Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1522 The Lunar War (Thirty-Four)

Darkness permeated the passageway. Even as an Inhuman of Attilan, he couldn't claim to be familiar with this place. Even another Chimerian warrior with psionic talent could only offer advice based on vague memories of being forcibly taken to the tower for a mental examination as a child. Despite his numerous mistakes, neither Black Bolt nor the other allied clans intended to criticize him, nor did they have the time—after bypassing the giant pit filled with corpses and truly entering the spire, what they saw and heard kept them on edge—the bodies of mutilated Chimerian civilians were scattered everywhere, and the air was filled with the stench of blood and excrement, along with the smell of some burning substance.

"Be careful, there has been a battle here before."

"Thank you, genius, we could all see that." The rogue clan warrior glared menacingly at the ghost clan gunslinger. "Is there anything else we know?"

The Ghost Clan gunslinger opened its amphibian-like maw, the corners of its mouth extending all the way to its ears. "The smell of the propellant is almost identical to the weapon used by the intruder who attacked His Majesty; I can smell it. And these spent cartridges, they're the same ones that fell from the tower." It glanced at Black Bolt, who nodded, confirming its assessment. "You knew about this too, didn't you?"

The villainous clan warrior snorted, his arms, covered in dark green swamp fur, tightening impatiently.

As one of the few warriors in the Ghost Clan who uses firearms instead of claws or other melee weapons, Lidosurig is familiar with all the individual weapons used during the Kree colonial period, which is very rare in Attiland—after the unification of the five clans of Attiland, the war between the Inhumans ended, and those weapons were no longer analyzed, improved, or developed. Therefore, even if they are not from the Ghost Clan, other clans do not tend to use firearms, but rather rely on their own abilities, using the effectiveness of their abilities as a standard for judging social status—Lidosurig holds an electromagnetic rifle specially made by the Kree Empire for the Inhumans, with a high rate of fire, long range, and low recoil, making it highly suitable for large-scale infantry formations.

"And there too," Lidosurig pointed to the darkness deep within the passage. In its excellent thermal imaging vision, some of the corpses still retained warmth, and a giant shoe print ran through the blood, extending further into the darkness beyond its field of vision. Meanwhile, its sense of smell also played a significant role; some bloodstains were very faint, and in such a dark environment, it could only rely on its sense of smell to find them. "We must move on quickly. If the blood cools or dries, causing the scent to fade, we will lose track of the intruders."

“Let me move them aside first,” said Lisa, a Chimilian warrior, sorrowfully. Her brother, who had been left outside the tower, was highly influential among the Chimilian army and civilians, and thus suffered persecution from the Chimilian high command. This led him to bring her to Black Bolt's ranks—more of a security force than an army. Even so, the security force wasn't given much importance, as it was a joint security force proposed by the Attilan royal family. None of the four clans wanted the royal family to be overly involved in internal affairs, so the force's symbolic significance far outweighed its practical value. “Though they are dead, I will not allow anyone to trample on their dignity.” Even though all the clan warriors subtly expressed their discontent through glances, gestures, and whispers, Black Bolt, out of humanitarianism and kindness, permitted this action. Lisa lowered her head and said mournfully, “I will catch up, Your Majesty.”

Tears streamed down Lisa's large, round eyes across her long face. Black Bolt didn't ask who Lisa had seen.

As the peacetime casualty of two soldiers continued their advance, Black Bolt would occasionally glance back at Lisa, even though he was certain she didn't want anyone to see her grief. He still wanted to make sure she hadn't lost her mobility due to excessive sorrow. Only when Lisa's voice faded into the distance did they gradually relax. After walking a hundred meters or so, navigating the spiraling stairwells of the tower, a sudden explosion erupted behind them—blood powder, fragments, hot air, and shockwaves surged up from the stairwell, knocking the unprepared clan alliance to the ground, sending them reeling. The tough-skinned Ghost Clan and Rogue Clan were the first to recover—without a word, they immediately turned back. Where Lisa, the Chimilian Clan warrior, had stood, only a massive crater connecting the three levels remained, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air.

It was a trap, and they were too foolish to realize it.

Overwhelmed by immense guilt and anger.

"Booby trap!" The Ghost Clan gunner scrambled to his feet, shouting angrily towards the site of the explosion. He seemed to finally recall long-forgotten battle orders and understand what had happened. "Coward!"

"Your Majesty, do not speak!" The Centaur clan's mechanic expert rubbed his chest, feeling his ribs were broken. He endured the pain, trying his best to calm Black Bolt, whose eyes were bloodshot, cheeks flushed, and breathing heavily—a picture of uncontrollable rage. This was dangerous; even with his extensive emotional training, Black Bolt would find it difficult to remain calm after witnessing such a horrific scene. "We must protect the Chimerian clan's settlement, not destroy it. The most important thing now is to eliminate the invaders and save the civilians—that is the royal family's ultimate goal! Do not waste Lisa's sacrifice!"

Black Bolt made a gesture to express his indignation at the intruders' despicable tactics.

The Inhumans of Attilan last experienced war many years ago, and their understanding of combat theory and tactics is far less sophisticated than that of humans on Earth, who fight each other daily. Their experience fighting under the Kree Empire has been gradually forgotten over time. Thanks to the Emperor's detailed investigation of the Attilan Inhumans, the genetically modified warriors were able to develop various tactics to counter them, and unsurprisingly, the common tactics used in Earth's wars inflicted damage on the Inhuman special forces.

Gronov Rutov flipped open his wrist to check his portable tactical recorder. He could see the detonation tags of the landmines he had laid and use miniature sensors to pinpoint the pursuers' location. This information would be shared with one commando and two heavy weapons operators tasked with the interception, providing them with guidance—this extremely brief dynamic code, even if intercepted, wouldn't be cracked quickly enough to sustain them until the genetically modified warriors completed their mission. GR-19-8 gestured, pointing to the gap in the wall below. Behind the mask, the pale face, strikingly similar to Gronov Rutov's, remained expressionless.

GR-19-6 and GR-19-3 responded with gestures.

Seeing the special target below in disarray, they did not intend to engage in a direct confrontation.

As if sensing something, or perhaps it was intuition, Black Bolt, consumed by self-reproach and grief, immediately turned to look upwards. A ball of blazing blue energy descended from the sky, heading straight for him. Immediately afterward, a barrage of explosives rained down, slamming into the other clan alliance members, especially the Ghost Clan and the Rogue Clan at the forefront.

"roll!"

Black Bolt roared, the terrifying sonic wave instantly destroying the star-like plasma cluster. All the explosives deviated from their trajectory and slammed into the wall. The other Inhumans reacted quickly, immediately attacking the plasma cluster above and the source of the gunfire. A member of the Rogue Clan even smashed through a small window and climbed up the spire wall to the next level. Black Bolt, suppressing the urge to speak again, immediately gestured for the pursuit of the exposed intruders.

"They're not here, Your Majesty," the villainous clan warrior said angrily. "Those cowards ran away, and there are only spent shell casings here! I..." The communication suddenly cut off, followed by an explosion overhead, and the ceiling collapsed instantly. This time, even Black Bolt didn't have time to react before he was buried under a large amount of bricks and steel.

Gronov Rutov nodded again.

Another landmine has been detonated; it seems that killing the Inhuman leader won't be difficult.

"continue."

Gronov Rutov waved, signaling the group to continue. At this point, there were few remaining Chimilian civilians on the 45th floor of the spire. All the Chimilian civilians who had entered the tower had perished under the guns and swords of the genetically modified warriors; a bloody path stretched from the hall all the way here. As the spire gradually narrowed, the layered corridors, staircases, and rooms became increasingly crowded, forcing the genetically modified warriors to engage in direct combat with an ever-growing number of wizards.

The nearly empty explosive guns were hung on magnetic belts. Many warriors drew their swords and daggers, intending to fight the Chimilian clan wizards in close combat. This was also the reason why Gronov Rutov had ordered the team to rest here, not only because they were covered in wounds, but also because this was the only time they had suffered casualties in combat. A genetically modified warrior was crushed to pieces along with his power armor by a wizard as soon as he appeared. If the others hadn't reacted quickly enough to kill the wizard, the others might have also encountered that terrifying witchcraft.

Not to mention the bizarre extradimensional spiritual energy entities that could appear at any time. These summoned creatures, existing on the edge of reality and illusion, would leave no trace even if killed, except for chilling ashes. The eerie screams and cries that filled the air also tested the warriors' taut nerves.

All of this made the genetically modified warriors somewhat irritable, but thankfully those things would bleed.

As long as they bleed, genetically modified soldiers can kill them; that's the purpose of genetically modified soldiers.

"We don't have time to mourn his mistake. It was a mistake that shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have been discovered by the enemy," a squad member said angrily as he stuffed the remaining ammunition from a previous tactical reload into an empty magazine. "He was too weak."

"Shut up, Tao. Finish the mission first," Gronov Rutov responded curtly. He waited for his subordinates to find what they needed in the room, or to provide clues about the wizarding leader. It was through the items and translators on the wizards that they had found their way here, instead of simply slaughtering the Chimilian clan civilians—that wasn't their style of fighting. The sudden opening of the door immediately alerted them. The genetically modified warriors had to aim their explosive rifles, loaded with the last full magazine, at the small room. Derrick emerged from the room, looking puzzled, carrying a thin, panicked Chimilian clan wizard. The wizard's hands were shattered, and his almost degenerated teeth were broken. The guards threw the wizard in front of the genetically modified warriors.

"So you finally caught up, Derrick?" Gronov Rutov said sarcastically, lowering his pistol. "You're a bit slow."

"I took a different path; I was carrying out the Emperor's mission." Derrick didn't smile; his expression was serious and wary, as if he wasn't sure if the genetically modified warriors before him were real. No one knew what had happened to him after parting ways with this team, but the genetically modified warriors could tell that Derrick was capable of attacking anyone at any moment. "Definitely not this path. The difference in floor between me and yours is enormous; I shouldn't be here."

"Alright, good boy, Emperor. Anyway, you're here now. Are you coming with us?" Gronov Rutov kicked the semi-conscious wizard on the ground. "Why did you leave a dead rat on my carpet like a cat? Or do you think this sewer rat can provide me with some information?"

"The latter, but not many. That's not your mission, that's mine." Derrick's reply extinguished Gronov Rutuff's last shred of humor. The relationship between the genetically modified soldiers and the Royal Guard wasn't exactly harmonious, especially for those who rarely fought alongside them. The Royal Guard, with their shrouded mystery, almost no sense of humor, and devoid of emotion, were certainly not popular. "Black Bolt is on his way, and we must kill him. You may be facing Black Bolt; he's a dangerous character, capable of destroying all of Attiland."

"And what about you?" Gronov Rutov asked. "What do you know about Black Bolt and this tower? Don't lie, Guardian. I know you have far more intelligence on this mission than we do, but this is not the time to keep secrets."

“I’m authorized to provide them with limited information, but you certainly don’t have time to read those materials, so I can only give you information relevant to the operation.” Derrick turned and walked back into the room. “The space here is distorted; this is the result of witchcraft. I must go back and find the wizard who’s in charge of everything.”

"Okay, so what?"

"Then, we'll go kill Black Bolt."

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(End of this chapter)