Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 664 The Ignorant Undead (First Update)

The wind howled, and the white edges of the black waves crashed against the rocks. Even the petrels retreated into their caves, waiting for the storm to pass. A muffled rumble of thunder rose from the seabed, and the ancient fault lines continued to shift, causing minor tremors along the entire east coast. Salomon remained silent. The vampire's declaration wasn't unexpected; after all, the Church of Coron was a cult serving Yog-Sothoth, and he wouldn't forget the terror of the evil god just because the One of All Things had once offered help. Eradicating these cultists had always been his duty. But what surprised him was the vampire's lack of knowledge in this area—the worms weren't servants of the One of All Things, and offering sacrifices to Yog-Sothoth shouldn't be done in a storm. If the vampire had followed the instructions in the book exactly, Yarmouth might have already been sacrificed. He was glad of the vampire's foolishness.

"I'm heartbroken by your stupidity, vampire," Salomon said to Wanda as he walked toward the lighthouse, explaining the vampires' mistakes in the sacrificial ritual. Reaching the foot of the lighthouse, Salomon looked up impatiently and roared at the vampires above him, "The farce is over. Hand over that book, and I might make your death easier. If you summoned any monsters, just say so now; I haven't had dinner yet!"

"I know you, mortal! You're too late to stop me!" The vampire, formerly known as James Boone, completely failed to recognize the sorcerer's taunt. He roared arrogantly, "You may have killed my servants with the firearms of this age, but you can never kill me! Come! Witness the terror of the worms!"

Salomon shrugged helplessly.

Wanda was certain this was a fool whose mind had been corrupted beyond repair by the magic of an evil god. If she recklessly embraced magic, this insane creature would be her future—a fact her teachers had warned her about countless times, but only direct experience could make her understand the horror of a mind corrupted by magic. The sorcerer had told her more than once about the fate of witches whose minds had been distorted, all of them ending up in barns with children born to unknown farmers. Salomon nodded, and the witch raised her hand; a surge of red energy, like a warhammer, slammed down on the vampire.

The people of Yarmouth regained their composure after the earthquake stopped.

Although electricity has not yet been restored, many households have diesel generators, and the lights in bars, restaurants, and churches have been turned on again. This is a devout town with a population of just over eight thousand and eight churches nearly a century old, representing Protestantism, Catholicism, and Eastern Orthodoxy. Organized by several clergy members, people plan to go to the churches first, rather than the schools or police stations.

"The lighthouse is on! It's red!" Grandma Yara's son shouted, pointing at the sea. At first, they thought he was on drugs again, until they turned to look and realized it wasn't a drug addict's hallucination—the Midway Rock Lighthouse's extinguished light had indeed come back on. The light's color changed from red to gold, and then, dazzling lightning bolts leaped down from the clouds, the faint sounds of continuous explosions being scattered by the violent wind. Everything proved this wasn't a natural phenomenon. The priest frantically urged the crowd to take shelter in the church, as if the wooden roof could withstand a thunderstorm.

The earthquake struck again.

Although the vampire wasn't very bright, his vile blood magic was proving difficult for Wanda to handle. Just fighting off the foul flames he summoned and the invisible force capable of shattering rocks exhausted the witch. The situation worsened after the vampire took to the skies. The witch had studied this kind of dark magic. She knew that to fly using dark magic, she needed an ointment containing many terrible ingredients, one of which was the fat from unbaptized young boys. The mere thought of it made the witch nauseous; the horrific sights they had witnessed along the way testified to the sins committed by this monster.

The earthquake threw the witch to the ground, and the lightning she summoned failed to strike the vampire.

She scrambled to her feet from the rough rocks, slick with wet seawater and dead seaweed, her long red hair clinging to her face, a warm trickle flowing from her stinging knees. As she finally managed to push her hair aside, she found a deep blue barrier blocking her path. A deflected wave of blood magic completely corroded the rocks around her, turning them into billowing bubbles, the acrid smoke instantly dispersed by the sea breeze. If the spell had struck her, she might have been turned into a puddle of slime. Salomon had already stormed into the lighthouse to find what he sought, but his magic still protected the witch.

Wanda gritted her teeth, braced herself against the rocks, and stood up, completely unaware of the pain in her palms, because her anger had drowned out the nerve signals of pain.

Damn it, those damn inferior creatures!

She roughly tousled her long hair back, instantly calming her erratic breathing and steadying her heartbeat.

Wanda, her face contorted with rage, slapped the seaweed off her suit and pointed at the vampire, uttering a foul spell that Salomon had forbidden her from using. The vampire's impending incantation was immediately choked back by the flesh and blood growing in its mouth. James Boone was utterly astonished by the unprecedented black magic—regardless of whether it had achieved immortality or studied the book *The Secret of the Worms*, it displayed genuine ignorance in the face of systematic magical education. It had no idea how to reverse the spell's effect, nor how to utilize its own vampire magic. All it could do was shove its filthy fingers into its mouth and tear at the foul-smelling flesh and blood. Wanda, prepared for this, struck him down from the sky with a dazzling burst of flame.

These were the monsters that Kamar-Taj had always kept outside human society, and this was merely the weakest of them all. Even such a weak monster could commit such horrific crimes, requiring her considerable effort to defeat. Wanda looked at the grotesque monster lying on the ground, its body covered in burns and whimpering, and felt a deep sorrow. Pink flesh and blood kept gushing from the poor creature's mouth, obscuring its sharp canines, like a new, deformed tongue—perhaps this was why the teacher wanted to push humanity to face the threats from other dimensions alone? But vampires were already natural enemies for humanity; what would humanity do when facing even more terrifying demons?

James Boone stopped sobbing and stared at the distracted witch with hatred.

"I bring you judgment," the witch said. "I won't let you die easily; I'll at least tear you in two."

The vampire let out a muffled murmur.

Suddenly, it vanished from the ground, a sharp claw reaching for Wanda's nape—if James Boone's pale hands still retained some human-like features, then this claw had completely lost the skeletal structure expected of a primate. Only the burns covering the arm and the tattered shreds clinging to the wounds could identify the claw's owner.

The vampire looked utterly repulsive. Its chin was long, its overgrown tongue chewed to pieces, and crimson blood cascaded from between its sharp teeth. Its joints were deformed, its thin limbs bulged and swollen, and its spine grew so long it ripped through its tattered black robes. Just as its filthy claws were about to touch the witch's soft skin, Wanda swiftly turned and plunged the silver stake in her hand deep into the vampire's claws.

"You should watch more modern TV dramas." The witch's voice carried a malice a vampire had never experienced. Rain streamed down her face, and even she herself was unaware of just how evil and arrogant her expression truly was. "The teacher was right, enemies who suddenly disappear always reappear behind you. It's practically a universal law. Don't you know how foul your breath is?"

James Boone roared as he backed away.

It wasn't just the immense pain from the silver stakes embedded in its claws, but also the scent of an even darker magic emanating from the girl whose eyes flowed with magic. More malevolent than blood magic, more chaotic than worm-like. Its bestial instincts warned it that it might very well die before the eyes of this predator.

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(End of this chapter)