Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 739 Sharing the Blood Debt (First Update)

In terms of practicality, the Alchemy Golem is Salomon's best product in recent years.

Unlike androids, which are also alchemical creations, the Alchemy Golem houses a personification of Salomon. Compared to the exorbitant cost and precious materials of androids, the Alchemy Golem is much cheaper, constructed from ordinary ice and snow. The only valuable component is its mechanical structure, which is recyclable and can be removed after the golem is melted down. If a student doesn't need to participate in rowing or fencing training, or work in the laboratory, the Alchemy Golem will take his place, helping him manage his heavy workload—bringing his written papers to class and bringing back knowledge from Oxford. Finally, the Alchemy Golem will be placed in a freezer, melted down into raw materials, awaiting cleaning and the creation of the next golem. Of course, sometimes Oxford students will see two Salomons in the college; after all, the Alchemy Golem is only used for trivial matters, and the real learning still requires his personal participation.

If any idle spellcaster were to start a television station, Salomon could even produce a tutorial called "How to Make an Alchemy Golem Using a Home Refrigerator." He believed that if he actually appeared on television, the show, with its approachable and affordable style, would be a hit with magical housewives. After all, taking care of children and doing housework is quite tedious in the magical world, and an alchemy golem could solve most of the problems, even allowing for more restraint when disciplining children.

However, the trouble he faced was not something that the alchemical golem could solve.

Athena and the witches could immediately spot the golem, its body shimmering with magical light, so he couldn't use it to represent him at the party, much less force champagne into its mouth. The alchemical golem had no stomach, so most of what it swallowed would come back up. He disliked banquets and artists, but he knew this party was to celebrate Vanessa's discharge from the hospital, so there would be less unnecessary flattery. The witches, while enjoying any occasion to showcase their beauty, weren't fond of banquets; they simply couldn't refuse Athena, after all, she was his foster mother—that's what they said, but Salomon didn't believe a word they said. Salomon suspected the witches also planned to buy some paintings at the party to hang on the manor walls, since the walls were currently empty, and any art that had once been there had been taken by American soldiers stationed there during World War II.

Fortunately, the witches shared Salomon's view on modern art, preferring to buy Baroque or Gothic pieces. Salomon attributed this to their upbringing, where anyone who stuck bananas on a wall and claimed it was art would be whipped.

"He's on the fencing team, and I guarantee he's the best." Athena, as always, treated her adopted son like some kind of shining medal, as if she wanted to wear him on her chest and swagger through the mediocre artists and noblewomen, dazzling them in her presence. Unsurprisingly, before the main character of the banquet arrived, flattery was once again chasing after the sorcerer, impossible to shake off. The witches suppressed their laughter; they loved seeing Salomon helpless before Athena. Predictably, he also had to help Athena rid herself of unruly suitors, some too fervent or of too high a social standing, to the point that Salomon had to warn them with bullets. Just like warning the witches' suitors, except that he preferred to use repeating firearms at these times.

Clean, quick, and it would be even better if it had the standard flamethrower from the Immortal City.

The sorcerer forced a smile and put his arm around Bayonetta's slender waist.

The witch clearly hadn't expected to be dragged into this flattery contest, but she quickly adapted. After all, the confidence that height brought was unparalleled; she, Joan of Arc, and Athena were the tallest women present, even taller than the voluptuous supermodels brought by the wealthy. Salomon, on the other hand, was the tallest and strongest, like a lion in a pride, standing atop a towering rock overlooking his flock.

Bayonetta's black, high-slit, backless dress was held together by only a few tightly taut straps, brazenly displaying the witch's beautiful figure. Salomon's hands were completely free of any excess fat. He had randomly chosen this dress from countless pieces in a witch's wardrobe, and he was even surprised that it hadn't slipped down yet.

"Of course, my mother, I guarantee the Cambridge nerds will be in for a surprise this year."

They finally managed to shake off the artists who tried to strike up a conversation; after all, they were young enough, and their clothing and jewelry made them look like the kind of buyers who would purchase absurd art. Artists need patrons, especially many down-on-their-luck ones. However, when they mentioned their work, whether explicitly or implicitly, Salomon could always pinpoint whether the artworks had been exhibited and where. For some artists trying to pass off inferior work, the cryptic sorcerer, who had recently exuded a gentle aura, suddenly became the world's most demanding collector. He seemed quite impatient and not easily fooled, causing many artists who had never met him before to flee as if chased by a wild boar.

"I'm very pleased with the dress you chose, my dear." Bayonetta covered her mouth with her champagne glass, biting the sorceress's ear. "Joan of Arc too; she asked me to convey her gratitude. Aren't you being a little too hasty?"

"You're carrying a dagger?" the sorcerer murmured. He hadn't expected Bayonetta to hide it in the folds of the more fabric-covered, Victorian-era skirt of her black dress. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"I don't mind," Bayonetta said defiantly, raising the corner of her eye. Her stilettos clicked silently on the expensive wool carpet on the balcony. Salomon knew from the incredibly sexy dress that Bayonetta wore very little underneath.

"This is the hotel."

"So you were here! Minerva said you were making out with your girlfriend!"

"You've brought your partner, Vanessa." Salomon had to turn around. It was a matter of courtesy to greet the hostess. His extraordinary height allowed him to look down over the banquet and identify people by their heads. Vanessa wore a simple white evening gown, which prevented her complexion from appearing too pale. Bayonetta greeted Vanessa at this moment; they had met before at Athena's apartment and seemed to have discussed some things.

The sorcerer said, "Wilson Fisk seems very uncomfortable in this situation."

"I have faith in him." Vanessa, who had just been discharged from the hospital, looked a little pale, but she still maintained a smile.

"You still won't give up, trying to find him a powerful backer." The sorcerer bluntly pointed out her ulterior motives.

Without needing to read minds, when he learned that the party and charity auction were organized by Athena for Vanessa, he grasped Vanessa's intentions in less than a second. This place not only housed frustrated, down-on-their-luck artists, but also what Salomon considered the Proletariat. Those guys were the most fervent in their pursuit of art, especially art that others couldn't understand. After all, if others could understand it, how could the difference between the rich and the poor be demonstrated?

These were all Vanessa's targets. If Wilson Fisk could provide services to certain people, then this poor boy and criminal from Hell's Kitchen could become a very important front man. Bayonetta was still somewhat confused until the sorcerer used magic to tell her about Wilson Fisk's name and its meaning.

"Since I'm going to die anyway, why not do something about it?"

"While I understand your point of view, I do not agree with it."

"Will you kill me?" Vanessa gave a wry smile, observing the sorcerer's expression through the rim of her wine glass.

"You succeeded. Now you're an accomplice too," Salomon nodded. He pulled Bayonetta away in another direction, using body language to show his stance. Bayonetta did the same. Vanessa understood their thoughts.

"I understand. I will not complain about my death. From now on, I will also bear some responsibility for his blood debt."

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(End of this chapter)