"I thought we had already wiped out the Cologne Zun cult in Scotland. What's this American Cologne Zun cult popping up again?" Kaecilius's neatly combed gray-white hair glinted under the bridge lights of the Helicarrier. The middle-aged man pulled a handsome smirk. These days, Kaecilius focused more on the present than the past—alcohol had stripped away much of what once held him down, and the nightmares of his late wife rarely haunted him anymore. "If the Ancient One called me back just to arrest a few cultists, then this must be far more serious than it seems." His sharp eyes locked on the woman at the command platform, surrounded by busy operators. "Now that I see you… ma'am, your presence alone confirms the Ancient One's foresight."
Agent Victoria Hand silently withdrew the hand Kaecilius had kissed. She was thoroughly unimpressed by his terrible sense of humor. Behind her, perched on the massive Eagle Throne, a phoenix-like bird blazed with fire while a lazy lion dozed on the steps—this felt more like a zoo than a warship's command deck.
The thought annoyed her deeply.
"The Sovereign has ordered the intelligence division and the Sisterhood to assist Kamar-Taj in eliminating the cultists. This marks the first collaboration between Kamar-Taj and the Immortal City." Agent Hand adjusted her glasses. Her no-nonsense attitude remained unchanged despite the altered mission and Kaecilius's smooth-talking. Attractive as he was, he wasn't nearly enough to crack her professional armor. Her sharp, skeptical eyes swept over the mages seated at the round table, meditating or reading grimoires. All they stirred in her was a deep sense of mistrust. "Even though you're peers of the Sovereign, I don't want anyone dragging their feet during the operation."
"Most of those who came today are battle-hardened mages. Maybe one or two novices, but this lower-risk mission is perfect for training. You know Solomon started young, right? Even the most powerful mages need time to grow. Solomon was no exception. We must cultivate the next generation if Kamar-Taj is to endure," Kaecilius said, glancing around. He knew Solomon had two more warships like this one, though he had no idea how the young man had built such immense power. Still, Kaecilius was genuinely proud of him. It was the same pride he felt when Solomon got into Oxford—he didn't want to question the boy's motives. All he knew was that Solomon now wielded unmatched influence in both the mystical and mundane realms.
"As for Solomon lately… Sure, a lot of the old guard dislike his methods, but he's still the most talented mage Kamar-Taj has ever produced." Kaecilius spoke with the air of a father praising his son. If Solomon were here, he'd likely be hiding his face in embarrassment.
"I'll be honest with you, Kaecilius," Agent Hand sighed, "I can't—and won't—devote all our resources to hunting cultists while ignoring extraterrestrial threats. That's not happening. I don't know why the Sovereign values this mission so highly or why he's separated himself from the main strike force. But Immortal City has limited assets. We need to wrap this up fast so we can redeploy our European branch to mop up unfinished business."
"I promise, the mages under my command will only offer magical support. When it comes to killing, SHIELD and Hydra are the real pros. Just leave us enough prisoners so we can trace how these cultists made it to the U.S. This mission belongs to Kamar-Taj too. If Solomon isn't with you, it means he's doing something you're not meant to know." Kaecilius glanced at the bustling mortals. "Our job is to protect them, not sacrifice them. If they knew certain truths, death would be unavoidable. This isn't deception or concealment—it's mercy."
"I've already prepared the memory wipe protocol. The Sovereign demanded the standard procedure," Agent Hand stated flatly. "All operatives will undergo neural cleansing and forget this entire period."
"Then let's hope it works." Kaecilius shook his head, worry clouding his eyes. Erasing memories wasn't foolproof. The human brain remained a mystery. Neither science nor magic could fully remove every trace of memory. Kaecilius feared that Solomon's mercy might backfire—if the memory wipes failed, Solomon would be forced to order a purge. That would be devastating for the still-young Immortal City.
Meanwhile, Solomon stared down at his ring.
Compared to the historian from the previous meeting, the folklorist across from him clearly lacked any true expertise. The man rambled on about Puritan legends and ignored the photo of the artifact Solomon had brought. The Magus couldn't understand how someone like this had become a professor—clearly, Bowdoin College had staffing issues. When the meeting ended, Solomon left a generous check and swiftly exited the college with Wanda in tow. At least the man had mentioned something useful: how immigrant Puritan myths blended with Native American folklore to give birth to fear—fear that clung to this land, a breeding ground for every kind of cult.
The historian, in contrast, answered Solomon's questions thoroughly. He even marked locations on an old map of Maine, showing the original Puritan churches built after the settlers landed in New England. Some still stood; others were long destroyed. Given that roughly 45% of Maine's population adhered to Protestantism, the historian enthusiastically described how Protestant settlers interacted with the Wabanaki tribes.
"Strictly speaking, the settlers who landed at Plymouth weren't Calvinists but Separatist Protestants," the professor said, only after confirming that Solomon and Wanda weren't Christians. "If you've studied Malthus and basic ecology, you'd know Native American hospitality wasn't natural. The tribes weren't united. Even when facing outsiders, inter-tribal slaughter was common. That's why the devastated Wampanoag started talking to the colonists in the first place."
"Pocahontas," Wanda chimed in. "I remember the raccoon!"
"Ma'am, your memory's impressive—but that happened in Virginia, not Maine. And Pocahontas died even earlier. History's always sanitized. The truth behind her story is far less romantic than Disney shows," the historian chuckled. "To the settlers, pagans and savages weren't even people. The Wampanoag allied with the colonists to defeat the Narragansett. That night, the women brought out rare European wines and sausages, while the tribe brought game. Together, they feasted. That's the origin of Thanksgiving. But fifty years later, the Wampanoag's chief's son—known to settlers as King Philip—led a rebellion. He died in battle, and his severed head was displayed on a pike for 25 years. After that, the Wampanoag were enslaved."
"And how is that related to my question?"
"Somewhat," the historian replied, eyeing Solomon. "The owner of that Jerusalem's Lot church you're looking for… was one of the 120 passengers aboard the Mayflower."
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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