Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 819 Shortcut to Hell (First Update)

The boy fell heavily into the water, the powerful impact nearly knocking him unconscious.

He gritted his teeth against the pain in his back, thrashing about in the water. Then, a hand yanked him out of the water. Once he regained his composure and caught his breath, he found Bayonetta standing on the shore. Looking around, he realized he and the witch were in a strange building. Numerous deep, dark arches surrounded the pool he had fallen into; many ancient Greek Ionic columns encircled the exquisite vaulted ceiling; and countless reliefs covered the walls. He and the witch had fallen from a distant breach in the dome, but the boy hadn't yet noticed the unusual height of the fall, nor why he hadn't been smashed into a pulp upon hitting the water.

However, he still noticed the injuries on his body, the abrasions on his arms and back were almost completely healed.

"This trip has been quite an ordeal, hasn't it?" the boy joked. "Where are we?"

"I'm pretty sure we're further apart now than we were at the beginning," Bayonetta said, hands on her hips, looking up.

Even though Salomon and the Sisterhood blocked a large number of angels, quite a few still caught up with her and the boy as they fell. She managed to kill a few before landing in this place. She remembered Salomon's words; this place had indeed been ruled by the witches and sages—the Ionic columns were slender and beautiful, widely appearing in the temples of ancient Greek female deities because of their elegant and noble aura. She felt that the style of these buildings was extremely familiar, and if she wasn't mistaken, this place was very likely related to the witches, because such buildings had once existed in the witches' former residence. Since going down from the bridge to Heaven to Mount Finnbowent led to the Gates of Hell, it wasn't incomprehensible that the witches had once built structures to monitor the Gates of Hell.

She already knew what was inside.

"I feel like I've seen this place before." The boy got up, soaking wet, his face contorted by the recurring headache. He was used to this pain, even though he felt like his eyeballs were about to pop out of his skull. Facing the witch's questioning gaze, the boy simply shook his head. "Beunita, if you're so eager to go to hell, I might know a shortcut."

"Really?" The witch pushed up her glasses.

Her thoughts were still focused on the dome above. She knew how Salomon would react if he saw her fall, but she didn't want the sorcerer to kill her now, because she still had many things to figure out. For example, why the lipstick her mother had given her was on that sage—did it signify…?

Bayonetta took a quiet breath and didn't think any further.

The boy nodded solemnly and said, "I'm starting to remember... who I really am. See that stone platform over there?" He pointed to a platform that looked quite out of place on the opposite bank. Unlike the rounded edge of the pool, the stone platform was not only rectangular, but also covered with all sorts of dizzying runes. Bayonetta looked in the direction he pointed and easily recognized the Enochian text. Enochian was the witch's second language, essential for both spellcasting and combat. In all her studies, including Enochian—magic, alchemy, close combat, medicine, etiquette, literature, history, and the art of pleasure—Bayonetta was among the best of her generation of witches, with only Joan of Arc able to rival her.

"Hmm~" The witch nodded; she could guess the purpose of the stone platform without the boy's prompting. However, to protect the boy's pride and to see what he was thinking, the witch said nothing.

"Start it, and we'll be right at the Gates of Hell beneath Mount Finnbowent," the boy said. "But don't get too excited; it's definitely not going to be easy. By the way, don't you need to go find your boyfriend?"

"I don't think anyone can be his match, little thing." Bayonetta laughed, showing no sign of worry. "We're here for only one purpose: I think he'll agree to let me go first."

In the Abrahamic pantheon, "God" refers not only to a single, specific God, but also to a hierarchy of divine servants and attendants. This usage is also evident in Abrahamic religious texts. For example, in the Old Testament, "Israel" means "one who wrestles with God, for you wrestled with God and with men and were victorious." However, Jacob did not wrestle with God, but with angels. The veiled sage, in his time, was called "one who is close to God," meaning he possessed the power to contend with angels. But if he were a lower-ranking angel, he could not be considered the most outstanding among the sages; therefore, the angels here refer to those capable of dealing with the highest-ranking four angelic powers without summoning angels.

However, the powerful masked sage found himself increasingly struggling to defend himself against this arcane mage.

In close combat, he had no time to summon angels, and couldn't cast half the spells of the World Watchers. Furthermore, when he used bloodline magic like [Swift Stream], he was astonished to find that the arcane mage could keep up with his movements; the faster he moved, the faster the mage became. Salomon wielded the holy sword like lightning—this wasn't a metaphor, but a literal description; the burning holy sword even produced a deafening sonic boom as it rubbed against the air. Although the masked sage wielded two broken spears, the speed of wielding two-handed weapons was actually faster than wielding one-handed weapons, leaving the masked sage no chance to retaliate.

But when he began to defend himself, he found that the force that followed almost crushed his arm.

Even as he attempted to parry the holy sword with his broken spear and then deliver a fatal blow with another broken spear, the servo system created by the Fifth Demon Pillar, the magical armor plates forged by the dwarves of Nilheim, and the protective magic personally constructed by Salomon unsurprisingly blocked his attack. The jewel-encrusted golden spear seemed to have struck something smooth, sliding aside. Even if the spear tip pierced the outermost layer of protective magic, the sparks and runes that flickered out of thin air would block any weapon that approached Salomon's body, as if stirring up an entire swamp with a small twig.

The masked sage could only raise his broken spear to parry time and again, only to be slammed down by the immense force. After his third brief encounter with the arcane mage in mid-air, his descent had reached a terrifying acceleration. The last thing he saw over the arcane mage's shoulder armor was the fading golden aura of the angels relentlessly pursuing him from the darkness behind Salomon, now completely vaporized. Then, he and Salomon crashed into the base of Mount Finnbowent, utterly buried by boulders and earth.

The assault transport plunged into the canyon, its attack wings and side-mounted weapons firing at full capacity. The remaining Sisters of the Order, still capable of combat, followed along the attack wings, dealing with any lower-ranking angels attempting to attack the cockpit. The shadow of Mount Finnbowent had already enveloped them; even the assault transport's lights couldn't dispel the chilling darkness. Their only beacon was the rapidly descending golden spear flashing ahead.

They are following Catherine.

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)