Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 793 New Yorker's Life Experiences (First Update)

Wanda yawned as she stepped over the corpses of Santa Claus and reindeer dolls into the restaurant. Broken plastic toys hidden in the carpet poked her feet, instantly snapping her back to reality. An old Hollywood movie theme song played on repeat on vinyl records, and the warm air was filled with the musty smell of burnt vinyl.

She was wearing a thick cotton pajama top with a strawberry pattern, which looked perfectly matched her hair color. Last night, before going to bed, she was surprised to find that the toiletries in her bathroom were the exact same brand as hers. Most of the toiletries she used when she moved into that penthouse were things she and Salomon had bought together; she just hadn't expected Salomon to remember her preferences. Wanda was deeply touched by the care shown to her, especially after Pietro had other ideas and abandoned the path Salomon had chosen for him, forcing the two Maximoffs to go in completely opposite directions. The same scent helped her fall asleep peacefully on the unfamiliar pillow, so much so that she didn't even realize she was no longer in her own apartment when she left the room.

She was still a little dazed when she opened her eyes, until the aroma of oil, sugar, and tea filled her brain.

"Hurry, don't let Dinah's fried bacon get cold." The sorcerer, seated in a soft chair, beckoned Wanda to sit beside him. He held a newspaper, and the sweetened black tea in the ceramic cup in front of him emitted an alluring aroma. Seeing Wanda awake, Salomon discreetly covered the third page of The Sun. Dinah, wearing high heels, carried a plate and quietly approached Wanda, placing it down beside her. This intimate service flustered the little witch once again; after all, she had never been served by servants before, and even after yesterday's dinner service, she couldn't adapt to such close attention.

"Once you've finished breakfast, we can begin training," Salomon said.

"What about your...girlfriends (plural)?" Wanda asked.

"They've gone to pick up their custom-made jewelry. I've arranged for the sorority to protect them, although they don't really need protection, but having help will save them a lot of trouble," Salomon said casually. He wasn't unfamiliar with killing witches' suitors, but shooting them in the street or hacking them to pieces was rather inhumane; a rocket launcher was more convenient. "They'll be back before lunchtime," he said. "After you finish your courses, you'll also need to study science. You have time to think about what you want to study; my recommendations are mathematics and classical literature, since you've almost finished your Latin course."

"Does every wizard have to go to university?" Wanda asked with a smile.

She already knew it would be a no, because during her time in Kamar-Taj she had come into contact with some sorcerers. Not all of those sorcerers were graduates of prestigious universities; sorcerers like Salomon, who had degrees from secular universities, were a minority.

Salomon wrinkled his nose. "I don't care about anyone else. The idea that education is useless is just plain stupid, and people who believe it are even stupider." He was alluding to Pietro's foolish behavior. He didn't say it directly because he didn't want the Maximov family's affairs to affect Wanda's mood. "Reason and knowledge are always important, aren't they?"

"My Lord!" A heavy thud echoed as something fell to the floor, rapidly approaching. A royal guard in golden armor strode into the apartment, his crimson robes billowing in the wind, like a tank moving at full speed, like a hammer slamming down. Constantine's voice was urgent, "Breaking news, communications from Kamar-Taj."

"Speak." Salomon put down the newspaper, his expression changing from lighthearted to serious.

“Beings from higher planes have begun to appear in small numbers in New York,” Constantine said. “The New York Temple has taken emergency measures, and temple deacons have gone to the Shallow Aether Plane to observe the situation.”

Salomon closed his eyes and released his senses.

Wanda followed his instructions, sensing something scalding hot hovering in the New York sky, emitting piercing cries like those of a baby. It was a body formed from thought, a spiritual body born from the convergence of extreme emotions. Wanda found the torment piercing her brain unbearable and withdrew from the focused state a spellcaster should maintain. Salomon saw more; he was familiar with this feeling, having encountered such an enemy more than once.

Logically, these creatures should have long since disintegrated and been completely devoured by the turbulent astral planes, or perhaps become extinct due to their inability to produce new angels and their constant hunting by witches. But the creatures appearing over New York have shattered his assumptions; invisible entities are constantly emerging.

Perhaps it was because a church held a Christmas Mass that the bird-people, who were already wandering in the shallow ether, found their way to the real world. The only consolation was that those creatures did not yet possess true physical forms.

Damn foolishness, superstition that deserves to be cursed a thousand times!

Salomon scanned the city with his arcane eyes, trying to determine whether this was a sudden phenomenon caused by a normal tide in the Sea of ​​Souls, or a premeditated attack. His gaze followed the witch's footsteps; clearly, both Bayonetta and Jeanne realized something was wrong, both looking up at the sky, searching for their mortal enemy. They hadn't personally taken to the streets for a long time. Bayonetta looked up, a smile appearing on her face hidden by the brim of her wide-brimmed white hat, while Jeanne eagerly started her motorcycle, intending to run over the first enemy she found.

The witches noticed Salomon's gaze, and Bayonetta greeted him with her arcane eye.

"What is that?" Wanda asked, panting.

"Angels, not a single one of them is any good." Salomon curled his lip and opened his eyes to the real world. "These guys are too timely, it's Christmas today! Are they planning to come to the real world to deliver presents? I don't think their wings can fit in a chimney, and besides, they're not wearing hats."

"My lord, we can save the jokes for later." Constantine was wearing a helmet, so his expression couldn't be seen. "Karmar-Taj is asking if you can help resolve this issue... Yes, you heard me right, asking. Today's Temple Guardian is Master Daniel."

"Old man, only now you're trying to curry favor with me." Instead of the tension Wanda had expected, Salomon stuffed a piece of bacon into his mouth. Whether it was a premeditated attack or a sudden incident, the angels that appeared unexpectedly were all minor figures. Even Kamar-Taj was only investigating the cause, not taking direct action. Understanding the root of the problem was what Kamar-Taj should be focusing on.

"Perhaps these are just some surviving angels. I've already told Bayonetta and Joan of Arc; they can kill to their hearts' content, believe me, they enjoy it," he said. "Constantine, check if my armor is repaired. Also, make sure yours is fully powered; we might have to fight side-by-side. Wanda, would you be interested in a practical lesson?"

First came a buzzing sound like millions of bees, then it was drowned out by the music playing in the stores, and no one paid any attention. It wasn't until the shop windows began to tremble slightly, the exquisite jewelry quivered like a heartbeat, and the clamor of industry and fire drowned out the cheerful and lighthearted festive atmosphere, that someone looked up at the source of the sound—a gray fighter jet, accelerating toward Fifth Avenue.

New Yorkers have learned from experience; living in this disaster-prone city requires experience. Whether it's a terrorist attack or an alien invasion, the moment the plane appears, alert New Yorkers, even those unaware of what's happening, scream and run, panicking like a flock of screeching chicks. They surge into subways and buildings, trying to escape the flames and rapidly flying debris from the plane explosion.

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(End of this chapter)