Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1507, Chapter 1503: The Lunar War (19)

"I must remind you that this war is not being fought on a single dimension."

Master Wang yelled at Hammurabi in an annoyed tone, but the latter remained calm.

"You might think the Royal Guard can solve this with bombs and knives, but that's impossible. We don't know what rituals these mutants are planning, or what their purpose is. It's alien sorcery that Kamar-Taj knows very little about. We can't even extract any useful information from the Aether Sea. It's like someone is talking to us on the other side of the planet, and coincidentally, that person might be speaking nuclear codes. Something outside this war has gotten involved, and upon hearing the nuclear codes, immediately chose to launch. Can you hear me, Goldhead?"

“I can hear you. Your voice travels over a meter in diameter, and my ears and voice detectors are extremely sensitive.” Hammurabi lowered his head. Aside from the other guards and the Emperor, Hammurabi always spoke with his head bowed. “Do you think He doesn’t know? He’s analyzing alien magic. Just like you said, it’s something Kamar-Taj has never seen before.”

"Please, just throw this alien star fortress into the sun, and all problems will be solved. He can do it, I assure you, it's never been a problem for Him." The young mage was still sulking. "Faced with the Dark Order's fleet, this star fortress, which definitely needs full repairs, won't be decisive. Don't look at me like that, Hammurabi. Your expression makes it seem strange that I know the future plans for Attilan. He trusts me as much as He trusts you. If you were to look more into the plans for Kamar-Taj, you'd find the manufacturing schemes for five Void Shield Engines."

"The news you bring is very bad. Master Wang, you know He cares deeply for the Sorcerer Supreme, and your message will only deepen His melancholy," Hammurabi said without hesitation. "The most important thing now is the war against the Inhumans, and He knows that..." A deep, resounding boom from afar sent shockwaves rapidly downwards, sweeping across Assembly Point D with almost hurricane-like speed. All conversation, including that of Hammurabi and Master Wang, paused briefly for a few seconds, and the flashing lights of the assembly point severely reduced visibility. "...You will see Him in a bad mood, or rather, an emotionless Emperor—that would be the worst possible emotional state for Him. Make way, friend, I have other matters to attend to."

"And what about Kamar-Taj?"

"He doesn't want to see you now, and you have no right to question His arrangements for the Attilan base," Hammurabi said calmly. He could feel the metal beneath his boots vibrating slightly; one could only imagine the damage such vibrations would cause after resonance at the very bottom layer responsible for the entire operation of Attilan. "Don't make me tear off the disguise of friendship, King Mage."

The incantation twisted in the swirling smoke, flashing a dizzying deep purple light, like a maggot wriggling in a swamp. The Chimilian clan shaman, circling nine kneeling slaves, brandished a long, barbed whip, slashing their already scarred skin, inflicting more tiny, bloody wounds. They were oblivious to the pain. Iron collars, varying in size but perfectly fitting, were tightly locked around the slaves' necks, their inward-pointing metal spikes piercing the mutated skin and muscles, perhaps even bones and membranes, of their humanoid shoulders and necks. They were oblivious to the pain. The deep purple light reflected on their mutated visual organs, etching painful scorches in their brains through neural signals. The slaves' hearts pounded with the shaman's incantation—this glimmer of light completely captivated their senses. It was just a glimmer of light, yet it could ignite—a passionate heartbeat that could set the cold void ablaze. I miss the cervical vertebrae crushed in my palm, I miss the slippery feeling of blood soaking into my palm, I miss the pain of scales cutting into my fingers.

The wizard continued whipping the slave's back, praising an ancient wisdom unknown to anyone, forgotten by time. This wisdom was older than the Kree Empire, and the true meaning of certain syllables and symbols could only be fully comprehended by the oldest intelligent race in the universe. Even the Kree wizards who had taught the Chimerian clan could only vaguely point out that this wisdom, which explored and penetrated reality to investigate the truth of the universe, originated from the advanced intelligent species that created the Kree—a non-carbon-based, bloodless giant possessing extraordinary spiritual power.

This is a prayer.

The fact that eleven small circles form a large sacrifice makes it possible for this kind of wisdom to appear in the real world.

This colossal chamber, located beneath the Chimilian clan's royal hall, was decorated in a style drastically different from other clans, and even from the Chimilian clan itself. The bizarre statues, mysterious rituals, and increasingly terrifying legends kept all members of the Chimilian clan at bay from this place filled with strange tales; even Matriarch Onomi had never seen this settlement of the wizarding community that had always advised the clan's rulers.

The violent tremors caused the congealed blood on the ground to shake slightly, and the wizards quickened their pace. The first slave knelt in knee-deep blood, scald blisters bulging beneath his scales, transparent liquid boiling and bursting within his skin. Thick smoke billowed from his half-degenerated eyes and mouth full of tiny teeth. His charred throat only managed to utter a word he had never heard or understood before blinding flames instantly engulfed his entire body—the flames vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving only a mangled, charred corpse. The first slave lay silently on the ground, which was covered in symbols. The stench of burning flesh and bones, along with the sound of his fall, filled the enormous chamber. Thousands of his scales were charred and curled up, like black, fuzzy balls.

"The best! The best!" The Chimilian clan shamans whipped and struggled even harder, squeezing out more spells and saliva from their narrow snouts. The slaves opened their different mouths and shouted "The best!"

"Perfect!"

The second slave cried out. It had two humanoid faces growing on either side of the same skull, sharing a single brain and other organs, and displaying perfectly synchronized expressions. Now, its third face was shouting "Ultimate Goodness." This newly formed face grew between the two twisted, painful cheeks, a narrow, deformed face with a completely absent respiratory system. From its open mouth, one could still see the original skin, but this skin was now stretched taut like a drumhead by the suddenly growing bones and cartilage, emitting a deafening roar that shook its entire body.

"The best!" it cried out a Cree word.

This word was the hellish torment inflicted upon its soul by some unspeakable wisdom within the Etheric Sea. Every word crushed its sanity until its intellect shattered into fragments. In absolute chaos, the words burst forth: the talent bestowed upon it by the Kree through genetic engineering and the creation of ancient intelligent races by Terrigen's genetic engineering technology—the vocal cords of that new face exploded the moment the word was uttered. It exploded from the inside out, its deformed bones slowly breaking, its internal organs forcibly turned inside out from its mouth and cloaca, its pus-filled skin pressed tightly together—even so, it remained alive, agonizing screams emanating from within the object, its scattered internal organs exposed to the air, writhing incessantly. At least until the ecstatic Chimilian clan wizards arrived to sacrifice it, it remained alive.

"Is this it?"

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(End of this chapter)