Marvel Magic Case Files.

Chapter 88 discusses the role of fear spells in melee combat.

After the black sedan silently followed, two black jeeps that had been parked on the side of the road also quickly caught up, but Cassilios and Salomon paid no attention. Because Eton College is located in Berkshire, Cassilios needed to drive west from London, and the M4 motorway was one of the main roads leading to the outskirts of London, with a great deal of traffic, so the three following cars were hardly noticeable.

As Cassilios drove past Heathrow Airport, the few cars that had been following him at a leisurely pace suddenly accelerated and pulled up beside Salomon's vehicle. At that moment, Salomon had just put on his King's cloak, which was proof of his scholarship application. With this cloak, he would be a big shot at Eton, and those upperclassmen who used to order younger students around wouldn't dare to mess with him.

Okay, maybe it's someone superior to everyone else, (* /ω＼*)

After all, the younger students being instructed were required to do things that only girls could do, and the atmosphere in British boys' schools was somewhat gay. However, Salomon could at least guarantee his safety, which was the most important thing.

Salomon was wearing a gift from Bayonetta on his wrist. Just like the suit, Bayonetta believed that a mature man should at least have a watch. Salomon didn't know the value of this watch with its black semi-matte alligator leather strap, but it certainly wasn't cheap.

The other gift was from Joan of Arc. Although it was unclear where she obtained Salomon's lesson schedule, upon seeing the fencing class, she immediately prepared a richly decorated rapier for Salomon—a Western-style sword, longer than a modern small sword. Salomon wondered if this French woman had lost her mind; modern fencing wasn't the life-threatening class of five hundred years ago. All students wore protective gear, and the tip of the rapier was a sphere. But Joan still made Salomon wear it, as the rapier had always been a symbol of nobility and a weapon. Bayonetta also urged Salomon to accept the gift, as it was the first step in reconciliation between Joan and Salomon.

"You have a tuxedo and a sword now, all you need are a few girls." Cassirios took a deep drag on his cigarette. "It's a pity you went to an all-boys school, otherwise this aristocratic air of yours would definitely attract many young girls."

"You know perfectly well I'm not interested, Cassirios." Salomon idly tidied his sword sheath. "I'm not interested in either girls or boys."

"Then tell me about those two witches," Cassirios said. "What? Mordo already told me you hang out with them all the time... They're two charming girls..."

Salomon rolled his eyes and said, "Apart from being over five hundred years older than me, there's nothing special about him..."

The car was now heading towards the Queen's Reservoir. Beyond the reservoir lay Old Windsor, where Eton College, located at the northernmost point of Windsor Castle, was Salomon's destination. Compared to when they had just left London, there were far fewer vehicles here. Two black jeeps accelerated, flanking Cassilios and Salomon on either side, while a black sedan blocked their path, the three cars surrounding them.

Even a fool could tell something was wrong at this point. Kasirius narrowed his eyes, released the steering wheel, and pulled a slingshot from his suit pocket, putting it on. "Who do you think it is?" he asked. "I have a feeling they're here to cause you trouble, Salomon."

“I think so too.” Salomon’s movements mirrored Kasirius’s, as he also wore the ring on the index and middle fingers of his left hand. At the same time, he quickly recalled his recent actions that might arouse suspicion, but after thinking it over, Salomon couldn’t recall anything he had overlooked that could allow others to track him down, except for one thing—“I think I’ve figured it out,” he said, “I ran into a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

"Are you serious?" Kasirius asked. "Do you really think S.H.I.E.L.D. would suspect you after just one meeting?"

"That's hard to say." Salomon reached out and opened the skylight. He unzipped the sword scabbard and pulled out the rapier. "That's a level nine agent."

"How did you know? Wait, you're going to handle this yourself?" Cassirios quickly pressed Salomon's shoulder. "But they definitely had guns."

"Oh, you've really been a great help. You can take charge of unfolding the mirror dimension." Salomon chanted a spell, and a protective force field enveloped him. Then, he stepped onto the seat, rapier in one hand, and with a light leap, jumped out of the sunroof. Salomon stood ramrod straight on the roof, his cloak billowing in the rushing wind like black waves, and the hem of his black tailcoat fluttering like a banner. His slender fingers gripped the hilt of his sword, like a young man from centuries ago, confident of an upcoming duel. He seemed to be surrounded by stands, filled with ladies in court attire. The place he stood on wasn't the roof of the carriage, but a garden filled with fallen leaves.

The sorcerer extended a finger and loosened his tie slightly; this tie had always made him uncomfortable. He longed for the girls' handkerchiefs, symbols of victory.

"The target jumped out of the sunroof and is standing on the roof of the vehicle." The person in the black jeep reported over the walkie-talkie. The operative saw Salomon smile at them and open his mouth to say something. He quickly reported, "We've been spotted!"

"Action!" The black jeep's window suddenly rolled down, revealing several dark gun barrels. The black sedan in front also slammed on its brakes, attempting to force Kasirios to stop. Immediately afterward, patterns resembling shattered glass appeared on the road ahead, but these people ignored them. Salomon smiled; he was already impatient. Now that Kasirios had the Mirror Dimension ready, he could finally unleash his power.

The next instant, the four cars suddenly disappeared from the road without leaving a trace.

"Drop your weapons!" shouted the operatives wearing black masks. They were still unaware that they had entered a secluded space and were still pointing their assault rifles at Salomon.

"Put down your weapons!" he shouted. "CIA! Stop for inspection!"

The black sedan in front suddenly stopped, and Cassirios slammed into it with a loud bang, the front of the car predictably denting. Before the impact, Salomon had already lifted his foot and straddled the jeep on the right; the swaying of the vehicle didn't cause him to lose his balance at all. This was also due to magic; now Salomon no longer needed to eat spiders when casting his Spiderwalking spell.

An operative fired, aiming for Salomon's leg. The bullet whistled and exploded as it sliced ​​through the air, heading precisely for Salomon's knee. But the bullet's trajectory was stopped by an invisible force field, which deflected it back, striking the operative's chest armor plate.

"The enemy has guns!" He slumped back in his chair, the pain in his ribs reminding him of the enemy's method of retaliation. He shouted to his teammates, "I didn't see how he fired!"

"Radio communication lost!" the driver shouted. "We've lost all means of communication! The enemy has jamming equipment! We've been betrayed!"

"F*ck! F*ck!" The operative peered out again, but didn't see Salomon. Then, he witnessed a shocking scene. The once straight road suddenly folded vertically, like a folded sheet of paper. The black jeep on the right was no longer traveling on the same plane as the other three vehicles; their road had become skewed, and the distance between them and the other vehicles was increasing. But the driver didn't have time to worry about that, because he had to accelerate to prevent the vehicle from overturning.

"Target disappeared! Repeat! Target disappeared!"

"What the hell is going on?!" the team leader yelled angrily. This operation had been extremely strange from the start: first, the opponents were too fast to see, then there was radio interference, and now there was the terrain problem—this kind of terrain simply doesn't exist on the M4 highway!

"Wrong answer," Salomon's voice came from the roof of the car. "You haven't given me the information I want to know."

"He's on the roof! How come he wasn't thrown off!" A member of the action team cursed and pulled out his pistol, leaning halfway out to try and shoot at the person standing on the roof—because the jeep was bulletproof, including the roof—but before he could see Salomon, a narrow blade appeared in front of him, the sharp tip accurately and quickly piercing his eye socket and exiting through the back of his head.

As Salomon drew his rapier, dark red blood gushed out like a fountain, landing at his feet like handkerchiefs tossed out by girls after a duel's victory. With a muffled thud, the lifeless body fell from the vehicle and was run over by the speeding jeep.

"Fire!" Before the leader could order the others to attack Salomon, the rapier, stained with emerald flames, pierced through the roof of the vehicle, severing the leader's cervical spine with surgical precision. The emerald flames, as if alive, leaped from the blade onto another member of the team.

"Shit!" The operative frantically patted the flames off his body; the nylon bulletproof vest wasn't fireproof. But Salomon's actions didn't stop. He continued to thrust his rapier downwards. Some tried to lean out of the car window to shoot at him, but those operatives were instantly bound by lightning, pulled to the roof, and then had their throats slit by Salomon's rapier. Those inside could only see the corpses rolling behind them. Each scream and the sound of a body falling was like a hammer blow to their hearts. They were the elite of the elite, having dealt with many superhumans, but none were as bizarre as today's target.

They were fearless, but today, fear still gripped them, for they were powerless to fight back, trembling like chickens awaiting their fate. Salomon's figure gradually overlapped with the things they feared most in their lives—the nightmares of their childhood, crawling out again from under their beds, from their closets, from their storybooks, chuckling and snickering, their cold claws reaching out from the accumulated darkness of their past to pat their shoulders and faces. This was a long-awaited reunion; this fear had accompanied them throughout their lives, and now it had descended upon them once more. Now, the operatives would scream in panic at the mere sight of a glimpse of Salomon's clothing.

The real issue now isn't how to complete the mission, but how to survive. When they first received the mission, they thought the target was an ordinary superhuman with high-temperature abilities. Now it seems all that information was wrong. Even if they deserted, no one would blame them, because actions based on inaccurate information are tantamount to suicide.

Suddenly, the vehicle regained its balance, and the driver slowly eased off the accelerator. No one spoke. Aside from the team leader, still barely clinging to life, and a few team members clutching their pistols, everyone else in the heat of the moment was dead. The vehicle slowly came to a stop. No one dared to breathe loudly, fearing that the slightest sound would provoke an attack.

Salomon was puzzled. Wasn't this a good opportunity to counterattack? Why weren't they taking action? Or was it... that the fear spell he had cast was a bit too intense for ordinary people?

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Should we enable bonus chapters for those who donate? Although we can't update the main story, we can put the extra chapters in the work's related section.

(End of this chapter)