Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1509, Chapter 1505: The Lunar War (Part 21)

This Alpha Cryptant appears to have reached the end of its design lifespan, with obvious signs of aging in its appearance.

Even so, this artificial being remained strong. The fact that a laborer from a caste detached from community command would cooperate with an Inhuman was quite peculiar; it was certain the Alpha Primitive Man couldn't remember any of his clients' features, thus allowing the noseless creature to perpetually dominate the business. But no one here was willing to investigate how this Alpha Primitive Man's cooperation with the Inhumans took place.

To this Alpha primitive man, who had a name rather than a number, the guest was indeed only Gronov Rutuf. The shadows that streamed into the pipe behind Gronov Rutuf were nothing—the Alpha primitive man couldn't understand such things, nor was he curious about Gronov Rutuf's identity. Tall stature and power armor weren't anything special in Attilan, especially to Noseless and this big oaf; those were things for the upper class, and it was perfectly normal that they hadn't seen them before—Noseless was somewhat surprised that his usually keen sense of smell wasn't working, but that was all. Even if his weak eyes hadn't been gouged out, he couldn't see the scene of the pipe now crammed full of five giants.

No-Nose gripped the pipe grille tightly, and with the help of the hinges, slammed the pipe shut again. Apart from the deliberate footsteps of Gronov Rutov, the other genetically modified soldiers silently trod across the rusty pipe walls and filthy water, making no sound. No-Nose gradually relaxed as the footsteps faded into the distance. Under the watchful eyes of the surveillance cameras left outside by the squad, No-Nose, having shut down the pipe, wiped the rust off his trousers and then resumed his idle, carefree state, moving a large pile of what appeared to be construction debris and discarded furniture to block the exit, leaving only an observation hole.

Gronov Rutov felt he needed to urge the Alpha Primitive Guide to speed up, lest the dim-witted fool be distracted by the grime in the pipes again. However, the Alpha Primitive was highly professional. It neither inquired about Gronov Rutov's origins (perhaps its intelligence wouldn't allow it), nor looked back, nor was it distracted by anything. It simply kept its head down and moved forward, skillfully navigating the intricate pipes, executing single-threaded commands as originally designed.

Gronov Rutov had no fondness for these beings because the Alpha Primitives were creations of the Attilan Inhumans, manipulated through human genes. The best fate for these Alpha Primitives was to become the last generation of Alpha Primitives after the war, sacrificing everything for the transformation of Attilan. Worse, they would have to mine industrial raw materials on Mars or asteroids; the unluckiest might even become raw materials for the biomass of the machine servants.

Regardless of victory or defeat in the war, this repulsive creature will never appear again.

This tedious journey lasted for over an hour, long enough that the genetically modified warriors' sense of smell began to become numb to the lingering stench emanating from the row house pipes. Gronov Rutov confirmed, through the eagle markings left inside the pipes, that the Alpha primitives hadn't gone astray, though he couldn't imagine a royal guard, taller than the genetically modified warriors and clad in star-studded golden armor, traversing these sewage-filled pipes.

Over the short-range communication channel, the other squad members shared the same thought: the Imperial Guard's pristine crimson battle robes would certainly look tarnished, and the embossed designs and jewels on their golden power armor wouldn't shine much brighter either. The Imperial Guard was in charge of this mission, representing the Emperor's assessment that it was far too arduous; the reconnaissance team needed ample support, sufficient firepower, and a large quantity of explosives. Gronov Rutov's magnetic belt held three thermobaric grenades, perfectly suited for use as engineering explosives. Other high-powered weapons, such as plasma weapons, were also carried by the other soldiers, enough to handle a battle that would leave ordinary people in despair. Gronov Rutov couldn't imagine how much more help a single Imperial Guard could provide, unless that Guard carried an entire ammunition depot or brought in a main battle tank.

"It's exploding," Alpha Primitive finally uttered. It pulled a dirty helmet from the junk piled up in the pipes. "The hole is huge, you can't breathe." After saying that, it put the helmet on itself, as if its warning was a routine task forced upon it by the fact that the oxygen was getting thinner, as if it were some kind of competitive advantage in the service industry.

This wasn't impossible; Noseless was definitely not the only smuggler from the commoner clan capable of crossing into other clan territories. Noseless's usual business was taken over by connected mutants, but those who made money responded to the royal call and went to the refugees. Only lowly commoners like Noseless continued their original work because they couldn't leave. This mutant knew very well that his business might not be able to continue after the crisis, so he needed to gain an advantage among other lowly smugglers who were also unable to leave, seizing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a fortune.

Therefore, Alpha's warning was very likely the result of rigorous training.

Gronov Rutov, having left the tunnel, lacked such a sense of humor. Immediately after exiting the tunnel, he led his team onto an aerial steel beam. The noseless smuggling service was over. After tossing the bag of anesthetic powder to the Alpha primitive, the genetically modified warrior left without looking back. The simple-minded slave didn't dwell on not seeing his client, silently taking his payment and departing. Compared to the lower classes of the commoner clans, the Chimilian clan's environment was significantly better, but even their slave settlement wasn't much better. Gronov Rutov led his team across the junkyard, entering another tunnel marked with a golden eagle emblem.

Even the genetically modified soldiers sensed something amiss after leaving the pipe. An unseen, colossal entity tumbled above the residential area, then extended tentacles from the shadows of the pipe below. The power armor seemed powerless against the gaze of this unseen force; it was an indescribable feeling, as if everyone's memories were being dug out, crushed, and molded, and peculiar emotions were being forcibly stirred. Some unknown horror was unfolding here. Gronov Rutov's squad was all too familiar with this feeling, for their first mission was to confront this irresistible force.

"Witchcraft, it's everywhere in the air." The adjutant carefully opened the door of a nearby shack made of metal and plastic, and the stench of death poured out. Gronov Rutov saw a group of people dressed in civilian clothes lying on the ground; judging from their size and number, it was likely a family. The lack of obvious mutations, coupled with their Chimilian clan attire, indicated that this family were clan slaves, an exception and unspoken rule of the Attilan genetic royal family's so-called declaration of equality. "No obvious external injuries; the cause of death is likely brain damage. Their internal organs have been removed." The adjutant took a rapid diagnostic device from a squad member; this was originally intended for wounded genetically modified soldiers, for rapid medical treatment. The adjutant looked up into the distance, from their feet to the alleyway swallowed by irregular buildings in the distance; the deathly silence was the only dominant force. "If we open every door here, we'll likely see the same scene. Why would these mutants do this?"

"Don't try to understand the logic of witchcraft, Lieutenant. Superstition has no rationality," Gronov Rutov said. "Let's go. I'm starting to believe that we really need a guard here."

(End of this chapter)