Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 860 The Slaughterhouse (Happy New Year! Second Update!)

The Venerable and Salomon reached a consensus that the magical world must be strictly controlled in the face of future turmoil. Compared to ordinary people, spellcasters have a closer connection with the outer dimensions and are more prone to corruption. Once a spellcaster falls, they are highly likely to become a portal for outer-dimensional beings to enter the real world—and what's even more terrifying is that this influence from the outer dimensions forms subtly and gradually. Some spellcasters might even see a few words one day, be brainwashed by terrifying nightmares that very night, and wake up inexplicably as lackeys and believers of the outer dimensions, then set traps for those around them to spread the corruption and erosion of the outer dimensions, or simply offer them as sacrifices to outer-dimensional deities.

This kind of thing happened more than once, even after the Venerable One established his rule. Therefore, Kamar-Taj likened cultists to cockroaches; seeing one cultist meant there was a whole nest of undiscovered ones. After all, not everyone possessed the mental fortitude to confront the outer dimensions like Salomon, able to converse with Dormammu of the Dark Dimension with such a powerful soul. Books in the Kamar-Taj library containing such topics were chained up and enchanted, accessible only with permission.

The black market primarily deals in shady magical materials, with human bones, skin, nails, and various internal organs being the most common and frequently traded items. These items are generally not sold directly, and dark wizards without connections have little chance of acquiring them. These body parts come from both ordinary people and spellcasters; spellcasters' organs are far more valuable as casting materials or research subjects than those from ordinary people—the origins of these items are always shrouded in mystery, given the vast number of people in the world and the daily deaths of countless individuals. Kamar-Taj has limited manpower and cannot effectively manage the black market, relying instead on the Agamotto crystal ball and planetary defense systems to monitor magical fluctuations and ensure no large-scale summoning spells are being cast.

Salomon has now set foot in this lawless land in a true sense.

It wasn't that no Kamar-Taj sorcerers hadn't come here, but the ferryman gave all the black market merchants ample time to move their shady dealings. The Kamar-Taj sorcerers only managed to find some cursed magical items. Selling such things wasn't illegal; some magical items even circulated into human society, sparking a series of legends. For example, the grey-blue Hope Diamond, originally owned by Henry Philip Hope and later sold by the Cardia family, once led to the ruin of the family of American mining heiress and socialite Evalin Walsh McLean.

But this time is different.

The ferryman, whose control had been seized by Salomon using more sophisticated dark magic, was being forced to sail without handing over a coin. He wasn't acting alone either; Constantine was waiting at the sewer exit, halberd in hand.

New York Police Department Chief Stacy is in a real bind, as she has just taken office and is already facing two murder cases.

"No, this isn't murder, it's massacre." Detective Carter from the Eighth Precinct, an old acquaintance of Salomon's, greeted the police chief who had rushed in. "It's not just one body; dismembered limbs are constantly flowing out of the sewers. Some are severed, some are charred, some are blown to pieces—all sorts of causes of death," she said. "According to the forensic examination, the time of death is no more than twenty-four hours. What's worse, we can't identify the bodies at all. So far, the forensic team has only pieced together three complete bodies; the rest are just mutilated remains and internal organs, as if this were the sewers of some large slaughterhouse."

"Where is the first person to find him?" Chief Stacy covered her mouth and nose. The pungent stench of sewage and the stench of the corpse were almost unbearable, and even though he was some distance from the sewer outlet, the stench was still nauseating.

“It’s my informant, a homeless man. He slept nearby last night.” Officer Carter took off her gloves and tossed them into the trash can. Now that police backup had arrived and the scene was cordoned off, there was no need for her to investigate further. “My partner, Detective Francis, and I came over after receiving the call. We’ve questioned him and taken his statement. However, he saw nothing and heard nothing. He saw the floating body this morning, and the sewage in the sewers turned red, so he called me immediately.”

"And what about your partner?"

"There." Detective Carter pointed to a chubby detective in the corner, clutching a trash can and vomiting violently. Even the sirens couldn't drown out the sounds of Detective Francisco retching. In fact, he wasn't the only one; some patrol officers had also gone to vomit after arriving at the scene. "He was the first one to go into the sewer, and this is what happened. The search team has gone into the sewers to look for other bodies; hopefully, they'll find something. I guarantee this is the largest massacre in New York history; even during Prohibition, when the Mafia was rampant, there wasn't anything this horrific."

"Believe me, Detective Carter," Chief Stacy said, frowning. "This isn't the largest one yet. Hell's Kitchen isn't peaceful today either. The Japanese yakuza were all found dead in the streets, and until the statistics are in, we don't know where more people died today."

"Has Santa Claus turned into a terrifying killer this year?" Officer Carter scoffed. "How about Hell's Kitchen?"

"Hell's Kitchen is supposed to be a gang fight, but I don't know who the Japanese mafia has messed with recently. It's the holidays now, and we only have enough manpower for one side. Compared to the gang fight, the nameless slaughterhouse is more important," Chief Stacy said. "Detective Carter, I'd like to ask you to take charge of the investigation here. I'm sorry, I know your son is still at home..."

"He'll understand, Chief." Detective Carter forced a smile. "He understands how important my job is."

"I'm glad the Eighth Precinct has a responsible detective like you," Chief Stacy sighed. "I never imagined there were so many neurotic guys in the New York police force. It's unbelievable how many people would instinctively pull the trigger. Since I took office, there have been several shootings, and in both cases, the police fired first."

"New York has the most guns, Chief," Detective Carter said, rubbing his frozen hands. "Everyone has to learn to protect themselves."

"I know, I know." The police chief naturally understood the logic behind it.

The United States encourages civilians to own guns, so police must be vigilant to prevent those about to be arrested from pulling out handguns. Incidents of suspects shooting and killing police officers are frequent, putting all police officers on edge. Any small movement by an arrested person could easily lead to an unnecessary shooting. This is especially true in New York, a place with a large immigrant population, gangs, and a smuggling hub; every corner of Hell's Kitchen could potentially conceal an armory containing illegal firearms and even heavy weapons from around the world.

What was strange, however, was that the gang shootout last night showed no signs of heavy weapon use, not even a large-scale shooting. To Chief Stacy, it was as if someone had wiped out the entire Japanese yakuza in Hell's Kitchen with melee weapons. A chill ran down his spine; he knew his future career was in jeopardy.

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(End of this chapter)