Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1728 The Tradition of the Welcoming Ceremony

Hammurabi took a deep breath.

Before him lay several supernatural creatures, defying the laws of biological evolution and covered in deformed limbs, lying on the ground, their abnormally cold supernatural blood seeping into the desert. A massive crack, welded together with blood and congealed frost, ran across the surface of the Imperial Guard's seemingly indestructible golden alloy armor. This armor, impenetrable even by industrial laser mining equipment, appeared exceptionally fragile against the battle-axe of the extradimensional spiritual entity. Hammurabi lifted his leg, pulling his armored boot, deeply embedded in the rough, crimson gravel, as foul-smelling blood and fragments of organic matter from unknown parts slid down the intricate bas-relief grooves of the power armor.

The dry air from the air filtration system still carried the heat of this deep red desert. Although he was using the recirculated air inside his armor, he could still smell the dust emanating from the hot, coarse sand, and the stench of those extraterrestrial creatures. He couldn't see any stars; the blood-red sky was filled with light sources, and the optical laws of the physical universe were unstable here. This didn't stop him from continuing to fight; he only needed to swing his weapon, and his enemies would bring their blades to his throat.

This is a fact that is certain at the conceptual level, and even entities from other dimensions cannot escape it.

Hammurabi swung his halberd, the defensive spear, coated with a disintegrating force field, pointing at several strange creatures attempting to retreat. These extradimensional beings possessed no life; their very existence was a mockery of life. They could not be completely killed; they were merely apostles, fragments, and consciousnesses of evil gods. As long as the corresponding concepts existed, they and their masters would not perish.

But now, he saw fear in their deformed faces.

These extradimensional beings, these demons, are terrified of their master.

This wasn't his first time fighting extradimensional beings. After the Emperor took control of Kamar-Taj, the Royal Guard joined the arcane mages in their war against the extradimensional beings. With each mission completed, he remembered the curses uttered by those extradimensional beings upon their destruction: they would never disappear, they would eventually return to the material universe, and they would be the eternal enemies of all intelligent life.

Hammurabi dismissed their curses with disdain, yet he knew these creatures of lies were not without merit, especially powerful extradimensional entities like these. Every word they uttered on the material plane would become a curse that mortals could not defy. The records of the Guardian Order's library indicated that only the Fimbulwinter event on the Apennine Peninsula had witnessed such a powerful extradimensional entity capable of pushing psionic readings beyond their maximum limits.

"This is my lord's domain!" roared the colossal creature wielding a skull-shaped battle axe, unleashing a hurricane carrying the metallic stench of blood and the stench of burning limbs. Hammurabi dodged the axe as it cleaved into the crimson sand, the supernatural flames erupting from its surface instantly melting the sand into liquid. The monster withdrew the axe and swung it again, tiny molten grains of sand condensing in the air and splattering onto the armor of the Imperial Guard, producing a dense, shattering sound.

"Burn! Kill! Blood! The shadow of death and suffering will loom over you!"

"I prefer to fight in the shadows," Hammurabi's voice remained calm. Standing atop the massive battle axe, his garrison spear deftly sliced ​​through the monster's wrist joint, severing half its hand. As the crimson monster abandoned the axe and turned to chase him with its other claw, Hammurabi had already reversed the spear's direction, the sharp tip piercing deep into the sorcerously crafted kneecap.

Immediately following, another strike landed, the spear piercing the monster's unarmored waist muscle. The trigger was pulled, and at close range, the explosive shell burrowed into the massive body and detonated, spraying a fountain of foul-smelling, bright red blood from the wound. Hammurabi withdrew his weapon and immediately retreated without hesitation. The next second, the monster, having suffered damage sufficient to kill any cosmic being, lunged forward, as if it had been unharmed before. Its supernatural regenerative abilities allowed it to almost completely ignore the Imperial Guard's attacks.

These were formidable enemies he had never encountered before, each one a general under the throne of their master.

In order to kill the other demons, more than 80% of the combat serum in the power armor was used up, and even the special explosives were down to only a few. He had to make sure that the remaining explosives could hit the brains or hearts of these demons, otherwise it would mean a never-ending bitter battle.

"My dear, why are we fighting? Why can't we leave this sweltering place and enjoy a comfortable life?"

On the other side, a distinctive voice rang out. The voice wasn't unbearable because of the speaker's size; it seemed to glide gently across slender, oily limbs, making one instinctively lower their guard. Hammurabi stepped back to dodge, and a scimitar as thin as paper slid across the royal guard's golden armor, slicing through the intricate, luxurious carvings and perfectly polished rubies.

"My Lord's palace contains the sweetest wine in the universe to quench your thirst. Do not be misled by fierce killing; you can relax your fingers and enjoy the soft mattress in my Lord's palace. The most talented artists will sing for you, and every emotional note they sing is a treasure of the universe."

"You cannot pass through here," the last voice said muffledly. It had neither eloquent words nor a fiery temper; it simply stood there, blocking Hammurabi's retreat. "You cannot pass through here."

At this moment, the crimson monster flapped its enormous demonic wings, seized Hammurabi's arm that was holding the Guard Spear, and the thin, slender scimitar nimbly burrowed into the cracks in the armor, tearing at the flesh and blood of the guards.

The pain didn't make Hammurabi drop his weapon. He swiftly drew his pistol from its holster with his other hand and fired a deadly bullet into the crimson monster's foul-smelling, blood-soaked head. The blessed bullet easily pierced the seemingly indestructible, tank-armor-thick bone plates and burrowed into the monster's brain. Simultaneously, the scimitar pierced his body, slicing through his blood vessels and internal organs. Hammurabi felt his strength fading, blood clots nearly killing him, and he could hear the eerie chuckles of the monster beside him.

The armor's airtightness was breached, air hissed and leaked from the gap, the gushing alchemical blood being blown into tiny bubbles. His vision was shrouded in a dark haze, the excruciating pain receding, the chill of death calling to him. Then the chill receded from him, the black haze in his vision was dispelled by blazing fire, the monster wielding a scimitar let out a terrified scream, and Hammurabi smelled the sticky, burning flesh and steel.

A warrior clad in black armor stood beside Hammurabi. He wore the armor of a genetically modified warrior, its surface decorated with the bones of withered humans, and the ceramic composite insulating layer ablaze with flames. The fiery warrior pulled the trigger, unleashing a torrent of fire upon the two remaining monsters. The monster wielding a scimitar had its musky, filthy blood splattered onto its armor, only to be instantly obliterated by the flames. The other monster, carrying an incense burner, vanished in the blink of an eye, seemingly in fear of the warriors.

Hammurabi recognized the warrior before him: the Spirit of Vengeance, a soul burning with the fire of justice. The Demon King had once tried to steal and imprison the Spirit of Vengeance's power, but in the end, he could only allow the Spirit of Vengeance to possess soulless mortals, creating the so-called Ghost Rider, and using the Spirit of Vengeance's nature to achieve his goals.

He sensed the same power within the Spirit of Vengeance, but it was far more extreme—an extreme order and an extreme fire of justice, as if the charred armor itself had been burned by the bloodthirsty flames of vengeance. The Spirit of Vengeance lowered its head to look at the Imperial Guard, and Hammurabi felt an inexplicable familiarity with the gaze cast from behind the blood-red visors. He was almost certain that this Spirit of Vengeance knew him.

Hammurabi mustered all his strength to utter the question, "Who are you?"

The Spirit of Vengeance offered no answer; it vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but smoldering embers on the crimson desert as evidence of its existence. This did Hammurabi no good; he still felt the chill from the outer dimension seeping into his bones and muscles, almost freezing his mind. Even a body created by advanced bio-alchemy could not withstand such damage. Filled with regret and remorse for failing his mission, and shame for not being able to wait for the Emperor's arrival, Hammurabi took a deep breath, preparing to enter a state of slumber where his body would automatically repair itself.

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The guests sitting in the manor's living room remained silent, none of them willing to speak first.

Bayonetta heard a furious engine roar approaching without any resistance; the sorority guarding the manor and the automated defense system did nothing. Then came the deafening crash of metal against rock as the manor gates were ruthlessly kicked open, and a white-haired witch in a red leather coat stormed in, carrying a scroll case that reflected a bronze light.

"I've found a clue!" Joan of Arc shouted. "The genetic comparison results are in. The blood on this scroll and the blood sample in Maya Hansen's laboratory are from the same person."

Wanda Maximov patted her chest and let out a long sigh of relief.

"What are the carbon-14 test results?" Bayonetta stood up and took the roll.

This seemingly ancient scroll case is inscribed with numerous symbols, preserving the contents from the ravages of time. This scroll comes from the Immortal City, where Laura Crawford's archaeological team discovered thousands of scrolls preserved in the same bronze case during their exploration of secret chambers deep within the Immortal City. This is the oldest scroll inferred from its artistic style and placement.

The oldest scroll box was almost considered a fake by other archaeologists because this Near Eastern style of art appears on bronze rather than pottery. But Bayonetta decided to trust Laura Crawford's expertise and intuition, just as Salomon had told her that Laura Crawford's fate was closely intertwined with his, and that any anomalies she discovered had reasons that were not yet known.

"Six thousand years BC!" Joan of Arc exclaimed. She handed over a data panel. "This contains the translation of the scroll. The linguists and archaeologists we recruited worked through the night to translate it, and it's definitely him."

Bayonetta saw that the scroll began with "I swear by my blood" and there was a drop of blood at the end of the scroll.

Archaeologists call this scroll the Euphrates Blood Pact or the Dragon-Slaying Blood Pact. The parchment scroll tells the story of what happened after the King of Eridu led his army to conquer Egypt, the precursor to Sumerian civilization. It describes in poetry the King of Eridu, the god of storms and the sky, the god of life and fresh water, and the king of the gods, fighting a dragon that swam from the sea to the mouth of the Euphrates River and caused floods before leading his people away from the city.

Archaeologists have expressed skepticism about the concept of dragons, but lack concrete evidence to prove what kind of monster or natural phenomenon they represent. As royal power shifted eastward, Eridu gradually lost its former status. The followers of the King of Eridu, a portion of the clan remaining on Earth, continued the organization through a blood pact, calling it the Brotherhood of the Shield, and scattered throughout the world. Evidence suggests that every leader of the Brotherhood of the Shield has met the King of Eridu. Sages and warriors from different human civilizations across millennia signed this blood pact, swearing to follow in the footsteps of the First King to protect human civilization and fight against threats from the heavens, the depths of the earth, and the human heart.

Further information will require linguists to decipher the remaining scrolls.

"The lab expanded the comparison of genetic samples from all Brotherhood of the Shield blood pacts, intending to find the genetic lineage of the original Brotherhood of the Shield and locate those ancient families. But I don't hold out much hope; even if we find the descendants of these genetic samples, they probably won't have much information. However, Maya Hansen found data in NASA's medical archives that confirms Louise and Captain Miller of the Clark were also members of the Brotherhood of the Shield. This is the strongest evidence that she and Captain Miller traveled through time together."

After Joan of Arc finished speaking, she took the whiskey Wanda Maximoff offered and drank it all in one gulp. "What about Athena and Victor von Doom?"

"Victor von Doom must maintain the state he established; he cannot let anyone know of the Emperor's disappearance. Losing him is tantamount to losing long-range nuclear strike capability—fortunately, mortals believe his capabilities are limited to this—and if the news leaks, Victor von Doom intends to seize Kamar-Taj, while simultaneously stopping the Earth's rotation for a day as a deterrent." Bayonetta's expression was icy. She strongly disapproved of interfering in worldly affairs by establishing a state, but Salomon had made his choice, and as an Italian woman, she had to walk this path with him. When the head of the family could not make a decision, she, as the matriarch, had to take up arms against all those who coveted her family.

"Athena has left, and she won't say anything. I suspect she already knew about this."

"Where is Rosa?" Joan of Arc asked.

"She went to the ancestral lands of the Shadow Witches, intending to unearth their earliest historical archives. She was once a candidate for clan leader, and many secrets unknown to us were revealed to her. She believed that the witches might be related to our dear big boy, and such an outstanding man must have been the target of every era's Shadow Witches," Bayonetta said. "She brought Laura Crawford, Milia's governess, with her. I believe his assessment of Laura; countless coincidences suggest that she will definitely find something related to him. It's simply destiny."

“Why don’t we ask Athena to tell us the truth?” Wanda Maximov stared out the window. “Only she lived through that era. Apart from the library at Kamar-Taj, only she knows the whole truth.”

“If she won’t tell us, it proves she thinks we shouldn’t know all the information right away.” Bayonetta put down her tablet. “I suspect Athena is in contact with him. Yes, that’s right, I suspect they’ve already slept together.”

Wanda's face immediately flushed red. Ever since she learned that Bayonetta knew about this, she had been feeling uneasy. The black-haired witch gave her a disapproving look. "He promised me long ago that only I had the final say on this matter. His attitude towards you is different, so I allow you to join this family."

"It is said that Athena was his foster mother and mentor," Wanda said, her head bowed.

"Athena is a rival; no one can satisfy her greed, not even the Sorcerer Supreme. She sees Salomon as her warrior and wants him to achieve her goals. No one knows what the consequences will be—the Olympian pantheon and the Eternals are deeply intertwined, and no one knows how many immortals are still alive in the world—we need to continue searching for the historical relics he left behind. If he has survived to this day, he would definitely contact us; he must be in trouble."

"The fact that we didn't find Dita Von Teese in his bed is enough to tell you all that," Joan of Arc said dismissively. "If he were still on Earth, this would definitely have happened."

Wanda argued softly, "He's not that bad, is he?"

“That’s because of us that he hasn’t become a real playboy,” Bayonetta said. “Hopefully, this time travel will make him a little more mature, although I don’t hold out much hope for it. The only certainty is that he will have many spouses over the long period of time, because he is now completely out of control, and Commander Constantine of the Guard will not question any of his decisions.”

"How about .50 caliber?" Joan of Arc asked.

"I think .75 caliber is better. The manor's armory has a lot of weapons prepared for the Sorority."

"What are you talking about?" Wanda asked curiously, looking up. "Do you know who the enemy is?"

"No, we are just preparing for a welcoming ceremony," Joan of Arc said. "It's tradition."