Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 687 Tracing Back (Second Update)

Compared to the previous missions filled with killing, bloodshed, and intrigue, this mission was as quiet as a walk in the forest. This was both an adjective and a verb, but Wanda didn't immediately grasp Salomon's rhetorical joke—normally, no one would understand such an obscure joke—until Wanda and Salomon began communicating magically, with Wanda conveying her thoughts and intentions. Salomon said he had never seen a spell that could achieve immortality through ceramicization and vitrification, but he could still deduce a few incantations, which he immediately told Wanda. After all, they were just experimental incantations; even if cast, they wouldn't cause any consequences. A fleeting, bright spark of crimson magic erupted in Wanda's hand, cleanly snapping the weeds she held in her grasp.

"It's more like a curse," Wanda concluded.

“That’s right, my apprentice. Just like the spell to turn someone into a pillar of salt, vitrification and ceramicization are more like curses. That witch cursed herself, cursed Barthabas, which proves her mastery of dark magic, but her spells don’t match her actions. If she was that powerful, she could have killed the vampires she created thirty years before I arrived, which perhaps proves that the power didn’t belong to her.” Salomon dug into the ground and took out a yellowed werewolf skull from a shallow pit. So many years had passed, even the cursed flesh had long since rotted away, becoming a meal for the decomposers underground—a deadly meal. If there were enough light, Wanda could see the dead insects beside the corpse. The insect corpses attracted other insects, and the curse slowly spread along the insects’ tiny legs and channels until they were completely exposed to the sunlight and finally died. But even without using her eyes, Wanda’s sixth sense could see the tiny, spiderweb-like traces of the curse beneath the ground, as if her sixth sense had become her first sense, replacing her eyes in observing the world.

Salomon hadn't cleansed the werewolf's filthy flesh, leaving the area barren. The skull bore a conspicuous, long, thin wound, and scattered fangs lay broken like biscuit crumbs. "I must have punched it first, knocking out its teeth, and then embedded my longsword in its brain. Thank goodness for the Sling Ring at Kamar-Taj; it can be used as both a spell artifact and a weapon. Otherwise, its teeth would have already torn my skin." The sorcerer snorted, trying to blow away the putrid stench lingering on the ground. His fingers traced along the jawbone, and when he touched a fracture, he nodded in satisfaction. "I smashed its bones from the start; no wonder it couldn't bite me back then."

Do you still remember what happened back then?

"Yes." The sorcerer lowered his gaze, as if he could once again smell that putrid stench of bad breath and see those bloodshot, murky, glass-like beastly eyes. Blood and rage were his only gains during that time; death and fire were gifts bestowed upon this town. "Fifty-six werewolves in total, twenty-two vampires on the verge of degenerating into ghouls, and two hundred and forty-four victims, some tourists and some locals, but not all. The vampires of Barthabas have been fighting those ghouls for thirty years, and as the source of the bloodline, they have the upper hand against them. I buried the last inhuman monster in Corinth two hundred meters from here, and since then, there hasn't been a single murder in Corinth. This unfortunate creature attacked me, so I just covered its body up on the spot."

"You took them all down by yourself?"

“Barthabass went to his death willingly, which saved me a lot of effort.” The sorcerer nodded. “That was my first official mission, and it took me a long time to clear out all the cannibals in the town.” He tossed aside his shovel and grasped the skull. “Follow my spirit as we explore, Wanda. Remember not to cross the line. We still have many more corpses to dig up tonight; this is only the fifth.”

The Cheshire Cat sniffed its owner's clothes, then stared at Salomon with its round, incredulous eyes, seemingly shocked by the sorcerer's scent. Bayonetta also came over and sniffed. "Did you go play in the mud, boy?" she said, ruffling the sorcerer's hair condescendingly. "Hmm, looks like it. Can't you find entertainment at home? Do you need to roll around in mud puddles? Even the Cheshire Cat wouldn't do that."

"It just digs the litter box all over the place."

"Ha! You're worse than the Cheshire Cat now. But don't try to change the subject. Tell me what's going on with the girl you brought back." Bayonetta carefully brushed away the fallen leaves and dust from Salomon's hair with her fingers as she inquired. She wore a thin black sheer nightgown and black lace stockings, her beautiful body appearing and disappearing with her movements. Salomon sighed—"Remember not to cross the line." Despite his warning, the allure of Sithon's dark magic was simply too strong for her. The sticky, oily undercurrent of her spirit stirred within her impulses, like looking down from a high building; she had to constantly control the urge to jump. At the same time, to prevent Wanda from actually doing anything, Salomon had to keep a close watch on her, monitoring her mental state. If anything seemed amiss, he would immediately withdraw, taking Wanda's spirit back into her own body.

However, the workload tonight was really heavy, and Wanda ended up seeing some things she shouldn't have seen.

"When she wakes up tomorrow morning, she will have lost all memory of today." Salomon's mind flashed back to their final discovery. The beautiful witch was from England; they traced the curse back to its source through the remains of werewolves and vampires, thus seeing the witch's childhood memories. This was necromancy, not much different from mediumship. They saw not only how the werewolf died and how he was born, but also how the malevolent curse spread.

Joan of Arc nodded, indicating that the girl's mental state had improved considerably after losing her memory. Combined with the witch's concoction, Wanda could finally get a good night's sleep in the guest room. "The Daughter of Chaos," the white-haired witch murmured, pursing her lips. "Kamar-Taj is trying to control her?"

"It's observation." The sorcerer shook his head, pushing away the pet cat that tried to bite his hand. "She is the best conduit for the Great Demonic Shadow to descend. Through her, we can observe the Great Demonic Shadow's state within the Earth Mother's seal, just as we observe the magical tides to observe her ethereal body. To prevent her from going out of control, I have educated her."

"You Kamar-Taj always like to manipulate others," Jeanne stated, then glared at him fiercely. Salomon smiled helplessly. Witches were also blades of Kamar-Taj, only used against angels. Salomon had been sent to their side to monitor them, so that he could kill them if they lost control—this mission still existed, and Bayonetta and Jeanne were well aware of it, knowing what Salomon would choose. They didn't mind, because it was Salomon's lifelong duty, not just directed at them. But that didn't stop Bayonetta from exploiting Salomon's slight guilt.

As Salomon buried his head in her chest and took a deep breath, the black-haired witch made a face at Joan of Arc.

"You even brought other women back, you philandering brat."

"Forgive me, Bayonetta, there's a time difference, after all."

The Cheshire Cat stuck out its tongue.

The poor master was manipulated by the witch.

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(End of this chapter)