Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1707, Chapter 1703: Irrational Decision-Making

The emperor removed his armor and, with Diana's help, put on a blood-red robe of holy relics.

He didn't ride in an armored vehicle, but instead read books in the dim light of a lamp in a caravan. Even though He was no longer dazzling, mortals could still sense His presence and turn to look in His direction. If He wanted, no one in the world could discover Him, but He did it anyway. This wasn't to demonstrate His power in this age of civilization, but because it was a necessary act.

It is not only mortals who can sense Him.

The armored vehicles of the Royal Guard moved slowly ahead of the convoy, while a few hovercrafts scattered several kilometers around the caravan. Constantine, the commander of the Royal Guard, did not participate in the patrol; he followed the Emperor's caravan as the last line of defense. Although no human could pose a threat to the Royal Guard in this era, the dangers left behind by the gods when they roamed the earth still lingered—humans discovered that fire could repel beasts and the manifestations of fear in the real world, so they lit bonfires. Waving torches to frighten the monsters of the night was what the Sorcerer Supreme had taught Him, and what He now did—the Emperor preferred that those monsters who sensed Him come to this larger bonfire, or lose their courage because of His presence, rather than seek out defenseless mortals.

The commander of the Royal Guard, Constantine, was very dissatisfied.

This did not benefit His security work in any way, but he accepted the Emperor's decision nonetheless. He had no power to accuse or criticize the Emperor; all he could do was accept it. No matter how dangerous the decision, he had to follow his monarch into battle, just as he had accepted the Emperor and Regent's dangerous decision regarding the Event Horizon.

This absurd decision was unimaginable even to a patient with a physiological mental illness who refused medication—he knew the Emperor's plans for the human race. It was a breathtaking gamble; anyone with reason could see the reasons for having to execute the plan, and the consequences of its failure—but the plan for the Event Horizon lacked such contingency plans and preparations, consisting only of one hasty decision after another. There was no research, no contingency plans, only vague prophecies that the Emperor could see.

The Emperor had explained his reasons to the Commander of the Guard, but Constantine still found the explanation unconvincing. He believed he had to jump into a trap set behind the veil of reality, a conclusion he and Victor von Doom had repeatedly calculated.

He needs time.

This is something He cannot possess in the 21st century. The Dark Order is merely a harbinger of the alien invasion humanity will face, while Ragnarok is the true result of the enemy revealing its fangs. However, both events will consume a great deal of His time; He needs time to refine His plans. Victor von Doom, on the other hand, needs to remain in his original timeline, maintaining the Balkan Peninsula that He forcibly unified through extreme force, using a degree of gentleness to unite all the ruled people. This degree of gentleness means that bloodshed and violence will not cease. For those who seek power, wealth, and all other enjoyments that do not belong to them, Regent Victor von Doom is not a gentle man.

Captain Miller once asked the Emperor what happened after the real wounds from crashing into Neptune's exosphere.

He lied; He fell into hell with them. That nightmarish dimension will not let go of anything it swallows from the real world, whether it be intelligent life or a planet.

Captain Miller would never know that after He and the Royal Guard fell into the veil, they joined a war that began before the birth of the universe and would not end after the heat death of the universe, a war that transcended the continuity of time. He led the Royal Guard to slaughter millions upon millions of monsters in dreams, destroying thousands upon thousands of kingdoms composed of nightmares and horrors. The corpses made of deformed limbs and grotesque organs were piled up higher than the highest mountains on Earth, and blood-like flames surged and flowed between the mountains of wreckage. He and the Royal Guard emptied their ammunition and sharpened their blades, dulled by overuse, on the bones of monsters that had not yet been born and those that had been born but had long since perished.

They promise, they deceive, they threaten, they entice.

They yearn for the king to come behind the curtain and rule.

The emperor's only answer to them was slaughter, slaughter from which there would be no return.

He took with him the most important thing. It was something He had realized many years ago in a dream, during a dialogue with the consciousness of all humanity and the entire Earth. Only after that did they escape the eternal battlefield behind the veil and arrive in the void hundreds of thousands of years ago. After a long journey, they finally reached Earth and joined the war against the descent of the gods. However, the pursuit from the dream also broke through the thin veil and entered reality.

The emperor no longer intends to make pointless time jumps.

He planned to gather enough resources, knowledge, and weapons in this era to meet the challenges thousands of years later. Ragnarok was not merely a war of the Asgardians; it was a counterattack from behind the veil, interfering with reality. If His war failed, all His plans would be nullified, and humanity would never be able to leave the solar system again. This meant that in his eternal life, He could only watch humanity's civilization slowly and painfully decline, spending every second in despair. Even ending His own life could not break this cycle of despair, much like Odin's desperate resistance after questioning fate. This was a high-stakes gamble of life and death; their goals were the same, but their methods conflicted. Neither He, Odin, nor Agamotto had room to back down. This meant they could be enemies or friends; no ruler would retreat on the path forward.

Their destination was the territory of that nomadic tribe.

That nomadic tribe was destined to perish. The environment and resources of the Mesopotamian plain no longer allowed them to continue their nomadic lifestyle. They had not yet learned how to cultivate the land, and their accumulated knowledge and writing system were lost with each migration. While another agricultural tribe was attempting to create cuneiform cylinder seals, the nomadic tribe had very few clay bricks left for writing. Perhaps the last member of this nomadic tribe would die in a counterattack during a raid, or from hunger and weakness, and the women and children of the tribe would be absorbed and assimilated by the agricultural tribe.

He has no intention of interfering with the course of this era.

But the next plan requires a large workforce, and given the current lack of sufficient automated machinery, He must have an ample supply. He plans to transform this nomadic tribe into a usable resource, making every breath they take useful to Him. He intends to establish a base to house His dwindling resources from before the time jump. He needs a suitable environment and ample time for follow-up research, validating and refining every part of the plan. This is work He didn't have time for before the time jump—no one can plan a thousand years' worth of work and contingency plans in just a few short years, not even Him—the base won't be called Eden; that's just His misplaced sense of humor. He doesn't intend to give the base a formal name; it's meaningless.

War will never stop, nor will it.

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"The intruders have breached the second corridor; we are evacuating!"

"Emergency repairs to the orbital defense firepower; I need to see 20% of the orbital artillery online!"

"It's impossible, Chieftain. Our capacitors have been destroyed. Now that area has been boarded."

Tarian Cassius stood in the center of the bridge, issuing commands continuously. Holographic projections displayed images of all the ships attacking the space station to all Alliance members. Even those who weren't professional engineers could determine the general purpose of these ships, especially those that looked bulky and aesthetically unappealing, yet continued to launch missiles at the space station's increasingly damaged orbital defense platform.

The news coming back to the bridge from the front was getting worse, and the Alliance members gathered around Tarian Cassius were still unwilling to leave.

"How did they open the airtight door! They don't have the password!" Senator Bonarian shouted in panic.

Tarian Cassius knew that after he threatened to force-feed everyone the "final battle drink," the Alliance investors, though terrified, maintained a degree of silence. They finally realized they had nowhere to run. They could only rely on the Cassius family; even the contracts promising additional investment were signed at this time, and no one would go back on their word. If Cassius failed, the contracts for additional investment would be meaningless; only if they lived could the Cassius family reap this gift.

Tarian Cassius didn't even deign to glance at this greedy, foolish creature.

The relationship between the Xandarian Empire and the Kree Empire is far from harmonious, with even official trade being extremely scarce. For a member of parliament with Xandarian government status to be willing to monopolize civilian trade between the two interstellar empires under extremely strict prohibitions is either incredibly stupid or incredibly greedy; whatever the quality, it allows the true manipulators who circumvent the trade embargo to manipulate this puppet.

Senator Bonarian, his face contorted with madness, his fat, taut within his opulent silk robes, jiggled as if the Xandar snails he'd devoured were still alive. "This must be a hoax! Our contact on Earth hasn't revealed anything, and our guard has lost contact. Planet C-53 couldn't be that powerful. This must be a hoax! No, that's not right. Maybe they're spies for the Dark Order! Yes, that's it!"

"T'ee." Tarian Cassius scoffed. His tone toward Councilor Bonarian was as calm as informing a pale corpse of its death. "Councilor Bonarian, please be quiet. At this moment, I once again request your guards to join the battle."

“No! The Xandar Guard must stay here to protect me.” Senator Bonarian glanced around, his obese face twitching violently. He saw support in the eyes of the other Alliance members around him, and then, mustering his courage, he reiterated his decision to Tarian Cassius. “The guard must remain on the bridge! We’ve already made additional investments; now it’s time for our own guard to protect us!”

"We have already signed a contract."

"Yes, we made additional investments. But that does not include the guards; the guards remain private assets."

Senator Bonarian skillfully employed his businessman's cunning. He had already sensed Tarian Cassius's contempt, and now he was able to maximize his leverage and retaliate against that disdainful look, which greatly pleased him, as he believed he had seen through Tarian Cassius's scheme. This foolishness and shortsightedness nearly drove Tarian Cassius to the brink of madness; he couldn't understand why his investors would make such an irrational decision at this moment, even if they had seen through his plan, they had to succumb to immense external pressure.

The escort force wasn't large compared to the defensive units, but if the invaders' vanguard captured the bridge, it would be an extremely important reserve force. Tarian Cassius desperately wanted this force under his command—only then could he secure greater profits for his family after the invasion ended. He knew that only he had the authority to guide all alliance decisions, rather than allowing investors to dictate them—his personal relationships with the escort commanders ensured they wouldn't willingly betray their masters.

"Don't you mind if those humans kill everyone here?"

“I’m an old man, Tarian, and we have great faith in the capabilities of the defense forces,” another investor said slowly. “If the defense forces fail, then the guards will be useless too. Please give us a celebratory drink then; it will be our honor.”

"I will," Tarian gritted his teeth, glaring at the investor. "Hopefully, the guards will be able to play their role."

"We only encountered Kree soldiers," Tita said.

"Isn't this a good thing? It means we only need to face one kind of enemy."

Ola, carrying a large-caliber explosive machine gun, was tasked with blocking the passage ahead.

The Sisterhood had already encountered successive counterattacks from four Kree defense forces at this location. Aura's heavy firepower squad forcefully opened a room adjacent to the passage, killing the Kree inside and using it as a firing point, easily repelling the defense forces attempting to reach the hangar. At this point, the space station could no longer send carrier-based aircraft to attack the Emperor's fleet. The Martian missile cruisers and the USS Retribution carrier could destroy the space station's defense platforms one by one, destroying all Kree-technology anti-ship artillery. The Sisterhood's boarding squad awaited the arrival of the Space Marines and engineers with sufficient ammunition to rendezvous with the passage, install more molten metal bombs, and assign a squad to control the key passage they had captured, preventing the alien space station defense forces from retaking it and cutting off further reinforcements.

She had a nagging feeling that something was wrong. It wasn't until she shifted her heel slightly, crushing the wet, sticky fragments of Kree bone beneath her steel boots, that she felt a little better. These were blue-skinned aliens who had died from explosive bombs. Their armor was some kind of light infantry armor, and the result of being hit by explosives was that they were blown into chunks of dark blue flesh mixed with bone fragments and minced meat—precious raw materials for some kind of resurrection drug used by S.H.I.E.L.D. To the Sisters of Faith, it was just disgusting alien flesh and blood. The Immortal City beneath Rome contained many Kree corpses, and even some still alive; the Sisters of Faith were very familiar with the anatomical characteristics of this creature.

The most important point is that you know this creature will die if you look at its head.

"This space station belongs to the Alien Alliance, not just the Kree. You should read more pre-war assessment reports."

"I don't care, the aliens will all die anyway." Aura shook her head, and the other androids in her squad chuckled. She always flaunted the metal crown on her helmet, a gift from the Emperor, a mysterious device that enhanced her talents and abilities. "When will the ammunition arrive? I feel like the ammunition boxes are already empty."