"Although you've only just started the course Monster Identification, and what I'm about to say is technically beyond the syllabus, this is the perfect chance for some hands-on teaching," the arcanist said with a gentle smile and a warm tone. If it weren't for the thunder, the rain, the howling wind, and the flickering amber light casting everything in a vague glow, he would have looked more like a dedicated teacher than a bloodstained butcher. Wanda watched in alarm as he pinned the vampire to the wrecked car door with a silver-plated steel stake engraved with runes. Shockingly, he'd used only physical strength—no magic at all—proving that even without sorcery, Solomon could still subdue a vampire with ease.
When facing creatures that feed on humans, Solomon always revealed a casual, chilling brutality.
This was common to all Kamar-Taj arcanists. In essence, Kamar-Taj was a war-born organization, ever ready to unleash magic upon the enemies of mankind. Violence was their first language. Even the benevolent-looking Sorcerer Supreme could become a savage brute in an instant. Solomon had been molded by this exact template. He had received the most complete Kamar-Taj training, and he would not back down even before the Vishanti. Kamar-Taj served humanity—not the divine trinity.
When the vampire had first jumped out, it had genuinely startled Wanda, but a sudden, inexplicable rage surged through her, as if the mere existence of this inferior creature was an offense. In her fury, her charged force field spell went off target, sending the car door—and the unfortunate vampire glued to its other side—flying. That vampire, the one who'd attacked Wanda, had died in a grotesque, abstract way—its crushed, blackened organs spilled from its flattened body, its leathery, shriveled pale skin pierced by jagged bones protruding through yellow-black wounds. Even from a vampire's perspective, this death was beyond horrific—like being run through a grinder.
Solomon hadn't let her look for too long, and he'd spent quite a while rinsing off the car door in the rain.
After all, they had to return the vehicle.
"The first vampires in the world were born of the filthiest kinds of magic. Although they later branched into various clans, with changes in appearance and ability, vampires and all creatures born from foul magic still belong to the same lineage, including all variants within the vampire family," Solomon explained as he pried open the surviving vampire's mouth with a small blade, showing Wanda its grimy canines. The rain hadn't stopped, but his spell kept the wind and rain at bay within a three-meter dome, making it easier to conduct the lesson. He put away the knife. "Some vampires only drink blood. Others also consume human flesh. Werewolves, vampires, and ghouls actually originate from the same force. Regardless of appearance, their weaknesses remain consistent. And likewise, these monsters share a deep, inexplicable craving for the bloodlines they once had as mortals—an urge born from hatred of the living, thirst for blood, and envy of pure souls."
Staring at the ugly creature shrieking before her, Wanda, now regaining her composure, looked once more like a fragile young woman. At least, the fear she displayed perfectly fit the image—after all, few people in the world had witnessed a live dissection of a vampire. Its withered organs suggested it hadn't fed in a long time. If it had held a high status, this would've been unthinkable. Beneath its leathery skin, there was no fat left. Even the major blood vessels had shriveled into dark, stringy cords. Its long-dead, blackened heart oozed putrid pus. Where the silver stakes pierced its limbs, smoke hissed up constantly, and the wounds were swollen with stinking boils.
"Don't worry. These things regenerate very well."
Indeed, vampires were undead, but that didn't mean they were immune to pain. What's more, few vampires ever had to watch their own innards and muscles being systematically taken apart by someone whose hands moved with surgical grace and chilling satisfaction. Even immortal monsters could suffer psychological trauma from such a sight. Wanda certainly did. She had never seen anything so revolting. Solomon, ever considerate, paused his work and waited for her to crawl out of her vomit, then offered her a dose of his special smelling salts and some store-bought mouthwash. He took great pride in his technique—even the dungeon keeper of Kamar-Taj who'd taught him this skill couldn't do it better.
The arcanist pointed his dagger toward the back of the Jeep.
Wanda remembered the scene they'd discovered beneath the church in Jerusalem Town, and immediately gagged again. The thing wrapped in the waterproof tarp was a collection of over a dozen charred skulls. Solomon had personally retrieved them from rotting flesh turned to sludge and maggot-ridden muck that reached their ankles. Then, using dark magic, he reanimated their rancid meat. Even amid the stench of burning flesh and airborne ash, he had tirelessly explained the cause of death for each—without exception, they were all murders. It had been a ritual sacrifice tied together by bloodline. Even a novice like Wanda could sense the terrible power such a blood ritual could unleash. This confirmed that what Kamar-Taj had discovered wasn't just a whim of the vampires.
"When we found those nameless corpses under the church, I had my suspicions. Remember the intel we got on Jerusalem Town? The entire population was the result of inbreeding. So those deformed remains likely belonged to the Boone family. Whether or not this vampire is one of those mutants, or some corpse resurrected by dark magic, it would still trigger immense cravings in vampires of Boone blood. Deep within their souls, they'd be drawn to us—as if a psychic signal were calling out to them in a language only they could hear." Solomon deftly slid his blade into a wound, separating skin from muscle with precision. "See this, Wanda? This is one of the paths fallen spellcasters take. If you ever become like this, I'll kill you without hesitation."
"Listen carefully, Wanda. This was a lesson from my own teacher, and now I pass it to you: stay vigilant—magic always has a price. Hold onto hope—never fall into magic's darkness, even if that darkness comes from within you. You may not understand this yet, but you will one day. Every spellcaster must face this choice."
From her mentor's mouth, Wanda Maximoff heard a threat more serious than any scolding in the church. But this time, she had no complaints. She nodded firmly. She had no desire to end up in a state worse than death.
Only after getting his apprentice's affirmation did Solomon finally smile.
His fist came down like a warhammer, shattering the vampire's fangs and cutting off its moans.
"Wretched creature. The pain you've endured should be enough to make you honest. Now tell me—where is your master? What is its goal? What do you know? Tell me everything—and I will grant you the only thing you still desire: death!"
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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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