Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 696 Learning from History (Part Two)

Once everything was temporarily completed, Salomon immediately fell into a state that could only be described as laziness. He had rarely enjoyed this languid feeling in his life; it was about not wanting to do anything, not wanting to say anything, just wanting to lie there and waste time—but this was only wishful thinking on his part. To outsiders, he still maintained a high-intensity work ethic, and only a few knew what was truly draining the monarch's energy. They had witnessed firsthand how the monarch, Maya Hansen, and Malbus led the biological laboratory in intensive research and development, using the Time Stone and a large number of slaves captured in battle to experiment and create what could be described as an inhumane assassin modification surgery using genetic and mechanical technologies in a very short time. This modification was originally one of the biological laboratory's long-term tasks; the bio-druids and genetic scientists had accumulated a wealth of data, but due to the needs of the situation, Salomon had to personally solve some of the problems in genetic alchemy and fill the last gap in the project.

That is time, something that everyone lacks.

Salomon tossed aside his blood-stained rubber gloves and, facing the grotesque human body on the operating table—a body that resembled a dissected fish, reeking of burnt flesh and bearing hundreds of suture marks—announcing the experiment complete. The rising lights under the operating lamp reminded Zero of something else.

The Assassin Project wasn't entirely conducted on Earth. In search of weapons to maximize the assassins' capabilities, Malbus pointed to a location: a planet marked by obvious human intervention. Its inhabitants once possessed a magnificent civilization, but now only ruined rings and crimson deserts remain. Spaceship wreckage ignites millennia-old flames, pale shadows roam among the once towering, intricate clusters of buildings, and intense radiation permeates every grain of sand. Pale gray clouds have replaced the once clear air, yet they cannot extinguish the dying starlight. The once-proud aliens have degenerated into superstitious and ignorant primitives, having lost their civilization and technology; all their history is buried beneath the iron-rich red sand.

When Salomon arrived on this planet with Guard Zero, the highly civilized aliens had already dispersed into countless warring primitive tribes. They wielded outdated high-tech weapons, wore tattered power armor, yet knew nothing of repair or manufacturing. Sorcery and ignorance hung like a persistent cloud, accompanying artificial auroras across the entire planet. The once-glorious library had become an altar; they lit bonfires around blasphemous symbols made from biological skeletons, knelt, danced, splashed blood, and burned anything with a pungent odor to produce smoke. As the Immortal City grew stronger, Guard Zero saw the monarch wearing robes less and less, but on that day, the monarch still donned the sacred robes, a color deeper than the iron-rich desert, like flames walking on dust.

Brilliant gold and silver shimmered in his robes, and incredibly powerful magical artifacts hung on his wrists. The fading light of the stars, slowly sinking below the horizon, caught up with them. Three moons of different sizes stared at them like three eerie eyes covered in veins. The once deep red desert began to glow with a deep blue luminescence as the sunlight gradually faded, like a dark ocean teeming with bioluminescent creatures.

This is the lingering echo of civilization, thought Zero, the Imperial Guard, as he gazed at the beautiful scenery before him.

Salomon patiently explained the catastrophe that had befallen the planet. "A civil war. These aliens worshipped dark gods, and even with their advanced science, they failed to eradicate the cancer within their civilization—religion. Every scientist was a proponent of creationism, something utterly unimaginable to us. This isn't hard to understand, because witchcraft was ingrained in the very fabric of this civilization; wizards and scientists held equal importance," he said. "It's easy to imagine that once they possessed advanced technology, darkness incited them to hate each other. Knowledge was used to wipe out cities, and swords were turned against their own kind. This is the most tragic end for a civilization. When the survivors of this planet prepared to rise again, Kamar-Taj sealed the planet with a mirror dimension—dark witchcraft was already ingrained in their genetic code, impossible to eradicate."

"What about the moons?"

"The moon..." Salomon looked up, gazing into the distance following the finger of Guard Zero. "That's their industrial base, a mining planet formed by aggregating asteroid belts. These moons are not affected by the gravity of this planet; they have their own engines. Whenever the orbits of these moons approach the sun, the stellar forges activate, producing specific materials. It is precisely because they possess such technology that these aliens are able to have such an advanced civilization."

"That doesn't make sense," asked Zero, the Imperial Guard.

"Yes, that's because this technology wasn't originally possessed by this civilization; someone gave it to them during their development."

"Who?"

“The Celestials,” Salomon shook his head. “They need the prosperity of civilizations; they are the disgusting creatures that feed on them. The Celestials’ presence is recorded in the library of Kamar-Taj, and there are copies in the library of the Immortal City as well. You can access them with your privileges. We cannot let Earthlings know about magic and the Celestials, because both pose a terrible threat to the independence of the human race. Religious worship and technological worship are equally deadly, but we can only choose the one with the fewest side effects. The Celestials will also create protectors for these civilizations, ensuring they have what the Celestials need.”

"protector?"

"You should know I'm not an ordinary person, right?" Salomon brought up another topic.

"Mortals cannot possess your wisdom and power, my lord."

"The Celestials created the immortal guardians of civilization by aggregating the souls of a race, and I was created in imitation of this method. However, the Celestials used tens of thousands of primitive humans as materials to create the Eternals, while I was created using incredibly powerful mages. Apart from the difference in creators, this is the biggest difference between me and the Eternals."

"So where are the Eternals now?"

"If you've read the book I recommended, *The Mythical Journey*, carefully, you'll discover that many ancient Greek myths are actually stories fabricated by later generations. In fact, some stories aren't entirely fabricated; rather, two groups used the same name: the Olympian gods," Salomon said with a smile. "The Eternals and the Olympian gods reached an agreement to travel among mortals in the name of the gods. My foster mother was the goddess of wisdom among the Olympian gods, which is why I know that history so well. *The Mythical Journey* was actually written by the goddess of wisdom to provide corrections for mortal scholars. Of course, as you know, we can't let mortals know that the gods truly exist, not even those who, in terms of their status, don't represent a specific concept."

Salomon did not answer the question directly.

The edge of the glowing ocean lay the tribe's settlement. As Zero and Salomon drew closer, the tribe noticed the intruders and mechanically turned their gleaming, metal-masked faces toward them. Zero, with his enhanced vision, noticed jagged, uneven scars along the edges of the tribal warriors' masks. Their festering, swollen, dark blue skin was covered in twisted wounds, embedded with glowing sand. Cancer and deformity defined their bodies; their emaciated, distorted forms, riddled with tumors, were nauseatingly thin. A nauseating possibility immediately occurred to him—the masks might have been worn by these aliens while still hot, and in their traditions, such suffering might represent a noble sacrifice. These warriors typically had very short lifespans, dying either from infection or radiation.

Even though their intentions were hostile, these fallen ones showed no sign of ceasing their skinning of captives from rival tribes or halting their sacrifices. They peeled off the symbol-covered skin of their opponents, draping it over their own armor, chanting incomprehensible divine names, and brandishing their poorly prosthetic limbs in the flames of unrefined fuel, throwing the skinned corpses into the fire. The scorching smell of copper and iron was unbearable; Zero, the Imperial Guard, sensed the demonic aura, even stronger than the burning bones and strange spices. He couldn't fathom the intense heat at the heart of the sacrifice; the smoke above the ritual was thick with the stench of burning fat. He fired in disgust. The exploding bullet ripped apart a priest walking on the city wall, evaporating bone fragments and blood into crimson steam. But the priest made no sound, for the little flesh remaining on his body had been almost completely dried by the sorcery's flames; the tearing sound was like ripping an old piece of cloth.

"They are calling upon the name of the dark gods. If we fail, humanity's situation will be far worse than these hateful creatures." Hearing the monarch's words, Zero, the Royal Guard, nodded solemnly. Unlike Subject Zero, who wore a fully enclosed force-feedback powered armor, Salomon wore no armor and carried no holy sword, yet he maintained a relaxed expression in the face of these enemies from the darkness and the omnipresent high doses of radiation. Brilliant fire spirits flew from his fingertips in swarms, surging over the low walls like a flood. Huge weapons of unknown purpose detonated under the fire spirits' onslaught, causing munitions to explode one after another within the tribal camp. The explosions and shockwaves nearly killed all the barbarians who treated ammunition as currency and decoration. Many terrifying weapons, due to the lack of maintenance of their delicate parts, became completely unusable, reduced to mere hammer blows.

"This civilization is beyond saving. Let's free them," Salomon said softly. "Hopefully, they didn't burn their precious books as fuel; that's common in endangered civilizations."

However, the attack did not go as smoothly as Zero of the Imperial Guard had imagined.

The tribal chief, a sorcerer, possessed terrifyingly powerful magic. This was the first time Zero of the Imperial Guard had witnessed the monarch unleash magic so freely. Pillars of fire and lightning descended from the sky, engulfing the entire settlement. The radioactive desert, like a giant beast crouching on a rocky ledge, was driven by the monarch to engulf the barbarian warriors charging towards him. The aliens watched in horror as snow and ice fell from the sky; they had never seen rain since birth. Acid rain corroded most metals; weapons made of composite materials and blades forged from iron sheets rotted and rusted in the rain.

The battle ended with the monarch grabbing the obese, pig-like tribal shaman by the neck. However, at that moment, Guard Zero had just gotten up from the ground, still dazed, and saw nothing but corpses strewn everywhere. His duty was to hold back the weapon-wielding primitives, creating space for the monarch's fight with the shaman—a responsibility that would continue to haunt him. Zero only heard the shaman's death screams, the eruption of flames illuminating half the night sky. Accompanied by the shaman's cries, Guard Zero shuddered. He felt something roaring behind the veil of reality, trying to reach out and grab the monarch's hem, but the monarch merely brushed away the ethereal whiskers of malice as if brushing off dust, sending them back into the nightmare.

The whispers behind the curtain were chilling.

"Is this the enemy that Kamar-Taj has been fighting all along?"

"Yes, this is the great enemy of the development of civilization."

Commander Tita of the Sisterhood was finally relieved, as the monarch's security forces had been augmented by assassins lurking in the shadows. Those seeking redemption were only half-finished products; after killing their loved ones, they would undergo further surgical modifications. The true assassins, the first batch of fully modified individuals, were traitors without families, subjected to thorough brainwashing to ensure they would not betray again. This was a security regulation strongly demanded by the Royal Guard's Experiment Zero. He believed his own modification was incomplete, preventing him from wearing armor and fulfilling the Royal Guard's duties. Now, with these fearless assassins, he could buy the monarch some time to react. He believed that once the monarch reacted, nothing in the world could threaten him.

"Do you still want to go on an adventure to the African savanna, hunting lions with spears and bows and arrows? I understand you need some personal hobbies, but it's not suitable for you to travel alone right now." Guard Zero looked much more mature, his height and weight increasing steadily with the progress of the surgery. He had almost completed all the cultural courses Salomon had assigned and was currently on the next stage of his studies. "I've arranged a convoy for you. If you're going to public places, be sure to take them with you; they can eliminate any threat for you in thirty seconds."

He handed Salomon a tablet containing a complex network of relationships and evidence of asset flows. The sorcerer glanced at it, yet knew the names inside and out, having met those people and attempted to seize their assets through various means. Seeing that the monarch had no intention of accepting the iron-gray electronic device produced by the Immortal City itself, Guard Zero sighed quietly. "As far as I know, the methods you've used have offended those capitalists. Some of them have already tracked down some leads. While not all, it's enough for assassinations along your route. Take those assassins with you; at least make sure no one plants anti-tank mines on the road, or you'll be in big trouble."

"Landmines? Are you planning to just tickle my butt?"

Tita gave the sorcerer a disapproving look.

"Please don't joke about personal safety, sir," Guard Zero said dryly. "Also, Dr. Hank Pym has sent an invitation to your personal terminal. He wants to invite you to participate in a study related to the Pocket Dimension."

"Let him go play by himself, I don't want to do anything right now."

I thought about it and decided to update it anyway.

(End of this chapter)