Solomon had never told Wanda too much about the darker aspects of Kamar-Taj.
No matter how noble Kamar-Taj's mission sounded, or how many grand titles adorned its name, at its core it was a cold, ruthless kill squad. Every sorcerer was trained to eliminate humanity's enemies at any cost. Solomon knew that was something Wanda would struggle to accept, so he chose not to tell her about things like the dungeons of Kamar-Taj. Nowadays, the City of Immortality had taken Kamar-Taj's pragmatic philosophy to the extreme—and showed signs of going even further.
He recounted to Wanda his first mission: eliminating the near-True Ancestor first-generation vampire in the town of Collins, purging the hidden werewolves within the town, and tracking down the degenerate ghouls that hunted drifters in the surrounding forests. Wanda listened intently. She didn't understand why the Ancient One had Solomon carry out missions at such a young age, nor did she know what fate would have awaited the ordinary people of Collins if not for the Kamar-Taj sorcerers.
"That was probably the easiest mission I've ever had," Solomon said. He and Wanda sat across from each other, holding warm cups of tea by the window. In the center of the room, a bronze stove emitted light, aromatic smoke. As the slow tale came to a close, orange-red twilight still lingered atop the snowy mountains, while everything below was already submerged in darkness. The majestic, breathtaking scenery and the crisp, cold air kept Wanda from being disturbed by the grim story—even when it involved witches and vampires. Only one word caught her attention.
"You recovered that magic book in the end, right?"
"No. I didn't find anything." Solomon replied with layered meaning. He gestured for his invisible servant to refill the teacup, then took a sip despite the scalding heat. "I brought back all the old books for inspection, but the results confirmed that what I was looking for wasn't in Collins. And yet all the evidence indicated the book had been there—because the only spell capable of cursing someone into a vampire was found in that book. I've considered several possibilities. One: the spell was on a scroll inserted into a normal book, and that book left Collins long ago. Two: the witch had an accomplice, and when she failed, the book was retrieved. Either way, I believe that sooner or later, it'll appear before me."
"Why are you telling me this story? Don't tell me…"
"Yes," Solomon said, clearly pleased with his apprentice's insight. "I suspect what happened in Jerusalem's town is linked to Collins. The two towns aren't far from each other, and even Salem isn't too distant. The New England region—specifically Maine and Massachusetts—was the first place colonized by England, and many British, even European, mages settled there. Coincidentally, the book was bound by Morgan le Fay of Britain. Her followers are still active across the universe today. So I believe these incidents are connected—perhaps even tied to Morgan le Fay herself. Though I never found traces of her casting, the stench of black magic lingers no matter how much time passes. Looking back, I clearly missed many clues."
"You mentioned a mission?"
"Calling it a mission is too serious. It's more like a field trip," Solomon said. "A vampire once described how the witch performed a spell on herself in the pursuit of immortality—turning herself into porcelain and glass. If that's true, her corpse wouldn't have decomposed. And I've never actually gone back to search for it."
"You think her body holds clues?"
"Not necessarily." The sorcerer shook his head. "It might be a waste of time. But I plan to compare the black magic lingering on her corpse with that from Jerusalem and Salem. Through this, I may find a connection. It won't be a difficult task—I've already found the location of her remains through prophecy."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go now!" Wanda's eyes sparkled. She clearly didn't want to spend another whole day in the training courtyard.
Solomon smiled. He had already seen through her little scheme, but he didn't mind. "Go change, apprentice," he said. "I'll take you out for dinner first—then we'll treat this mission like an after-dinner walk. I've already prepared your formal dress and heels."
"This is for me?"
"Of course. It's yours now." Solomon nodded and handed Wanda the outfit, which appeared from thin air. "But whether or not we find any remains, you still have to attend tomorrow morning's training."
"Did he say what kind of mission it was?" Agent Maria Hill asked for what felt like the hundredth time. She looked frustrated. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were in no condition to carry out assignments, and she still had to arrange compensation and burial payments for the agents who didn't come back. The funds had to be paid to the people those agents truly cared about. She couldn't afford a lawsuit over unpaid wages and benefits from the Avengers—that would be utterly disgraceful.
"You're way too stressed, Maria!" Natasha Romanoff still hadn't taken off her headphones. Her red hair was braided tightly in a single clean plait down her back to avoid obstructing her movement. She aimed at the target and fired another shot, familiarizing herself with the feel of this particular gun—a silver Beretta 92F gifted to her by Solomon, enhanced with magical modifications. She'd already fired close to 100 rounds with it, testing whether the enchantments affected the feel of the weapon. With her morning firearms training nearly finished, she was thinking about trying out the assassination tools Solomon had also given her. She had no idea that after developing a physical relationship with Solomon—a man she'd practically raised—he'd become so generous.
"At most, it's just an after-dinner stroll."
"It's an after-dinner stroll for him. For normal people, it's a cataclysm," Hill said, her language precise and unforgiving when describing the arcane sorcerer. She compared Solomon to a buzzing lawn mower that indiscriminately flattened everything in his path. "Like trimming a lawn—the smell lingers for days afterward." Hill rolled her eyes. "They only care if civilians see magic. They don't care what damage they cause to buildings or people."
"Sounds like an agent to me."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, not Avengers," Hill corrected. "We don't operate that way anymore—remember?"
Natasha inhaled the sharp scent of gunpowder. She didn't like it, but it had soaked into her hands and refused to fade. She recalled the small candles Solomon had gifted her not long ago—tiny things in various colors and whimsical shapes that released delicate, aromatic smoke when lit. They were meant to ease the mood.
She thought back to what happened after lighting them.
"You missed, Romanoff."
"I'm calling him right now!" she said without turning her head. "And don't use my own words against me!"
"As you wish," Hill said, raising an eyebrow before turning to leave.
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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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