Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1739 The Safety Officer is in Place

Natasha couldn't understand it, because human kingdoms never relied on the military might of any single individual, but she understood what would happen when a vast empire collapsed. Even if humanity couldn't learn anything from history, the fallen corpses of humanity's grandest ideals still bled, and even now, the stench of blood could still be smelled.

She knew that tens of thousands of habitable planets inhabited by intelligent races were about to face war, even though these planets had previously launched rebellions against Asgard or secretly promoted anti-Asgardian ideologies. That was irrelevant; without the military threat of Asgard, the real threats to them came from space pirates, space warlords, and even their own neighbors.

The impending war could cause more casualties than all the humans currently living on Earth, and the exact timing of such a devastating conflict would depend entirely on what was stored in a garage in Oslo's wealthy neighborhood. Natasha suddenly found the world absurd, as if someone had told her that World War II was caused by a rat gnawing on cheese in a shady pub.

She believed that even Thor, with his immense power, could not single-handedly confront another nation attacking Asgard, a fact that remained unchanged even if the Allfather was several times stronger than Thor. She considered Ragnarok a political crisis, not a military one; without the Allfather, Asgard would certainly still possess the strength to fight other armed groups in the universe. Asgard's true crisis lay in its inability to find a suitable successor.

Salomon could only helplessly urge Natasha to unleash her imagination. If someone could mold a star into a light bulb, then nothing in this material universe could stand against them. "You didn't demonstrate that power when you attacked Yugoslavia," Natasha said, clinging to Salomon and staring into his eyes. "Mr. Humanoid Nuclear Bomb, why?"

"Yugoslavia faces not only humanity, but also threats from deep space. They must receive ample training and experience." Salomon patted her smooth, bare, sweat-drenched back. For a woman who had fainted several times that night, thinking now was too strenuous. "Enjoy your sleep; you will witness this duel in a safe place."

"Promise me," she said, "don't get hurt."

"This matter is controllable; the ideology of the Aesir has proven to be a failure."

"That's not what I meant, you little rascal!" She sat up, leaning on Salomon's shoulders. "I don't want you dead!"

Natasha didn't know when the war started, and everyone remained silent about it.

Salomon acted as if nothing had happened, drinking at least two bottles of sweet red wine and a bottle of brandy every day. Despite this, he drove with a clear head—Dinah in the passenger seat, refusing to budge—wandering around Oslo. She never saw Casillas again after that visit, and nothing related to the impending duel occurred.

The former Black Widow gradually relaxed in this atmosphere, no longer anxious about Salomon's impending duel. Until seven days after that visit, when the dim starlight slowly crossed the horizon, the signs appeared—the Faroe Islands' storm season arrived early. Unprecedented hurricanes swept across black rocks, over mountain peaks and fjords, tearing apart buildings and uprooting the thin layer of grass covering the soil. Huge waves crashed against cliffs, the gale-force winds ripped them into countless cyclones, and mountain streams and waterfalls flowed upstream before cascading down the slopes.

The Faroe Islands local government has issued an evacuation warning to residents living in Tórshavn.

A professor of emergency and risk management at the University of Copenhagen warned local residents that there was no point in running into their gardens and tying everything up at this time, as this was an unprecedented storm, far more terrifying than the hurricane of 2011 with winds exceeding 200 kilometers per hour.

Meteorologist Moens Rønnbeck of the Danish Meteorological Institute also warned the Norwegian government, claiming that the previously unobserved and strange storm would move toward the west coast of Norway, bringing strong winds and huge waves, and even affecting Oslo, which is located in the fjords.

That morning, Salomon, dressed in a black winter hunting outfit and boots, and wearing leather gloves, kissed Natasha's cheek as she lay in bed, bidding her farewell. The wind, carrying raindrops, pounded against the windowpanes, and the branches rustled violently, the sounds of breaking branches and crashing to the ground echoing all night. Even now, in the early morning, the sky outside was as gloomy as night.

"You're leaving this morning; the airport will be closing soon." He stroked her fiery red curls. Natasha had just woken from her dream, the lake of her dream still soaking half of her body. "You've done enough."

"I didn't accomplish anything."

"We all have to accept that we are powerless in some ways." Salomon shrugged, his tone relaxed, as if he were about to head to a grand banquet. "The Allfather is dying, and he cannot control his powers; this is an extremely dangerous situation. You have done very well; you shouldn't have been involved in these supernatural events."

He met Casillas at the still-lit dock and boarded a dilapidated-looking cargo ship. Ferry services to the Faroe Islands had ceased; the Norwegian fjords were now filled with ships, all prohibited from leaving port. Casillas's network of connections, cultivated over several years, had managed to secure him a temporary permit to sail. The ship would take 43 hours to reach the Faroe Islands; those 43 hours were allotted to Natasha and the other androids, except for Dinah, to leave Oslo.

Salomon's previous example was too abstract; Natasha could hardly imagine a star turning into a light bulb.

The storm unleashed by this supernatural force made her acutely aware of just how powerful an individual could be. She watched with concern as Salomon boarded the cargo ship, then made her decision, turning to follow the androids away from the dock—her personality was incapable of much hesitation, and spending a few more days in Oslo with Salomon was her last wish.

"This duel stemmed from a clash of ideologies," Casillas tried to reassure her. "He's just unwilling to admit defeat."

Kaecilius refers to Odin, the Allfather.

The surveillance missions of the past few years had completely eroded his reverence for Odin. Sometimes he would even drag Odin to a Norwegian tavern for drinks, the portal allowing him to save time on the mission. Even after sending the drunken Allfather back, he still had time to pack some tavern food for Sheila. As for why the cargo couldn't be transported through the portal, it was simply because the portal spell forbade the passage of "objects possessing powerful energy."

Those who did this—especially wild mages who hadn't received a proper education—all suffered tragic portal accidents, and it was not uncommon for bodies to be teleported separately. Kamar-Taj often cleaned up the corpses of these unfortunate souls and covered up the disasters they caused.

"Do you believe he can win?" Natasha asked.

"I don't know," Casillas sighed, "but I do know that the crowned one does not die in his bed."

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Amidst smoke, engine noise, and the damp, musty smell of the cabin, Salomon carried his cargo ashore. The relentless, seemingly endless wind whipped his hair. Pebbles on the shore rubbed against his leather boots, the sound mingling with the distant roar of the waves. The closer to winter, the lower the sea breeze grew; even the fishy smell of the seawater lessened with the cold. Even the unfortunate starfish washed ashore huddled together, trying to return to the relatively warmer water.

A sudden storm enveloped the Faroe Islands. Here, in the eye of the hurricane, there was no real storm, not even a strong wind; only thick, leaden-gray clouds piled up, compressed and shaped in the sky. It took Salomon and Dinah half an hour to climb the cliffside meadow via a narrow, rocky path, finally catching sight of the wooden cabin nestled in the leaden-gray rain clouds. An old man in a light-colored jacket sat on a tree stump, chugging down strong liquor, a dilapidated car parked beside him.

"You think you've won, Atum?" Odin said bluntly, his one eye fixed on Salomon.

Salomon ignored him and walked straight toward the wooden house.

"Ignore him, he's drunk. I know you're different from Atum." Frigga patted his shoulder, as if treating a likable junior. Compared to Odin and Frigga, who had lived for half a million years, Salomon, at eight thousand years old, was still very young—they both understood Salomon's time travel, because in the past, Salomon had seen them more than once, keeping it a secret from his younger self until he embarked on his time travel journey; this was an unspoken understanding between them.

"I am sorry for this, madam," Salomon nodded solemnly.

"I should be the one saying that," Frigga said, having no objection to the impending duel.

For a young lion to seize power from the old lion king, it must first prove its strength and magnanimity.

Salomon's ambition was blatantly obvious: he wanted humanity to have a place in the universe, and Asgard would inevitably become his target. To shatter the pride of the Aesir, he had to challenge their strongest. Odin believed that neither Thor nor Hela were worthy to be Salomon's opponent, at least not yet, as they were not yet kings of Asgard. The proud Allfather didn't mind deciding the future order of Asgard and the Nine Realms in his final moments.

He hoped to face a formidable opponent.

The Aesir, with the blood of giants flowing through their veins, often unleash their most brilliant light at the end of their lives; this was true of both Bul and Bauer. It would be a battle of honor, and stopping the duel would be seen as questioning the honor of the king. Even as a witch, Frigga understood the meaning of honor.

"Whether it's Hela breaking the seal or Ragnarok, these are crises we must face together," Salomon said politely, accepting the salt, butter, and bread that Frigga offered for breakfast. He then placed the goods on the roof of the vehicle, secured them with belts, and he and Diana obediently squeezed into the dilapidated Bluebird.

"I'll drive," Salomon said, patting the water droplets off his head.

Frigga helped Odin squeeze into the back seat, thanking Salomon in the process. "I don't know what I would have done without you," Frigga said, rubbing her lower back. "Helping this old fool who's inflated like a balloon would have killed me. Even though he already did."

The 43-hour journey did not tire Salomon; he drove with great enthusiasm, taking Odin and Frigga to the designated duel location. There, a large cliff covered with a thin layer of grass, was formed over millennia by dust and grass seeds carried by the wind, which had accumulated in the crevices of the rocks, gradually creating this flat meadow.

The car drove slowly, perhaps out of boredom. Frigga, as if trying to start a conversation, told Salomon that Odin's life force had been extinguished, and that she had used magic to link Odin to her own life, using Odin's power to maintain the seal on the Land of the Dead. Even Salomon, who had some knowledge of runic magic, was astonished by the power displayed by Asgard's most powerful sorceress. Such magic could even be described as magnificent—if it weren't for Frigga, Salomon would have faced Hela unprepared, and the expedition he had prepared for Ragnarok would have been useless.

In return, Salomon told Frigga that Kamar-Taj would soon send Thor and Loki over.

"Perfect timing, I have something I'd like to say to those two children." Frigga's face showed reluctance as she nudged the drunken Odin beside her. Clearly, the Allfather was still feigning sleep, refusing to wake up no matter how much Frigga nudged him. Frigga sighed. "Some things are better left to their father to say. When will the duel begin?"

"Soon, once my safety officers are in position." Salomon slowly stepped off the vehicle. Dinah got out first and set up a picnic tablecloth and drinks on a flat rock. Salomon unloaded the cargo and sat down at the picnic table, pouring himself and Frigga a glass of sweet wine. "I don't want Hela to interfere during the duel; they are the most suitable safety officers."

Not long after he finished speaking, the sound of turbofan engines filled the sky.

At this point, the only place you could find a pilot so crazy as to weave through the storm is the Immortal City.

Salomon saw a tiny black shadow moving towards them with a tremendous roar beneath the dark, cloud-covered sky. The gale-force winds made the plane sway, as if it might crash at any moment. "Quiet!" Odin, now fully conscious, shouted impatiently at the sky. Instantly, the gale subsided, and the surging, thick, leaden-gray clouds ceased their movement. Salomon nodded his thanks to Odin—then he saw the plane begin its low dive, like a bomber from World War II. Two slender figures leaped from hundreds of meters in the air, and only then did the plane pull up its nose and plunge into the sky—just before reaching the ground, a swarm of butterflies suddenly emerged from beneath their high heels, huge, ethereal butterfly wings appearing from their backs and then disappearing.

Odin clapped and nodded to the two witches.

"A wonderful performance, ladies."

"Ignore that childish fellow," Frigg waved to Bayonetta and Jeanne. "Let's talk about things only witches know." The black-haired witch and the white-haired witch brushed past Salomon, their chins slightly raised, as proud as swans. Jeanne ran her finger across her throat, as if to tell Salomon that this runaway must be punished, while Bayonetta was much gentler, her long, alluring eyes blinking at him.

"Not long, darling." She reached up and grabbed Salomon's collar. "How long has it been?"

"Eight thousand years."

"What should I call you?"

"Inanna".

"Good girl." Bayonetta tiptoed and gave Salomon a firm kiss on the lips. "We can begin once we're ready." She nodded to Dinah, and without a word, the homunculus followed. "I've entrusted Milia to Rosa; she's very good with children, supposedly to make up for past regrets. And there's the Cheshire Cat and Miss Peanutbutter; their company will make her very happy..."