Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1527 The Lunar War (Thirty-Nine)

"What's going on?" Matron Evo asked, opening her lizard mouth. "What has that arrogant little bitch done this time? Has she hooked up with some stallion? That's not surprising. Everyone knows about her affair with that madman Maximus. It's a miracle Black Bolt doesn't mind. King Argon—may the gods protect his soul—and Queen Linda—thought they could cut off the madness of the insane and the bitch's madness with a few tricks! It's not his fault. He didn't even realize his second son was mentally unstable. That little brat is quite good at pretending. After all, no normal person would throw a Kree scout ship at Attiland."

The ghostly clan warrior was used to the matriarch's rambling; it simply stood silently to the side, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as always. Only after the matriarch, Evo, finished her rant did it raise its head to make sure it wouldn't be interrupted again. "The royal family claims that Mistress Medusa was attacked by assassins, along with several other members of the royal family. The royal family has not released information about Mistress Medusa's health, only stating that she is unwell and that her authority is being exercised by the Crystal Princess."

"That frail, sickly, childish, and mischievous little girl?"

The Ghost Clan members, their faces covered in scales, were expressionless; the other clans' label of them as cold-blooded was not unfounded. Matron Evo showed no concern regarding the assassination attempt on the Gene Council. "Was the assassin captured?" she asked, glancing at her subordinates. Receiving a negative reply, she continued, "The other clan leaders must know as well. Those cowards are surely trying to consolidate their defenses while simultaneously screening for the assassin. Order the clan armies to retreat. We shouldn't pay the price for the cowardice of other clans. Where is Black Bolt?"

"Black Bolt is said to be on a secret mission, but it's supposedly related to the Chimerian clan's settlement."

“That’s not surprising. After all, the Chimilian clan has the largest and most organized group of wizards. I just don’t understand how the Chimilian clan tolerates those freaks. Didn’t that idiot Onomi learn anything about the history of wizard rebellions?” Matriarch Evo shook her head and sighed dramatically. She felt a sticky, itchy feeling under her skin. “All clans will realize that other clans will make the same decision. The faster we evacuate, the faster than other clans, the less damage we will suffer.”

"Mistress Koeke?"

"What is it?" The wicked clan matriarch glared at the intruder and asked rudely. "If you don't have something important to tell me, I'll rip your head off." She was still frowning over the huge losses at the front and had no mood to forgive her subordinate's offense. This war was strange in every way. Not only had the humans—fragile, lowly, and short-sighted humans—become tall, strong, quick-witted, and resilient, but they, wearing advanced power armor and equipped with powerful weapons, could even fight against the war clans created by the Kree Empire's most advanced genetic engineering.

The power of these genetically engineered human armies far exceeded her expectations. In her mind, humans, having never been inspired or modified by advanced civilizations, were simply no match for the noble Inhumans. Coupled with the military prowess displayed by these genetically engineered human armies, the villainous clan matriarch Aladi Koeke concluded that confronting these numerous, powerful, and well-equipped human armies would result in irreparable losses.

Worse still, the enemy seemed to have figured out the clan alliance's troop deployment. While the main battle was raging, several small squads continued to attack the clan alliance's rear strongholds. Less than fifty meters from this makeshift command post, an ammunition cart loaded with explosives was detonated, nearly killing several high-ranking officers. A dozen minutes after that attack, a frontline stronghold was captured by the human army due to insufficient ammunition, and all the soldiers were massacred; there were no survivors.

"The Ghost Clan has withdrawn. They sent the message after already beginning to shift positions; they've reached the fourth line of defense," the messenger panted. "The Ghost Clan's Evo Matriarch declared that she will not pay the price for the cowardice of the other clans!"

"What does this mean?" Aladi Koeke slammed his fist on the table in anger. "Didn't that bitch keep claiming the other clans were cowards? Why is she retreating now? Do the other clans know about this?"

"We've already checked with the other clans, Matriarch Koeke," the messenger said nervously, his facial hair ruffling. "The other clans only responded after asking around for over ten minutes, confirming that the Ghost Clan has withdrawn."

Aladi Koeke's breathing became heavy as she stared intently at the battle report on the holographic projection table. At least a thousand names on the battle roster had faded into obscurity, while two hundred more had been crossed out entirely—the former wounded, the latter dead—the price the villainous clan had paid.

"Retreat. To the fourth line of defense, if the other clans are really there!" she forced out a word.

She had realized something, something that would cause the newly formed alliance to completely split up and fight independently. She thought she had underestimated the impact of Medusa's assassination, but she couldn't blame anyone else. "The other clans have left; now we're the only ones left on the third line of defense. Withdraw immediately! If the enemy attacks now, our army will be surrounded by human forces from other directions! General Brick, take the executive order I signed and return to the settlement. I want every man, woman, and child of the villainous clan to be armed. If the enemy tries to kill us, they'll see the pride of the villainous clan! I want every hand that can pull the trigger to be aimed at the enemy. If the enemy enters our settlement, I want them to pay with blood for every step they take!"

"team leader?"

"Detonate." The tactical support team leader glanced at the battle schedule. "It's time."

As the explosion echoed from beneath the Chimerian clan's settlement, the settlement built on the deck jolted upwards as if struck by an earthquake. Then, the sound of steel twisting and warping reverberated from the earth to the dome, and a blazing fireball and a burst of brilliant light rose from the collapsed deck, illuminating the settlement plunged into darkness by the power outage—a sight the Chimerian clan had never witnessed before in centuries.

In the blink of an eye, scorching heat and shockwaves spread along the circular walls of the settlement, knocking down many loosely secured objects, as if the star fortress were taking a deep breath to expel everything inside. A second explosion followed, this time with fiery jets shooting straight to the defensive dome, instantly filling the entire settlement with thick smoke. The burned-through dome revealed a large hole leading directly to the outside, and in an instant, the overpressure sucked in all the smoke, the Chimerian clan members who hadn't managed to hold onto their precariously secured objects, and small items, hurling them from the red-hot hole in the dome onto the white sands of the moon. The genetically modified warriors had already switched their power armor to vacuum mode, their magnetic boots securing them firmly to the steel deck to prevent them from being sucked away by the overpressure.

"Tower!" The support squad checked their ammunition, and the squad leader began swinging his battle axe. He stepped on the corpse of a Chimilian clan civilian beneath his boots and shouted, "The most dangerous mutant has fallen into the trap! We're going to kill it now!"

Derrick ran forward, past the blood-stained white statue, past the profaned portrait, towards the enormous beast lying on the ground. Pain, still pain; he had gradually grown accustomed to this deadly agony. This was a long and arduous battle, a war that began in the material universe and would end in the spiritual world. Derrick firmly believed that as long as his will was strong enough, the beast could not kill him. He knew he was right; with each decapitation, he could feel the monster growing weaker, its increasingly emaciated body radiating immense heat as it voraciously devoured the souls of every dead life in Attilan Fortress.

Every encounter is a fight to the death; perhaps killing it a hundred more times would be enough.

Derrick felt the lactic acid coursing through his muscles and the pain in every bone of his body. His movements were lightning fast, his perfectly evolved physique supporting him as he executed the actions. He braced himself against the ground, holding the halberd upside down, pressing his entire weight onto it. "I can do it a thousand times," Derrick thought calmly, piercing the raised giant claw and pinning it to its owner's chest. He used one hand to hold the Spear of Guardian, while the other swiftly reloaded the magazine for the explosive gun at its tip. He pulled the trigger, blasting apart the claw covered in hardened skin and scales, then fired again, the explosive shell plunging into his chest cavity. Explosion, burning—only charred bones remained in his chest cavity. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine more times."

The other face said, "Don't even think about it."

It has countless forms, all stemming from humanity's fear of superstitious stories.

It's unknown which child's dream gave birth to this beast, or if it was merely a battlefield ghost story told by an old man in a village by the fireplace, passed down through generations to frighten young children into fear of the darkness under their beds. In any case, it certainly doesn't resemble the creature in the legends, because its fears are diverse, from the past to the future, with countless witnesses of carnage transforming their experiences into tales. Another giant claw swiftly extended. Derrick reacted first, but it was too late to escape, for he had just stepped into the beast's trap. He only had time to pull out his halberd and plunge it into the giant claw before being firmly pinned to the ground.

They tore and fought like wild beasts. Derrick first smelled the overwhelming stench of hormones, charcoal, and disease emanating from the beast's blood, just as those terrifying stories formed its bones, muscles, and skin. This smell did not come from reality but from mental perception, which neither the respiratory filtration system nor the internal recirculation oxygen regeneration could block.

One story comes from the English countryside, originating from the vilification of paganism by Christian priests and the killing of Christians by Vikings, which gradually evolved into local customs; another story comes from the Kievan Rus' principality under the iron heel of the Mongol army; yet another story comes from a woman being strangled by a soldier; and the last story comes from the Skrulls encountered on the battlefield of the Kree Empire, those shapeshifting creatures that could sow doubt in everyone's heart, and the ensuing riots were even more terrifying... beheadings, burying alive, robbery, rape, indiscriminate killing, and so on—all the emotions caused by war could be attributed to it, even if it was merely an insignificant character in the vast outer dimensional etheric ocean... fear and legend gave it form and spirit, bringing this monster that had never had life before into this world.

"Perhaps this explains why it has hooves and wings that look like sails?"

While struggling to spread his arms to block the approaching giant claws, Derrick's mind raced. This didn't mean he wasn't taking the battle seriously; the Emperor had taught every member of the Royal Guard to exercise initiative, to hypothesize and verify while maintaining imagination and caution. He wouldn't call this creature a demon; such a superstitious term evoked imagination and fear in ordinary people, which fueled the creature's existence. He preferred the cold, precise description of "extradimensional spiritual energy entity," at least that would make ordinary people who heard the term feel slightly more at ease.

Then another door opened, and a group of mutants rushed in.

Seeing the horrific scene in the room, the mutants stopped in their tracks in panic and, without hesitation, pulled the triggers on the monster and Derrick. They had never seen such golden, idol-like giants as the Royal Guard, nor had they ever seen a half-human, half-beast hybrid creature taller and stronger than the Royal Guard, easily over five meters high—energy weapons and laser weapons fired simultaneously, creating a brief barrage that enveloped both the beast and the Royal Guard—even before they took this action, Derrick had already considered these mutants enemies. However, compared to the armed mutants, this extradimensional psychic energy entity posed a greater threat.

Upon seeing the mutants, the beast let out a muffled chuckle from its grotesque muzzle and iguana-like throat. It endured the charred, bloody holes ripped into its body by Derrick's bombs, vanishing like wisps of smoke. "I understand," it said, looking at Derrick and the mutants through its six eyes on either side of its head, in a language understood by all beings in the material universe—in fact, it was some kind of telepathy—"My mission is not yet complete, my destiny is not yet over. Especially you, Toy Tin Soldier."

The mutants' firepower didn't stop, and neither did Derrick. He turned around, using his power armor to resist the mutants' firepower as he charged straight at them, then swung his halberd and cut a mutant who looked like an amphibian in half at the waist.

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(End of this chapter)