Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 871 Persuasion (First Update)

Salomon looked at the man sitting on the soft chair opposite him.

"But I feel that's not enough. Once you delve too deeply into the darkness of the magical world driven by an excessive curiosity, you're very likely to become hopelessly addicted. Many wizards believe they're only dabbling and won't cause any harm, but it turns out that Kamar-Taj has killed far more spellcasters, both outside and within, than you imagine," he said. "You've seen it too; a large part of our work involves killing, besides research. Yes, magic in fantasy literature, but much worse than in the books. Magic isn't a good thing, but we can't live without it."

"Wait! Magic?" Watson wanted to warn Salomon not to get blood all over the carpet, but the word still caught his attention. "So you guys are even more professional than Van Helsing?" he asked with interest, holding his teacup, as if his previous sewer adventure hadn't affected his optimism. "Do you have wands too?"

"I have nothing to do with Hogwarts. Why do you British people have to ask that question to everyone? Vampires exist, so what's so special about magic?" Salomon answered without turning around, but Sherlock Holmes could see how terrible his expression was. "Actually, you don't have to bring up topics, Watson. I'm not embarrassed. Thank you, but I don't want tea right now."

Sherlock Holmes shifted into a more comfortable position, resting his elbows on the armrests, his fingertips forming a pyramid. He stared intently into the sorcerer's eyes, seemingly trying to uncover some secret Salomon was unwilling to reveal. However, even with his mind-reading abilities, he couldn't pry open the secrets of Salomon's mind. From the very beginning of his studies in magic, he knew that an open mind is like pages to be altered at will, and guarding one's own heart is the beginning of a spellcaster's long and arduous journey.

"You now have the choice to join us and try to take on a title that concerns the fate of all mankind, Sherlock Holmes. I know you want to ask me why I don't seek this position myself... In fact, this prestigious title belongs to my teacher, the most revered title of wizard in the world. His Holiness divided the title in two, giving me one half, and the other half is that prestigious position. We each have our own responsibilities. The reason I fought the Chitauri in New York and the Dark Elves in London is because it was my duty. And that's all you know; there are many more wars fought behind the scenes."

Watson stared wide-eyed at himself. He wanted to say he'd seen Salomon in full armor on TV, but the atmosphere made it difficult to bring it up. Besides, Salomon wasn't wearing the same suit of armor, and he didn't know what to start with.

"Why?" Sherlock Holmes tilted his chin up, his messy curly hair bouncing around. "Why would your teacher do this?"

"I know the answer, but I cannot reveal it. Only by joining us can you access the most confidential information. But your test hasn't even begun, and even if you agree now, I cannot tell you. Only after you assume that position will I tell you the true secrets of Kamar-Taj." The sorcerer spread his arms in a gesture. "There are still so many magical threats to confront in the world, and countless malevolent aliens in the endless universe to be killed. This is the future we face, a desperate future filled with slaughter. I need help to resolve all this, and you have the ability to be that helper. Don't confine yourself to this island like Mycroft, and then use all your abilities to mold yourself into a decent troublemaker—by the way, that's my only assessment of him—try to take on greater responsibility, and you will get what you want."

Salomon rose from the armchair. Clad in black power armor adorned with magnificent gold embossing, he appeared so imposing that one might think his head would hit the ceiling. However, the armor had lost its original exquisite craftsmanship; the intricate embossed grooves were now studded with dried blood and dirt. He retrieved a business card from the power armor's magazine compartment and placed it on the armchair, then bent down to pick up the explosive rifle lying on the floor—the smell of gunpowder was still pungent. His plasma pistol's compressed high-energy gas ammunition was exhausted; this explosive rifle had fired at least five hundred rounds that night to replenish Salomon's firepower. With this powerful weapon, he had single-handedly driven back or eliminated at least half of the vampires in London with relatively little effort.

He now desperately wants Malbus to try creating some robotic hunting dogs to help with the hunt, the kind controlled by bio-computers. His cautious attitude towards artificial intelligence remains unchanged; the only AI he uses is heavily restricted. Add to that the troublesome Vision from the Avengers, and Salomon's attitude towards AI couldn't be worse; he hasn't reached an agreement with Stark on this matter.

"This is the address of the London Sanctuary. Come here sometime when you've made up your mind. You'll see a much larger, more beautiful world filled with countless mysteries. But please note, time waits for no one. We're all busy, busy preventing the world from being destroyed," Salomon said. "Think carefully; embarking on this path means enduring a lot of hardship. If you're willing to join us, you'll see what kind of world we've forged with our lives. Immortality isn't a mental burden that just anyone can bear."

"Do you think I'd agree to this based on such vague information? And another question: how old are you anyway?"

"Twenty-one!" Salomon's expression twisted again. He didn't understand why everyone who had known him for a short time questioned his age. However, he maintained his tone, and no one except Holmes could discern any emotional fluctuation in him. "I think you will. I understand your thirst for knowledge, because I am too. A strong thirst for knowledge is both the driving force behind the pursuit of knowledge and a sword of Damocles. This vampire uprising is the first wound inflicted by that sword, and I don't want a next time. To prepare for future disasters, I need the help of every outstanding human being, and you are one of them."

"Remember to clean the stairs before you leave; Mrs. Hudson doesn't like anyone dirtying her floors."

"Don't dress like a parish priest, and remember to bring a change of clothes," Salomon advised.

"What about tea?" Watson asked. "Aren't you going to have some before you leave?"

The sorcerer left without looking back, and the atmosphere in the reception room became much more relaxed after he left.

"He doesn't like tea with milk."

How did you know?

"This is deduction, Watson." Sherlock Holmes picked up his teacup. He had drawn a conclusion from what Salomon hadn't said and all the information he'd gathered that evening. This organization not only possessed magic but also extremely powerful technology. He'd heard fighter jets streaking across London, and he'd seen the advanced technology in Salomon's power armor; it would be impossible for him not to be interested. However, Salomon had provided far too little; he needed to think things through and gather more information. The detective raised an eyebrow. "Well, actually, he said it himself. Let's quickly clean the stairs, or Mrs. Hudson will be furious."

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(End of this chapter)