Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1528 The Lunar War (Forty-Zero)

The rage stung like a thousand needles jumping from skulls, the foul, stench of the air suffocating, and the stench of fresh blood and entrails exposed to the air was unbearable. Derrick moved swiftly, so fast that the other mutants hadn't even reacted to their comrade's death when a sudden thud and violent tremor jolted everyone in the room into the air. The Guardian, with supernatural agility, maintained his balance, bracing himself on the ground with the shaft of his spear, and with his other hand drew his spare weapon, the Oath Dagger—though called a dagger, it looked more like a sword to an ordinary person—and swung it at the group of vulnerable mutants. His movements were so fast that the mutants appeared to be moving in slow motion; Derrick clearly saw the expressions of terror on their faces. However, a visible sonic wave struck his wrist and body, forcefully pushing the blade of the Oath Dagger away and propelling him and his power armor several meters away.

These were clearly mutants of the warrior caste, lying haphazardly on the ground.

A soft white light emanated from behind the group of mutants, a faint glow emanating from a tuning fork embedded in their foreheads. The man in the black bodysuit with white stripes concealed the upper half of his face in a mask made of some kind of flexible material, his eyes, visible through the holes, fixed on Derrickson with a gaze filled with rage. Both recognized each other and were wary of one another, though Derrickson felt he didn't know Black Bolt as much as he did, since the other had never seen the Royal Guard before—Derrickson stopped, his gaze also fixed on Black Bolt. He was assessing the situation, while his detection system summarized the enemy information—he didn't know if the assassin had completed part of the mission. If so, the Attilan mutant command structure would certainly be paralyzed. Why wasn't Black Bolt affected by Medusa's death? Was this enemy's psychological resilience beyond his expectations? If so, how could the decapitation and psychological tactics be modified to achieve maximum effectiveness?

"What happened... Oh, no..."

"Shut up!" Another Ghost Clan warrior glared at the Royal Guard, berating the mechanic who was overcome with grief at the sight of his comrade's corpse. It wasn't troubled by the death of its kin; the Ghost Clan had a different view of death—dying at the hands of the enemy was far better than dying a humiliating death in court or in bed. It slowly rose, its gun still aimed at the shimmering golden light and jewel-like fire in the shadows, even though the latter was murky with blood and flesh, it still radiated a captivating and beautiful glow. "Kill the intruders first… Your Majesty, what should we do?"

Black Bolt crouched down and made a gesture, indicating he was inquiring about tactical intentions. He gazed at the Ghost Clan warrior lying on the ground, severed at the waist. Its powerful physique had allowed it to struggle for some time before finally dying, during which time Black Bolt had held the warrior's hand. In this context, the meaning of the gesture could be vaguely understood.

"Well, hopefully this intruder isn't a robot; it looks like a statue." The Ghost Clan warrior looked at the Royal Guard. "Who are you, intruder? Where did you come from, what do you want, and why are you here? Why are you killing His Majesty's people?"

Derrick first got into position, pointing the scorching hot muzzle and blade at the group of mutants.

He recognized the current situation: as long as the other mutants were alive, Black Bolt wouldn't dare unleash his full psionic sonic power. That would cause the Spire to collapse, Attilan to fall, and all the Attilan Inhumans to die. While it would be dishonorable, Derrick didn't see it as a difficult choice. Mutants should die, especially those genetically engineered by alien species. They were not only a stain on the purity of the human race's genes but also a complete contamination of genes by extradimensional energy. He had no weapon to counter the sonic waves, but he believed the power armor's protective capabilities would last until he beheaded Black Bolt. The power armor's IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) system and multispectral vision recorded Black Bolt's detailed information into the system and then transmitted it to the outside world through signal transponders installed by the genetically modified warriors.

Derrick wanted the Emperor to know that he had encountered Black Bolt.

"No," he said, "there's no reason."

"Did you kill those Chimilian clan civilians?"

The Ghost Clan warrior grinned, making a threatening expression. It knew what Black Bolt wanted to ask, for the same question plagued everyone present. Not every room they passed was empty; sometimes they encountered Chimerian Clan wizards—but all of them were insane. Some gouged out their own eyes, some sewed up their own mouths, some peeled off their own skin with knives… They all muttered about the past or delusions. Some wizards were even worse, bordering on the bizarre. After all, no one here had ever seen a madman cannibalizing his own flesh and brains. Blood was everywhere, and everyone maintained a crazed expression, talking to themselves and emitting incomprehensible screams. They seemed to be driven mad by some voice, a voice that also lingered in their ears. Even Black Bolt himself admitted that he had experienced hallucinations more than once. This place was too eerie; the Ghost Clan warrior couldn't wait to leave.

"Is it related to those wizards? What was that monster you fought? Where are we now?"

Black Bolt had already realized this; they were not entirely in the real world.

Scientists within the Kree Empire hold a theory claiming the existence of a hyperdimensional space beyond the physical universe, suggesting that the Celestials, a superior race in mythology, may have used technology and energy from that space to create the Kree. This theory was once considered nonsense, but with increasing historical evidence and scientific discoveries, it has become the mainstream doctrine within the Kree Empire. Terrigen, a substance used for psionic experiments, is cited as an example, and the Inhumans' genetic engineering is an application of some form of psionic technology.

He pressed the beacon on his belt discreetly.

Perhaps out of fear, or perhaps because of the constant tremors from the explosions, the buck-toothed dog lay trembling on the ground, its loose fur swaying back and forth. It sensed danger, but the surrounding fires, the shockwaves of the explosions, and the collapsing deck all filled it with dread. The air was also growing thinner and colder; its upbringing taught it that the hole in the dome was dangerous, and without proper precautions, everyone here would die from lack of oxygen and hypothermia. Worse still, it could no longer track its owner's tracking device; all signals had vanished. It lay on the ground whimpering, its two paws clutching its large, round head, its tail tucked between its legs, its round, black eyes filled with tears.

Fear made it cry out a few times, but then it swallowed those cries back down its throat.

It saw a group of enormous, humanoid shadows silently pass through the shadows. The terrifying weapons in their hands reeked of hot metal and ash, and the black steel covering their bodies carried a lingering stench of blood. Locktooth Dog knew these were intruders. Its sister, intelligent enough to work in a genetic lab, had told it that if it encountered an intruder, it should bite them, because their bite force was immense and their teeth incredibly sharp—Locktooth Dog had never known what "bite force" was; it only knew that it could crush bones in one bite, and that it never left any bones behind when it ate, always licking its plate clean. Every time it did this, it received praise—but Locktooth Dog didn't do that. It trembled, clutching its head. Its intuition told it that doing so would only lead to its death, because these humans were tall, strong, and incredibly fast. It had witnessed them smashing walls and people's heads with their fists.

Perhaps they'll even eat the Inhumans' heads, just like tearing open the seal on a soft package of dog food!

Suddenly, it received a faint signal that excited it. It immediately leaped towards the coordinates without hesitation. Then, it felt as if it had crashed into an invisible wall; an unseen force shoved it back. When it opened its eyes again, it found itself still in the same spot; the reckless jump had twisted its front paw.

Frustration allows fear to return, and it can't help but let out a sad whimper.

This was too difficult. It was just a dog, even if it was a product of genetic engineering, it was still a dog. This was too difficult for a dog. All it wanted was to curl up in its bed and sleep, then chase after the drones after waking up, leaving its scent mark in every corner of the Genetic Council and settlement, just like before. The Locktooth Dog inhaled deeply. The fire had consumed countless things; it smelled the scorching flesh, the molten metal, the cold vacuum, and the indifference of the moon's white sand. Fear bred a resolve; the Locktooth Dog howled in pain, squeezed its eyes shut, and leaped forward again.

The result was the same; it felt frustrated again, and it didn't even have the strength to tuck its tail between its legs.

It needs to have its head patted, its chin scratched, and preferably its belly patted.

"One more time, lock your teeth. You're the bravest dog!"

It exhaled, as if it had heard its sister say that.

Its older sister was very small, short and thin, but very smart, and wore a pair of big round glasses.

"I am brave. I am not afraid."

It told itself that, and then tried again.

Within seconds of the signal being given, the Imperial Guards, who had been scattered around the assembly point, all rushed towards the armored command vehicle. Even Constantine approached. The mortal officers, who had just finished their meeting with the Emperor, noticed that the Emperor, who had been wearing a well-fitting grey-black military overcoat just seconds before, was now standing, clad in black powered armor, but with gold accents covering a much larger area than black. Constantine and several Martian technicians carried or pushed carts carrying several pieces of equipment. The mortal officers saw a magnificent, massive golden spear, a high-explosive rifle inlaid with a large oval ruby, an exquisite dagger, and several magazines. The Emperor's famous holy sword remained sheathed at his waist.

Although they were ordinary people, only mid-level officers, they knew of the emperor's abilities.

For some reason, they felt the emperor was far more unapproachable than during the previous ad hoc staff meeting. It wasn't simply because his eyes, face, and the back of his head were obscured by light; it was a completely different feeling, like being plunged into the scorching heat of a star. The astute mortal officers had already kept their distance, and some had realized that the emperor was no longer the humorous man he had been just minutes before.

“Constantine, you stay here,” He said. “Hammurabi, Ammon, Hannibal, you come with me.”

"My lord, Derrick is currently facing the enemy leader, and his messages indicate that Black Bolt is extremely dangerous. As your bodyguard, I absolutely cannot stand here and watch you fight."

"Don't worry, Black Bolt can't hurt me. I've had two chances to face him, and this is only the first one," He said. "An enemy shouldn't die in obscurity. He should know why he was guilty. I will give him the honor of facing me face to face, the honor of being beheaded by me. He should die like a king, even if he is just a king of mutants."

"Is this your philosophy of conquest?"

"Whether the enemy is human, mutant, or alien, they should know the reasons for our war, and they should know that humanity is the destiny of the universe, and the alien's blade can no longer harm the survival of the human race. Everything we do is to ensure that that future will come."

The Emperor's tone was remarkably calm, yet his emotions were palpable. You could call it confidence or arrogance, whatever you wanted; his wisdom and military might were more than enough to support this belief. Constantine noticed that the Emperor wasn't just speaking to him; the officers were also listening. This was normal; even without speaking, he would be the focus of collective attention, and no one would fail to feel reverence for him. But once he spoke, how to instill his ideas in others was a true test of personal ability. Constantine had witnessed the speeches of many politicians in the world, but none had been as inflammatory as the Emperor's. He was a born ruler; his words could even make a stone bow down, and even the unwavering hearts of the Praetorian Guard would be ignited by his words.

"Black Bolt will die because he stood in the way of humanity's closest chance to rise. I will not hypocritically call him a vile enemy, nor will I ignore his kindness and nobility, nor will I deny the casualties and suffering caused by this war. Therefore, I will give him the opportunity for revenge, the opportunity to kill me or be killed by me. I am a king, not a tyrant, not a politician, and my principles are entirely different from the latter two. Without harming the overall interests, this is a matter of respect for him and all the Kree war slaves of Attilan, even if they helped the Kree to harm their own kind, even if they did not consider themselves human and even considered themselves superior, I will give them a dignified death."

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(End of this chapter)