Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1642 Kamar-Taj: Dragonfang Sword

The sky seemed to split open, revealing a bone-white chapel thousands of feet high, its magnificent structure woven from millions of columns and arcades into a complex honeycomb pattern. A closer look revealed that the chapel wasn't built of bricks and rocks, but rather of pure skeletons—twisted and deformed human bones tightly interlocked, millions of hollow skulls embedded in its white walls. Then, the landscape below began to rush past, the mortal eye only able to perceive blurry afterimages. From the sky, the way the buildings folded together revealed a fascinating mathematical pattern.

Amon looked up with worry at the bone-white cathedral in the sky, shrouded in mist, countless translucent ghosts moving through its arches and corridors. The outer dimension is a reflection of the material universe. Ancient psionicists observed another world through mirrors, water surfaces, and other planes reflecting images, because these illusory reflections are precisely the refractions of the material universe. Therefore, the mirror dimension can also reflect another dimension. The power of another world was seeping into this world, and Dormammu, clad in the skin of the Sorcerer Supreme, was engulfed in a deep purple, foul fire, charging towards the Emperor against the backdrop of a receding world.

The orange-red sparks collided with the filthy, deep purple flames, unleashing a tremendous shockwave. The buildings of the Mirror World collapsed with a deafening roar. The world meticulously constructed by the Emperor, operating according to beautiful and precise mathematical formulas, was also hampered, like gears without lubrication suddenly jamming and malfunctioning. The shockwave spread outward from the point of impact, and in the blink of an eye, a giant shield constructed of orange-red sparks filled the sky and the ground. Dormammu's high-speed-operating Shield of Seraphim, even the Bone Church that had fallen from the sky, was forcibly stopped. The viscous liquid oozing from the twisted, bone-white spires sizzled on the Shield of Seraphim, evaporating a foul-smelling plume of smoke.

Beneath the corridors and arches of the Bone Church, countless twisted and deformed ghosts screamed before being utterly destroyed. Amon instinctively swung his halberd at the charred arm that suddenly appeared before him, but only struck a pane of glass. The blade collided with the sorcery crystal, the disintegrating force field hissing on the surface of the psionic matter. Immediately afterward, the Emperor swung his holy sword, severing a claw that appeared out of thin air and was attempting to strike the head of a Royal Guard. Simultaneously, he threw a punch in Amon's direction; blinding psionic energy erupted from the point of impact, turning the ghost hidden in the air to ashes.

Before the last ghost could turn to ashes, Dormammu, dressed in the body of the Sorcerer Supreme, rushed to the Emperor.

It leaped high into the air, swinging its fists and striking the Emperor's shoulder armor twice in quick succession. The explosive force compressed the air, creating a sonic boom and intense heat, the instantaneous temperature approaching that of the sun's surface. Even the Emperor was forced to take two steps back by the impact. Amon shifted his stance, thrusting his Guardian Spear diagonally upwards in an attempt to block Dormammu's attack on the Emperor. At the same time, he drew his spare pistol and pulled the trigger on his target.

A ball of white-hot subatomic heat expanded beside the Emperor's golden laurel wreath, and a massive amount of hot air whipped up the Emperor's raven-black hair like a storm. The powerful airburst subatomic heat also blasted Dormammu away—Dormammu was hit solidly by the heat-melting. Although the subatomic heat that could instantly burn through armor failed to incinerate his body, his skin quickly dried out, turned yellow and gray, as if he had been baked in the desert. Then, the burning holy sword accurately pierced the Sorcerer Supreme's body, but only pierced a piece of sorcerer's glass crystal shaped like a human. Dormammu disappeared into the air again.

Pure white lightning erupted from the Emperor's hand, piercing through space and striking a specific location in the mirror dimension. However, a mountain range, once composed of skyscraper spires, suddenly rose from the ground, halting the Emperor and his Royal Guard's pursuit. The psionic lightning, capable of piercing mountains, blasted a massive valley into the concrete, steel, and glass-constructed mountain. The Emperor began to run forward, the Royal Guard close behind. They ran along the facades of the skyscrapers, the shifting gravity holding them firmly to the sun-reflecting glass walls.

The attack followed immediately.

"There's a Dragon Fang Sword on the list," Tatiana asked. "Where is this dangerous item now?"

Mordo glanced at her but refused to respond.

He was now wearing a suppressor; all Tatiana had to do was press a switch, and his mind would be forcibly frozen. The suppressor, shaped like a collar, infuriated Mordo with this humiliation, prompting him to attempt a counterattack. However, the suppressor's low-power operation weakened his emotions and psychic powers, making him much more subdued. Even so, he had no intention of answering Tatiana's questions. No one outside of Kamar-Taj could ever access the secrets of Kamar-Taj—this was a creed he firmly upheld.

“Tell me, where is the Dragon Fang Sword?” Tatiana lost her patience. She threw a punch directly at Mordo’s face. “Your chances are running out.” She flicked the blood and saliva off her gauntlets, crouched down, and said to the panting, bloodshot Mordo, “I will temporarily take control of Kamar-Taj. Everything that happens here, everything that is preserved, must be done according to the Emperor’s orders. You are no exception, Mordo. If the Emperor wants you dead, then I will execute you right now. Cherish your life. If the liabilities you bring out exceed the beneficial assets you bring—I really don’t want to mimic those officials’ words, but this is the most accurate description—then your death sentence will be handed down directly, because the Emperor has already shown you mercy, and you have not cherished that opportunity.”

She paused for a moment.

"Where is the Dragon Fang Sword, Mordo? This is your last chance to answer me."

The glass curtain wall shimmered like the sea under the summer sun, and was also divided like the real sea.

The skeletal church is sinking downwards, and the screams of ghosts in terror and revelry are getting closer and closer.

A withered form emerged from the air, a crimson sword piercing the golden armor. The holy sword clashed with the dragon's fang, sparks flying into the air, bursting into blinding bursts of fire. Invisible specters plummeted from the towering chapel of bones, carrying pus and broken wings, riding on venomous snakes and maggots towards the emperor and the royal guard. Amon wielded his garrison spear, mechanically and repetitively hindering the specters surging towards the emperor. He stabbed one that appeared to be a hybrid of snake and bird, then reached out and ripped its head and spine off. The specters multiplied, his space shrinking until he had to draw his molten pistol. White-hot subatomic clusters vaporized the faces of the Virgin Mary statues drooping on the building's exterior walls. These specters, gleaming with filthy light, cheered as they sprouted filthy, broken wings, emitting noises incomprehensible to humans.

No matter how much Amon tries to conserve ammunition, he has now emptied a magazine.

There was no time to change into new ones, no time to aim at a specific target, because all it took was firing a gun to kill hordes of ghosts. Amon knew these so-called ghosts were exactly the same as the strange creatures that appeared on Attilan, the only difference being that these ghosts had not truly come to this world, even though it was just a mirror dimension, a transitional dimension between the material universe and outer dimensions. Their blurry figures, like steam and pencil drawings, did not possess supernatural flesh and blood—they instinctively tried to wear the humans in the mirror, like wearing a piece of clothing, but that was ultimately just an uncaptureable phantom. They could only obtain blurry, shimmering bodies through the mirror image—the disintegrating force field erased them from this world like an eraser, but the ashes would eventually leave traces. Tiny scratches appeared out of nowhere on Amon's armor, and the friend-or-foe identification system constantly reported strange, ever-flickering, and shifting life signals.

Swords clashed against swords, and terrifying infrasound and firestorms swept through the valley blasted by psionic lightning.

"You used the spoils of the Sorcerer Supreme for his successor." Dormammu saw rage in the Emperor's eyes, for the psychic energy emanating from them was far more powerful and uncontrollable than before. "I will kill you, Faltin, I will kill everyone connected to you, and your soul will scream in the hell I have created."

"That's it, rage." Dormammu roared with laughter, boundless power erupting from his gaunt limbs. "Don't think I don't know your arrangements for the dimensions. Hell? I'm already in Hell. Hell belonged to you, and then betrayed you—that's a secret known throughout the entire universe!"

The Emperor silently swung his sword, the speed exceeding human visual perception, making him appear to be surrounded by flames. Dormammu's Supreme Sorcerer's Body was emaciated, every ounce of psionic energy squeezed from his flesh to fight the Emperor, for he could not draw energy from another dimension.

"You sent the Crimson Agent to stop me?" Dormammu laughed maniacally, saliva dripping from his sharpening teeth. The crimson symbol on his forehead deepened, and the skin around it began to slowly carbonize. The eyes that once belonged to the Sorcerer Supreme turned pitch black, their dark malice as viscous as oil floating on the sea. Dormammu, with the Sorcerer Supreme's face and voice, spoke, "A good plan, but do you think this will start a war between me and the God of Madness? No, the war is ongoing, a great war that transcends the concept of time comprehensible to any intelligent race in the universe. Even the collapse of the universe is merely a part of this game. You can join this game, you can enjoy eternal slaughter, if you so desire, you can entertain yourself with an entire intelligent race, unless you relinquish that power yourself."

"No."

Just as the Dragonfang Sword's blade was about to strike the armor, a hidden barrier flashed by. The Emperor threw a punch, his fingers piercing the Sorcerer Supreme's chest, touching his heart. For Dormammu, such damage was insignificant; he immediately summoned unseen blades to slash at the Emperor's arm, but the small explosion in his chest caused him to stagger and stagger a few steps. Emerald green incantations flowed across the wound.

"Oh." Dormammu looked down at the broken rib fragments, the dry, leathery skin protruding from them. "I see."

"Whether the Time Stone can be affected by time magic is a subject I've studied for decades," the Emperor said. The Bone Church was pulled downwards by gravity, a foul-smelling gale sweeping through the bizarre valley of concrete, steel, and glass walls. "Now we know the answer."

(End of this chapter)