Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 39 concludes here.

P.S.: This chapter is not suitable for animal rights activists, those who are overly patriotic, those who are generous with other people's money, those who are only interested in martial arts, those who love Twilight Mary Sue stories, and those who are not good at thinking. This list will be extended, depending on how stupid humans can get.

Salomon peeked out of the car to make sure the talkative driver wouldn't turn back halfway.

The nearest vending machine is over 200 meters away in a remote, dilapidated residential area where most residents are fishermen. Salomon's target is to live in this area.

It was still daytime, and the streets of the residential area were lined with few trees, only patches of yellowish-green grass. Clearly, the residents had no time to tend to their lawns. Not only that, but tire rims, empty beer cans, and dilapidated RVs were piled up between each house, the weeds even reaching the height of the vehicle axles. When Salomon got out of the car, he even stepped on a thick bolt submerged in the grass, waiting to rust in this desolate sea of ​​wasteland.

As the warm spring breeze blew by, a rusted swing in the messy courtyard swayed slightly, making a soft creaking sound, and specks of rusty red dust fell down.

Salomon was quite pleased to see few people around. After he saw his target leave, he sent the driver away. He wanted to ensure the upcoming fight wouldn't be witnessed.

After the Collins family disappeared from the town, the British Collins family quickly took over the town's fishing industry, as if they had been preparing for it all along. And after Barnabas was petrified, the local police had a sudden realization and began investigating a backlog of murders.

Perhaps because there were too many cases, a high-profile investigation would inevitably be seen as dereliction of duty by the public. Therefore, the local police did not take measures such as blocking the streets or summoning suspects. Instead, they wanted to gradually downplay the impact of these cases and conduct private investigations.

Salomon's hunting of vampires and werewolves had attracted some attention, which was why he contacted the taxi driver. Having the local guide him through the streets and alleys would avoid unnecessary attention. He kicked off the bolt under his foot and calmly followed the werewolf not far ahead.

He was a typical fisherman, with graying temples, dark skin, and wearing a wrinkled dark plaid shirt; his clothes were as wrinkled as his face. Wood habitually walked close to the wall, and even when he came out of his house and went down the stairs, he walked sideways.

Perhaps out of professional habit, Salomon's new face finally piqued his interest as he was about to leave the neighborhood. Not to mention, Salomon's clothing was not that of an ordinary person; anyone with a discerning eye could see the expensiveness of the seven silver chains binding the shroud of hominids on Salomon's body.

And Wood was the one with the insight.

Upon realizing he had been discovered, Salomon gave up the pursuit and walked up to the werewolf without hesitation. But before he could speak, the werewolf spoke first.

He narrowed his eyes, reddened from years of sea breeze, and sized up the young sorcerer, his voice coming from lungs soaked in tar. "What's a young master doing here? There's nothing fun here, and this isn't a place for you."

"I want to talk to you." Salomon pointed to a secluded corner. "Come with me."

After saying that, he walked away on his own. The werewolf looked around, hesitated for a moment, and then followed. Salomon's retro clothing reminded him of the wizard in fairy tales—after Angie's disappearance, he stopped contacting his former companions, otherwise he would have noticed that the werewolves in the town were gradually decreasing.

"Speak quickly, kid." He became a little impatient as they walked behind the house. "I have to work, I don't have time to play house."

"You can't go, Mr. Wood." Salomon said after confirming that no one was around. "I'm sorry, but I can't let any werewolf leave alive."

With just a tiny sip, the filthy saliva buries the curse of werewolf disease beneath the skin of a normal person. Waiting for the full moon, a new werewolf will appear, and the cycle will repeat itself.

This is intolerable.

"You're a wizard? Damn it! I knew it, wizards are all freaks!" he said angrily. "Listen, I haven't been in contact with any other werewolves for a long time, okay? I didn't work for Angie willingly either. What could I do! I was born a werewolf! My dad was! My grandpa was! If I didn't work for her, I would die!"

And Angie has been missing for thirty-one years! I finally managed to escape them! Now, I'm just an ordinary fisherman! I go out to sea to fish to support my family and save money for my children's schooling; I haven't done anything else!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wood. Whatever your reasons, the very existence of werewolves is a sin," Salomon said expressionlessly. "I can't guarantee you won't bite, or even that your children won't bite."

The werewolf panicked. He spread his hands and said, "Hey, hey, listen, I haven't bitten anyone, I really haven't. My children aren't werewolves either, I promise! I'd rather sell my soul to a devil than let my children become werewolves."

Wood, who had worked under Angelique, knew how terrifying wizards were; even werewolves were afraid of that witch's power and cruelty.

According to their own ancestors, Angelique had lived for two hundred years, and during those two hundred years, she remained young and powerful. Wood felt that the wizard before him was the same; seemingly young, but in reality, she had lived for many years.

"I'll investigate myself," Salomon said, unmoved by the werewolf's explanation, "but you must die here. I'm not some wild mage like Angelique; I come from Kamar-Taj, and your existence violates the laws of the Sorcerer Supreme."

"F*uck! F*uck! I didn't do anything!" he yelled as he crept closer to Salomon.

Magic requires incantation, so the best approach is to get close to the wizard as quickly as possible and interrupt their spell.

This was a plan devised by his father when he wanted to rebel against Angie. Although he disappeared before he could betray Angie, now is the time for this method to come in handy.

"Bang—!" A dull thud of flesh colliding suddenly rang out as the werewolf's head was slammed hard into the grass, bounced up, and then slammed down again, squeezing a shallow crater into the grass.

The sudden blow left him dizzy and nearly unconscious. He was knocked to the ground before he could even transform. Salomon's Tiger Climb had given him a concussion. Wood could only see everything in front of him swaying and becoming blurry. His ears were filled with a buzzing sound, and even though he tried to breathe, he couldn't even lift his hand. And that wasn't all.

"I will bear all the sins." Salomon put away his stance, stepped forward, stepped on the werewolf's neck, and used his toes to pin the werewolf's jaw to prevent the werewolf from raising its head to bite his ankle.

The sorcerer bent down and placed his palm on the werewolf's temple. He said, "Farewell, Mr. Wood."

"Ugh...cough cough..." But the werewolf didn't hear what Salomon was saying at all. Salomon didn't wait for the werewolf's response either. He took out a short dagger from his waist and pressed the sharp blade against the side of Wood's head.

"Farewell, Mr. Wood," he said again. Then, he slammed his other hand down on the end of the dagger, and the gleaming blade plunged into the werewolf's temple.

Salomon felt the werewolf beneath his feet twitch a few times before stopping. He drew his dagger, wiped the blade clean on Wood's clothes, and then sheathed it at his waist.

This was the weakest werewolf he had ever hunted.

"Aren't you bored sitting here like this?" The driver took a bottle of beer and a bottle of cola and got back into the car. Clearly, he hadn't just gone to the vending machine. He handed the cola to Salomon, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Here, this is cold."

Salomon pulled the tab and bumped the can against the driver's.

"Cheers! Whew—that was fucking awesome!" The driver chugged down half a bottle of beer and asked Salomon, "Where are you headed next?"

"Whatever, the work is done." Salomon exhaled, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair.

Just now, he killed more than one werewolf.

How could a werewolf's child be an ordinary person?

P.S.: Please vote for this post!

It's worth mentioning again that werewolfism is absolutely incurable, not even with a wish. Even if someone were to generously use another's resources, the protagonist couldn't cure the werewolf with a wish. Furthermore, the werewolf's transformation is extremely manic and uncontrollable during a flare-up. Anyone who's read Harry Potter understands what kind of creature a werewolf is. After being bitten, a person must successfully pass a DC 12 immunity exemption. Since the average person's immunity bonus is 0, this means there's roughly a three-fifths chance of becoming a werewolf; otherwise, they'll be cursed with werewolfism.

Of course, this is only possible for those who survive the werewolf attack and are not torn to pieces.

Some people even used COVID-19 as an example... At least COVID-19 has a chance of being cured, but there is no such thing as apoplexy.

If anyone can't stand it and thinks the protagonist is too cruel, or that werewolves are just strong, ordinary people... well, all I can say is, I hope the innocent people who were bitten by werewolves can forgive them. After all, you don't feel pain unless the knife is on your own body. People standing on the shore can say whatever they want, since they weren't bitten. Otherwise, they would blame others for not killing all the werewolves.

It can only be said that there are many self-righteous hypocrites who are keen to be generous with other people's money and ignore their safety to satisfy their own saintly hearts. The protagonist's humanity is for human beings.

(End of this chapter)