Marvel Magic Case Files

He felt as if he had taken a nap, enjoying a peaceful and dreamless sleep in the bright Brooklyn afternoon sun of late summer/early autumn. But the lingering stench of blood in his throat told him that this was all wishful thinking, and the danger was not yet over. The coldness and tension that surged up his spine immediately spurred his body, drained of all strength, to try to get up. The sticky blood on his eyelids stung his eyes, making it impossible for him to open them, and the numbness and tingling in the back of his head and ribs made each breath a mixture of dizziness and the sour taste of vomit.

He didn't know if he was still in the burning cabin, or if the stars he witnessed were just a death hallucination. He began to struggle, then crashed heavily to the cold ground. He knew he was lying on a flat, mesh-like metal surface, the cold metallic smell all too familiar—it was pain, it was the feeling of being alive, and he felt joy again—but he still couldn't open his eyes. It was as if he had just experienced a severe bout of alcohol poisoning, as if a hand had reached inside his body and squeezed his stomach, forcing out bile, gastric juices, air, and all his strength. He felt as soft as freshly formed curd. Then he began to vomit violently.

A hand as strong as steel pulled him up, with a force he couldn't resist. "You're too weak," the woman said in a pleasant yet cold tone. "I've prepared your toiletries. Once you're cleaned up, I'll take you to see him."

Captain Miller rubbed his eyes vigorously, scrubbing away the scabbed blood. He did it so hard, as if he wanted to crush them. Diana fully understood the situation; the fear from another dimension had left a permanent scar on his soul. Even though he couldn't remember everything, the fear remained deeply imprinted in his subconscious—an irreparable injury. He looked around with blurry vision—this was clearly a ship, and he was in a ship's cabin. The still-running computer beside him and the metal cot he had just been lying on were common items. Standing before him was a beautiful, delicate woman, tall and unusually young, with long, pearly-white hair.

She wasn't wearing an evening gown that suited her appearance, but rather a suit of overly ornate black armor adorned with gold. Captain Miller gasped for breath, as if waking from a terrifying nightmare; everything he saw seemed unreal, like light filtering through clouds and mist.

"Where am I? How is my ship? My crew, did they survive?"

The woman didn't answer, but instead handed him a set of military field washing and toiletries, self-heating field rations, and a medical kit. These items were somewhat heavy, and she showed no care whatsoever in handling them; Captain Miller felt as if she were trying to pull his arm off his shoulder.

"Replenish your strength; my lord needs you to be fully alert."

"Who is your master?"

Captain Miller vaguely recalled speaking to someone who looked like a priest, a memory that seemed to be from a dream and was now almost forgotten. All he could remember was the Brooklyn sunshine—he had a feeling that the woman's owner was connected to his dream—though it was very illogical, after experiencing such supernatural horror, Captain Miller wouldn't completely deny things he had never imagined before.

The beautiful woman left the room without giving any response. It wasn't until an hour later, after Captain Miller washed off the lingering smell of blood, changed into a dark gray combat uniform, cleaned up his vomit, and made his bed, that she reappeared in the room and told him the meeting place, making one suspect that his every move was being monitored.

She made it clear that Captain Miller had filled his empty stomach.

It wasn't until he reached the stern of the ship that Captain Miller realized the engines seemed to have stopped working. As a former Air Force colonel who frequently flew space missions, he was certain that ships of this size would produce a faint humming sound when their engines were running. This indicated that the ship was already docked somewhere. He followed the armored woman into the cargo hold with suspicion, and the slowly opening cargo door confirmed his suspicions: the ship had indeed stopped somewhere.

He saw the sunlight and smelled the air thick with moisture and dust. For months during the mission, he hadn't been able to be this close to the sun; only the pale light of distant stars pierced the cold frost on the porthole. Now, the sunlight warmed him again, bringing him some comfort—at least he was on Earth, not in the cold expanse of space.

Guided by the woman, he saw the golden-armored giant from his dreams. Surprised, he became absolutely certain that everything that had happened in the engine room was not a dream, but reality.

When the golden giant looked at him, Miller couldn't help but take a step back. A deep-seated fear reminded him of the power and speed emanating from the golden figure before him, while another, more irrational part of him reminded him of the supernatural radiance possessed by the giant. The giant made no move, yet Miller sensed an eagle-like gaze behind its ruby ​​lenses. A beautiful woman in armor stood before the tree-lined path, showed her pass, and waved to Captain Miller, signaling him to follow.

Miller did as instructed, glancing occasionally back at the golden-armored giant, whose armor, seemingly crafted from pure gold, gleamed blindingly in the sunlight, yet was riddled with wounds. He was quite certain that Dr. Will couldn't possibly harm such sturdy metal and a warrior with superhuman strength. He couldn't resist looking back at the ship that had saved him; it appeared to be larger than the Lewis and Clark, and one of its engines seemed damaged. He followed the woman to a massive tent, where three more fully armed golden-armored giants stood, one of them helmetless.

"It seems you've recovered quite well, Captain Miller." The helmetless giant looked down at him. Captain Miller paused, seemingly surprised to see a human face beneath the helmet. Only now did he realize that he had subconsciously regarded these giants as some kind of emotionless machine.

Who are you? Where is this?

"We are the emperor's royal guard, and I am the commander of the royal guard. This place may be the Mesopotamian plain, but the exact location needs to be determined. This is a detailed astronomical study."

Constantine lowered his head, looking at the mortal before him.

Captain Miller remained remarkably calm, his back ramrod straight, unwilling to show any weakness before the Imperial Guard. Not every mortal can remain composed after close encounters with the Imperial Guard, especially after such an experience of extreme pain and terror for a mortal; maintaining such composure is quite remarkable for someone whose trait can only be acquired through education.

"I can answer some of your questions so you won't waste too much of my lord's time," Constantine said, "but only some, because we know nothing about certain things as well."

"What does this mean?"

"If time and space lose their meaning, then the causal relationships that humans use to understand the laws governing the development of things will cease to exist. This is the physical characteristic of the singularity, and also the physical phenomenon caused by the hyperspace engine in Neptune's atmosphere."

Captain Miller took a deep breath; he roughly understood what the Commander of the Guard meant.

The hyperspace engine's function is to create an instantaneous singularity on a physical level, tearing apart three-dimensional spacetime. Once inside the singularity, time and space naturally lose their meaning. According to current scientific theory, their fall into the singularity would be eternal, until the singularity naturally annihilates. They are certainly not inside the singularity now, so how can they determine their current time? Previously, they seemed to have determined their absolute coordinates on Earth, but they hadn't yet determined their relative coordinates within the Milky Way galaxy, meaning they couldn't determine their time. He looked around, relieved that he hadn't seen dinosaurs or terrifyingly large insects. Perhaps these things existed, but they had been killed by the demigods before him; he had no doubt they possessed such abilities.

"That ship... how did you manage to escape the singularity? That ship also had a hyperspace engine?"

"Because of the Lord's command, we were able to escape the singularity."

Captain Miller noticed that while the Commander of the Guards was speaking, the beautiful woman had already entered the enormous tent. He asked several questions, but the answers weren't enough to resolve his doubts; he didn't even know where he was or what these people wanted. However, the Commander of the Guards told him that they weren't going to Neptune for the Hyperspace Engine; they were looking for Dr. Will.

"When we found him, he was already dead; all that remained was malice filling a shell," Constantine said. "I'm sure you have vivid memories of that madness."

"I remember now," Captain Miller said coldly and angrily, "that bastard died too easily."

"Dr. Will is dead, but the killer who caused all of this is not. That thing corrupted his and his wife's minds, corroding cracks in their souls. Dr. Will was targeted back on Earth, which is why Claire was murdered. The killer is a predator from another dimension, and everything that thing did was to lure our Lord to Neptune. We are certain of this because we obtained Dr. Will's wife Claire's autopsy report and deduced what happened to her from it." Before Captain Miller could process this information, Constantine suddenly stepped back, as if he had heard something through his earpiece. "Now you know enough. Our Lord wants to talk to you. He wants me to assure you that all your questions will be answered."

Why doesn't he just say it himself?

"You'll understand when you see him, Captain Miller."

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"What does this mean? He's missing?"

The man in the iron mask nodded, confirming the news. "He was prepared for this; it was an inevitable path for him. As far as I know, it was a plan he devised with the former Sorcerer Supreme." Victor von Doom showed no emotional reaction to the news of the Emperor's disappearance or the witches' wrath. This message was repeatedly confirmed by Tita, the captain of the Retribution ship in Neptune's orbit and the leader of the Sorority, before being relayed to the two witches via holographic projection. The Regent said, "Before this, he couldn't be sure that the events on Neptune were the opportunity; now he is. I can't determine his current time and space. If the Ancient One were still alive, perhaps she could have done it."

“He knows exactly what he’s doing, Joan of Arc.” Bayonetta stopped Joan from questioning her further. She knew that no matter how much anger the latter unleashed on Viktor von Doom, she wouldn’t get any information from him that they shouldn’t know. People from Kamar-Taj always had an annoying ability to keep secrets, even those they had lived with for a long time. “What does he want us to do?” she asked, and Viktor von Doom visibly relaxed a little. “I guess he must have written a vacation itinerary before the trip.”

"Norway, Hela." The Regent nodded. "The King of the North's life is nearing its end, at which time the Goddess of Death will escape from prison. He believes the prison's entrance and exit will be in Norway, the very location of the King of the North."

"I've heard of that woman, a stinky, crazy woman who hasn't bathed in thousands of years."

"She is important," Victor von Doom said. "In his envisioned future, there is no place for Asgard in the universe. If the Goddess of Death, who escaped from prison, returns to Asgard, she will regain the power she had before being imprisoned. If Hela takes control of Asgard, then Earth today is completely unable to mount an effective defense."

"You mean, kill her?"

"If possible, defeating her is an acceptable outcome. Ragnarok is a collective term for many massive catastrophes, and it's certain that Hela is not the most crucial link; the Dark Titan is. In any case, in his plan, Asgard must be destroyed."

"Does he intend to send us to Asgard?" Joan of Arc grumbled, standing up from the sofa. The Cheshire Cat jumped onto the carpet, clearly annoyed. The white-haired witch meowed a few times, then smacked the sleeping golden retriever, Miss Peanutbutter, a few times until she woke up. Only then did it swagger out of the living room, tail held high, satisfied. "We don't have the power to fight a Death Goddess with Asgardian powers, or even the entire Asgardian army!"

Viktor von Doom declined to provide further information, as if he were worried that someone could eavesdrop, even though he knew that the Oxfordshire residence was both materially and immaterially protected from the possibility of information theft.

"He has already arranged the final fate of Asgard."

"Can I doubt that he would personally confirm that Asgard had been utterly destroyed?"

"No comment, ma'am. I can only reveal that your mission is limited to Earth."

"This isn't a mission; we're just offering assistance," Bayonetta said, narrowing her eyes in displeasure. Since Milia was still running around the manor, the living room table wasn't set with weapons, but rather with desserts and tea sets. Even so, she pulled a gun from somewhere no one knew and aimed it at the holographic projector. "No one can command a witch."

"I'm glad you accepted this news."

"In ancient Greece, messengers who brought bad news were put to death."

Victor von Doom gave up arguing and decided to leave this troublesome matter to the Emperor, whose whereabouts were currently unknown. He simply bowed slightly and said nothing. Bayonetta laughed and pulled the trigger on the holographic projector. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the living room. Joan of Arc still looked furious; after all, some arrogant fellow claimed he was just going to work but ended up deeply mired in trouble—only Bayonetta, who had also experienced time travel, was calmer, and she knew that the guy would definitely not be unprepared; he would surely find a way back. There was no reason why the Eye of the World couldn't do what it could.

"We'll take care of this for him," Bayonetta said shortly after the gunshot. "We'll settle this score when he gets back. My dear Joan, you'd better think about how to punish him first."