Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 349 Savagery is Synonymous with Battle (Second Update! 961000 Monthly Tickets)

The holy sword sliced ​​through the air along with the Dark Elf King's body, filling his nostrils with the stench of burning flesh and ozone. With each massive wound Salomon cleaved, crimson aether instantly filled the wound, forming new blood and flesh. No matter how the Dark Elf King dodged, Salomon could still bring the holy sword's judgment upon him.

He took a step forward, swung his sword, parried the enemy's attack, and then spun the blade to thrust it straight at the throat.

He swung his sword, stepped outward, and slashed off the enemy's hand.

Swing horizontally, step back to the side, and slash at the back of the enemy's neck.

Meyer's swordsmanship flowed smoothly from his hands. After the fluid weapon, the aether particles, was blocked by the golden flames, he completely abandoned the shield, turning instead to swift swordsmanship in hopes of ending his enemy. The arrogant Malekith laughed wildly in the darkness. Even as Salomon's sword speed increased, even as the temperature of the sword rose, even as the golden flames emanating from Salomon grew more intense, even though he had neither the speed nor the power to retaliate, Salomon's attacks still appeared weak and powerless to him.

Although Malekith was confident he could kill the enemy before him, he wanted to finish him off as soon as possible. Each time he repaired his body, it meant the infection of the Nine Realms would be more difficult, and each delay meant he might miss the crucial opportunity of celestial convergence. He was immortal; upon contact with the True Aether, the fifth elemental entity, his soul had merged with these Aether particles. As long as his spirit existed, as long as he didn't separate from the Aether particles, the Aether particles would transform into the other four elements to mend his body, just as the alchemist Hemmonculus repaired his wounds during creation, consuming only the life force devoured by the Aether particles.

Salomon vanished in the blink of an eye, enveloped in a silvery mist. He instantly reappeared behind the Dark Elf King, his longsword piercing the thick, crimson veil, the blade cleaving Malekith's arm bones in two. The flying fragments were swallowed whole by the crimson beast beside the Dark Elf King, then transformed into another substance to repair his arm. The holy sword sliced ​​through his body at the waist, the intense heat carbonizing the massive gash, but in the next instant, aetheric particles, like blood vessels and bones, filled the missing tissues and organs. Countless souls and lives devoured over countless ages were ground down, unleashing a miracle unimaginable to mortals.

The Infinity Stones represent infinity; there is nothing more powerful in the universe.

Ether is his soul, his life, his weapon.

Although the greedy aether has not yet been completely tamed, it no longer matters. As long as I possess the aether, the primordial darkness will surely descend upon this universe. Malekith smiled as he met the sorcerer's attack, for hardship was an inevitable part of his ascent; he had to face this suffering, just as he had done in the past.

Salomon was like a hammer, relentlessly forging his soul on the anvil of the aether. Malekith's life force gradually weakened, but his soul grew stronger; he was being accepted by the aether—no, he was becoming the aether, becoming the whispering will hidden deep within the gems. His intellect, his spirit, his soul were all crushed and filled into the miracle engine known as the Infinity Stones.

The knight, sword raised high, roared, his dragon-wing thrusters slamming Salomon and Malekith into the crimson ocean, where they descended amidst golden flames. A fierce and bloody battle erupted in the etheric sea and golden flames. Because they were so close, etheric particles began to pry open Salomon's armor, instinctively sucking his blood and life force—but this instinctive act had extremely serious consequences. The blood flowing from Salomon's body ignited like gasoline in the golden flames, triggering a series of fleeting, small explosions between Salomon and Malekith.

Salomon tossed aside his shield and plunged his longsword into Malekith's shoulder. He twisted the blade, carving a gaping wound far more painful than the previous clean stabs and slashes. Malekith let out a groan as the gushing blood was either evaporated by the golden flames or devoured by the aether particles. The Dark Elf King slammed his fist into Salomon's helmet, knocking the wizard's head to one side. But in the blink of an eye, Salomon turned back in fury, raising his fist and delivering a powerful blow to the dark elf's pale, malevolent face.

The aether repaired Malekith's nose, which had collapsed into a bloody pulp, and filled in his broken teeth and cheekbones, so Salomon punched him again. Even in the midst of the brutal, hand-to-hand combat, Salomon didn't forget to twist his longsword, tearing Malekith's chest open again and again.

Repair, tear, repair again, tear again. The Dark Elf King's armor was tattered, and his gaunt, pale body was covered with nauseating, deep red wounds that continued to writhe, extending tiny tentacles as they tried to drain the life from the sorcerer.

Lips hidden behind the helmet uttered a spell, and sharp, crackling iron claws, crackling with lightning and flame, gripped Malekith's neck, their sharp tips piercing skin and sinking into muscle and blood vessels. With all his might, he crushed the damned throat, tearing out bloodied organs and entrails. At the same time, he kicked Malekith's kneecap with his heel, forcing the damned alien to his knees.

Savage and bloody are the words to describe this battle. The arcane mage endured the excruciating pain of the dark elf's fists pounding his armor, and the utter helplessness as the aetheric particles drained his life force. He gripped Malekith's chin, forcing him to kneel and await the holy sword's decapitation. But before he could move, the aetheric particles spontaneously formed a massive warhammer, colliding with the raised holy sword. The two powerful forces exploded upon contact, utterly separating Malekith and Salomon.

The golden flames on the arcane mage's body suddenly went out, the sacred mark lost its fuel, and his emotions slowly returned.

Salomon quickly scrambled to his feet from the black gravel. Unexpectedly, Malekith didn't pursue, nor did he find any trace of the enemy. In his hand, which had been gripping Malekith, lay only half a torn-off face and a bloodied jawbone. He didn't know which of the Nine Realms he was in, nor what had just happened, but out of caution and unease about this unprecedented situation, he temporarily deactivated his Stigmata.

Once his tense nerves relaxed, the excessive lactic acid secretion made it impossible for him to lift his arm.

He breathed a slight sigh of relief, then sat motionless on the ground. Although he didn't know what had just happened, the immense energy had been completely exhausted when he regained his humanity. He felt his lungs burning; the dusty air, filtered through his armor, required him to gasp for breath to get enough oxygen.

He felt that if he didn't sit down and catch his breath, he wouldn't have the strength to fight the battle that followed.

"Damn it, dark elves are all effeminate gay black guys in high heels and sequined tops," Salomon muttered, his trembling fingers rummaging through his dimensional bag for any useful potions. Even before taking any, his strength was rapidly returning, and soon he was standing again, awkwardly and achingly taking small steps to retrieve his shield. He was completely unaware of this abnormal regenerative ability; in fact, he was quite used to it. Without this stamina, he would never have been able to do certain enjoyable things with the witch.

During his brief rest, Salomon seriously considered the reasons for the previous situation. He didn't believe that the Vishanti would be so generous as to give him power without any cost; there must be some inhuman force at play—he recalled hearing hymns and roars when he lost his humanity, and he roughly knew who was tormenting him.

Something is definitely causing trouble in the upper and lower planes!

This idea infuriated Salomon. He disliked these extradimensional beings interfering with his thoughts, not even a little bit!

He shook his head, preparing to find a way back. It wasn't difficult at all; the third-circle divination spell, [Analysis Portal], could take him back to Earth.

The prerequisite is that no one bothers him before he finds the portal.

Melee combat is so hard to write! Everyone uses magic, so why not just roll dice and calculate AC and DC?

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(End of this chapter)