Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1614, Chapter 1610: The Lunar War (126)

"I don't want to discuss Kamar-Taj policies with you; I've already revealed too much information."

The emperor's tone shifted from its previous gentleness to a palpable seriousness. His gaze, like frozen lightning, loomed over the cabin, piercing the nerves of everyone present. If this aircraft had its autopilot disabled and required an intelligent being to pilot it, its nose should have already crashed into the ground. Fortunately, the servants knew nothing and cared nothing.

"You've crossed the line, Bayonetta. This isn't a witch's job."

The royal guards constantly scanned Joan of Arc and Bayonetta, their muscles tense, ready to launch an attack at any moment and create an opportunity for the emperor to retaliate. But the witch did not attack as Amon had feared, neither verbally nor physically. Bayonetta merely stared at the emperor for a few seconds, pretending nothing had happened, and continued to enjoy her champagne. As for Joan of Arc, she couldn't be bothered with such official business. Regardless of Kamar-Taj's situation, as long as it didn't disrupt her normal life, all she cared about was sunshine, beaches, swimming pools, fine wine, and how to feed the little pets she kept in hell.

The relationship between witches and the emperor is an important topic in psychology for the Royal Guard. Discussions on this topic leave no written, audio, or video records and can only be conducted in top-secret locations. Once outside the room, the content is forgotten. The Royal Guard members, who understand psychoanalysis, infer the personalities of witches through their behavioral patterns. For example, they study how Bayonetta's childhood experiences influenced her adult personality and how Joan of Arc's family relationships during her childhood caused her stress. The emperor has already issued a report, and their task is to revise their own psychological models and then compare them with this report to identify and correct any inaccuracies.

As a school of thought possessing a unique magical foundation and whose overt and covert connections to the Emperor's own stigmata are unclear, the remaining two members of the Witch School are worthy of the Emperor and the Royal Guard's considerable effort and time for investigation and research. The fact that the Witches did not launch an attack under these circumstances indicates that the Royal Guard's assessment of the Witches' psychological model is flawed and requires further correction and revision.

I'm sorry.

In Amon's eyes, the Emperor remained unchanged, but to the witch, His transformation was drastic, like an ancient, towering city wall crumbling under the erosion of time. He shed the symbols and emblems required for his role, the psychological value he had to project to others—humans admire those tall, imposing individuals with demigod-like figures from Greek mythology—even with advanced human evolution, there is an instinctive tendency to obey those taller within the group. In online surveys conducted by the Guardian Order and the Regent's Department of Internal Affairs, numerous young men serving in government offices responded positively to government policies regarding physical and combat skills training for civil servants, while many young women held a deep admiration for the Emperor, even after witnessing firsthand the bloody policies implemented by the Emperor in force to secularize and eradicate populist armed groups; this did not diminish the private adoration many held for him.

"Please allow me some quiet time to think before I arrive at Kamar-Taj. Dinah, please bring out the dessert; my brain needs plenty of sugar to function."

The shield's surface was covered with countless white cracks, much like bulletproof glass that had been struck.

The black greatsword, forged from hellfire metal, slammed into the shield amidst a dense cluster of small aetheric alien entities. White flames scorched the crimson runes, unleashing a blinding flash of light powerful enough to burn the retina. Before the behemoth could unleash another strike, a barrage of machine gun tracer rounds rose from the cluster of small aetheric alien entities below, aimed at the sword. The powerful stopping force compelled the greatsword to veer to one side.

The massive, horizontally swung claws blocked the fire of the heavy machine guns. Constantine and Hammurabi, wielding their weapons, stood in front of the knight armed with a single heavy weapon. Using the enhanced power of their kinetic energy and power armor, they rammed and sliced ​​away the sharp claws that were forcing the knight to move. Taking advantage of the situation, Tita activated her jetpack, hurtling towards the behemoth's head like a meteor. Her longsword pierced deeply into the behemoth's blood-red serpentine eyes. Before the claws could seize her, she activated her jetpack again and leaped away, the trail of flames directly scorching the behemoth's eyes.

Aparisha emerged from behind the behemoth's battered calf, her execution axe crackling with electricity, her plasma pistol radiating intense heat. A white-hot plasma ball struck the behemoth's elbow, followed by the execution axe whistling as it cleaved into charred flesh and bone, the disintegrating force field exploding with blinding sparks as it burned the bone, embedding itself deeply into the behemoth's elbow joint. In the time it took to break three heartbeats, the closely coordinated Sisters of the Blood, the Knights, and the Royal Guard had made up for their mistake, once again driving the behemoth away from Regent Victor von Doom. The next second, the behemoth's wounds were healed once more, and it regained its strength.

Regent Victor von Doom's forehead was covered in cold sweat. He didn't even look at the warriors' battle against the aetheric alien entities. Each incantation he uttered was a burden to him, because the Emperor had given him the task of completely healing the wounds in this material universe to ensure that the next mission would not be affected.

Why deceive yourself, mortal? Don't use wordplay to mask your fear, don't be afraid to acknowledge my existence. I am the eternal nightmare of all intelligent beings in your universe. Admit it, you cannot banish me; the waves of the sea of ​​souls can overwhelm you at any moment. You are nothing but an insignificant figure, elevating yourself, disguising yourself, and believing yourself to be powerful enough. Even now, you still cannot face your own life, can you, Viktor von Doom?

The voice that pierced his heart sent chills down Regent Vidok von Doom's spine and made his scalp tingle.

The beast's roar was laced with unparalleled venom; he could hear it speaking to him, though he couldn't even discern whether it was an illusion. The power of the non-material world oppressed him, a storm howling within his soul. He was merely a mortal, unable to pluck stars from the void and manipulate the atmosphere, to command mountains to move (though He had never done so, Victor knew He could), unable to resist powerful natural phenomena—he understood that the being behind the veil could easily defeat him, for He understood the rules of the non-material universe and could wield its power. But the gods could not break the covenant and directly interfere with the material universe. This was a covenant signed before the universe's birth; breaking it would inevitably provoke a retaliation from the material universe, and the gods would certainly not sit idly by.

The war in the non-material universe has consumed most of my attention; I must remain focused, or they will kill me there. I hope Constantine, Aparishia, and Tita can complete their mission, or the assassins who have come to the material universe will kill me as an extension of the will of the gods.

Viktor von Doom thought to himself.

I do not deny fear; I fear the glimpse of the impending end. Even the wisest cannot find peace in the face of such a horrific vision, nor can they resign themselves to their fate and await their destiny. Perhaps this is humanity's weakness: frailty, shortsightedness, and emotionality. I do not deny fear, nor the existence of darkness within my own psyche, but you do not understand me, nor can you comprehend all that I have dedicated myself to. You cannot shake my will to dedicate myself to this ideal; this is a thought you will never comprehend, for you are merely aggregates of thoughts from the sea of ​​souls, you do not possess free will—Regent Victor von Doom quickened his chanting. For him, the incantation was not essential, but a psychological aid, helping him focus his will, to convince himself—even if I die now, I will mock you, despise you, drive you away, drag you from the shadows beneath the bed of childish fear, drag you from the burning nebulae in the void, wherever you are, as long as you dare extend your will into the material universe, we will be there to confront you.

Your threats have no power.

"Indeed, my threats are not enough to destroy you, but He can. I will help Him achieve this goal."

We will reveal the secret to you. Viktor von Doom is closer to us than you think. He belongs to us, not to the human species. Would anyone identify with another because of a piece of clothing?

"He was a human being with his own will, something you will never have."

Regent Victor von Doom slowly clenched his fist, the air between his palms compressing as if it were a tangible entity, then glowing. A phenomenon requiring immense energy in physics was achieved effortlessly at this moment, even if it was merely a negligible byproduct. The energized eyeball entered the portal, and the incantation woven from optic nerve fibers drew power from behind the veil, meticulously stitching together the physical laws of the material universe—from gravity, temperature, and humidity, to molecules, atoms, and electrons.

"He knows Kamar-Taj is a trap. Now, get out of this world; there is no place for you in the material universe."

【We will always have our chance, Viktor von Doom. You will see ideals crumble, howling in your dreams. We are always the victors. From the moment the first intelligent race in the universe began to explore the world, we have waited in the shadows beneath their beds, hidden in every word they uttered, every thought they conceived, manipulating the entire species to give everything for us. The human race is no exception. We will arrive on the eve of your ascension, from the shadows of the corners, the shadows beneath your beds, the shadows of the palace corridors. We will not appear, nor will we disappear; we will come to collect the spoils.】

Viktor von Doom gritted his teeth, enduring the sound of violence drilling into his brain.

The portal shrank rapidly at a speed visible to the naked eye, and at the same time, the penetrability and volume of the sound decreased.

He belongs to us, Viktor von Dum.

Tell him the transaction is still valid.

Supporting agents in the Sea of ​​Souls is pointless; nothing can stand against us. Standing with the victors is the right decision.

You will be forced into a bloody and chaotic war, witnessing his coronation ceremony using the blood of an entire species and all life in the galaxy. You are supporting a tyrant, unlike any other in the galaxy, because he belongs to this world, not humanity.

As the portal slammed shut, the final energy surge was released.

The world seemed to fall silent. The deck, heated by the molten iron below, began to melt the stubborn frost, and large amounts of steam rose from beneath. Then, the small ethereal alien entities ceased their movements. The laws of the material universe returned; bodies without internal organs could not sustain themselves in the material world. The small ethereal alien entities used kinetic energy to run a few steps forward before collapsing to the ground, turning into pus and ash. The Royal Guard, Knights, and Battle Sisters were astonished to find that the bombs could leave sufficiently deep wounds on the behemoth, just as they were meant for organic life. The wounds on the behemoth no longer healed instantly as before; the pain began to accumulate. Even the monster from another dimension was now somewhat panicked, as it sensed the loss of power.

Its greatsword was no longer hard, its bones no longer strong, its body no longer powerful. It couldn't even flap its bat wings to fly, because witchcraft had been banished from this space, and the aerodynamic muscle distribution and bat wings prevented it from flying like a bird. Its body was dying from the inside out, and it felt suffocated because its lungs no longer had any real function; they were just a large lump of flesh imbued with a concept.

Constantine pierced its arm and pinned it firmly to the ground.

The pain enraged it, and its hyena-like snout lunged at the commander of the royal guards, only to be immediately pulled away by several other forces. The other royal guards held its body firmly, using their weapons to dismantle its still-active body, which retained traces of magical energy. Until an axe was embedded in its forehead, and brass boots pressed down on its temple.

Aparishia maliciously pulled out her axe. "I told you, you'd die by my hand, alien."

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