Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 156 The Old Devil (Second Update!)

"Who are you talking to?" Joan of Arc stepped down the stairs, glancing at Salomon. "You even left halfway through. Did something happen to Kamar-Taj?"

"Beings from the lower planes have invaded, and some have been killed." Salomon covered the phone's microphone. "Other arcane mages can handle it. This call is from S.H.I.E.L.D., it has nothing to do with the magical world."

"Then hurry up, it's almost dinner time." Joan of Arc turned on the smokehouse to check the fish and sausages inside. Salomon nodded, exchanged a few more words with Nick Fury, and then hung up. "I think we can see a superhero battle today," he said. "The show's schedule has just been finalized."

Salomon's last few words were purely to find a suitable opponent for the centenarian Steve Rogers, so he could adapt to the modern environment seventy years after his slumber. After all, Steve Rogers was an extremely kind person, and Ghost Rider's judgment would never fall on him. Okay, even seventy years later, aliens aren't everywhere, and beings from higher and lower dimensions don't just spring up from underground at any moment—facing non-human enemies ahead of time isn't so bad; hitting a punching bag every day is really boring. Besides, that stingy Nick Fury didn't even give Captain America his pension, and he wouldn't allow him to find something to do; that would be too much.

The arcane mage felt he had done another good deed, and the alignment indicator must have shifted slightly towards the good alignment.

"Come on, don't waste time, every second here is precious." Salomon winked and gave a mischievous smile. "It's not hard to admit you like my cooking, Joan of Arc."

"That's because we don't deliver pizza here, little one." Joan glared at Salomon and walked straight into the cabin. She would never admit she liked Salomon's cooking, never! She only ever tasted a few bites, that's all!

After eating and drinking his fill, Salomon turned on the television, flipping through his magic book while watching TV. Bayonetta and Jeanne were whispering to each other beside him, and Salomon knew without listening that they were planning where to hunt angels—more precisely, the angels of Jubilee. These guys were much fewer now; every time Salomon sent them there, he could only find a few small minions that came to the Prime Material Plane to steal souls.

Escaping those stupid neighborhood help committees in New York was a real nightmare. Bayonetta and Joan of Arc weren't the type to greet their neighbors, and after Salomon arrived, he handled all the paperwork—including shooting at a few clueless suitors. Salomon himself took care of that, since two beautiful single women are bound to attract admirers. Nick Fury had complained to him countless times; the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't want anyone shot over something like that—and the sorcerer declared that if those idiots didn't move, he'd eventually tear their doors down with an automatic rifle.

"The show's starting, honey." Salomon glanced at his phone and switched the TV channel to the news. He hadn't expected Nick Fury to act so quickly, managing to pick up Captain America from Brooklyn and dump him in front of Ghost Rider in the time it takes to eat a meal. The TV station was using aerial filming; through the helicopter's camera, news viewers could clearly see the burning skull standing atop the building.

"Seventy years later, Captain America reappears to battle demons." The arcane mage waved his hand. "I've already thought of a title."

"Are you interested in Captain America?" Bayonetta glanced at the television. "His ass is pretty nice."

"Honey, you know perfectly well that I'm not interested in men."

"But you went to Eton College, and I heard that you're still a teacher's assistant in disciplining students."

"This isn't the same kind of fun we used to have," Salomon said, spreading his hands helplessly. "This is a symbol of America—or rather, a symbol of America in the minds of Americans. It's a romanticized image. The most visited museum in Washington is the Captain America Museum. Although I've never been inside, it's quite amusing to see those rednecks entertaining themselves."

Joan glared at Salomon, shocked that Bayonetta and Salomon had progressed this far. Seeing her best friend of many years about to be taken away, Joan switched seats, placing herself between Bayonetta and Salomon.

"Are you serious?" Salomon's eyes widened. Joan of Arc merely glanced at him, refusing to answer.

----------------

If something can go wrong, no matter how small the chance, it will happen. That's Murphy's Law—the devil, like Murphy's Law, always appears in the worst-case scenario, but for some, the devil can appear at any time. Even if Salomon hadn't gone looking for the devil, after he finished his weekend vacation, sent Bayonetta and Joan of Arc to hunt angels in Eastern Europe, and returned to Eton College alone, Mephisto still came knocking.

This was Salomon's nighttime solitary use of the chemistry lab; he still had two alchemy orders to complete. Suddenly, a chilling aura crept into the lab from the bushes outside the window. The overhead light flickered incessantly, and darkness stretched from the end of the corridor until it stopped at the lab door. The arcane mage noticed this anomaly, put down the test tubes filled with solution, and became cautiously alert.

"Well, well, well, our esteemed man is actually pleased with a few bottles of alchemy potions." An elderly man in a black suit appeared in front of Salomon's alchemy workbench. He was leaning on a silver skull cane, and his white hair was combed back, making him look like a polite old gentleman.

"Mephisto, do you still have the strength to flee for your life?" Salomon instantly realized the old man's true identity. It hadn't been long since the Sorcerer Supreme had told him the story of Mephisto, so anyone could easily guess his identity.

"Why should I run for my life?" The old devil raised his eyebrows, picked up the test tube and examined it carefully. "I'm just a businessman."

"Mr. Mephisto, the world's most outstanding businessman, is excellent in both escaping and doing business." The sorcerer pulled up a chair and sat down. "But unfortunately, the Sorcerer Supreme did not grant you a merchant's license."

"Doing import and export trade always involves oppression from those in power. This is something I'm used to because I've never paid taxes." Mephisto also sat down in the chair. He seemed completely unconcerned about whether he would be besieged by Kamar-Taj. "But this is just an avatar, an avatar without any power. If I lose it, I can just lose it. I can afford to pay this cost."

"May I ask why you've come?" Salomon picked up the solution on the table and added the last ingredient. It was a potion for treating moderate injuries. When Mephisto discovered the positive energy in the potion, he looked at the arcane mage with an expression that said, "How dare you play with shit?"

However, Mephisto's good manners allowed him to quickly adjust his expression.

“Aren’t you annoyed, Solomon,” he said, “that fool Belial still clinging to your contract. Thousands of years have passed, and don’t tell me you’re still hung up on Belial. Or Lilith? She is indeed a captivating succubus, but you’re not exactly a womanizer. Don’t you have the Queen of Sheba? That woman is not to be trifled with. My dear Lord of the Demon Pillars, are you still eyeing the Seventh Throne? We all know it’s no good, and whoever thinks they can sit on it is a madman.”

"What if I could help you wrest the contract from Belial? What if I could help you take that position?"

"Let's make a deal."

Please vote for this post!

Are you interested in joining a group or becoming an operations officer or something...?

(End of this chapter)