Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 553 Naval Tactics (Second Update! Please vote!)

He sensed the fear in those bastards; the cold sweat on their backs was the unease that followed the waning of the addictive drug's euphoria, a side effect of receptor inhibition. This was normal; if he hadn't secretly poured large quantities of his homemade addictive alchemical potion into the circulating water system, those crew members wouldn't have dared to follow him in robbing the casino. But as the drug's effects wore off, they couldn't revert to their former cowardice, because their veins were now flowing with filth. In the alcohol-fueled, increasingly criminal atmosphere, their insatiable craving for drugs and money would urge these smugglers to continue plundering, completely switching to a different trade. He deliberately didn't wash the bloodstains from his clothes to remind these bastards—they might be able to gain immunity or a reduced sentence on Xandar by betraying their captain, but don't forget, he and his sword are much closer than Xandar itself.

Merlin's initial plan was to travel to that place by smuggling ship, but the reality was that there were no longer any sea routes leading there. It had many names: the Veil of Dreams, the Source of Nightmares—numerous civilizations had given it ominous names in their own ways. Some civilizations believed a giant, black octopus lived there, an octopus that could penetrate dreams and lead people into an abyss of madness. Legends and myths recurred tales of that place's horror, and to maintain this terrifying plan, Salomon decided to seize command of the ship, leading this rabble down a bloody path. They would plunder and resupply along the way; only in this way could they reach the weak point between the Prime Material Plane and the outer dimensions. Merlin clearly had no compassion; he cared about nothing. Only Dave couldn't understand why Salomon was doing this.

"Do you really think you can empathize with aliens, Dave?" Salomon said nonchalantly. "If they were communicable aliens, then of course we could coexist peacefully. But the people on this ship are all desperate criminals, they'd rather die than be rich, and their morals are shockingly low. The demons within them have been unleashed, and if it weren't for my restraint, they would have done even worse. Death is the best outcome, and that's absolutely true for everyone, including those bastards."

"You're going to kill someone again."

"Heh." Salomon winked playfully, trying not to let the excessive pressure overwhelm Dave. "I believe that if the Xandar government knew what I had done, they would definitely commend me, because the casino tycoon who entrenched himself in that toxic atmosphere and dung heap hadn't paid taxes! Because I purged a group of corrupt officials who were colluding with the casino tycoon! You need to experience some cruel things to understand the ruthlessness of this universe. I only care about humanity, not aliens, and I don't want you to sympathize with those who will become enemies of humanity in the future. Understand your place; you and I are both human. If humanity is to conquer the galaxy, then human chauvinism is essential in the early stages of conquest. Believe me, even Asgard rose to power this way."

"You're going to start a war."

"I must wage war. Humanity must wage war to rise." Salomon rolled his eyes, gesturing for Merlin, who was watching the Xandarian adult channel, to give Dave a good talking-to. However, the hybrid Nightmare pretended not to see, continuing to admire the beautiful figure of the pink-skinned young lady. "Thanks to the Celestials' genetic modification technology, many aliens can be considered subspecies of humans, with the possibility of peaceful coexistence. So, future wars aren't as bad as you imagine," Salomon said before leaving the capsule. "However, I hope you distance yourself from naivety soon. Balthazar's education was limited to Earth; this time you have the opportunity to see further. If you remain so weak, it means the position of Swordholder is simply not suitable for you; you are unworthy to touch the Sword of Terra."

Salomon believed Dave would understand the meaning of those words, and that the harsh reality of En-Gale and the Merlin Wizarding Order would teach him a lesson.

He was optimistic about the impending attack, believing that no matter how much the aliens had modified their bodies, they couldn't possibly be his match. He happened to know some ancient techniques for space naval warfare, more than the smugglers who only knew how to run away. Although these experiences were tinged with ancient Asgardian recklessness and quirky, optimistic humor, including but not limited to loading gunpowder into launch bays, igniting it, and launching soldiers like torpedoes; or attaching rams to his ships and then jumping directly into the enemy's hull through the ram's passageways.

He decided to increase the dosage for the crew, hoping to embolden them to carry out these crazy plans with him—which plans? The ones that would launch soldiers out of the launch pods, of course! He didn't want to leave these untrustworthy crew members on the ship!

He misses the Sisterhood terribly; those loyal androids are sure to accomplish the task he has given him.

Salomon closed his eyes and communicated with the flames floating atop the spaceship. The loyal Phoenix would never stray from him; even traversing the cosmos, the phoenix would do everything in its power to aid Salomon.

------------

Laura Crawford couldn't decipher the Greek inscriptions on the tombstones of the ancient prophets buried deep underground. She now only wished for a Greek expert by her side, like her handsome patron, Mr. Damonette.

Almost on the same day, as Salomon departed Earth, Laura arrived at her destination. Despite being strafed by armed helicopters, there was no doubt she had survived. Even after falling off a cliff, she had survived. She was almost astonished by her own luck; if it weren't for the wounds on her arm and the throbbing in her back, she would hardly have believed what had just happened.

This is the northwestern border of Syria, a place once ravaged by war. Everywhere is withered vegetation and arid desert, everything tanned a dull yellow by the scorching sun. Even the dust in the air easily steals moisture from the nose. Thirst is the only theme here; the few animals that remain have shrunk in size and evolved shells and venom. Laura coughs up sand, enduring the pain as she continues onward.

She wanted to save the medication for when the injury became more severe.

The gilded Maltese cross she had just found would be a nice gift, provided she could get back. The cross was exquisitely crafted, with gilded figures in robes on its four wedge-shaped arms, and four small rubies inlaid on them. Its 10th-century Byzantine style further convinced her that she hadn't gone to the wrong place.

The result was as expected.

She believed the faded mural depicting the prophet performing miracles for the common people was almost identical to what her father had written in his notes. This was the site Sir Richard Crawford had spent his life searching for—the immortal prophet. Other murals also depicted the prophet's deeds, such as his conversation with a foreign army and his successful persuasion of them to lay down their arms and become his followers. Without exception, all the prophet depicted in these murals wore a halo on his head. Laura brought her glow stick closer to examine them, but noticed that some crucial elements were missing from these murals.

There is no god, no religious gestures, only golden angels floating on the clouds looking down. Golden angels in armor. Even with Laura Crawford's knowledge of art history, this is jarring. Yet, despite this, the person who painted it still included this incongruous element—a character completely unmentioned in the Bible—in the mural.

Please vote for me!!!

(End of this chapter)