Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1718 The Witch's Dream

Warmth seeped from the top of her head to her fingertips, then overflowed from her pores. This feeling of being soaked in warm water was something she could only experience during evening prayers at the Sisterhood Monastery in the Immortal City and when she was directly facing the Emperor and receiving His touch. But no evening prayer had ever felt as clear and abundant as she was now.

Dita had reason to believe that the Emperor was touching her body and soul, giving her strength to help her overcome the formidable enemy before her. This was a secret of the Sorority, announced only on their private communication channel: the Emperor was watching over His chosen people. The homunculus and the girls who had joined the Sorority believed that the Emperor's eyes were constantly scrutinizing the souls of everyone, regardless of good or evil, nobility or baseness, and that only the most devout could receive His gaze.

At this moment, Tita was undoubtedly proud.

She was the leader of the Sorority, the most devout servant, but she didn't believe she was entitled to ask her Creator for favors—just as she demanded of all Sorority members, to remain devout and humble, awaiting the day they would be watched over—and that day had finally arrived. She felt finally entitled to stand tall and fight without shame in the Emperor's name. She had no doubt that the Emperor's voice was clearer when she killed that alien.

"I felt Him, sisters! I heard His voice!"

Dita picked up the shield dropped by the Kree guards and used it to block the bullets aimed at her. She took a few steps forward, but the expected impact on her wrist didn't come. The Kree guards were no more than a hundred meters away, yet the bullets fired by the aliens inexplicably landed beside her. Ecstasy filled her soul; power surged through her body, and all weariness and doubt were washed away with the prayer she uttered, just as much as the humiliation she faced. At this moment, her conviction was unwavering, for she had no reason to fail anymore; those aliens could never defeat her.

"Bless you, Chief Sister."

"We will offer sacrifices in His name!"

"With the blood and bones of humanity's enemies!" Tita cried out fervently, "Follow me, sisters! Share in my great glory!"

Lieutenant Joshua, the leader of the 1st Assault Team of the 4th Space Marine Company, made a tactical hand signal to his squad to establish an ambush zone and await the arrival of heavy direct-fire support from the second-line logistics units. After the space station lost power, the corridor was only dimly lit by emergency lights and directional markers. This dim environment posed a significant challenge to the attackers—even though all the boarding troops were equipped with automated night vision goggles, ensuring every soldier could see the enemy in the dark, just like night combat on Earth, it required extraordinary courage. This squad was participating in the attack alongside an assault team from the Sorority. After witnessing firsthand the performance of these girls in their black and gold power armor, Lieutenant Joshua realized that much of the gossip about these girls in the Immortal City was baseless slander.

At least in private, he would no longer use such flippant terms as "bomb girls" to refer to these girls who dared to charge straight into enemy lines, brandishing chainsaws and whose armor was covered in blood and fragments of internal organs. He had never seen an army that fought so frantically, at least not on Earth.

Regardless, these fearless female warriors deserve respect.

"Ms. Nikita, reinforcements will arrive in twenty minutes," Lieutenant Joshua said with a hint of respect. "Then we can seal off the passage and continue our assault. Ms. Nikita?"

He heard a slight noise coming from the helmet of the sorority woman beside him, and then the previously taciturn Ms. Nikita suddenly became agitated. She was a very young Romanian girl who looked no more than twenty, a member of the sorority who had joined after the Emperor's conquest of Romania—before that, she was one of the so-called sewer dwellers—and then Lieutenant Joshua heard her voice over the communications channel. The voice seeped from the helmet, sounding very muffled, as if it were penetrating a thick concrete wall to reach his ears.

"Forget about reinforcements, we must launch the attack now!"

Joshua sensed a tremor in Nikita's voice, a powerful emotion so intense it couldn't be masked even by the sizzling sound of plasma melting metal as it flew past them. He watched Nikita brandish his explosive pistol with worry, fearing the latter might accidentally pull the trigger. In this confined space, no one could guarantee that shrapnel wouldn't penetrate the airtight layer of their all-encompassing combat suits. He and his squad belonged to the Space Marine Corps, having trained on the SkySword space station and on the moon. Joshua knew his outer space combat suit was utterly incapable of withstanding the intense nuclear radiation released upon impact from a .50 caliber warhead.

"Every breath they take is a desecration! Killing those aliens is our mission, and I absolutely cannot miss this honor!"

"That's how it should be, ma'am. But..."

Lieutenant Joshua shrugged.

Although the other team members couldn't see his expression through their fully enclosed helmets, they could imagine the helpless look on his face from his tone. He swallowed the rest of his words, because Nikita had already rushed out of cover with her shield, several high-powered lasers grazing her armor, charring the ornate golden iris reliefs on her power armor. Under the thermal imaging night vision goggles, Ms. Nikita was shrouded in a blurry shadow, with only the red-hot metal and the power armor's cooling vents emitting a dim glow.

"Damn it! Follow tactical orders, Ms. Nikita!"

"Captain, the Sorority isn't on the same command system as us," the sharpshooter Heidi warned with ill intent. "Perhaps she's received some orders we're unaware of."

"There's nothing on the tactical system!" Lieutenant Joshua felt all the goodwill he had previously built up towards the sorority vanish. He checked his tablet, confirming that the command system hadn't issued any new orders. "Unauthorized action, disobeying tactical instructions! She must be court-martialed!"

"Let's make a decision first, Captain."

Heidi peeked out from behind the bunker and saw Nikita smash the helmet of a blue-skinned alien with her shield, displaying even greater courage—or rather, madness—than before. Heidi didn't know which word was more fitting—she zoomed in on Nikita with her scope. She saw Lady Nikita use her shield to block the incoming plasma ball, then she simply dropped the half-molten metal shield, grabbed the Kree by the neck, and smashed the alien's helmet and the skull beneath it with a double-headed, brass-like, spiked chainmail-like weapon. Heidi saw still-warm, pale blue brain matter and dark blue blood mixed with unknown alien composite materials and skull fragments, covering her breastplate, visor, and the entire passageway, forming a large cluster of bright spots in the thermal night vision image.

Heidi swore that even though Ms. Nikita had cut off the squad's communications, she could still hear Nikita laughing maniacally at the Kree blood splattered on her, and shouting incoherently.

Nikita felt her blood boiling; every kill thrilled her. She heard it—a voice from the heavens, once etched on golden tablets, now descending upon her like a dove, filled with joy.

Her reactions had never been faster, her limbs more powerful. Nikita felt she could now see the muzzle of the alien guns, skillfully dodge deadly lasers and plasma blasts, and then retaliate with the purest rage and hatred. But she didn't want to dodge; a strange competitiveness surged within her, as if failing to confront the Kree weapons and reveal her weakness would send her back to her life in the sewers years ago, abandoned by hard-won happiness, surrounded by hunger and pain.

An invisible, supreme being, beyond her comprehension, swept across her mind and the edge of the universe where the space station was located, releasing a vast, invisible heat that warmed her soul and body. The sermons she had heard in the Sorority, the sacred rage and impulse, filled the numbness brought on by her past poverty and long wars. As if a tremendous sound reverberated in her ears, she could no longer suppress her emotions and lunged at the next Kree who was fleeing from cover with his back to her. Nikita rolled to her feet and, using the powerful momentum of her power armor, charged forward, her chainsaw sword plunging effortlessly into the back of the Kree further ahead.

As the spinning monomolecular blades splattered blood onto the lenses of her electronic goggles, Nikita felt a surge of relief. She felt no pain or exhaustion. It was an indescribable ecstasy, like the feeling of connection to the Holy Spirit she had heard pastors describe when receiving charity food at church as a child—a feeling of blissful warmth filling her body and soul. Romania had a strong Christian atmosphere, but she was a sewer dweller, accepting the sorority's ideals without reservation, because God could not save her and Romania.

"Blood for the Emperor!"

"Hurry!" Hearing Nikita's shout, Heidi quickly turned around and urged her, afraid that Nikita would collapse on the ground and be unable to get up at any moment. "Should we help her or not?"

"She'll be court-martialed after this war, I promise!" Joshua sighed, then shouted menacingly, "Shoot, Heidi! The rest of you, change the batteries and magazines, cover Ms. Nikita. Killing these alien bastards is the right thing to do!"

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For Tita, the Emperor's gaze accompanied her throughout her missions, but for Inanna in the frigid cave, it was merely ten minutes. As thoughts roamed the Sea of ​​Souls, the Emperor was oblivious to the passage of time in the physical universe; in that vectorless world, everything was thought. For human psykers, casting thoughts into outer dimensions was undoubtedly dangerous, yet they pursued it with undiminished enthusiasm, for the Sea of ​​Souls contained everything—there, physical distances were no longer vast, the past and future erased by the river of time were no longer blurred, all previously unattainable knowledge, secrets, and powers were readily available, the body was no longer a constraint, and fatigue, hunger, and lifespan were no longer shackles on the pursuit of knowledge. Inanna needed no guidance; she had learned to roam the Sea of ​​Souls from the moment of her birth, and she also knew that the predators lurking within posed no threat to the Emperor and Agamotto.

That's why she was so surprised when the emperor opened his eyes.

This time was far too short. She knew how captivating it could be to wander the Sea of ​​Souls, and that the Emperor, while guiding the temple priests, also had to ensure they didn't lose their way. That eternal, infinite world could never be fully explored, for thought and soul have no boundaries. If the danger of harm to the soul were disregarded, the Emperor and Agamotto should have spent far more time exploring the outer dimensions; in her mind, perhaps leaving the Sea of ​​Souls would only be possible when dust covered their skin.

“I see it all too clearly,” the Emperor said to Inanna. A look of confusion crossed her face, which resembled Bayonetta's, but the Emperor had no intention of explaining further. He said to Agamotto, “What I want is not to become a god. For you and me, this is failure.”

“This is what they fear, Salomon. This is the final resort,” Agamotto said. “You began this plan unconsciously; it’s destiny and instinct. You are a product of the deep integration of extradimensional entities and the physical universe. The thirst for psionic energy is your instinct; you cannot refuse it, even if you are unaware of it. The actions of those homunculus beings are not restricted by you, are they?”

"I'd rather devote my time to research." Salomon stood up, brushing the dust off his snow-white linen robe. He knew the consequences of this next phase of the project, but it was necessary for his grand plan—he had already witnessed its results, and for his past self, the experimental outcomes were perfectly acceptable—the two Soul Titans parked in the armory at the bottom of the Immortal City were proof enough. He wouldn't let his plan spiral completely out of control. Although he knew the outcome, he still didn't know the process; the most crucial observations and tests were yet to be completed.

"Let's go, Inanna. We need to continue with the plan."

"You intend to create an extradimensional psionic entity out of thin air by combining your and her powers?"

Agamotto looked at the emperor with a playful expression.

His prophetic abilities allowed him to foresee the outcomes of certain events; otherwise, he wouldn't have chosen to create an emperor. Moreover, he had already researched this subject, and the results of his research were now right before him. The secrets of the soul were not unattainable profound knowledge for him; the emperors born in Kamar-Taj inherited the same system of knowledge.

"You've already seen the results, haven't you? I know what you saw in the Sea of ​​Souls. You have the ability to distinguish between truth and lies. You know what the outcome of your phased plan will be. I created you to drag fate into an unpredictable future. Since we both know the outcome of this little plan, why do you still want to try again?"

"Experimentation is about finding the method to the right path, not the result; it's a methodology. With the method, I have countless correct results. I'm sure you didn't do any experiments before you made me," the Emperor mocked mercilessly. "That's human wisdom, Agamotto. You're a primitive man; you don't understand real science at all."

"You've already failed once," the First Sorcerer Supreme said expressionlessly. "You tried to influence the outer dimensions with order, and all you got was betrayal. You created powerful outer-dimensional entities; you created Hell. Are you sure you won't make the same mistake again this time?"

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"I believe he won't."

Bayonetta opened her eyes. A sense of unease washed over her as she saw the manor's soaring ceilings, as if she should be looking at a dark, icy cavern. She took a deep breath, sat up from the chaise lounge, her long, cascading black waves falling over her shoulders like the damp wings of a raven hovering above the treetops before a storm. Only then did she smell the sweet aroma of hot coffee and desserts, and the strange feeling of unfamiliarity vanished.

"Cerace, are you dreaming?" Joan of Arc squinted her eyes with amusement, casually stuffing a piece of creamy ice cream into Milia's mouth. The grey Cheshire Cat stretched its neck, trying to lick the calorie-rich treat, but the white-haired witch's finger precisely tapped its forehead, thwarting the 30-pound Cheshire Cat's weight gain plan. "You rarely nap during afternoon tea."

"I saw him."

Bayonetta had never been so exhausted, as if her soul had crossed time to return to her body, the long journey having drained all her energy. Nevertheless, she still remembered the snow-white linen robe, far purer than the blood-red robe Salomon had previously worn.

"Who?" Joan of Arc paused, then suddenly realized, "I don't think he's doing any badly since he left. He's now wandering through history; who knows what kind of identity he'll have!"

"I saw him, but not at this time." Bayonetta turned her head, forcing Jeanne to look into her translucent gray eyes until the latter admitted she wasn't joking. She was somewhat puzzled by the sudden appearance of the memory, but she wasn't some newly-learned witch; she knew how to protect her mind. A dream that could penetrate layers of protective spells and reach the mind of a psychic must contain some information, truth, or lie that she couldn't yet comprehend.

She needed time to discern, even though she was certain she saw Salomon—it was as if she were inside another person's body, observing through that person's eyes—she could feel a warm gaze upon Salomon, those obsidian-bright eyes shining through that body and landing on her soul—no threat, no wariness, only endless love in return, as if she were standing right in front of Salomon.

“I need to contact Rosa, and Wanda,” Bayonetta said. “The Witch’s Path must hold the answers I’m looking for, and I need help. Joan of Arc, I need to see Victor von Doom; I need you to guide him through the manor’s labyrinth. I have a feeling that I’m not the one who truly solves the problem.”