Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 938 Vidocq von Doom (Second Update)

As news reports began detailing the renewed uncontrollable wildfires in Southern California, Salomon arrived at his destination immediately. A flock of chickens, flustered, scurried past his feet, instinctively trying to soil his high boots. Covered in war-torn soot, he pushed open the flimsy door of the house, constructed of local wood, and stepped into the old house nestled deep in the mountains. The owner didn't protest his intrusion, but rather calmly picked up a ceramic cup and kettle from the exquisitely handcrafted wooden table, silently pouring some liquid into the cup, as if he had known he would arrive at this time.

When Salomon was seated, the homeowner placed an overflowing earthenware cup in front of him.

"As you can see, both the cups and the kettle are homemade," the homeowner said in a rough voice. "Apart from wine, you can't grow any grapes here. They're too astringent and too small; even the goats don't like them. They prefer paper to regular grapes. Actually, my vodka is better, but I've already drunk it all. After all, I don't like using magic to keep warm."

"Great, I'm pretty picky about alcohol. By the way, I think I saw your goat; it's standing on the roof right now, planning to poop on me as soon as I come out. Damn goat, it must be because my motorcycle almost hit it."

The homeowner poured himself a glass of wine, his scarred face expressionless.

The only lighting in the room was a burning fireplace and a table lamp, and there wasn't a single mirror, suggesting the homeowner disliked seeing their own face. The only thing reflecting light was an old television set in the corner, placed next to a dilapidated piano, connected to a battered antenna on the ceiling—clearly unused for a long time. Salomon could understand; he'd seen photos of the homeowner in their youth, and the memory of their former handsomeness made their disfigured face even more unbearable. Salomon believed this was the homeowner's only weakness.

It's not that I can't accept my disfigured face, but that I can't accept my past.

"By the way, I like your tactics. Very precise missile drops and siege artillery bombardment. Against bunkers like that, choosing bunker buster bombs followed by thermobaric and white phosphorus bombs can achieve great damage." In terms of the procedure, after using missiles to pry open the granite and alloy roof of the bunker, the problem was solved with precise artillery fire. The enemy didn't even see the faces of the soldiers of the First Secret Regiment of Fimbulwinter before they were engulfed in the shattered concrete ruins and high temperature and pressure.

It was precisely because of those two Gustav-class self-propelled guns that the Immortal City did not need to mobilize all its manpower to face the Skrull settlement. The soldiers advanced only to find usable information and prisoners, ensuring that no survivors were left behind in this operation.

"But what surprises me even more are your soldiers. Where did you find this group of people, and why are they all so fearless?"

"First, I had some money and some technology; second, they wanted to atone for their sins and fight for humanity, not politicians or tycoons. So, I found them and, with some drugs that improved the brain's perception of fear, some adrenaline, and other mixed combat agents, even an ordinary soldier without any training could have the courage to face aliens and extradimensional beings."

"I really envy your good luck." The homeowner glanced at the sorcerer. "Plasma weapons and nuclear bombs can erase most of the traces left by war. Right now, the Southern California news media still thinks it was a meteorite that caused the wildfires, not your siege cannons, armored vehicles, and aircraft."

"Manipulating the media allows you to manipulate public opinion; old dogs can't come up with new tricks. You can't blame the world for having too many fools. Although this isn't what I wanted, the US can't possibly announce the attack on its air force base. There's another theory now: a secret US military aircraft test failed, which is why the military is actively investigating the wildfires. This theory is currently dominant online; after all, everyone knows the US military is trying to hide something by being so proactive—perhaps evidence of an inhumane biological experiment, or perhaps a general's bribery record—who knows?"

"In the illusion created by the etheric currents, I saw you deploy engineering machinery I've never seen before, and I also saw you walk in through that door. However, I still didn't see how you obtained those war machines. I've been divining ever since the Battle of Finnbowent, and I've still come up empty-handed. This is rare. I thought my divination magic was quite sophisticated, so this can only mean that your secrecy measures are quite good."

"I am far superior to you in magic, and not just in prophetic magic, you know that's an undeniable fact. When you were studying at Kamar-Taj, you learned the magic I invented, didn't you?"

"I also saw this conversation, Salomon. Although there's always a gap between prophecy and reality, I still think you're too idealistic."

"You have no right to talk to me like that, otherwise you'd still be in the library at Kamar-Taj. You left when I was barely fifteen, but I still remember your performance at Kamar-Taj. You were excellent, so you should be able to guess that Mordodo wanted you dead after your defection. And you left too early; a lot of things have changed—" Salomon put down his glass, smacked his lips at the wine in disdain, "—I'm really surprised you didn't poison it. But even without poison, it's awful enough."

"As you can see, I'm penniless and can only afford to buy wine made by farmers." The homeowner lowered his eyelids. "If you want my life, I can make you bleed a little, but wasting my only bottle of wine is not worth it."

"Since Your Excellency doesn't want to kill you, then neither will I. Although you already know this, I'll say it again, just to be formal. I come with a promise, and I won't let you down. I also believe you won't let me leave empty-handed." Salomon put down his wine glass, facing the homeowner's狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face. His expression was solemn; his previous joking frivolity was instantly forgotten. The firewood in the fireplace was still burning, the window remained open, but the air was gradually becoming hot and dry. The homeowner's ugly face remained calm, but his eyes gleamed with a strange light. He knew that what he was about to say, which suited his taste perfectly, would definitely be recorded in history. If he could, he would definitely want to copy it down, so that he could use it as proof of his superior wisdom compared to Salomon when necessary in the future. As a believer in Machiavellianism, this feeling of secretly surpassing others was extremely pleasing to him.

Although he vowed to change his ways, Salomon still managed to exploit his weakness.

"I invite you to join a long war to defend humanity, establish a new order, end humanity's long internal strife, then march into the stars, rule the galaxy, establish human racial hegemony, and finally ascend to godhood. Vidocq von Doom, I need your wisdom."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)