Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 805 Vigilance (First Update)

He remained wary of the boy.

This was normal. When the boy, throbbing with a splitting headache, revealed his memories to him and Bayonetta, the magical aura emanating from him was dazzlingly bright. Although the sorcerer already knew this boy, who called himself "Loki," was no ordinary person, the arcane mage was still stirred by his magical power. Salomon's first reaction to the boy's sudden action was to raise his explosive gun, but he couldn't pull the trigger—not entirely because of the witch's objection, but more because he also wanted to see which direction this boy, with only brief memories and perhaps unaware that he was a pawn in the mastermind's game, intended to lead him and the witch.

"You're hurting me, big guy. Maybe you should take some time to maintain your armor." The boy frowned and waved his finger. Perhaps a deal had been struck, as his attitude had softened considerably. "But thank you for the medicine anyway. I'm fine, let's get going."

“That’s what I think too. I suggest you get a brain scan, because I suspect your short memory is due to a head injury that caused a blood clot in your brain.” The boy glared at the sorcerer. Salomon said confidently, “I’ve seen someone fall and nothing happened, except for some memory loss. But two days later, that person died!”

The boy asked curiously, "How did you die?"

"He was hit by a car and died. He forgot to look at the traffic lights when he was crossing the street. If he hadn't hit his head, he might have remembered it."

"Does anyone actually find your stupid jokes funny, big guy?"

The sorcerer shrugged. "Sometimes, I guess."

Taking advantage of the opportunity to hand over the pills, Salomon activated some minor functions of the power armor. A fine needle hidden within the finger armor discreetly pierced the boy's finger, secretly collecting a blood sample for analysis. The arcane sorcerer's concept of power armor differed greatly from Tony Stark's. Tony Stark prioritized lightness and speed, dedicating most of the power armor's space to modular mechanical structures, thrusters, and so on. Salomon, however, completely abandoned convenience, instead focusing on increasing the armor's thickness while continuously enhancing its functionality.

The power armor's medical system quickly provided the results, which he then relayed to the witch.

"A normal person?" Bayonetta asked incredulously. "No genetic mutations whatsoever?"

“Yes, a completely ordinary person.” Salomon replied on the way to the Falls Church. “It seems the answer lies at the level of the soul, but this boy’s memory is far too short. Perhaps he is a pawn thrown out after being brainwashed, carrying out commands rooted in the subconscious. This suspicion seems very strong at the moment, because he is leading us to what could be a trap in Finnbowent. That’s why I need you to hand over the next task to me; I must test his stance.”

"Try not to hurt him." The witch watched the boy skillfully navigate the alleys of Noahdorn Town. "I don't want you to be too rough."

“Of course, we’re not some kind of serial killer. Would you like to take a walk together, madam?” Salomon extended his arm, and the witch gracefully took it. They strolled leisurely along the cobblestone streets at dusk, seemingly unconcerned about a sudden attack from an angel, appearing to intend to fully appreciate the Italian-style town. Despite the boy’s repeated urging, Salomon declared that the town reminded Bayonetta of her hometown, so they planned to explore it thoroughly.

These remarks made the boy jump up and down in anger.

"I must go to Finnbowent." He ran off without looking back. "If you want to go too, then follow me. I'm not going to wait for you to stroll there!" The witch and the sorcerer exchanged a glance but didn't immediately follow. Only after the boy disappeared around the corner of the alley did Salomon chant the spell, giving the command to the invisible spirit in the air. At the same time, he prepared another spell to guard against unforeseen circumstances—this was the benefit of being well-read; Salomon could always find the right spell to deal with almost any situation, a flexibility that witches' magic lacked. Whether in battle or daily life, whether releasing lightning or baking cakes, or even tedious chores, Salomon could always use the appropriate magic to solve the problem.

On a tower in Noah'dune Town, a man wearing a golden mask looked down upon them. "Now is the time. They're far enough apart," the man said to the air before him. "We can't wait any longer. Prophet, I must launch the attack now."

"I am pleased to see your enthusiasm, sage," the voice of the one known as the prophet echoed from the void. "But please wait, the angels are on their way. We must guard against the possibility of those people interfering."

"It won't take long," the sage snorted in dissatisfaction. "Don't you trust my abilities?"

"Of course not, but you know I can't take any risks, Sage. Neither can you, can you?" the prophet said in a deep voice. "I brought you here from five hundred years ago to give you a chance for revenge, a chance to change the past. Do you want to see that chance slip away before your eyes?"

"I must kill him."

"You will, sage, but please follow my plan."

"Did you see that?" Bayonetta raised her arm and poked Salomon's cheek, the only part of the arcane mage's body not covered by armor. The waterfall church the boy described was located on the outskirts of town, at the foot of Mount Finnbowent, shrouded in shadow. Mount Finnbowent was an extremely high peak. As evening approached, the entire town was enveloped in the shadow cast by the mountain. Halfway up the mountain, the sunlight lingered. The setting sun dyed the mountain walls orange-red, and the cold wind from the north swept across the peaks, parting the thick snow and pulling the snow-capped peaks into ethereal, dreamlike clouds. Some tiny, flickering lights on the mountainside caught the witch's attention. Even without seeing clearly, the witch could still tell that they were enemies.

"When do you plan to make your move?"

"Wait a minute, let my summoned air spirit take a look." Salomon waited patiently, wanting to see whether the angels would attack them first or the boy. Kamar-Taj's upbringing had instilled in him a habitual cautiousness, and Salomon found it difficult to trust someone who had suddenly appeared and offered help—for an organization that frequently dealt with extradimensional beings, this level of suspicion wasn't particularly unusual; even when he first met the witch, Salomon had considered killing her. Even if the boy had provided a passage to Mount Finnbowent, Salomon found it hard to make a decision until he understood the boy's identity and stance.

To a normal person, Salomon's behavior would be considered somewhat paranoid.

"My lord! You must not approach the holy mountain!"

"Get out of the way, you ugly freaks!" The boy, surrounded, pulled out a card and warily stared at the angels before him. "Get out of the way, this is my last warning! I have to get to Finnbowent! Damn it, what's that!" The boy leaped away, a golden longsword piercing through the angels' layers of white wings, striking the spot where he had just stood. A man wearing a golden mask appeared beside the spear, his heavy white robes covering him completely. He raised the spear tip, embedded in the stone floor, and without a word pointed it at the hastily retreating boy.

He wanted to kill the boy.

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)