Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 351 All Men Are Masochists (Second Update)

The sorcerer interpreted the Goddess of Death's persistent demands for Salomon to kneel as a manifestation of her manic emotions stemming from confinement, an emotion that intensified with his indifference. Indeed, the absence of anyone reaffirming her past glory and expressing reverence was a denial of her inherent rights, and the more this was denied, the colder this dark land of bones felt.

She interpreted Salomon's disrespect as a silent mockery of her, which greatly angered the goddess of death.

Prior to this, Salomon had already gained a deep understanding of the young women of Asgard's military nobility; they loved swords more than fine clothes, and they revered strength over wisdom. Hela, the Goddess of Death, was undoubtedly such an Asgardian, so when Salomon refused to kneel, the enraged Goddess of Death drew her black sword, "The Sword of the Night Sky," and thrust it straight at the sorcerer.

She decided to use force herself. In the past, she was an idol admired by all the girls of Asgard.

The arcane mage reacted swiftly, deflecting the attack with his holy sword and launching a rapid counterattack. With their stigmata deactivated and the mysterious power gone, Salomon and the Goddess of Death, stripped of Asgardian power, weren't significantly different in speed and strength. However, Hela's swordsmanship far surpassed Salomon's. Even though both had studied swordsmanship designed for multiple opponents, Hela's combat experience was terrifyingly rich, far exceeding Salomon's reach.

But Salomon still possessed the power of the Vishanti, and some simple spells supplemented his skill. His figure was like a ghost, always managing to dodge Hela's sword before it touched his armor, and two floating daggers further blocked Hela's deadly attacks on his helmet. The goddess of death's eyes flashed with malice; each clash of longsword against longsword, longsword against shield, produced a deafening roar. Her attacks grew increasingly fierce, her swordsmanship increasingly ruthless, forcing Salomon to constantly shift positions, stepping over the clattering, pale bones.

When the black blade of the Night Sky Sword carved a deep gash into the armor, the arcane mage had no choice but to distance himself, for the Goddess of Death had anticipated his move. This was merely a feint, forcing him to his predetermined position; her next step would be to let the serpentine tip of her sword pierce the gaps in the armor, delivering a treacherous blow to Salomon.

"Crazy woman!" Salomon gritted his teeth and forced out the words. The wounds on his chest and abdomen throbbed with pain. The wounds Malekith had left him had not been bandaged and had not healed quickly even after taking the alchemical potion. During the strenuous exercise, the fragile wounds were violently torn apart, and he felt his shirt sticking wetly to his body.

The goddess of death was thrilled by the scent of blood. There were only bones here, no blood, no living creatures waiting for her to kill. She was the goddess of death; only life and death could highlight her greatness, and the scattered bones could not praise her glory.

"Hurry, hurry, mortal!" she cried happily, inhaling the scent. "Your swordsmanship is not bad, but it's not enough! More blood, more blood, only that will make me happy! Offer a gift to your queen, warrior of Midgard!"

Countless black longswords flew from her hands, crashing against Salomon's shield with resounding clangs. Laughing, she advanced towards the arcane mage, repeatedly parrying Salomon's swings. Salomon used his shield to block Hela's thrusting black longsword, but the next second, another black longsword pierced the helmet's eyelet, forcing the arcane mage to dodge to the side. At that moment, the suppressed "Sword of the Night Sky" viciously slashed upwards, leaving deep gashes on the side armor and breastplate.

Battle was entertainment for her, and death after battle was her happiest moment. "Your swordsmanship amuses me. I won't kill you now, because we'll be together for a long time to come," she laughed maniacally. "But be careful, I don't guarantee your integrity. Today I'll take one of your little fingers first, so it won't affect your swordsmanship. Only pain will teach you how to face your queen!"

Countless black spikes shot towards his leg armor, which his shield couldn't cover, forcing him towards a corner of the Bone Throne Hall, leaving him with nowhere to retreat. "Faster, faster!" she cried with a maniacal laugh, "or you'll die!"

Queen Frigga rolled her eyes at the Sorcerer Supreme. Salomon's every move in the Realm of the Dead had not escaped the Sorcerer Supreme's watchful eye. Queen Frigga displayed this surveillance spell in a silver basin, observing Salomon and Hela through the water's surface. However, this scene did not bring the Queen any joy; she hadn't expected her daughter to have gone so mad.

She had originally thought that letting Salomon talk to Hela would help her daughter alleviate her loneliness.

Any method is acceptable; Queen Frigga doesn't mind at all, and Asgard can afford to give her a princely title.

"Aren't you worried?" Queen Frigga asked the Sorcerer Supreme, who was busy slicing smoked salmon. The Sorcerer Supreme seemed completely unconcerned about his disciple's safety; even though he was nearly stabbed in the eye by Hela's Nightfall Sword, he believed his disciple would not die.

The Sorcerer Supreme did not inform the Queen of the outcome of Salomon's battle with the Dark Elf King. That secret of the Stigmata was something the Sorcerer Supreme decided to keep hidden. He knew why Salomon had entered that state, and he also knew the true mystery of the Seventh Throne of the Stigmata. Agamotto had already told her those secrets, and few beings in this world, apart from the eternal gods, knew this.

"No." The Venerable One popped a piece of smoked salmon made by Salomon into his mouth and opened a bottle of sweet wine. These were all from Salomon's collection; the Sorcerer Supreme could take them without asking. The arcane locks Salomon had placed on the wine cabinet were no problem for the Sorcerer Supreme, nor for Frigga. "This child can handle it." The Venerable One didn't even glance at the situation displayed in the water mirror. "Perhaps he really can calm your daughter who's having a manic episode! There won't be a next time. Odin's family education problems can't always be solved by me. Midgard isn't an Aesir nursery; all your children combined are probably too old."

The Sorcerer Supreme's claim of "being able to handle it" was far from good. A black dagger was embedded in Salomon's shoulder armor, and the dragon-wing thrusters behind him hummed. Salomon still made up his mind to activate the Stigmata. Although Hela was not as difficult to deal with as the Dark Elf King who possessed the Aether, she was still not someone he could handle after a previous battle.

The holy sword clashed with the black sword, and the dragon-wing thrusters propelled him and Hela against the wall of the obsidian palace. The Goddess of Death conjured a short dagger and plunged it viciously into the arcane mage's abdomen. Salomon also raised his shield and struck Hela's head from the side with the edge, snapping off her menacing spiked helmet.

Queen Frigga saw it clearly, and she couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

The Supreme Master glanced lazily at the water mirror, then continued eating the fish.

"This is not something you can 'handle' as you say!" Queen Frigga said, pointing at the water mirror. "That child is going to die!"

"Don't worry." Perhaps because he had beaten up a few unruly lower-dimensional creatures on the battlefield of Blood War, the Sorcerer Supreme was listless. "He's fine. He's my disciple, after all. I'll tell you a secret, Salomon likes women like that."

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(End of this chapter)