Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1629 Kamar-Taj: Mortal Injuries

Within the surging waves radiating a foul light, the blazing star moved at an unimaginable speed, but in this dimension devoid of vectors and gravity, the so-called motion was merely a subjective perception. There was no gravitational well of the material universe surrounding this psionic star, yet the ethereal entities, lacking physical form, were still involuntarily drawn towards it, only to be burned to ashes, reduced to the most primordial and purest etheric energy.

A surging tide of ether filled every inch of the air in Kamar-Taj, making even the simplest divination spells, meant to explore destiny, require far more focus and energy to cast than before, while the chaotic flames and lightning were so powerful they were almost out of control. The arcane sorcerers had initially tried to investigate the cause of this phenomenon, but even a brief touch of the edge of the psychic aura through their second vision into the etheric sea could cause physical trauma to their brains.

This is a natural psychic phenomenon, and very few people in history have been able to trigger it. In the history of Kamar-Taj, only Agamotto, Merlin, and the current Sorcerer Supreme have been able to generate such psychic tides. This means that the individual with psychic talent does not need a physical body to sustain life; the so-called physical body is merely a vessel to bind psychic energy. For such a person, summoning wind and rain, moving mountains and filling seas, is simply a matter of lifting a finger. However, what chilled Mordo even more was that he couldn't find any trace of the Sorcerer Supreme in the Aetheric Sea using his sixth sense. This wasn't non-existence in the ordinary sense, or an empty set in a mathematical sense, but utter non-existence, as if swallowed by the Aetheric tide and swept into the abyss of the ocean, disappearing without a trace, completely vanishing from the conceptual level.

"Should we ask the Venerable One to come out? It seems that no one can withstand him now."

A young sorcerer muttered under his breath, but Mordo pretended not to hear, wiping the blood from his eyes. With the help of the other sorcerers, he barely managed to overcome his nausea and swallow the elixir, which restored much of his damaged sixth sense. Because many powerful but extremely dangerous consumables were stored in the dungeon, guarded by a member of the emperor's royal guard and a clan that had guarded it for generations, Mordo couldn't allow these young sorcerers to go there alone to retrieve the necessities. Fortunately, Kamar-Taj was always on high alert, and almost all the sorcerers had received training in using magical artifacts.

"Take the elixir of Igesar and incorporate it into the ritual."

He drew the Dragonfang Sword from his back. This sword, forged by the Sorcerer Supreme, radiated immense heat the moment it left its sheath, causing hair to curl. He didn't tell these sorcerers that one of the ingredients in the so-called Elixir of Ighalus was actually made from human brains by the ghouls; the Sorcerer Supreme used the spoils of war to create the elixir, avoiding waste. Kamar-Taj held many secrets, and Mordo didn't believe he knew them all, but he could understand the Sorcerer Supreme's actions. This practice didn't violate any taboos; it could only be considered academic research.

As the Grand Instructor of Kamar-Taj, Baron Mordo would not rely solely on two esoteric arts to halt the Emperor's advance; his knowledge extended far beyond that. He knew his fellow sage's power far exceeded ordinary comprehension. No matter how strong the psychic barrier, it would eventually crumble. Furthermore, most of Kamar-Taj's forces had been redeployed to the dark side of the moon, and the mages stationed in the dimensional rifts were on the Emperor's side. Mordo had to use every means at his disposal.

But he would never use obscene arcane magic to attack his traitorous fellow disciples.

In his view, Wanda Maximoff's use of dark magic to attack the sorcerers maintaining the ritual was proof enough that the Emperor had dabbled in the taboos of Kamar-Taj. It was certain she was using such witchcraft under someone's instructions, and that she had learned it through the personal instruction of her arcane teachers. Regardless of the Emperor's reasons, using such corrupt power was a crime. Mordo had long resolved to cast aside all distractions and sentiments, vowing to kill the traitor who had tainted magic, but witnessing his former comrade dabble in dark magic still caused him immense heartache.

"If he breaks in, we'll attack him."

He swayed as he rose, ordering his apprentices to place several crimson oval full-length mirrors at specific angles near the courtyard gate. He had sworn never to use vile arcane magic against his enemies, but he knew he was utterly incapable of confronting his former comrade head-on, and therefore he had to keep him away from the battlefield, buying him time to find the Sorcerer Supreme's soul. He took a deep breath, and with one hand, he drew a shield covered in runes in the air.

The ascetics continued chanting incantations, unaware of what was happening, and Mordo had no intention of explaining to them.

"Be prepared, we might die here today."

If you were to ask a battle-hardened, agile commander what they hate most, it would undoubtedly be having a superior officer take over their command, especially when that superior is standing right beside them, managing routine operations in a streamlined, hierarchical manner. The senior sergeant of the First Secret Regiment breathed a sigh of relief, because even with the nominal (and de facto) highest military commander of the Yugoslav Federation and the Immortal City standing beside him, the Emperor didn't interfere with the details of his indoor special operations, which pleased the sergeant greatly (even though he had to adjust his tactical goggles to diffraction mode just to keep an eye on the Emperor's breastplate, otherwise his retina would surely be burned). Having a knowledgeable superior was truly something to be happy about, and the First Secret Regiment's operations were unaffected by any political factors; he could freely implement his tactical plans.

But now he regrets it.

The First Class Regiment had participated in missions to hunt down psionicists, but the vast majority of these operations were carried out by Kamar-Taj sorcerers and genetically modified soldiers, and the overall skill level of those psionicists was not comparable to that of the professional sorcerers at Kamar-Taj. Therefore, even though headquarters informed them of the risks of this operation, the senior sergeant still believed that the barrier he had seen, capable of withstanding long-range rockets and precision-guided bombs, was the most powerful psionic spell he could muster.

Even as Tatiana and the other combat sisters launched a relentless assault on the sorcerer, he remained unfazed, launching counterattacks against the First Secret Regiment soldiers and combat sisters with ease. The senior sergeant had never seen anyone cough up so much seawater from their lungs, especially not on the plateau; this was the first time he had witnessed someone suffocate to death on land. He had no time or energy to mourn the soldier who had suddenly died, because something even more terrifying was yet to come. Due to the sorcerer's ability to block physical projectiles, the combat sisters opted for frenzied close-quarters combat to resolve the situation. The team's marksmen could only manage to fire a few shots at the sorcerer when they were sniping the smoke monsters.

A blazing laser grazed the arcane mage's arm, instantly shattering the shield that had been orbiting around him and blocking Tatiana's swung sword into scattered sparks. The arcane mage glared angrily at the open gate, then at the marksman behind the courtyard cover. Before the sharpshooter could even boast of his accurate shot, the senior sergeant witnessed the demise of his team's marksman.

The laser, which should have struck a smoke monster, veered off course and hit a roof beam. The marksman's limbs, encased in his all-encompassing combat suit, began to contort at angles impossible for a normal person, his entire body emitting crisp cracking sounds. In the blink of an eye, the marksman's body was curled backward, his arms and legs twisted in opposite directions, his entire torso being forcibly squeezed into a tight sphere by an invisible force. Caveira, who was receiving treatment from the medic, didn't even know what had happened before witnessing the marksman standing behind cover die a violent death. This terror was far more frightening than flames falling from the sky, high-voltage lightning appearing out of nowhere, or even the ghostly smoke monster.

Even seasoned military doctors who had experienced many wars could not accept the sight before them.

He quickly finished bandaging Caveira's wound, and without even changing his rubber gloves as required, he and the senior sergeant rushed to the marksman's side. They swiftly and manually peeled off the bulletproof and blast-resistant armor of the all-environment combat suit, using a miniature single-molecule saw on the arm armor to cut through the suit and exoskeleton, pulling the marksman's limbs out. It was as if they were unwrapping a soft package; the flexible material, similar to the pressure suits of astronauts and pilots, compressed the wound to prevent excessive bleeding. When the suit was cut open, a torrent of blood gushed from the incision, the broken bone piercing the skin and muscle, completely exposed to the air. The previously compressed blood vessels also began to gush blood, splattering the medic all over.

"He's in shock!" the medic shouted anxiously.

Caveira also came to help. Although she was injured, the painkillers helped her apply a tourniquet. A needle popped out of the medic's arm guard. He carefully felt for the wounded soldier's broken ribs, and then, guided by the rapid scan of the medical drone, slowly inserted the long needle into the central venous catheter, injecting norepinephrine. Fortunately, the medical technology of the Immortal City was extremely advanced, and as a medic, he had access to and learned how to use many advanced devices.

"The emergency plasma is still on the armored medical vehicle in the back. We need to move him there quickly so the automated surgical machine can provide emergency care. Be careful, his spine is broken." The medic shut down the server that activated the automatic tourniquet proximal to his heart. There wasn't much he could do; at most, with the assistance of the medical drone, he could use a needle-like electrocautery device to cauterize a few bleeding points in his lungs and spleen. But this wouldn't be very effective, because these bleeding points were caused by lacerations from violently broken rib fragments. All the medic could do was provide emergency hemostasis and try to keep the wounded man alive until he received treatment. "I'll prepare an AED, but I'm not sure if he'll survive. I can only hope his internal bleeding isn't too severe."

The demigod-like giant charged towards the sparkling shield, while the Royal Guard's Amun raised his halberd overhead, unleashing a storm of steel. The Seraphim Shield, blocking the passage, was cleaved in two by the blades, and a fist encased in armor blasted through the inner rings of Laggardor, slamming a mystic who attempted to attack the Emperor away. Simultaneously, a bolt of lightning slid effortlessly across his armor, landing on the ground and scorching a paving stone. The Royal Guard showed no mercy to the still hostile mystics; the one Amun had knocked away lay on the ground, howling in agony, his arms and spine limp as mud.

The Emperor and his Royal Guard formed a formidable attack, like the engine of a high-speed train. The arcane mages found themselves unable to draw upon any more psionic energy to strengthen their shields or attacks. The Emperor didn't even need to swing his sword; its blazing blade was enough to repel any opposing arcane mages. They surged up the steps of the Seventh Nexus, ignoring the wounded mages. The Emperor's voice boomed like thunder through the gates of the Seventh Nexus, his crimson full-length mirror reflecting a radiant light that enveloped him and two Royal Guards. Yet, the Emperor's gaze remained fixed on the ascetics.

"Modu! What have you done?!"

(End of this chapter)