Even though Solomon's spellcasting prowess had long surpassed some senior deacons, he still bowed humbly to the ancient arcane sorcerer many times his age out of respect. Master Hamir had not only watched him grow up but was also an irreplaceable figure within the Kamar-Taj order. In merit and seniority alike, Solomon had to show deference. He intended to perform a re-prophecy on the vision provided by the madwoman who called herself the Eye of Calamity, a process requiring exceptional skill in prophetic magic.
Hamir was, aside from the Ancient One and Solomon himself, the most capable interpreter of prophecy—which was why Solomon sought his assistance. It wasn't that he didn't want to turn to the Ancient One, but her power had to be reserved for critical moments. The ascetic monks who lived on the snowy peaks of Kamar-Taj had devoted their lives for just such times, and the last time the Ancient One wrapped Earth in the Mirror Dimension, more than half of them perished. With their numbers only recently replenished, Solomon had no right to waste such sacrifices.
The pale sunlight, reflected and scattered by heavy snow, tumbled awkwardly through the windowpane. Cold but fresh air swept in through the just-opened window, scouring away the fine particles of lingering incense smoke that had long floated in the room. The décor was simple, but to those with supernatural sight, every inch of space was inscribed with golden lines that formed an unimaginably complex, higher-dimensional geometric projection. Solomon had spent countless nights here studying; the incense burned for enhancing mental strength had been lit thousands of times. The deep brown floorboards beneath him creaked softly, saturated with a soporific pungency that even frigid wind could not dispel.
He could draw, with his eyes closed, the structure of every magical formation in the room, so vivid were they etched onto his retinas, as though scorched in by golden lines. This was a special chamber in Kamar-Taj, designed to enhance a sorcerer's mystic connection to the astral realm—a sacred place for contemplation and meditation. It was also the mandated space for reading dangerous magical tomes and scrolls. The spells within protected not only the reader's mental faculties, but also served as a final safeguard against betrayal—though that function was widely known, which was why few would-be traitors dared enter. That particular safeguard had only been used on those of weak will, and such individuals were rare at Kamar-Taj.
Master Hamir was willing to help.
Not just because the young Master requested it, but because he trusted Solomon's wisdom.
Solomon firmly believed that James Boone's clan of vampires were not the masterminds. He had submitted a complete and detailed report laying out all the clues and suspicions he had uncovered, including several spells that the vampires were clearly incapable of casting. He had even sketched fragments of the summoning incantation for a Crawler, prompting the report to be sealed with the protection of the Vishanti and made readable to only a select few.
Hamir was one of them.
"You already have a suspect?" the elder sorcerer asked. Seated cross-legged before the Cosmic Cauldron, his eyes fixed on the starlight-like fragments of information that floated and vanished in a blink—past, future, and present all interwoven. Only with unwavering focus could such fragments be interpreted. "I read your report. You suspect the beholder, but the evidence is lacking."
"That's why I want to find the evidence." Solomon's tone was urgent, a bitter taste in his mouth. The madwoman's first prophecy had concerned a Devourer Worm. Though the earthquakes on the East Coast had stopped, no one knew how many monsters the vampires—or the true mastermind's lackeys—had summoned. And he certainly couldn't journey to the galactic rim to ask the Earth Mother how many parasites infested her flesh.
"It might be the Green Flame Cult. Or the beholder. Or even the Proto-Messengers. The details point to disparate sources. I suspect it's part of some horrifying plan—from a future timeline. The only thing we know for sure is that these monsters come from the Cancerverse. Worse still, we know nothing about them. We must peer into the Akashic Records to find clues."
"The Ancient One is pleased with your subordinates. Others have tried to establish secular forces under Kamar-Taj's name before, but most failed—or lost control—like certain secret knight orders or witch hunters. You're the only sorcerer in history who's grown a secular force successfully, and for now, your methods seem far more effective than those of your predecessors. The Ancient One is genuinely pleased. A single cannon can accomplish much—saving vast amounts of magical energy."
Hamir mentioned the Ancient One's reaction to the report, his deeply wrinkled face stern.
"I don't think the madwoman's prophecy is inaccurate. There's no need for you to worry so much," he said. "The Diamond Sutra says: 'The past mind cannot be grasped, the present mind cannot be grasped, and the future mind cannot be grasped.' I hope you don't overthink this. We've faced greater threats before—humanity persists, and so does Kamar-Taj. But if you insist, then let's begin."
This was an extraordinarily painful journey. The scattered threads of time coalesced and scattered again, and Solomon and Master Hamir had to read tens of thousands of fleeting fragments every second—some from millions of years in the future, some predating the universe itself. Even with the madwoman's prophecy as a reference, the workload was immense. Even brief insights came at the cost of psychic contamination. It would have been more pleasant to labor in a flaming hell than do this—and even Solomon's constitution left him with a splitting headache.
"I've already released them," Solomon said, looking weary.
"I know." Natasha sighed softly. "I didn't expect a sorcerer to study that kind of magic. Why didn't you use it before I took a shower? I thought you were already tired. Now I'll have to bathe again. You better dry my hair for me!" Her damp eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed, and the heat in her breath was almost scalding. The air carried a unique magical scent—on a soul-deep level, it was a slightly acidic rose-soap aroma.
"I suspect you've undergone physical enhancement. You're much stronger than ordinary people. How many more secrets are you hiding, Solomon? Are you really going to keep things from a poor woman with whom you're physically involved?"
"You're so rude, Natasha! We're still together and you're already interrogating me like a spy!"
"It's business now. And a few minutes ago, I swore like a sailor in both English and Russian. Expecting me to be polite now is asking too much!" She loomed over the sorcerer seated on the sofa, her breath brushing his hair. She often complained about wanting a new couch—but still hadn't made it to IKEA. "When you turned legal, I started betting how long it'd take to get you into my bed. Didn't expect it would take this long. And with your two girlfriends, what number am I?"
"I didn't think women cared about that sort of thing."
"Answer me now!"
Solomon's expression looked like he'd just eaten a full plate of Hawaiian fusion cuisine—the kind of dish a chef might attempt after eating airplane sushi. He had no desire to taste it again.
"Second."
"You're not lying? Then why… oh! So it's not a math problem—it's a family problem?"
"That's none of your business. I've done what I had to do. What about you?"
She crouched down and blinked. "Then this is my thanks."
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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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