Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 169 The Street Fighter (First Update! Requesting Recommendation Votes!)

Over the long course of history, the Sorcerer Supreme had captured several avatars of Mephisto. Therefore, he knew perfectly well how to use this avatar to torment his old adversary. He was extremely adept at such methods—for example, using the avatar to usurp a portion of Mephisto's power, or throwing it onto Mount Heaven to break the millennium-old pact between the upper and lower planes. (Ghost Rider V4)

The second method requires caution, as it's not just Hell that has made a pact with Heaven, but also the Abyss. Some of the demons and devils among the seventy-two demonic pillars, and even past gods, are involved, potentially triggering a pointless conflict between the upper and lower planes. This wouldn't be beneficial for Earth, especially since Salomon is also involved. The Sorcerer Supreme doesn't intend for Salomon to directly face the pressure from both the upper and lower planes before fully subduing the seventy-two demonic pillars.

"You should rest," the Venerable said after Salomon returned to the training ground. "You still have class tomorrow."

"The secular curriculum isn't difficult at all. To be honest, the intensity of teaching at Eton is quite acceptable." Salomon spread his hands and said, "Teacher, you should know I'm first in the class, right?"

"Although I didn't attend the parent-teacher conference, Athena has already told me about your grades. I must say, I'm very satisfied with you, in every aspect." The Sorcerer Supreme raised an eyebrow and wagged his finger, "Except for your sleep schedule."

"Can't I play some games after I finish my homework?"

"Nope!" the Venerable One replied, shaking his head.

"I'll just play one game of Call of Duty, I promise I won't go over time..."

"Don't try to be clever. You need rest. You need to be energetic when other Londoners are up," the Venerable said. "I've heard you're now the teacher's disciplinary assistant."

"How come everyone knows about this now?" Salomon was somewhat surprised. He had originally thought that such things would only spread within a small circle, but he didn't expect that even the Sorcerer Supreme knew about it now. "It was a whip," he said. "Now, you can't publicly whip students who break school rules, and you can't even whip them too hard. It's a real shame."

"What does it matter? You are now the executioner of the law. I guarantee that many of your classmates are afraid of you, and no matter which country's nobles they come from, they will all submit to you. That's good." The Venerable One abruptly changed the subject. "I'll be attending your parent-teacher conference next time."

"What?" Salomon was taken aback, and the Sorcerer Supreme even mentioned Athena—Athena had recently been making him an invitation so persistent that he didn't even know how to refuse.

"Don't worry, I have a plan. I'll go with Athena." The Venerable One blinked and said mysteriously, "I look forward to your performance, Salomon."

Faced with his teacher's "threat," Salomon could only obediently return to his bedroom to sleep. Before going to bed, he sent Coulson a text message to arrange the handover time for tomorrow. He also sent a text message to Bayonetta and Joan of Arc to inform them that he would be sleeping at Kamar-Taj headquarters tonight—he needed to adjust to the time difference between Central Time Zone and UTC+5 tomorrow, and if he didn't fall asleep soon, he would miss everything.

"So, last night, you beat up the Prince of Hell, and then you also beat up the King of Hell?" Coulson narrowed his eyes, looked at his watch, and had a strange expression on his face. "That sounds a bit unbelievable."

"See? You're still not ready for a more bizarre world, no matter how many times you experience it." Salomon spread his hands, saying nonchalantly, "That's why ordinary people can't know about magic; they'd go mad. It's strange that you haven't gone mad yet. In fact, in Europe in the past, magic was somewhat more acceptable—I mean the time of King Arthur and before that, because after that, Europeans entered the Dark Ages."

“Prejudice, prejudice again! That’s a moral code, Salomon! You can recite the Bible, but you never take it seriously, can you?” Coulson slapped his thigh, then sighed, picked up the burrito he had just bought from the bench, and placed it in Salomon’s hands. They were now sitting on a bench in Central Park, with a silver combination lock briefcase next to Coulson containing what Salomon wanted.

Salomon had originally intended to act like a secret agent during a rendezvous, sitting on the bench behind Coulson and using a newspaper to cover his face as he handed over the spellbook. However, his acting was so poor, and it was impossible to see the newspaper clearly in the darkness. Using a newspaper to cover his face seemed too suspicious, so Coulson had Salomon sit down next to him and told him not to do anything suspicious.

The early spring night was still a bit chilly. Coulson, dressed in a thin gray suit, had been waiting there for a long time because Salomon had not shown up or answered his phone.

"Are you really going to be jet-lagged?" Coulson asked, his voice tinged with resentment. "Even though I'm an agent, it's already midnight. I'm not some nocturnal vampire. Normally I'd be in bed by now, not shivering in the park... I know it's 7 p.m. in London, but New York is a day behind. Congratulations, you've successfully bought yourself a day."

"What can I do?" Salomon complained, his face full of distress. "I have to wait until school's over, don't I? I'm a high school student, not some public school that lets out at 3 pm, but a British public school, where everyone's a high-ranking official or aristocrat. Can you believe I read the newspaper every morning? It's a gentleman's habit! I can deduce a person's social standing from the newspaper they read—those who read the Daily Mirror and the Guardian are invariably high-ranking politicians or aristocratic families; those who read the Times and the Financial Times are civil servants or businessmen; those who read the Morning Star and the Daily Telegraph aren't British, they might even be French; and those who read the Daily Mail are very popular in the toilets. Everyone wants to read that kind of newspaper except the Sun, does anyone not want to see Page 3 girls?"

"Your life seems to be more interesting than I imagined." Coulson looked at Salomon with some curiosity. "I thought you were the kind of wizard... the kind who would brew potions in a cauldron."

"We've moved to the chemistry lab now, Coulson. Magic is an objective science, and we'll keep up with the times. Besides, Eton College has all the necessary equipment; it has everything I need to make alchemical potions."

"Should we then pay attention to Eton College's environmental issues? You wouldn't just randomly dump production waste, would you?"

"Don't worry, my slug ate all that alchemical scrap."

"A slug?"

"A demon-eating slug. I caught it in Vandazar Fol's garden. It was originally blue, but now it's multicolored." The arcane mage shrugged. "I don't know what happened after those alchemical scraps mixed inside its belly; the alchemical potions should have lost their effectiveness by now. I'm afraid to poke it now, lest it explode—oh! I've got a great idea!"

"Alright, put your brilliant idea aside for now. Your life certainly exceeds my expectations." Agent Coulson took a deep breath and placed the silver combination lock case on his lap. He held the case up to his face, pressed the handle, and a bluish light swept across his iris, opening the case. "This is what you wanted." He opened the case, showing Salomon its contents; a bright white LED bulb installed inside the case illuminated the book's cover perfectly.

"I hope there's nothing wrong," Coulson said.

"The moment you got your hands on this book, you'd already made an irreversible mistake." Salomon put down his now-cold burrito, picked up the book, and flipped through it, hoping to find something like a table of contents. He needed to know what kind of magic was in this book; he didn't know if the "Azathoth Spell," which he was most worried about, had been copied into it.

"Is there a problem?" Coulson asked.

"Not yet." The arcane mage looked up from his book, a slightly mocking look in his eyes at Coulson. "All the spells in this book are dangerous. If anyone wants to drag all of humanity down with them, all they need to do is learn the magic in this book. But the good news is, this Earth has Kamar-Taj, and we'll take care of this fool before he kills all of humanity—including everyone who knows about it."

"Alright." Agent Coulson raised an eyebrow, his forehead wrinkles and hairline extremely noticeable. "Then let's work together, shall we?"

"Hmm, I didn't agree." The sorcerer, holding his book, stood up from the bench, also heating up his burrito. "I have other things to do."

"What is it?"

"Attending a ladies' tea party," Salomon said. "It's an invitation from my art teacher, and I have to go."

P.S.: Please vote for me!

I feel that adding some second-tier heroes to the story would make it feel more relatable.

(End of this chapter)