Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 252 The Witch's Wrath (First Update!)

"Sometimes we have to admit that the wisdom of the elderly can indeed come in handy." Salomon dodged a monster's claws, then stretched out his leg and slammed it hard into the vampire's knee. The monster's leg bones twisted and deformed with a slight crack, and it could no longer hold onto the plane deck. Seeing that it was about to fall off the plane, the arcane mage quickly stepped on its twisted leg with his other foot, then plunged his longsword into its chest, letting the blade suck its blood and soul.

The arcane mage's loud quip didn't elicit a positive response. The android simply didn't understand humor (or perhaps she did, but she never told jokes), and Captain Rogers, being the one making the quip, had heard similar jokes from Stark countless times since waking up; Salomon wasn't enough to sway him. Besides, he was currently busy smashing a monster's head with the edge of his shield and had no time to comment on the remark. The arcane mage wrinkled his nose, looking somewhat displeased. Only after the vampire beneath his blade had completely withered did he release his grip, letting the wind carry the corpse off the deck.

The clouds surrounding the Airbus grew denser, the transport plane churning the airflow and causing the clouds to rub against each other, leaving streaks of thunder behind its jet engines. The thunder drew closer, the clouds gradually shifting from a layered light gray to a dark gray, then to a heavy leaden gray. Faint flashes of light, accompanied by a booming sound, followed from behind, until the entire aircraft was enveloped in thunderclouds. Even as Agent Melinda May adjusted her flight path, the Airbus leaped out of the thick clouds like a sperm whale bursting from a shimmering sea. The enormous full moon cast its shimmering white light across the sea of ​​clouds, bathing the transport plane, which burst forth from the clouds, in its own moonlight.

The adjustment of their flight attitude had shaken off some vampire monsters from the deck, which relieved Salomon and Captain Rogers. However, the ensuing moonlight only worsened the sorcerer's slightly calmed mood. A full moon, feminine power, vampires—all these clues pointed to the mastermind behind this chase. Only the lords of hell and the Vampire God could command these nearly extinct vampire monsters that had hidden deep in the mountains.

A figure appeared on the deck amidst lingering black mist. As the mist dissipated, the figure was revealed. He looked no different from a normal person, but a normal person wouldn't suddenly appear on the deck of a transport plane at an altitude of 10,000 meters. When he appeared, the monsters stopped their attack on the air bus and silently followed, awaiting the figure's command.

"I am Zenos Vantor." The man was tall, his skin appearing almost too pale in the moonlight. He wore a pure black suit, and his short, dark brown hair, combed back, remained perfectly styled despite the strong wind, the moonlight unable to even reach his eyes above his cheekbones. A cross-shaped scepter pin adorned his tie, signifying his identity. Upon seeing that insignia, Salomon was now certain of the mastermind behind the attack—the bloodline of Lilith and Cain, the infamous vampire clan, a type of vampire monster completely different from Dracula's bloodline. While the magical power of these vampire clans was far less than that of Dracula's bloodline, they were not all of them.

If the vampire before us belongs to the Ventral clan, the leaders of the Secret Society, then the extremely ugly vampires we encountered before were likely from the Northferatu clan, and the necromancer we met further back was probably from the Remer clan, who practiced blood magic (this clan is not entirely composed of vampires; they also include foreign dark wizards who are about to become vampires).

These secret societies (also known as the Kamarilla) are complete spies. Although their clan history predates Kamar-Taj, the overly indulgent vampires were long ago wiped out under the pressure of the Sorcerer Supreme, with Salomon participating in several purges. Some are of Dracula's blood, others of Cain's; the Sorcerer is intimately familiar with their insignia. The man before him is likely the current head of the Ventura family. Now, these vampire clans, who have been eking out a living in the shadow of Kamar-Taj, have resurfaced, and Salomon cannot let him go.

"I hereby convey the oracle of the supreme goddess Lilith," the vampire proclaimed. "Salomon Damonet, if you are willing to keep the promise made a thousand years ago and return to the embrace of the goddess Lilith..."

"Although I really like married women, I already have a fiancée," Salomon interrupted the vampire, orange-red sparks dancing in his palm. "Please decline this invitation for me," he said. "Besides, the age gap is simply too large. An age difference of over a thousand years is unacceptable to me. I might consider someone under a thousand years. Sorry."

Captain Rogers looked at Salomon with a surprised expression; he still couldn't understand the arcane mage's thought process.

The vampire's face darkened. He stared into the sorcerer's eyes, then waved his hand, and the monsters behind him howled and pounced again. Captain Rogers went to deal with the monsters alone, while Salomon and the homunculus strode towards the Ventral vampires. A long, orange-red spark spear was hurled with all his might by the sorcerer at the Ventral vampire, followed immediately by the homunculus leaping up and bringing his greatsword down on his head.

But all these attacks missed; neither the spears nor the greatswords struck more than a layer of mist. Salomon took a deep breath, turned to the right, and as he slammed his right elbow back, his left hand drew a short sword from his waist.

"Bang!" A dull thud echoed as Salomon's elbow struck the vampire's arm. After his elbow attack was blocked, he immediately leaned back slightly, his left hand gripping a short knife and slashing towards the vampire's neck. The vampire was faster than Salomon; the Vampire dodged the knife's attack by tilting his head, but was immediately met with a right-handed, straight-line punch, aimed directly at the vampire's face. After his initial success, Salomon's movements quickened considerably—this was a direct, head-on attack, with all four hands engaged, using palms to entangle the opponent's incoming strike. Once the advantage was gained, a series of palm strikes followed—a direct attack using superior strength. Understanding movement, presence, and retreat—this was the result of ten years of relentless practice. Although the oncoming wind made it difficult for him to open his eyes, Salomon's speed and memory allowed him to accurately strike his enemy.

His right fist swiftly lowered, pressing down on the vampire's rising wrist. The sorcerer shifted slightly to his left, his left hand wielding a short sword, slicing open the vampire's chest and abdomen from bottom to top, the wound extending to his armpit. Deep black blood immediately gushed from the wound, the precious blood instantly swept away by the cold wind, tiny droplets scattering, freezing, and falling into the thunderclouds behind the sorcerer. The Vampire, Vandro, screamed in agony. Each cut of the short sword drained his life force, blood, and soul; the greedy sucking caused him far greater pain than the long, deep, bone-revealing wound.

The dagger returned instantly, taking over the right hand's suppression, and the blade sliced ​​along the bone seam of the vampire Vantor's wrist, locking the enemy's movement. Salomon slammed his right fist into the vampire's face, and on the second strike, an orange-red ring unfolded and flashed on his fist, the orange-red light extremely conspicuous in the night, each punch igniting some flesh filled with negative energy.

The sizzling sound continued until the vampire, Ventura, was charred black, at which point the sorcerer stopped his right-hand attack. Immediately afterward, he lowered his right fist, repeating the blocking motion. This time, his left-hand dagger moved with incredible speed, slicing three times across the vampire's chest and abdomen. The movements were so rapid they were almost invisible. With the final strike, Salomon released his right hand, raised his left, and the dagger sliced ​​diagonally upwards from the vampire's chin to his forehead.

He sheathed his sword with his left hand, stepped forward in a bow stance, and delivered a punch squarely to the chest.

The arcane mage's attack took no more than seven seconds. The homunculus arrived just in time, and as the vampire staggered back a few steps, the homunculus stepped forward and swung his greatsword, attempting to cleave the vampire in two. However, without Salomon's suppressive positive energy magic, the attack missed again. The Vampire Ventura repeated his tactic, once more transforming into a cloud of black mist.

Salomon looked around, and when he saw the Vampire Vantor again, he found him perched on the wing of the airbus, blood still gushing from his wounds. The vampire, clutching his wounds, gave the sorcerer a grotesque smile with his charred face. Before Salomon could cast a spell to stop him, the vampire crouched down and used his sharp claws to pry open the deck above the engine.

Then, the engine exploded violently, accompanied by flames and a deafening roar. One wing was blown to pieces, and the Airbus lurched violently in the air, tilting and swaying as it plummeted into the clouds, billowing black smoke. Salomon and the androids were able to stand steadily thanks to their spider-walking abilities, but Captain Rogers wasn't so lucky. He was being dragged along by the cable around his waist, pressed tightly against the deck, and unable to stand up again.

Suddenly, a massive, deep red door appeared out of thin air beneath the airbus, and a pale arm with sharp red nails reached out from it, grabbing at the falling airbus. However, just as Salomon was about to open the portal to call for backup, a huge white arm adorned with ornate moths emerged from the clouds, accurately catching the falling plane. Meanwhile, another arm, decorated with purple butterflies, clenched its fist and slammed it hard into the arm that had tried to seize the airbus.

"Bitch! This isn't your man!"

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(End of this chapter)