Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 272 The Druid Who Keeps Up with the Times (First Update! Requesting Recommendation Votes!!)

Johnny Blaze had been suffering from a terrible headache lately. He felt as if each clap of thunder outside his window was an echo, the sound waves crashing into his brain, reverberating and striking the delicate blood vessels in his brain. Each impact felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his eardrums, causing cold sweat to bead on his forehead. It was his heartbeat. He remembered, it was his own heartbeat.

The presence of a heartbeat was a good thing; at least he still had a heart, instead of an empty, flickering flame between his ribs. He felt the demon inside him growing increasingly mad. Moru had said he could help him get rid of it, so he believed him, ignoring the young magician's sarcasm, simply because he wanted to see his girlfriend again. He had initially thought he had rid himself of the demon, but later realized that Moru had merely buried it deeper—now the demon was howling in the pit, keeping him almost awake.

Fortunately, the ghostly thing can't crawl out yet and can't replace him again at night. Even so, he still escaped from Carter Slade, because even the old Ghost Rider Carter Slade, whom he knew, couldn't solve this problem. According to the young sorcerer, the thing inside him wasn't the same as what Carter Slade had once possessed, and he would have to put in much more effort than Carter Slade to control it.

Control! To hell with control! He felt that soon his blood would boil and explode in his veins, and he would once again taste the pain of flames burning his body from the inside out. His internal organs, his muscles, his skin, everything about him would be burned to ashes in the raging fire, leaving only a skeletal skeleton filled with flames and the soul of a demon.

Johnny Blazer still can't forget that pain. Even on the first night after successfully suppressing the demon, he still needed alcohol to help him sleep, otherwise the pain would crash into his dreams at midnight. That's why he was arrested in the United States for drunk driving. And now, the demon is reminding Johnny with its voice not to forget this pain, because sooner or later, this pain will come again.

He needed more alcohol, strong enough to knock him unconscious! Only by completely losing consciousness could he banish the endless roar echoing in his soul from his mind. Johnny sat up in bed, fumbling for a bottle under the bed. What was this? Scotch whisky! Strong enough to power a sports car!

"You're almost finished with my wine." Father Moru was an excellent roommate because he always brought a lot of wine. After leaving the old knight, Johnny Blaze left America with Father Moru, who had come to him for help. According to the priest, the church had sent new members of the Inquisition to replace the fallen brothers. As the only survivor, he had been promoted significantly, and even his monthly allowance had increased by more than half.

Now, he could even afford to pay for both Moru and Johnny's daily drinking expenses—Johnny didn't have much money, and his girlfriend, knowing his situation, had tried to send money to Father Moru, but Johnny refused. His pride wouldn't allow it, and the only reason he stayed with Father Moru was because it offered a way to make money.

"This is the price your church pays for hiring me," Johnny said impatiently, waving his hand as he tried to take back the Scotch whisky that Father Moru had taken from him. "Come to think of it, I didn't know such a job existed before. All you have to do is pray every day, and you get paid for communion on weekends. This might be the best job in the world, right?"

"Your prayers weren't sincere, Johnny." Moru sat down beside Johnny's bed with a serious expression. He didn't intend to give Johnny the runaround, because he had more to say; he wanted Johnny to stay awake. At least for now. He said, "I know you're disappointed, but prayer can indeed alleviate your symptoms."

"But this can't be completely solved, can it?" Johnny felt flames spreading from between his bones; he felt his skin smoking. But when he looked down in horror, he realized it was just a hallucination. The worst kind of hallucination, the thing he feared most. Johnny swallowed hard, trying to make sure he wasn't actually on fire.

"I remember what Salomon said." A sudden fear interrupted his agitation, and Johnny became frustrated. "He said it was my fate, that I could never escape the spirit of vengeance."

“I’ve already given him the message,” Moru said. “I also have a bargaining chip. You have no idea how surprised the Church was when they found out that little rascal was the Son of God, and I just happened to have that dream. The Pope (Papa) believes that the dream foreshadows the Son of God’s great deeds; the Son of God is destined to slay a three-headed dragon, and the Church will canonize him, just like they canonized St. George—not the canonization of the Roman Catholic Church, that’s worthless—and at the same time, I’ve secured an opportunity for you.”

Moru organized his thoughts, then winked and said, "You absolutely cannot tell anyone about this. The Spirit of Vengeance belongs to Hell. If by then you still can't control it and are willing to pay any price for peace... I think you can go to Hell to resolve this. Don't tell the people in the church that they only want to use the Spirit of Vengeance within you to hunt dark magic creatures. Otherwise, why do you think they would hire you?"

"I'm not surprised the church has this goal; I'm not stupid. But your method is to make me confront that devil?" Johnny's eyes widened.

"Of course," Moru said with a hint of smugness. "That magician didn't tell you some things, but his personality made him intolerant of our mistakes, so he told me some things we didn't know before—he didn't tell you what the nature of the vengeful spirit within you is, how powerful it truly is, or what Mephisto did to this vengeful spirit. If you're willing to listen, I'll tell you slowly..."

"Then let's open this bottle of wine first."

Balthazar's teacup was empty, so he secretly poured some whiskey from his stainless steel flask into it, continuing to feign sipping his tea. He felt that without a drink, he couldn't ignore the deafening clanging of metal in the room.

Every time the Sorcerer Supreme struck Gungnir with Mjolnir, a dazzling burst of sparks erupted from the Ark of the Covenant, the noise of the artifacts colliding nearly knocking Balthazar over. But it wasn't without its amusing moments. Balthazar found the thought of Thor's bewildered expression as he reached out to summon the hammer utterly irritating. He should remember not to throw the hammer carelessly.

Unfortunately, he can't see that scene now; he can only continue to endure the noise.

"My lord," Balthazar offered his timely advice during the Sorcerer Supreme's break, raising his voice unconsciously, "perhaps you should give your disciple more trust; he might return unharmed. His stigmata aren't just for show."

"I only thought of opening the Ark of the Covenant because I didn't want him to overuse the Stigmata." The Venerable One glanced at Balthazar, who was bringing his teacup to his lips. "I know you're drinking, stop pretending. Tell me, isn't it normal to consider your disciple's needs? Aren't you the same way with your disciples?"

"I had Dave switch to environmental science. After all, druids need to keep up with the times. Stonehenge and all that is too old-fashioned, and there aren't any other druids to talk to (druidic societies) anymore." Balthazar, after being exposed, casually picked up his stainless steel bottle and took a sip. He poked his ear with his finger. "But I'm never worried about Dave. He can handle his own problems."

"Do you think Dave is capable of serving as Salomon's advisor?" the Venerable One asked. "After Salomon inherits the title, can Dave become a wise man as knowledgeable as Merlin?"

"Hmm...no."

"Then you need to speed up his education. Salomon received a much more rigorous education from a young age. He doesn't need an advisor who isn't smart enough."

"Aren't you being a little too harsh on Salomon?" Balthazar couldn't help but ask. "Those responsibilities don't belong to him by nature."

The Sorcerer Supreme chuckled twice. "His birthright was to be nailed to the cross. The future I've planned for him is much better, even if it's difficult. At least he'll survive and retain his own mind. Enough talk, Balthazar. Hurry up and figure out a way to open this thing. My patience is wearing thin."

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(End of this chapter)