Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1525 The Lunar War (Thirty-Seven)

The outer walls of the Starfortress airlock were temporarily sealed off. Technicians dispatched and directed large engineering equipment and small welding drones to close the steel walls damaged by machine guns, tank cannons, and shaped charge explosives. The twisted and deformed steel was removed, and the entire section of the blasted tunnel was sealed with steel. After repairs, the energy lines and ventilation equipment were reinstalled with a control system from the Immortal City, and the oxygen levels in the tunnel gradually returned to normal. Although it was only a small section of the tunnel, it was enough for the genetically modified warriors to rest for a while and receive supplies from the rear.

As the air pressure gradually returned to balance, Aparisha removed his helmet, dented by the electromagnetic rifle, and forced a chilling smile—a smile that sent shivers down one's spine. However, the extremely low temperature couldn't be ruled out. Lieutenant Nelson was certain Aparisha was now regretting violating safety regulations by removing his helmet before the oxygen levels, temperature, and air pressure were fully within acceptable limits—as if he had never experienced the frigid Martian night. "This isn't the real battlefield. Slaughtering these mutants doesn't satisfy me, even if their only purpose is to die," Aparisha said softly, his face stiff and cold. "I can smell… the remnants of that terrifying sorcery within our true target. These mutants are merely using their lives to buy time."

"I only smelled the propellant gases. If the vacuum depressurization or breathing filtration system didn't remove those odors," Lieutenant Nelson said, still wearing his helmet tightly, even adjusting the flexible nanopolymer metal seal inside his neck armor to prevent leaks. He summoned the guards standing behind Aparishia. Because he had participated in the battle from the armored command vehicle of the first combat group, Lieutenant Nelson's powered armor was relatively clean. The powered armor of the guards who had penetrated deep into enemy territory with Aparishia was covered with many mutant remnants and marks left by alien weapons, just like the outer armor and tracks of the command vehicle he was riding in.

While these mutants were stronger, faster, and more agile than ordinary humans, even professionally trained genetically modified soldiers were not as powerful; their fists, their lifeblood, couldn't even leave a dent in the powered armor. But Lieutenant Nelson didn't want to delve into such intricate genetic science. He summoned the guards to clarify the next phase of the operational plan with their senior officers and to hear from the officers on the other attack routes about their concerns and potential solutions, based on their experiences.

For example, if the deck of an attack route is too thin, destroyed, or has fixed obstacles that prevent armored units from passing through, the temporary measures provided by the accompanying engineers cannot withstand the large-scale transfer of armored units, requiring a large-scale logistics engineering team to rebuild or reselect the route; for example, if a passage that can only be entered by a genetically modified soldier alone is found to be a maintenance passage connecting to a mutant settlement after investigation, and if the defensive forces such as automatic turrets are withdrawn, that passage is likely to become a passage for enemy troops to transfer; and for example, some mutants with specific genetic characteristics have special abilities that require the participation of other teams in combat.

Information communication is essential between different offensive combat groups, and battlefield information needs to be compiled and organized. Lieutenant Nelson was responsible for coordinating this information, ensuring relevant officers were aware of developments on other battlefields, and then facilitating joint discussions and consultations. Afterward, the information was aggregated at headquarters, where it was communicated and coordinated with other combat groups and logistics engineering departments. Headquarters also distributed information from other combat groups to Lieutenant Nelson. Every officer must have a general grasp of the overall battlefield situation and exercise initiative while following orders. This was the Emperor's insistence on every genetically modified soldier; He believed these soldiers, who bore the weight of war, were superior to ordinary people in both combat and command abilities, and were better able to withstand pressure.

The Emperor picked up the upright Assassin's Tarot card and saw the electronic signatures of Lieutenant-in-Chief Nelson and Aparishia below the report, as well as the fleet command's handling of the report. Commander Malcolm also saw the report; after relevant arrangements, it bore the command's electronic stamp and Commander Malcolm's signature—he was clearly angry because, just over ten minutes earlier, Commander Malcolm had ordered Aparishia to send a tactical support squad to reinforce Assembly Point B, but Aparishia had ignored him. It wasn't until there, facing the civilian clan's tactical assault squad, that they captured a seemingly unimportant passage at a cost of two men—a loss exceeding previous estimates.

If Aparisha had dispatched a tactical support squad, the civilian clan army, deliberately formed through a combination of abilities, would have been defeated in an even shorter time. The civilian clan mutant capable of releasing electrical energy would have been unable to kill any of the genetically modified warriors. The Emperor even saw large holes burned into the breastplates and abdominal armor of the fallen genetically modified warriors by high-energy currents. The Emperor did not issue the punishment order on behalf of Malcolm; that was the job of the genetically modified warrior legion commander. How to allow Aparisha to utilize her talents was also Malcolm's job. The Emperor believed he had simply placed Aparisha in the right position; the latter's genetic traits possessed the potential appropriate for that role.

This was something Maya Hansen herself had assured Him.

"My lord," Hammurabi stepped into the open command vehicle, standing behind the Emperor's holographic smart panel. He wore a helmet, obscuring his expression, but the worry in his voice was evident. "We should have made our regular contact with Derrickson two minutes ago, but we still can't find any information about him, not even on public frequencies. We have reason to suspect Derrickson is in trouble. Should we send reinforcements to infiltrate the Chimerian clan's settlement?"

"No."

"My lord," Hammurabi did not leave, "I would like to know if you remain optimistic about Derrickson's mission?"

"Derrickson will complete his mission, Hammurabi, he will achieve final victory," the Emperor said calmly. He did not answer the question directly, because he and the Praetorian Guard could share certain secrets, such as the secrets of the outer dimensions. "In the time fragments revealed by the outer dimensions, I have already anchored his victory. Most of Derrickson's failures have been removed from the timeline, but I cannot pry more pieces from the hands of the being behind the veil for the time being. I must personally participate in one of those timelines to firmly grasp his victory."

The brick wall was violently smashed open, and a faint golden light shimmered among the stone dust and rubble.

Derrick landed heavily on his back, then was gripped by a fleshy tentacle and slammed against another brick wall. That wall and the bookshelves along the way suffered the same fate. Even the most powerful and advanced power armor couldn't completely withstand such impacts. His ribs, which were slowly healing under the combined effects of drugs and genetic alchemy, were now subjected to even more impacts. Derrick could only remain conscious amidst immense pain—the terrible curse attached to the fleshy tentacles of the extradimensional monster caused even minor skin damage to instantly transform into excruciating, shock-inducing pain throughout his body. Fortunately, Derrick was adapting to the pain at an astonishing speed, and the curse attached to him was gradually fading. When he was thrown to the ground for the fifth time, he finally felt his hands and arms, which had been numb due to nerve paralysis, gripping the halberd tightly without any loosening.

He then swung his halberd downwards with all his might, breaking free from its restraints due to inertia. However, he still couldn't stand up immediately; he was too weak. The gene-alchemy technique needed time to cleanse the curse flowing in his blood. He could only see wisps of black smoke rising from his wounds. Kneeling on the semi-organic ground, he used his remaining strength to aim the halberd at his enemy. At this moment, the crazed creature that emerged from the shadows had changed its appearance. The pinkish-white flesh contracted inwards, defying common sense as it stuffed into its fanged mouth, as if it had been turned inside out—the despair, pain, and pleading brewed by the constant killings throughout Attilan were continuously weakening the barrier of reality. This extradimensional spiritual entity seemed to have broken free from its summoner and began to autonomously draw energy from the extradimensional world—it was beginning to be composed of more human imagination, mythology, fear, and expectation, reflecting all the soul mirrors from Attilan, just as it had at its birth.

This was a bizarre creature with deep blue skin and a face that clumsily mimicked a human. Deep blue bat wings, seemingly hidden within its body, slowly unfurled, flicking a foul-smelling slime to its sides. It opened its snout, revealing gleaming white teeth, and enormous fingers with five prongs brushed across its bald, deformed head, which bore two horns. Derrick stared intently through his shattered ruby ​​lens at this creature, which bore no resemblance to anything he had previously seen, suppressing the rage that ignited within him for witnessing this being desecrate the sacred human form, and carefully aimed before pulling the trigger.

"I have existed since before the birth of the universe, and I will exist after the heat death of the universe, until all sentient beings breathe their last. Their souls will still sing my name, singing in my temples forged from the flesh and blood of the innocent until the birth of the next universe." The extradimensional spiritual entity grinned, extending a finger to gently deflect the increasingly slow-moving explosive. "I have witnessed every war that has ever occurred on Earth, from the sea of ​​blood that rose above the hooves of Jerusalem, to the battlefield you will never again set foot on, for you will perish here. I came here to witness the end of the human race, I came here to witness the weak struggle of the human race. I have seen the end of the human race countless times in countless timelines of the heavens, and I have witnessed it all, never absent. You can call me Ifrit, or you can call me a demon. Your race has sung my praises countless times, written poems for me."

The monster slowly approached and crouched down beside Derrick. It exuded an aura of madness, and everything in the surrounding material universe was driven insane by its madness. Even inorganic matter underwent this mad phenomenon of deformation and transformation, completely defying the physical laws of the real world, and eventually grew flesh and blood, flowing with malice.

"Why don't you call my name, use the title your race's shallow and short-lived civilization has given me?" Suddenly his expression changed, hatred creeping onto his face, which was trying so hard to mimic a human. He tilted his head and burst into maniacal laughter, watching Derrick slowly move towards the plasma grenade that had fallen to the side. "Your master saw the future and crowned himself with what He considered His destined crown. I came to stop His arrogance, because He sent you, a glittering toy soldier, to stop those enlightened ones from summoning me... They did a poor job, but luckily you came. Your master fell into my trap, and He personally caused my difficult birth from the painful womb between reality and illusion, while you and those genetically engineered creations were the forceps."

It let out a long sigh, squinting at Derrick's palm. The guard, uninterested in any sound it uttered, focused intently on his gradually recovering body, crawling towards his target. "You want this? Do you think this thing can kill me?" it said listlessly, extending a finger and carving a deep scratch into the guard's golden armor with its sharp tip. "Why don't you speak, little thing?"

Suddenly, its movements stopped without any warning.

Its deep blue skin rapidly turned white, swelling like a floating corpse and oozing a transparent liquid. The anger on its face vanished, replaced by a brief moment of terror. The unseen wisdom of the deep universe temporarily averted its gaze, and a certain destiny was forcibly determined. Anger returned, but it became incredibly shallow, no longer possessing the power to move hearts. Divine wrath filled Derrickson's veins, dispelling the curse and restoring power to his body, forged through countless trials of genetic alchemy. Derrickson grasped the upper part of the halberd and thrust it fiercely into its eyes, while simultaneously grabbing the Oath Dagger that had fallen to the ground with his other hand and piercing its ankle.

"No, I've considered all possibilities, this can't be happening!" the demon screamed. "Curse Him! Your master still favors you! But I am immortal. I have no life you can comprehend. Narrow-minded creatures cannot understand my essence. Races in the universe that have tried to transcend have been destroyed by my hand. Yet you and your master believe you can be the exception?"

Derrick first stared at it with cold eyes. He slammed his fist into the creature's head; he didn't believe any creature was unkillable. However, his action only caused the crazed creature to groan, its flesh and blood clinging to the inorganic matter resonating horribly.

"No, it's not you," it said. "I won't die here."

(End of this chapter)