Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 967 There's nothing new under the sun (First Update)

“We probably can’t go that far,” Wanda said first. She tapped her heels a little sheepishly, then whispered her thanks to Daisy Jensen, who was trimming her hair. The mixed-race hacker nodded cheerfully; her own short hair, soaked with sweat and dried, had become tangled strands hanging down her cheeks, looking quite messy. But when faced with Wanda’s deep red hair, she was quite serious, carefully trimming the burnt and curly parts with small scissors.

Fitz watched them as if witnessing an unbelievable miracle, as if in the blink of an eye the two had secretly flipped a knob on their heads, transforming from tense standoffs to peaceful coexistence with incredible speed, as swift as the reaction of magnesium and acid, yet remarkably quiet. Women are truly incomprehensible creatures; one second they're plotting to tear each other's throats, the next they're grooming each other like cats, and the next they might be scheming to kill each other—Fitz subtly shifted his feet, distancing himself from the two—as part of the cooperation, Robbie Reyes had completely lost his voice, as he was currently receiving an IV drip and looked like he wouldn't be able to sleep for at least a few more hours. The Immortal City, as the dominant force, completely controlled the mission's progress, and S.H.I.E.L.D., as the secondary force, could only cooperate with the Immortal City's actions, just as they had done before when rescuing Leopold Fitz and Gemma Simmons from the alien planet.

This was not a pleasant memory for any of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, since no one knew whether the nuclear missile hanging over their heads would be launched, even though they all knew it was a necessary precaution.

Constantine had no objections; he didn't mind using these people as slaves, as long as they could find out where the spellbook was. As a first step in the cooperation, Wanda took a small bottle of garnet-colored potion from her pouch and handed it over. At this moment, Mike completely disregarded the bad mood caused by Daisy and Yoyo's earlier concealment; he only wanted to reach out and stop the bottle of unknown liquid. However, Daisy Jensen took it without hesitation, opened the cap, and drank it all in one gulp, completely ignoring Mike's grumbling about needing to test it.

"I know what this potion is for," she said, showing Mike her arms. After taking the potion, her bruised arms healed at a visible speed. Daisy Jensen endured the unbearable itching caused by the rapid bone healing, then excitedly used her powers on the ruins left by the battle. After the pain subsided, Daisy's mental state improved considerably.

"I'm healed, I can fight," she said. "By the way, this potion tastes pretty good."

"The teacher likes to mix the healing potions into strawberry and pomegranate flavors," Wanda said. "That's probably the best-tasting potion."

"Adding some carbonation would make it even more popular."

"I don't care about the potion, can you guys please consider the mission! The Quinjet has first turned into a monster, and then it's been put into some kind of magical compression machine," Fitz complained in a low voice, hands on his hips. He had long since tossed the freeze gun aside; that non-lethal weapon posed no threat to anyone here anyway. "We have to take a bus to investigate now, and we also need to figure out how to squeeze this three-meter-tall guy into it. If that guy walks down the street, the police will stop him in less than a minute. He'll kill everyone there, and then a news helicopter will follow, exposing us to the public."

"That's because the Quinjet was corrupted by the Spirit of Vengeance..."

Wanda wanted to argue further, but the guards waved her off. "I don't need your transportation," Constantine said coldly, looking down at them. "I'll go directly to the mission location. Wanda Maximov, the jet motorcycle can carry one more person. Daisy Jensen, you take Robbie Reyes. Leopold Fitz and Mike, you said there were spirits in your base; I need you to investigate and find out how many spirits are out there."

"I'll stay here. It would be terrible if Robbie Reyes were to fall under the influence of the vengeful spirit again if I left." Wanda hesitated for a moment. "Besides, I need to oversee their investigation; every team needs someone who can deal with ghosts."

"After the Quinjet was destroyed, S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters should have received an automatic support request. Aren't you worried we'll tell...tell someone about you?" Mike asked, looking up. Constantine glanced at him, then turned and left the sulfur-smelling room. "Tell whoever you want, as long as you think you can handle the consequences," the Guardian said. "I only care about the mission objective; I don't care about anything else."

"Hey, wait a minute, we haven't connected you to the communication channel yet!"

"It's okay, I've already hacked it, I can hear everything you say."

Stephanie pressed the fast forward button.

This mission—in which a few scientists with absolutely no knowledge of magic created what appeared to be miracles using knowledge gleaned from magic books—was not actually the first recorded instance at Kamar-Taj. In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, a former Methodist minister with a keen interest in electricity did something similar to what happened in that energy lab; his body was eventually found in his own bed (this is the official narrative).

This man was originally a very gentle fellow with a keen interest in science (especially electricity) and faith. While preaching to the town's children, he even built a finger-sized mechanical Jesus that could traverse a self-made lake landscape basin along transparent tracks, mimicking the miracle of walking on water. He also had a beautiful wife and a well-behaved son, but all these wonderful things vanished after a car accident when his wife was driving with their son shopping. He renounced his faith, exposed the hypocrisy of religion to the townspeople, and was excommunicated from the church, earning a living with his tricks in a circus.

Fifty years later, when he reappeared, the internet had emerged. This pastor, following typical Protestant missionary methods, traveled across America in his enormous white tent, capable of holding a thousand people. Wearing two battery-powered rings disguised as gold rings, he claimed to his followers that he could cure many incurable diseases, such as muscular dystrophy, drug addiction, and tumors. This pastor frequently performed demonstrations at gatherings, removing tumors with his bare hands—but these were merely sheep or cow entrails. Despite his clumsy technique, many believed him, especially the families of those he claimed to have cured, as if they were unaware that the pastor was actually electrocuting their brains.

Regardless, he did successfully heal some people because his knowledge taught him what to do.

So the believers knelt down in the tent and sang "Hallelujah" in unison.

However, those terminally ill patients who received treatment all experienced varying degrees of aftereffects, with many engaging in self-harm unconsciously. Heroin addicts who had kicked their addiction stabbed themselves in the arm with a fork, patients undergoing cataract removal would sprinkle salt into their eyes, tinnitus patients experienced hallucinations, and patients with muscle atrophy were admitted to mental hospitals and could only be fed through a feeding tube.

Healing patients was not his true purpose; he used all the money given by his followers to build a machine.

A machine capable of drawing energy from outer dimensions, a machine capable of resurrecting the dead.

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)