Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 661 Protestant Church (Second Update)

Anyone with even a slight understanding of Kamar-Taj knows it's a mob constantly at war, where the logic of peaceful society is completely inapplicable. But a deeper understanding reveals that this state isn't unfounded, nor is it simply the aftereffects of soldiers' PTSD. Even during the most peaceful years, Salomon witnessed the sacrifice of arcane mages, those he had never met, fighting to the death on outer dimensional battlefields. Having experienced such brutal sacrifice, these mages find it difficult to accept the peaceful mindset of ordinary people, especially Salomon, a direct disciple of the Sorcerer Supreme, a true inheritor of the tradition. The flames of war in the eyes of Kamar-Taj's mages have never been extinguished; on the contrary, they burn ever more fiercely with time—Kasirios is a representative of the radical mages, and Salomon has more or less absorbed some of his ideas. Among the younger generation of mages, only Mordo and a few others are dedicated to training new talents for Kamar-Taj; the vast majority are passionate about combat.

His Holiness made no comment on this situation, after all, Kamar-Taj has always been a war machine.

Wanda disliked war; it brought her and her family endless suffering. But faced with Salomon's prophecy, she was forced to join the war, though she intended to minimize civilian casualties. "Isn't it our duty as spellcasters to deal with those monsters?" she frowned, the sea breeze blowing through the duct tape stealing her warmth. "Let the professionals handle the professional problems—hasn't that always been your philosophy?"

“No, my philosophy has always been that ‘humanity can solve all problems,’ including threats from outside dimensions.” Salomon placed his hand on Wanda’s shoulder and softly uttered a spell. Wanda immediately felt as if she had fallen into a basin of warm water, the warm aura enveloping her from below, as comfortable as soaking in a bathtub. “Karmar-Taj is an organization that was born when humanity was unable to face threats from outside dimensions. At the dawn of humanity, the first Sorcerer Supreme taught humanity profound secret arts to deal with the demonic invasion. This organization was passed down through generations until the Venerable One on the British Isles raised the holy sword, once again repelling the invasion from outside dimensions, driving out the earth gods, and establishing humanity’s dominance in the material world.” He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, the sharp horn scare away the wild animals fleeing from the forest. "If one day humanity can solve this problem with technology and destroy the extradimensional gods with unparalleled weapons, then Kamar-Taj will disappear into the torrent of history, returning the world's dominance to ordinary people. You, me, and all spellcasters will disappear—this is my philosophy, and the Immortal City was built upon this philosophy. So from now on, I will train ordinary people to deal with the terrifying magical threat. We can't always support humanity; babies will grow up one day, and they have to learn to walk on their own."

Wanda fell silent.

Although she was reluctant to admit it, Salomon really convinced her.

The rickety jeep continued its journey, with Wanda resting for a while in the passenger seat, wrapped in a blanket. After an unknown amount of time, Salomon woke her again. Salomon drove off Highway 295, along Gilmand Road, past a Protestant Anglican church—St. Bartholomew's Cathedral—and arrived at Yarmouth Larabi Pier Park. This was the Royal River estuary the vampire had mentioned. In the vampire's memory, it was the last place where James Boone and his vampire kin had gathered. After Salomon repeatedly confirmed the vampire's testimony with magic, he burned him at the stake. Salomon and Wanda drove around the area, finding only traces of blood magic, but no other vampires. The sorcerer didn't believe the vampire had deceived him; under the dual torment of physical and mental anguish inflicted upon him, few could resist the urge to die.

"Let's go check out the church," Wanda suggested. "We saw a church in Jerusalem. Perhaps those vampires are using the same old tricks to recruit civilians as food and blood sacrifice materials."

Protestant churches are generally less ornate than Catholic churches. Apart from Westminster Abbey, Salomon's churches are rarely more ornate than those in Rome. The fact that this church, built by immigrants and named after one of the twelve apostles, further illustrates the disarray within the Protestant administration. Salomon accepted the suggestion and drove back to the simple church—a barn-like structure painted white, without a bell tower. On one side was a large hall for prayer and hymn singing, and a simple preaching room; on the other side were living quarters for the clergy.

The sound of the jeep's engine attracted the attention of the clergy who lived there.

The weather was terrible, and hardly anyone came to church. Coupled with the absence of the community meal, this puzzled the priest. As he stepped outside and peered through the thin veil of rain, he saw a Jeep with its doors taped shut and its body riddled with dents, wobbling in from Gilmand Street. It circled the circular flowerbed in front of the church before finally stopping in front of the priest. Two rather attractive people got out of the car, soaked to the bone, but the taped-locked door inevitably slammed onto the floor. The loud noise made the priest shrink back. The pretty red-haired woman stuck out her tongue awkwardly and jumped out of the car behind the tall man.

"Children, what are you doing here?" The priest looked up at the man leading the group. Through the rain, the priest saw that the man had eyes that shone like obsidian, long, flowing black hair that was hastily tied up, and a face as beautiful as a marble sculpture of an ancient Greek god. As the man drew closer, the priest suddenly felt he needed to hold onto something, because the warm, sacred aura emanating from the man almost suffocated him. A sudden, almost irresistible urge welled up within him, urging him to kiss the man's hand.

"We have some questions for you, Father," the man said with a smile.

"Welcome, but don't stand here in the rain. Come with me, I have some coffee, and if you don't mind, you can have some lasagna." The middle-aged priest rambled on, trying to distract himself, "Grandma Yaha had her son bring it over this morning. Her son just got out of prison and wants me to help him find a job. She promised that her son has reformed and stopped using drugs... I haven't been in this parish for long, but I believe I can help."

"Thank you for your help, Father. A cup of coffee will do, with extra sugar; my apprentice needs something warming up. No need for lasagna, we already had some on the way here." Salomon took the priest's arm and gestured for Wanda to come inside. "How long have you been in this parish?"

"It's only been a few months. To be specific, it started in April. Father John was too old, and his legs weren't very good, so he accidentally got into a car accident." The priest handed two dry towels to Salomon and Wanda, then turned to heat up some coffee. "The local police reported it to headquarters, and headquarters sent me. You can see it in the local newspapers, but the locals keep saying Father John's cause of death wasn't a car accident because the scene was too horrible. You're not from around here, are you?"

“Neither of us. We’re here on a case, Father.” Salomon gestured for Wanda to produce her identification. “Perhaps Father John knows something we need.”

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(End of this chapter)