intends to escape by starship and has rejected Black Bolt and Medusa's request to reinstate the Light Squad."

"With the military department named like that, it's no wonder others don't want to get involved." Faced with the clan matriarch's humor, the other Ghost Clan officials were somewhat at a loss. "However, I don't think those nectar-sucking fools of the Chimilian Clan can do anything. Tell those hairy fishmen of the Kree and Badoon Clan that I won't let my clan be left helpless. I will participate in the Genetic Council, but don't expect my clan to sacrifice its life for the royal family like those lowly commoners with little mutation. I am also one of Black Bolt's consorts, and I have the same rights. As for Desius's matter, let's put it aside for now. We don't have time to concern ourselves with the fate of a spoiled brat; cowards do whatever they want."

Perhaps I should put Teresa's body further away, she thought. Teresa had a clear procreative urge towards Mother Avo, which she couldn't understand at all. But now, with the two mutant corpses placed in the same pipe, their skins peeled off and tightly embracing, perhaps this was what Teresa had dreamed of.

Aparisha gradually discovered that the mutants he faced seemed to share increasingly similar genetic traits. At first, these traits appeared only in different forms and locations, but later, this epigenetic repetition continued until the human form was lost. This deformity aroused the wrath of the genetically modified warriors, because these creatures were a desecration of the genetic purity of the human race. He hung his longsword on the magnetic lock, skillfully changed to a new magazine, and crushed the deformed creature that kept shouting incomprehensible language under his boots.

"This thing isn't worth wasting ammunition on. It needs at least two hearts and three lungs." Lieutenant Nelson rolled his eyes at his superior's lame joke, because Aparishia was making fun of the genetically modified warrior's implanted organs again. "I hope I've already gained overriding control, Nelson! Otherwise, I can have the molten heavy weapons crew come up and destroy the control panel; that would achieve the same result."

"This isn't funny at all." Lieutenant Nixon connected several data cables extending from his cybernetic body to the towering, iron-black control console while adjusting the signal relay device. This allowed other Martian technicians waiting in orbit to control the core generator computer through him and the relay equipment. "The Rangers have followed the Second Combat Group into Attilan. Be patient; my bandwidth can be increased further."

Aparisha swallowed her impatience, but anger still throbbed from her chest.

He emerged from the control room, which contained several corpses, and dragged the creaking knee armor servo towards the open corridor. Here they encountered a well-organized group of mutants in uniform. These mutants, with their pale skin, slender limbs, and elongated skulls, possessed mouths like anteaters. These energy-manipulating creatures had caused Aparishia the most trouble so far; his right knee servo joint had been damaged in that battle. Fortunately, thanks to Lieutenant Nelson's efforts, the power armor's airtightness and the servo joint's mobility were not significantly affected.

"The stench of witchcraft is exactly the same as what we have encountered in the past."

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(End of this chapter)