Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 951 The Other Side of Life (First Update)

After Salomon came of age, the Sorcerer Supreme rarely gave him direct orders. This was partly because he was legally and financially independent (although he was older in practice, he was still legally twenty-one), and partly because Salomon had begun to treat the Immortal City and Kamar-Taj as his own responsibility. Ostensibly, his authority in Kamar-Taj was second only to the Sorcerer Supreme, but in reality, the Sorcerer Supreme had already transferred all authority to him. Many reports from the three temples were forwarded to him, and he possessed the power to command arcane sorcerers to carry out missions, and even had unimpeded access to dungeons that held many secrets.

Simply put, like the Sorcerer Supreme, he will do whatever he deems necessary.

For example, it would be necessary to try to deliver a letter to Hela, the goddess of death, through the roots of the World Tree leading to Nilfheim.

"I thought you were going to barge in and fight her!" Viktor von Doom couldn't help but slap his forehead. "But you actually wrote in the letter, 'Your old man wants to come here to find you. You'll be out soon. I'll be waiting for you at the door. Don't kill anyone, or I'll rip your head off. Kiss, kiss, and night night.' You're fucking insane! What do you think this is supposed to do? What a terrible sense of humor! I don't even know why I came with you!"

"I don't know what Wotan's plans are, but driving Hela a little crazy isn't a bad thing," Salomon shrugged. "I've fought her a couple of times, but she still doesn't know who I am. So I signed the letter to let her know I'd be waiting for her outside. Whoever's waiting here will definitely get stabbed by a maddened Hela first. Think about it, if Wotan wanted to talk to her... wow, nothing would go through. We have to make sure this happens, don't we?"

The so-called signature was simply a crude doodle drawn at the end of the letter using yellow and black crayons stolen from a child going to elementary school. It depicted a person in yellow armor holding a sword, and a black person with horns lying on the ground, tongue lolling out. In addition, there was a very ugly black cat spanning the front and back of the paper, which would meow if poked lightly. It was a little magic, very practical, and often used in drawing.

The thought of this caused Victor von Doom's iron mask to emit a heavy whooshing sound as he breathed through its breathing grille. Even without hearing the buzzing of his knuckles, one could easily guess his anger. He had initially assumed Salomon had come to issue a challenge or perform a heroic act, and he intended to ensure Salomon's safety, for without Salomon, the Latvians could not live a good life.

Viktor von Doom had no idea of ​​Salomon’s absurd behavior.

Although he had long known that Salomon was the kind of guy who could conjure butterflies to amuse children—he'd often used his invented spells to play pranks or infuriate Mordo when Salomon was young—he never expected the adult Salomon to do something like this. "You won't have any more chances to joke around, Salomon," he said sternly, his eyes behind his glasses like two knives stabbing at Salomon. "While your methods are effective, don't do anything so childish next time, okay? You are the monarch of the Immortal City, the future monarch of the entire human race. Nobody wants to see a king joking around!"

"I know, I know, I'll return the crayons. I don't want to see a crying little boy. Relax, Victor, I'm going to enjoy life while I can. I know I'm not qualified to say that, because I've been much luckier than you since birth, you've suffered more than many people in the world. But life can't be all about fighting—look around us, don't just look at the glaciers, look further ahead. This is human society, we can go to the town bar later for a good drink, or maybe add a raw egg to our whiskey…"

"We've already drunk two thousand milliliters of whiskey today!"

Salomon pretended not to hear Viktor von Doom's complaints: "...Listen to the laughter of humans, then throw the empty bottles into Nilfhheim. I'm pretty sure that helps reduce environmental pollution on Earth. The goddess of death, who hasn't tasted alcohol for thousands of years, must be going crazy, and if she's already crazy, she'll be even crazier. Don't be like my assistant; although she's lovely, she can be really annoying sometimes."

"For example, when she reminds you that you've drunk too much?"

"Oh dear, you're even more annoying than her now! I don't want an annoying regent, I want..."

"Don't act like an idiot! Don't slide down the glacier like a child! Oh shit!" Viktor von Doom cried out in deep regret, "What was I thinking, agreeing to be your regent!"

"Oh, you mean you got into a fight in a pub in that Norwegian town, and then drank with the police after they arrived?" Bayonetta paced back and forth in the living room, her black silk pajamas billowing without wind, her exquisite triangular sapphire earrings sparkling. If you ignored the gun in her hand, everything seemed normal. "You drank everyone under the table, including the only policeman in town. That doesn't explain the lipstick mark on your face, little boy!"

"It might be from the alcohol, since a lot of people wanted to kiss my face, some with their fists, some with their lips. The former didn't succeed, and I'm not sure if the latter did too. Everyone likes me, so it was a bit chaotic." Salomon handed Dinah a plate of pancakes, which Dinah then placed on the table. Occasionally taking charge of preparing the family's meals was Salomon's hobby, and Dinah also enjoyed watching her master cook.

"Including those guys I knocked out, they even tried to get me to take drugs, with the police right there! This might be the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened to me!" Salomon picked up some bacon and put it in the pan. This was what Joan of Arc had requested; she wanted some crispy bacon. In fact, she was already sitting upright at the table, her pale gray eyes fixed on the small pan in Salomon's hand. She didn't want to miss the combination of baguette spread with garlic butter and bacon; the taste made her feel like she was back home—ever since Bayonetta dragged her out of bed, she had been sullen and desperately needed the taste of home to ease her bad mood. So today's dessert was macarons that were so sweet they would make your throat hurt, and Dinah was already preparing them.

"What's even more absurd is that you actually colluded with those people to steal the live octopus that was meant to be displayed at the sushi restaurant!"

"I heard the octopus say that it wanted to go back to the sea!"

"Are you sure you're not on drugs?"

"Of course not, my homemade alchemical potions are a thousand times better. It was an accident, really. By the way, the bartender was a man about my height, and he was gay, so the lip print was a bit big." For an ordinary person, this would be considered alcoholism, but it had no effect on him. Even if his blood alcohol concentration was high enough to be ignited, his brain wouldn't be affected in the slightest. Victor von Doom left early to complete his mission, and Salomon went to check on the cave before leaving the town to make sure Hela, the Goddess of Death, hadn't replied.

"And I washed my face," he said. "It's completely clean, without a single trace."

"Oh! That's all!" Bayonetta casually tossed the pistol aside, and the Cheshire Cat, with perfect understanding, jumped up from the carpet and hugged the precious magical weapon, then bit the barrel like it was a fish, its hind legs kicking the handle with all its might. Phoenix tilted its head, making sure the Cheshire Cat wouldn't accidentally pull the trigger and shoot itself, before returning to its post, using its paws to hold a pen and write new verses. Salomon had already made arrangements with the publisher using a false identity; Phoenix would publish a new collection of poems in six months.

"I'd like some garlic butter bread," she said. "And a whip. I need to check if my husband's sexual orientation is still normal. Do you have it in your pot? Or did you leave it in the bedroom? Whether it was an accident or not, you'll be sleeping in the living room tonight. You're welcome."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)