Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 678 Vigilante Game and Rule (First Update)

If the Sorcerer Supreme used a sense of mission and responsibility to regulate and bind Salomon, then Bayonetta used chains called family. Though these chains were slender, under Athena's tutelage, they functioned like the rails of responsibility. She took off her high heels and gently rubbed her foot against Salomon's calf—she knew she had to be careful, only instilling a little guilt in him. This man she had raised from childhood would arrange everything himself, allowing her to experience an even more intense love. She had done this more than once, and each time she received the best response.

"But this time you brought us here, my dear." Sure enough, the witch saw apology on Salomon's face, and the thoughts she touched conveyed the same meaning. For spellcasters, sharing thoughts was an extremely intimate relationship; their mental tendrils intertwined, as intimately connected as ever. The witch picked up her wine glass, trying to shield Salomon's vision with the deep red liquid, preventing him from seeing her irresistible smile. This was futile, for her emotions had already been transmitted to Salomon through mental contact, and the swaying inverted triangular sapphire earrings betrayed her smile. She narrowed her eyes, a hint of pleasure in them. "I hope there will be a next time."

"I assure you, Bayonetta." Their relationship wasn't based on mutual charity, but rather a competition born from surveillance and murder; neither was inherently more noble than the other. Salomon, however, felt he had indeed neglected the witch's care, nearly abandoning his duties. The sorcerer, deeply concerned that his work was impacting his family, swore to Bayonetta that the black-haired witch's allure was a significant factor in his swift defeat. Joan of Arc's eyes widened, finding the situation unfolding unbelievably smoothly. She leaned back, her gaze shifting from the elegant, moon-white tablecloth to beneath it. Her eyes widened, but this time not with surprise, but with anger. She tried to push aside Bayonetta's high heels with her leg, then stomped on Salomon's smooth leather shoe.

The witches always manage to have amusing and childish arguments over trivial matters, including this contest under the dinner table.

Whether it was when Bayonetta pulled the sleepy Jeanne out of bed, when Jeanne deliberately stomped on the floor to make noise while Bayonetta and Salomon were enjoying their intimacy, when Bayonetta forgot to add salt to her fried eggs, or even when they shared ice cream, these silly squabbles always happened, as if they were still little girls gesturing at each other with their cat plush toys. Jeanne naturally joined the entanglement of thoughts, but sharing emotions made her cheeks flush red, a fact she probably didn't even realize. For a witch with fair skin and pearly white hair, this outward expression of emotion was as vibrant as her choice of lipstick, and given the witch's inherently bold choice of makeup colors, it made her look excessively beautiful. She felt the muscles hidden beneath her clothes tense, her blood almost boiling, and her elegant, graceful way of holding the glass instantly transformed into a violent kneading, her fingers nearly crushing the stem of the goblet.

"Change it." Salomon calmly raised his finger, then gently pried open Joan's stiff fingers one by one, leaving the bewildered waiter with the goblet that could be shattered with a single breath. He gestured for the waiter to shut his mouth. He also planned to give the waiter an extra hundred dollars as a tip to prevent him from spreading rumors.

"Let's enjoy this delicious meal," Bayonetta smiled and winked. Salomon could feel her feet rubbing against his calves. "Don't bend the fork, okay?"

"Today is your lucky day." Kasirius's voice woke Tony Stark. He groggily threw off the blanket, got up from the floor, and saw Steve Rogers already standing in front of the tempered glass, staring at a relaxed and cheerful Kasirius. He'd heard Rogers pacing back and forth last night, and it was highly likely he hadn't slept a wink—the sorcerer had said the test results would be out this morning, determining how many agents would survive. Steve Rogers, tormented by his inner turmoil, couldn't sleep. As for Tony Stark, he'd never witnessed the tarmac massacre, never seen agents torn to pieces by explosives, and didn't know those agents, so he didn't feel much psychological pressure.

"Good morning?"

"I should say, good evening." The sorcerer raised an eyebrow. "We've been jostling for a time difference, so it's still evening."

"What luck is there, Kasirius?" Stark stretched. "How many people survived?"

"Your agents were tested after those from the Immortal City. Only two agents were mildly contaminated; they can be cured by undergoing a brainwashing program and having their lives rebuilt. This is also the Immortal City's method of solving problems; this way, as long as they don't go insane on the spot, they can be easily saved," Cassirios said with a smile. He looked at the stiff-faced Rogers. "Simple math. If only two agents were mildly contaminated, it means their contamination wasn't severe. In other words, no one will die."

Steve Rogers felt that every word the sorcerer spoke was like a wound that was repeatedly plunged into his heart.

Tony Stark glanced at Rogers' expression, then quickly changed the subject. "So this is our lucky day?" he asked. "No murders today?"

"Today you can see the order Salomon has spread, which is why I call it your lucky day," Cassirios said. "We are now in Eastern Europe, carrying out a long-term mission to the Immortal City. Tony Stark, I know you have connections with Epstein. I know it was in your youth, and I know it was just social niceties, and even the former president of Stark Industries was involved, but that doesn't mean you were unaware. When you had the power, did you ever think of going to rescue those people? You say Afghanistan? Isn't that a mess the US made? Don't you know that in the eyes of the Afghans, you are no different from American soldiers and terrorists? Don't you know the devastation you left behind after each US strike mission to Afghanistan?"

Tony Stark looked grim, while Rogers was still confused about what had happened.

"The Immortal City will rescue those boys and girls and provide them with a good education. There will be no tax avoidance through charitable foundations, no student loans, only the most direct goodwill and the strictest teaching to ensure that those children can become useful people."

"Is this atonement?" Captain Rogers' voice was hoarse, sounding as if it were being squeezed out of his throat.

"No, I just want you to see what kind of good deeds others are doing while you're playing vigilante games," Cassirios scoffed. "Victoria has received intelligence that the gangs wiped out by the Immortal City have returned, and they've even acquired missiles they never had before from an arms dealer. In twenty minutes, a high-intensity war against the gangs will erupt in Albania. The Immortal City will deploy tanks, gunboats, and even a sky carrier, among other heavy weaponry, while the Sisterhood will be tasked with breaking through enemy lines and rescuing hostages. This time, it's not about fighting crime, it's about domination," he said. "I'm giving you a chance, Steve Rogers. Pick up the shield, and you will personally participate in the great cause of the Immortal City, fighting for justice and righteousness. This is a cause that a mortal like you can participate in; Salomon won't waste its resources."

"And what about me?" Tony Stark pointed to himself. "Don't I have a chance?"

Please vote! Mondays are so hard to get out of bed, I feel like dying.

(End of this chapter)