Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1643 Kamar-Taj Falting

Amphitryon frowned, his gaze sweeping warily across the empty hall.

The distant cries of the ghosts and the ashes that appeared out of nowhere made him uneasy. According to the Sorcerer Daniel, if the Planetary Defense System was functioning properly, monsters from another dimension would never appear in this world—at least that's what the books said. Few people in Kamar-Taj's history had been able to fully activate this function of the Planetary Defense System, because its designer and user was the first Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto. This Sorcerer Supreme never considered the possibility of other disciples using the system, therefore it could only be used by a single psionicist—however, since then, apart from a very few arcane mages capable of fulfilling the responsibilities of the Sorcerer Supreme, very few psionicists have been able to fully activate and operate the Planetary Defense System. Sorcerer Daniel had also never seen the Sorcerer Supreme use the system's function of defending against extradimensional spiritual entities in the last hundred years.

"How's the situation now?"

"That's good. Her body temperature has returned to normal, and she can survive." Mage Daniel lowered his icy hands, holding an ice bucket in his arms, the completely transparent ice cubes tumbling in the mixture of ice and water. "This task is still too difficult for her. She has just finished learning inner alchemy and is at the beginning of her exploration of the path of arcane magic. Even your master could only study in the library at this stage."

"I'm not referring to Wanda Maximov's physical condition; I can detect that data through the powered armor. I'm referring to the operational power of the planetary defense system's subsystems."

Amphitryon gripped his guard spear, watching warily in a certain direction in the hall. Wanda Maximoff sat in an armchair, an ice towel on her forehead, slowly receiving intravenous nutrition and medication. Even standing beside her, the mage Daniel could feel the intense heat emanating from Wanda Maximoff's body; that supernatural heat almost scorched the air, and even seemed to be rising.

"I suspect an enemy has infiltrated this space. Mage Daniel, please ensure Wanda Maximov's safety. I will leave here temporarily to hunt down the infiltrator."

“No spirits will infiltrate this place. You’re overreacting,” said Master Daniel. “This is a defense system created by Agamotto. Even if Wanda Maximov knew nothing about it, as long as she can supply psionic energy, the system will function on its own. She only handles some calculations and coupling… I handle a lot of work, but that’s not a high priority. Most of her task is supplying psionic energy. Do you know who Agamotto is, folks?”

Seemingly to support his judgment, Master Daniel also pointed to a two-headed snake sleeping on a giant bonsai.

"If spirits come here, they will definitely start calling out. You can't imagine how enthusiastic they are about chatting; even the dead are not immune. If spirits come here, they will be annoyed by them and run away."

"An enemy has infiltrated this building." Amphitrite insisted on his judgment, ignoring the mage Daniel's sense of humor, which somewhat displeased the latter. He placed his thumb on the power switch of the Guardian Spear, while simultaneously loading the explosive gun on the War Axe, ensuring that his longsword and pistol, among other secondary weapons, were readily available. Compared to enemies from the material universe, enemies from the ethereal world were far more difficult to deal with. Weapons capable of inflicting massive damage on organic beings were merely minor injuries to creatures of the ethereal world. "To ensure Wanda Maximov's mission is completed, I must eliminate this risk. The Guardians are not bodyguards, Mage Daniel; we are hunters. No creature can escape our detection."

The surrounding objects gradually slowed down, even the hem of the emperor's robe slowly solidified in mid-air, shimmering with an emerald light. Apart from the Dragon Fang sword blade, which was wielded by Dormammu and enveloped in filthy flames, only this object maintained a normal speed in this space. However, just as the Dragon Fang sword was about to pierce the armor, the emerald halo lit up again, and the emperor swung the holy sword at a speed that was invisible to ordinary people, the blade precisely deflecting the brass-colored Dragon Fang sword.

Immediately afterward, all objects in space resumed normal movement, while those frozen in time seemed unaware of what had happened. When the blades clashed again, the Supreme Sorcerer's body, controlled by Dormammu, began to rapidly disintegrate, crumbling into ashes like a weathered terracotta statue. Dormammu was not discouraged by this setback. Through repeated speculation and coercion, it believed it was getting closer and closer to the truth, the only price being its physical body traversing the material universe.

It is believed that the Emperor used profound time magic to temporarily extract his soul from the flow of time, passing on future memories to his past self. This time magic is as commonplace to beings in the material universe as food is to beings in the material universe, which do not have the concept of time. However, for beings trapped in the material universe who can only perceive the macroscopic linear timeline—including ethereal entities that come to the material universe, even Dormammu whose consciousness is projected into the material universe must abide by the macroscopic linear time rules of the material universe under the influence of different gravitational forces—this method is almost prophetic and prophetic.

The Church of Bones crashed down from the sky, followed by the Emperor and the civilians among the Imperial Guard, who began to spin until they were perpendicular to the ground. The bone-white walls of the structure plummeted from above into the abyss, the friction between the human skeletons creating scorching plasma in the air. The immense air pressure forced countless ghosts out of the grand corridors and arches, rushing towards the walls, arriving on fire and storms that whipped the Imperial Guard's cloaks wildly. These semi-material, smoke-like specters clung to the walls like geckos, a storm of steel swirling around Amon. Any ghost that tried to approach the Emperor was shredded to pieces. However, the sheer number of ghosts was overwhelming; every inch of space around Amon was filled with translucent, foul smoke. The Imperial Guard could almost hear the grating noise of the ghosts' claws scraping against their armor through their tactical audio capture systems.

In the heart of the battlefield, storms and psionic lightning intertwined and collided, so intense that even the genetically modified eyes of the warriors, with their electronic eye grating mode off, could not see directly. Amon witnessed the Holy Sword and the Dragon Fang Sword clashing, lightning crackling between their blades. The air was thick with the ozone-like scent of psionic energy and lightning; the collision of armor and flesh whipped up gales, even causing the phantoms formed of smoke to sway precariously. Psionic lightning and gales tore through the ever-changing terrain of the mirror dimension, imbuing every fragment of the structure with a constantly shifting gravitational vector. Amon could see massive sections of terrain torn apart by psionic lightning plummeting upwards, while smaller shards of glass walls flew forward a short distance before being pulled backwards by gravity.

Gravity and terrain alike shattered in the battle between the Emperor and Dormammu, as if the world were a glass sphere. Moments later, a body crashed through the smoke-shrouded area around Amon, followed closely by a golden figure that shot out like a cannonball. Amon swung his halberd horizontally, the heavy shaft of the Guardian Spear shattering the wraiths like glass, creating a two-meter-diameter space from the surging tide of wraiths. Just as he was about to rush forward to help, the Emperor's slamming body and the radiant glow of his soul instantly vaporized a large swarm of wraiths in the Glass Valley. The eerie, clattering sound of a Geiger counter on the Royal Guard's communication channels vanished, leaving only a strange radio echo lingering in the air.

Amon rushed forward and smashed through the body that once belonged to the Sorcerer Supreme.

The Dragon Fang Sword, burning with filthy flames, pierced through armor and machinery, embedding itself directly in Amon's side. The Royal Guard's expression was icy; he gritted his teeth against the pain, gripping the Dragon Fang Sword—which, for a genetically modified warrior, felt like a short sword—his palm searing from the filthy flames. The Dragon Fang Sword fell to the ground, the filthy flames receding, leaving only the still-pure white blade. Before Amon could react, the Dragon Fang Sword vanished into thin air; even the high-speed camera in his tactical helmet couldn't capture its trajectory, as if a piece of time had been forcibly sliced ​​off. When the Emperor stood up, the Dragon Fang Sword appeared in Dormammu's hand, dark purple ash drifting from his withered skin, necrotic black muscle moving beneath the porcelain-like, shattered skin.

Amon took a deep breath. The pain in his side abdomen continued to affect his posture, and even the painkillers injected into his power armor couldn't dispel the burning sensation. Only when the Emperor stood up did the flames on his wound gradually subside, and the pain slowly subsided. His demigod-like body naturally healed under the guidance of the genetic artifact. When he was able to fight again, the Emperor was already engulfed in flames, locked in battle with Dormammu once more. This time, even the Royal Guard couldn't get close, because the ground where the Emperor and Dormammu stood was rapidly deforming. High platforms rose from the ground and crashed into the still-falling Bone Church. The Bone Church seemed to suddenly lose momentum and stop, with passageways connecting to the inverted Bone Church, from which endless ghosts poured out. The shame of near defeat stirred a hint of impatience in Amon's almost perpetually calm heart. He no longer conserved his ammunition, retreating towards the Emperor's direction while pulling the trigger on every ghost heading in that direction. Broken glass shards and ash scattered before the instantly expanding white subatomic clouds.

Dormammu roared in fury as the Emperor summoned a raging fire, rapidly raising the temperature of the entire space to unbearable levels. This psionic energy, known as Falting Fire, originated from the wizards of the alien race Falting. Before Dormammu became Dormammu of the Dark Dimension, Falting Fire was the most powerful psionic force he had ever wielded. Dormammu couldn't believe that the Emperor could draw power from the planet Falting, half a galaxy away—something he could no longer do. This also signified the hatred that the planet he once lived on, and the race he once belonged to, held for him.

(End of this chapter)