Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 193 The Knight's Trial (First Update!)

The arcane mage ignored the flames climbing the corpses and stepped onto the roof of the police station, using the collapsed concrete ceiling. At the top of this single-story building, Salomon finally saw what Nick Fury meant by "little crawlers"—they were simply infernal insects that emerged when the souls of the Hell Breathers died and returned to the lower planes. These filthy creatures were nothing special, except that the power of Hell had made them somewhat large due to their inhabitance of the lower planes.

"Firepower, Nick Fury." Salomon sheathed his long and short swords, then used Vishanti's magic to create a spear (Flame Shaping). He leaned back slightly, took a deep breath, and the muscles beneath his red shroud and black occult robes tensed as he gathered his strength. He then stepped forward, his body jerking forward, and hurled the spear like a spring suddenly released from its compressed limit. The spear, shimmering with orange-red sparks, soared into the sky before crashing down like a meteor, striking a leading hell cockroach with pinpoint accuracy. The immense force even shattered a large section of concrete.

This is a skill taught by Athena, the art of spear throwing from Mount Olympus, which Salomon has practiced since childhood. Compared to swordsmanship and lance, his fist fighting and spear skills are even more commendable; the rigorous training of the goddess of wisdom and war has finally yielded results.

Salomon exhaled a breath of hot, sweaty air—his back was drenched in sweat after throwing the spear, the scorching ground beneath his feet made him even more drenched, and the flames below continued to bake the air, filling his nostrils with the acrid smell of burning flesh. He pressed his earpiece, "Take them down, Nick Fury."

Nick Fury was pleased to be dealing with those bizarre extradimensional creatures, something Salomon's strict guard rarely allowed him to handle. Even if these extradimensional beings were just a swarm of giant cockroaches, Nick Fury firmly believed they still held scientific value for S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Fire! Fire!" The operatives sprang into action upon receiving the order. Though few in number, they were highly trained, each bullet landing precisely where it was meant to. Faced with weapons like portable rocket-propelled grenades, these hell cockroaches were utterly helpless. However, the succulent flesh held an irresistible allure for these long-starved beasts; some hell cockroaches even stopped to tear at the flesh of their own kind due to extreme hunger.

Although they still caused some casualties, Nick Fury was very satisfied with the scene before him: Look, ordinary people can also pose a threat to extradimensional beings. Arcane masters are not necessary. This is a victory for ordinary people, a victory for technology. Kamar-Taj should take humanity's achievements seriously...

Just as he was about to boast to Salomon, he discovered that Pegasus, who had been parked in the parking lot, had vanished. He quickly looked up and saw a bright white streak, like a comet, streak across the orange-red night sky illuminated by the firelight, followed by another crimson meteor. The arcane mage had already left; he had no intention of communicating with any S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel after the matter was over. Those insects that had fled from the lower planes to the material plane were worthless, and the corpses of the Hellbreathers were about to be completely incinerated. Nick Fury was merely a tool he had hired to clean up the mess—in return, he didn't mind dumping these scraps on S.H.I.E.L.D. and letting them waste their time on these things; Salomon believed Nick Fury wouldn't be unhappy.

He had a more urgent task ahead of him.

"I anticipated the awakening of the Cyclops, my child." Upon returning to Kamar-Taj headquarters, Salomon immediately reported what he knew to the Sorcerer Supreme. The Sorcerer Supreme was not overly surprised after hearing Salomon's information; on the contrary, the Sorcerer Supreme's composure even made Salomon feel somewhat uneasy.

The Venerable One spoke calmly, "The Cyclops can travel along a timeline. It is currently in the future and past of this timeline; our past is its future. When it returns from the 31st century to a million years ago, we will know its fate. You don't need to worry too much. Your connection to that chaotic universe is what you need to worry about now. Tell me, have you still dreamed of those indescribable things?"

"No, Master," Salomon shook his head. Ever since he obtained the silver key, he had been studying the patterns on the enormous key, as well as the spells given to him by Randolph Carter. These spells could be cast as long as the requirements were met, regardless of whether the magic was powerful or weak, but they required his own sanity as a price—he had used one or two against Dormammu, and after that he stopped doing so, instead constantly worrying that he would enter a dream world in his sleep and confront those gods.

Fortunately, the eerie dreams only affected his sleep for one or two nights after he left Salem. After that, the terrifying dreams never recurred. The Venerable One was naturally aware of this; in fact, even the spell protecting Salomon's dreams was cast by the Sorcerer Supreme. The Venerable One didn't want his disciple to go mad; that was not the Sorcerer Supreme's intention.

"Very good." The Venerable One seemed quite satisfied. "The Cyclops is not what you are facing now; that is in the future, our future. Now you should focus on your lance and longsword skills. There is no use for your two exquisite double swords on the battlefield. On the battlefield, you don't have time for those fancy tricks; only the most basic moves will be effective."

"Teacher, but I am a spellcaster."

"Isn't wielding a sword much faster than chanting a spell?" The Sorcerer Supreme looked at his foolish disciple. "You might even get tongue-tied in your haste, but a sword doesn't get tied up, at least that's what my teacher told me. How's your training with Athena going?"

"I can say without any modesty that I have done my best." Salomon gently twisted his shoulder, which was a little sore from his relentless throw.

"Go find some ointment," the Venerable One said. "But you can't stop your sword lessons. It's nothing special that you bully those kids with your foil at the noble school. I'll ask Athena to increase your training, because the time when you need it is fast approaching."

"What?"

"Do you really think I'd let you waste your time on skills you'll never use? Horsemanship, boxing, swordsmanship, javelin throwing, lances—these are skills I've made you learn, not skills you chose to learn. I know you prefer to immerse yourself in ancient texts, but I still require you to learn these things from a young age. Why? Because you are to inherit my title. You must become a knight to live up to these accolades. And soon, you will proclaim your existence to the world, you will prove that your title is not undeserved, but earned with your own sword. This is the trial I'm giving you, Salomon. Although you have the right to inherit, it is not based on bloodline. The blood of the red dragon is no more. You must prove yourself worthy of these titles to gain the approval of the Round Table Council."

"The Round Table Council? Could it be that besides the teacher, other knights survived?"

"No, only me." The Venerable shook his head, looking somewhat smug. "But even if the others are still alive, as long as I acknowledge it, the Round Table Council will acknowledge it. Be careful, I am very strict in these matters, just as I was when I was teaching you magic. I trust you won't let me down; you've never let me down since you were a child."

"Of course, teacher."

"Now, let me see your swordsmanship, Sir Pendragon."

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(End of this chapter)