Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 482 A Day in the Life of the Girls (First Update)

Tatiana was startled awake by the music on the radio—at least her soul was awake; her body, still dragging her consciousness, drifted in the greyish-white shallow sea, feeling as if she were still a veil of mist away from the world. She groped for the blankets around her until her fingers bumped against the cold bed railing, finally pulling her from her sweet slumber.

The girl took a deep breath of the filtered and clean sea air, then sighed happily.

Every day here was blissful. She no longer had to worry about being beaten and abused the next day, injected with strange drugs, and thrown onto guests' beds. She also didn't have to worry about going hungry; there was so much food that she needed to train extensively to convert the nutrients into muscle.

Tatiana knew she was the luckiest among her sisters.

It wasn't just because she was the first woman the women found, but also because she hadn't contracted an incurable disease, hadn't been injected with drugs, and hadn't suffered so much beating that her body was deformed. She had personally witnessed prostitutes who were too sick to continue seeing clients stuff an apple into their mouths, then be pierced by steel bars, and roasted over a fire by those who called themselves their masters, just to be filmed for people's amusement, like a suckling pig at a banquet.

No one will ever treat them like that again; this is the source of Tatiana's power to banish nightmares every time she falls asleep.

This power comes from the dagger and the firearm.

It originated from armor and shields.

It came from the enemy, it came from sisters.

It comes from Him, it comes from Him.

Tatiana and her roommates got out of bed, their bare feet touching the cold marble floor. Following the rules set by the ladies, they washed themselves in the morning, ensuring they were spotless. They gathered their wet hair and knelt on the floor to pray to the small shrine hanging on the wall. The brass statue, adorned with an exquisite laurel wreath and sword, had been sculpted by the ladies themselves, its face illuminated by radiating lines of light from behind its head.

The women said they shouldn't look directly at His face yet because their faith wasn't strong enough.

Those perfect people, Tatiana thought with immense envy of the women's serene expressions. They were so powerful, so resolute, so perfect—and these perfect people were said to be creations of the Savior himself! What a magnificent miracle! The perfect women themselves were His great creation!

Tatiana closed her eyes and prayed with unparalleled joy, recalling Ms. Dita's sermon.

Their God would not allow their past to repeat itself, for they are His people. Their lives belong to Him, and according to the ladies, they must serve the Savior with their own bodies; their mission is to accomplish the Savior's goals with blood and fire. Their flesh and blood are the tools, and their faith is the sword.

Tatiana's wet, golden hair hung straight down in front of her eyes. She didn't brush it aside, but continued her and her sisters' morning prayer. This was a daily ritual, the first thing they did after waking. Next came mealtime, a short prayer, and then training.

"I think we're the only ones who finished our homework today. Ms. Tita assigned so much math homework, it was so hard. And today's lesson was swordsmanship, supposedly taught by Him," her sister Vera whispered after praying, her voice tinged with anticipation and fear, as if afraid her words would be overheard by the other sisters passing by in the corridor. Vera was a shy girl, about fourteen years old, just like her. Tatiana couldn't imagine what kind of torment Vera had endured in the past, so she would hug Vera whenever she had the chance, never mentioning her scars.

"I saw the ladies' swords," she said, her voice barely audible. "Chainsaws, and they're very loud."

"That might be the sword we'll be using in the future," Tatiana said with a smile. "The ladies said we'd have our own swords and bolt guns someday. I remember the scene of the ladies blowing up walls with bolt guns; they were like angels..."

"The violent angel, I remember that too! The ladies say that's what we'll be like in the future! When do you think we'll be able to see Him?" Vera gripped Tatiana's arm tightly, and Tatiana could feel Vera's fingers trembling. "The ladies say that as long as we train hard, we'll have a chance to see Him. Is that true? They say Lady Tita can see Him every day."

"I don't think women lie..."

"How about..." Vera stammered nervously, her face a mixture of excitement and fear, "We...we'll sneak off to see Him..."

Tatiana's first thought was to imagine a gloomy man shrouded in a hood.

He leaned on a longsword, radiating an endless, blinding light capable of melting everything. Then her imagination leaped to another place; she saw the entire underground city as a sleeping giant, perched atop its heart, overlooking all who struggled within its veins. She imagined Him as having three chambers, a giant seated on a throne, countless glowing eyes beneath his hood, papers filled with incomprehensible writing being sent into his chambers and then spat out again, every word He uttered a sacred incantation etched into stone, and Lady Dita flying behind him with wings.

Tatiana shuddered at the shock of her own imagination. "I don't think we have that ability. He must be surrounded by guards," she quickly said. "Besides, it's blatant overstepping of his authority, and the ladies wouldn't allow it."

"I just want to see Him," Vera said nervously. "What if we've memorized the sacred words and completed the training, but still can't see Him?"

"Are you accusing the ladies of lying?" Tatiana's eyes widened.

She couldn't believe Vera would utter such blasphemous words.

"No, I absolutely won't do that! I would never doubt the ladies!" Vera cried out, sweating profusely. She stamped her foot, looked around, then leaned close to Tatiana's ear, biting her lip, and whispered in the softest voice she could muster. "I just want to see Him! I can't stand that blurry statue anymore! I want to see Him, I can't stand it for even a second longer!"

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Stephanie's swimsuit tan lines were beautiful, and expensive. She said they were meticulously designed and cost her several thousand dollars; Salomon couldn't resist seeing them. After seeing them, Salomon decided to go for a walk to clear his head, since there was nothing he could do about it.

Two blonde girls, dressed in the sorority's usual training uniforms, stood there, one clinging tightly to the other's arm, looking extremely nervous. Salomon had no idea how they'd gotten there, but given the sorority's base wasn't far away, he figured it was normal for trainees to have passed through. The tolerant Lord of the Immortal City, though puzzled, patted the two little heads before him. He sent them back to the training base to prevent the strict Tita from increasing their training workload.

Dita's psychological reconstruction work on these girls was flawless, and Salomon was extremely satisfied with her work. As far as he knew, one of the girls' daily training exercises was shooting at the dead pimps, a method that clearly helped them overcome their fear. He didn't want a group of girls controlled by fear, but rather a group who understood what they were doing and had plans for the future.

That's not the case at all; Tita used a completely different method.

Considering the abuse and tragedy these girls had endured, it's truly remarkable that they've been able to rekindle their original personalities. They are no longer afraid of their surroundings and have begun to live actively. Their ability to run outside and play is simply the lively nature expected of girls their age, and there's nothing to blame them for. Of course, he has delegated authority to Tita; if Tita discovers the girls' behavior and intends to punish them, Salomon will not interfere.

Please vote! I finished writing this while I was slacking off!

(End of this chapter)