Marvel Magic Case Files.

Chapter 52 The Intruder

This is a man with long, curly hair. He has a fair complexion, deep-set eyes, and a high nose. His long hair is tied back, with only the curls on his forehead still lingering on both sides of his cheeks.

He held an expensive camera in his hand, his brows furrowed, squatting there intently pressing the shutter button. Although Naples is near the sea, the temperature difference between day and night is extreme, and perhaps for this reason, the man was wearing a slightly thick dark blue woolen coat and a red and blue checkered scarf around his neck.

Salomon's voice startled him so much he almost jumped, but the sorcerer's hand on the man's shoulder held him firmly down.

"Who are you!" he cried out, turning his head to see Salomon, who was shorter than him. Immediately, his face relaxed from the wrinkles of tension.

"Ahem!" he whispered to the sorcerer, "It's dangerous here. I think you'd better leave first, because something incomprehensible might happen next. Are you in the choir? Or the child of some bishop?"

"Do I look like a follower of some damned god to you?" Salomon looked down at his attire: a black cult robe and a deep red coat, making him look nothing like a clergyman.

perhaps?

Salomon looked up and said, "For your personal safety, I suggest you leave as soon as possible. You have no ability to resist those things."

The man suddenly felt the hand on his shoulder become much stronger, and an irresistible force pulled him backward, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground with a thud.

"Leave? No! I finally tracked her down!" Even so, he tried to keep his voice down, but he immediately realized, "Those things? What do you know?"

"I know what I should know." Salomon expressionlessly loosened his shoulders and instead grabbed the man by the back of his collar, dragging him backward, completely ignoring his struggles.

"You knew everything!" The man realized he was no match for Salomon, but still tried to stand. "You're in cahoots with her?"

"I don't know who you're referring to, but if you're talking about that nun inside, I do know her. Only not for very long." Salomon turned around, easily stepping on the man's knee and snatching the camera from his hand. "Clearly, you're looking for something ordinary people shouldn't know."

"Give it back to me!"

Salomon awkwardly pressed the buttons on the camera with one hand, bringing up the photo album. "Oh, I didn't know you were a stalker, sir." After glancing at the album, he held the camera up to the man. "Florence, you actually tracked me there."

"Promise me you'll keep your voice down, we have things to do inside!" Salomon said. "I want to know where you're from?"

Although the man agreed to lower his voice, he still unconsciously raised his voice and spoke faster.

He said, "I've been tracking her for a long time! Twenty years ago, she killed my father right before my eyes! You haven't known her long, so you probably don't know what she really looks like. She looked exactly the same twenty years ago, and she hasn't changed a bit since. You've had contact with her. Tell me, tell me everything you know. I want the world to know what she really is! I investigated several missing persons cases in Florence, and Bayonetta was there at the time. It must be her..."

The man's expression suddenly twisted in pain. "I remember now, you were there too! Could it be...?"

"That's right, sir." Salomon looked momentarily at a loss for what to do. "Those people didn't disappear; they died. I killed them."

"You...you look so..." The man pointed at Salomon, his eyes wide as he stared at the boy before him. "I never expected you to..."

"Let me explain, sir," Salomon said helplessly, "those people are werewolves..."

"Werewolf! You want me to believe your nonsense? Fine, I'll believe you for now." He almost choked on his breath. "But you look like you're only thirteen or fourteen. Who taught you to kill!"

"It sounds like you've been searching for Bayonetta for many years. Shouldn't you be used to those supernatural phenomena? Magic exists, so werewolves must exist too. Humans aren't as alone as you think," the sorcerer said helplessly. "As for killing... someone always has to bear something that ordinary people can't touch, and I'm one of them."

"I..." Salomon was very familiar with the man's expression. His senior brother had described to him the expressions of those who saw magic, and this man's expression was almost exactly the same. It was an expression of disbelief after one's understanding had been overturned. Almost every person who came to Kamar-Taj to cultivate had experienced the overturning of their understanding.

"Alright, I don't have time to reshape your worldview, sir." The sorcerer was getting impatient. He pulled the man to his feet. "Leave here. Those things won't show any mercy to humans."

"Those things? What things?"

"You shouldn't know, sir. There are some things that are better left unknown to ordinary people."

The candles on the altar suddenly went out, and the clear moonlight streamed through the stained glass windows, gently falling onto the white marble floor. Salomon's eyes widened; the sudden darkness made him uneasy, but soon, by the pale moonlight, he could make out the scene inside the church. Immediately afterward, the organ above the church began to play Mendelssohn's Organ Sonata No. 1.

"Symphony No. 65, allegro." Salomon looked up at the organ. Only those with magical vision could see that a large black man was sitting there. Although Salomon couldn't make out the man's features, judging from the ever-present orange trench coat, it was Rodin. But to Salomon's surprise, he never expected Rodin to possess such exquisite organ playing skills.

Although he didn't know when Rodin had arrived or why he was there, those things didn't matter. All he wanted now was to get the man beside him out of the church. Ordinary people shouldn't get involved in these things.

Blinding golden light streamed down from the vaulted ceiling, refracting back and forth between the gilded and copper-clad architectural decorations, dispelling the cold moonlight and all the darkness in the corners.

Salomon and the man next to him were blinded by the bright light. Although their tear ducts secreted fluid in an attempt to compensate, their thin eyelids were no match for the intense light, so they could only lower their heads and shield their eyes with their hands.

But soon, the golden light disappeared, and the pale moonlight returned to the church.

"What happened? Why is the organ playing?"

Salomon suddenly found the person beside him even noisier. After the sorcerer's eyes adjusted to the change in light, he saw Bayonetta, who had been standing before the altar, leap into the air and land on the heads of the descending angels. She ascended step by step on the angels, gracefully twisting her slender waist in the air to dodge their claws and weapons. She even took the opportunity to raise her long, powerful leg and kick away the arm of an Affinity angel. Then, with astonishing agility and flexibility, she grabbed the Affinity angel's arm.

Then, under the force of gravity, she easily snapped the arm as if wringing out a towel. The angel's blood poured down like a torrential rain, and before it hit the ground, it turned into golden specks of light and rose upwards. The vaulted ceiling of the church was filled with golden light and white feathers, as if what was taking place here was not a massacre, but a mass.

The bread and wine prepared for the Eucharist are the blood and flesh of angels.

"Where did she go?" The man leaned over the railing and looked down. "Did she run away again! That murderer! No, the rosemary is still there! She's still here! Has she hidden herself again?"

Salomon grabbed his scarf and pulled him behind him, otherwise the golden spearhead of the angel would have pierced right through his head.

"Stay here!" Salomon released him, extending his hands; two orange rings appeared on his palms. "And be quiet!"

Good morning.

(End of this chapter)