Marvel Magic Case Files.

Chapter 7 The Fourth Generation Guardian of the Museum

Seemingly due to the magic emanating from Salomon, the invisible spirits here became visibly excited.

"I feel a little uncomfortable..." Little Wang looked around suspiciously, feeling a cold aura enveloping his body.

In fact, Salomon and the young mage did not notice that their attire was somewhat conspicuous—Salomon was wearing a robe made of red shaman cloth.

This is to avoid over-expanding the stigmata, which would cause his brain to burn and his soul to be annihilated; while the little king mage is wearing the brown training clothes commonly seen in Kamar-Taj... In addition to brown, gray and tan are also available.

But no one wears it like that in the 21st century, especially in autumn. Even though museums have air conditioning, suitable temperature and humidity are important conditions for preserving collections.

When Salomon saw the security guard approaching, he quickly pulled the young mage Wang deeper into the museum. He thought it was their furtive behavior that had attracted attention, but he didn't realize that his aesthetic sense had been assimilated—because almost every mage in his memory wore a long robe.

Passing through the grand atrium with its dome composed of 3312 triangular glass panels, Salomon and the young sorcerer arrived at the Egyptian Pavilion. Many of the artifacts here were looted from the French army by the British army when Napoleon was defeated in Egypt. The collection exceeds 10 items and is the place richest in magic.

"What are you looking at?" Little Wang seemed a little irritated because he couldn't see what he should see, but Salomon still forcefully pressed him down on the public bench and said to the chubby, huffing Wang, "You can only see those things when you enter meditation."

To be honest, Master Wang's behavior was indeed somewhat disruptive to public order. After all, sitting cross-legged on a bench is not very civilized. In order to correct this mistake, Salomon... moved a little further away from Master Wang.

Don't look at me, I don't know that person.

When Master Wang reopened his eyes, he didn't notice anything wrong with Salomon. Instead, he was shocked by the sight before him... Countless enormous and twisted spirits lingered on the artifacts.

The power of a single artifact might not attract these spirits, but the British had looted so many artifacts from overseas, and they were displayed according to different civilizations. The power of the same pantheon resonated and amplified, and these wandering spirits needed to maintain their own power...

"Did you see that?" Salomon asked as he quickly approached the young mage, who had come to his senses.

"I...I saw them." The young monk seemed somewhat incredulous. He reached out, wanting to touch the spirits, but then withdrew his chubby fingers, seemingly worried about disturbing them. "We actually left so many spirits here without dealing with them..."

"That's because someone's controlling them." Salomon squinted ahead, subtly making a gesture. "Can you still throw a punch? Now we're facing them."

"What?" Master Wang was somewhat confused.

"Are you hungry again, my little darlings?" An old lady wearing a dark blue wide-brimmed hat held up a finger with a ring on it. Her white hair peeked out from the edge of the hat, which was also decorated with an orange-red ribbon with a wisp of light blue feather attached to it.

She wore a heavy, dark blue coat that was somewhat extravagant even for the season, with soft, light blue fur trim at the collar covering her chin and reaching even to the length of her pearl earrings.

She stretched out her hand, smiling, and said, "Alright then, you can devour their souls, but afterwards go back to your eternal slumber..."

The old lady was referring to two tourists standing in front of the exhibits, and she was standing right behind them—no one could see her except Salomon and the young monk.

Before the spirits could make any move, a beam of positive energy struck one of the spirits rushing towards the tourists. The twisted ghost let out a silent wail, its face contorted in pain, its features elongated in a horrifying manner.

"Who's there!" The old woman's expression changed instantly; she glared fiercely behind her. Although Salomon had already told the young mage not to hold back, but...

"Are you sure you want me to hit an old lady?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course, but not now. You idiot, you've missed your chance to ambush me. You should protect me instead." Salomon rolled his eyes and said, "You've wasted every opportunity to attack."

"Hey, ma'am..." Little Wang the mage tried to go up and greet her, but was quickly knocked to the ground by a spell emanating from the old lady's ring.

"I smell the stench of otherworldly magic," she said with disgust. A large amount of magic flowed from the ring onto the ground, drawing the spirits closer. Little King Mage and Salomon, who had just gotten up from the floor, could only retreat.

The old woman stood there, saying, "I am Amoji Tuttle, the fourth-generation Guardian. These blind passersby cannot see me... Every day I use my secret arts to control these dangerous heretical spirits around me and prevent wizards like you from awakening them!"

Her voice rose higher and higher, as if she were a god standing on Mount Olympus, and Salomon was Tantalus about to be punished. Salomon kept retreating, dodging the spreading magic and spirits. The young mage, after getting up, stood in front of Salomon with a look of terror on his face, raising his fist and trying to drive away the approaching spirits.

"Fists won't work on these things, senior brother." Salomon calmly took out a handful of silver powder. As he chanted a spell, the silver powder was sprinkled on the young mage, turning into white specks of light. "Rush over there and take off her ring. Now those spirits can't get close to you."

"Are you sure it will work?" the young mage asked. He felt there was still room for negotiation, but the inexplicable fear he felt after Salomon's spell had vanished. He shouted, "Mrs. Tuttle, we are not..."

"It's Miss Tuttle!"

"Alright, Miss Tuttle...we don't want to awaken these spirits..."

"Yes," Salomon could only reply, "that's not our goal."

"You're not wizards?" Amoji Tutel had neither heard nor seen Salomon casting a spell; Salomon's incantation and casting actions were blocked by the king's figure.

"We..." Little Wang the mage didn't know how to answer for a moment, after all, he had not yet signed a contract or started magic training.

"Enough with the nonsense, my king. Her method of controlling these ghosts is to let them devour souls, and where do souls come from..." Salomon no longer hesitated. He used words to place the other party in an evil position, so that the little king mage would get moving—because the conversation was about to collapse.

"Alright." Without further hesitation, Little Wang rushed forward, nimbly dodging the magic's binding force, and forcefully breaking through the spirit body... Then he was bound by the magic flowing on the ground, and the immense force pulled Little Wang down, making him kneel on the ground.

Amoji Tuttle hadn't fought many serious battles either. Before this, the wizards who came to the British Museum looking for spirits were all minor characters who knew a little magic and only knew a few spells. They were no match for Amoji Tuttle, who possessed one of the Vishanti Rings.

After the young wizard was bound, Amoji Tutel was very pleased with herself. In her opinion, Salomon and the young wizard were not going to escape today—she seemed to think that Salomon was just like those other second-rate wizards she had encountered before.

Salomon didn't stop casting his spell; he swallowed the grasshopper backward, suppressing his disgust.

For the Jump spell, grasshopper hind legs are a necessary casting material, but that's not even the worst part.

"I must learn how to cast spells without material." Even this nauseating feeling did not stop the incantation. After the spell was completed, Salomon ran forward on the bench, nimbly dodging the magic on the ground, and suddenly jumped up at the end of the bench.

The Book of Vishanti contains the most powerful known white magic and defensive magic in the world. The spells recorded in it can never be used for offense, only for defense. Therefore, Salomon can only fight by relying on the spells given by the memories in the stigmata—for example, that grasshopper leg is for casting "Jump".

Salomon's jump distance tripled, and he leaped straight toward Amoji Tuttel. At the moment of his landing, Salomon's speed was twice as fast as before.

After landing, Salomon pulled a small dagger from a pouch at his waist and threw it at Amoji Tutel.

The sharp dagger was about to slice through the air and touch Amoji Tuttle's coat.

Suddenly, an immense and astonishing surge of magic erupted around Amoji Tutel, shoving away Salomon and the little king mage lying on the ground. Salomon tumbled several times on the floor, feeling as if an explosive had detonated next to the back of his head. He couldn't see anything and was even semi-conscious for a few seconds. He couldn't even think.

He felt like his brain was being shaken to its core... Finally, it was the quicker-witted Master Wang who lifted him up, and he regained consciousness. But he still felt that half of his vision was black, and all the travelers he saw seemed to have their souls detached from their bodies, surrounded by some colorful halos.

"What do we do now?"

"Fuck her!"

Remember to invest!

(End of this chapter)