Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 360 The Witch's Gift (First Update)

The great Allfather was wolfing down his breakfast on the table. After a series of Asgardian-style eating habits, he licked his fingers, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied burp. However, before he could rest for long, the doors of the asylum were flung open, and a young man in a magnificent crimson robe led a large group of simply dressed, equally young people in.

Then the group of menacing fellows were stopped by community volunteers. The young man leading them gave an awkward smile, his gaze sweeping through the crowd before he locked onto his target. This young man wasn't some street thug trying to make some money at the shelter; his clothes were quite valuable, and if the volunteers hadn't noticed, they would have already grabbed shotguns to confront the group. After some negotiation and persuasion (plus enchanting spells and monetary bargaining), Salomon was finally able to lead his apprentices away, taking the Father of the Gods, who had been thoroughly cleaned by the volunteers.

"Where are you taking me?" The Father of Gods clutched the crumpled napkin in his hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

Although the Allfather's mind was clouded, his power did not vanish. The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj carefully followed him, maintaining a safe distance to avoid being smashed to pieces in a moment of panic. Only Salomon could approach the Allfather, gently persuading him to come with him. At the same time, he sent a message to the Queen of the Gods, who was in the hut, informing her of the current situation.

After dealing with all this mess, Salomon waved away the few remaining owls and the swarms of snakes living in the sewers of New York City. It was thanks to their help that Salomon was able to find the Allfather so quickly—though "quickly" meant searching all night, the result was good, and no one could criticize their actions, not even the temple deacons who would soon emerge from the dimensional rift.

Salomon, no longer interested in the matter, sent the Allfather to Frigga and returned home. He left the rest to Frigga; Asgard had already struck a deal with the Sorcerer Supreme, and Salomon simply had to comply. He could then enjoy a brief period of peace and the joy of starting university.

Athena gave him another car.

"How can a college student not have their own car?" These were Athena's exact words—Salomon had originally thought she was going to give him an ordinary sedan, but he forgot that the Olympian pantheon's deeply ingrained love of luxury was something they could never shake off. Athena waved her hand casually, and an Aston Martin slowly drove out of her garage. The person in the driver's seat was little Lorna, and judging from her excited expression, she was also happy to be able to engage in the illegal activity of driving without a license.

"Take little Lorna for a spin around New York," Athena said, handing the childcare to Salomon. "And let her get used to the new car. Next, you'll need to rent a decent house in Oxford, make sure it has a garage." The goddess of wisdom cleared her throat, speaking with immense pride, "Actually, I've already found one! £215 a week, with a private bathroom and an oven."

[Note: These are actual prices, but the apartment doesn't include a garage, and international students generally wouldn't rent this type of place.]

"I want to eat baked cookies!" Little Lorna chimed in, joining in the fun.

"Whatever makes you happy," Salomon rolled his eyes helplessly. As always, he would try his best to satisfy Athena's desire for control, but Athena, as his foster mother, wouldn't comply after making these demands. "Then you'll have to pick up your girlfriend. Although I don't like her, I have to admit that ordinary people aren't suitable for you," she said. "Your girlfriend has a gift for you."

"I have a gift for you."

Bayonetta gently pulled Salomon by the collar and dragged him into the bedroom. The bedroom was decorated in the witch's usual style of extravagance, especially the four-poster bed with its deep red silk curtains embroidered with gold thread, which had withstood the test of centuries and was worth no less than a masterpiece.

The light, filtered through the deep red curtains, made the space dim and cramped, and Salomon seemed to be held captive, unable to move. He could almost feel the witch's breath, and Bayonetta's perfume filled every corner of the room.

"Just like we used to do." The witch kissed the sorcerer's cheek, her beautiful, strong legs rendering Salomon immobile. The sorcerer's heart raced, his face flushed crimson, his mouth felt unusually dry, his tongue felt like it was rubbing against sandpaper, and he felt as if his lungs were on fire.

"Really...really? But Joan of Arc..."

"Don't worry, your foster mother sent her away." Bayonetta winked playfully. "For the next five hours, it'll just be us in this house. Boya, this is your coming-of-age ceremony! Oh dear, are you shy? Oh my~ how adorable, my dear little kitty~"

Like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, rising steam mingled with the wisps of mist that descended from the sky and flowed into the lake. The saint's veil, embroidered with gold thread, was covered with prayers and totems for the gods; the crimson silk, reflecting the setting sun through the mist, cast translucent shadows on the earth. A powerful bull was brought by slaves, and at the saint's gentle prayers, a sharp blade slit its throat; blood splattered, staining the saint's arm and the shadowed statue of the goddess.

The saint descended the shaded steps, dripping her blood onto the foreheads of the believers. Sharing joy and glory with God, the saint was the embodiment of divinity. She held high the banner of jubilation, her rosy cheeks radiating a divine light that even tinged the clouds with orange. Her thick, dark hair, flowing like a forest in a gentle breeze, rustled softly. Her breath was as moist as mist rising from a lake, and when she spoke, even the ancient stone buildings could not muffle her voice.

Representing the goddess Bikis, she grasped the hands of her followers, melting all of Salomon's joy and anger into the lake. With all her emotions, she painted prayers praising Bikis across the desolate land of Sheba, accompanied by the songs and dances of the three goddesses of Yoruba. "Praise be to Sheba," she said, "Praise be to the goddess of pleasure and desire, praise be to Bikis, mother of Manelek I, king of Ethiopia, queen of spices and gold, who desires all of you, Solomon."

"This is really..." Salomon sighed, unable to say anything more.

Transform!

(End of this chapter)