Compared to past missions filled with killing, blood, and betrayal, this one felt more like a forest stroll. That was both a metaphor and a literal truth—though Wanda didn't immediately catch Solomon's obscure wordplay. It wasn't until they began communicating through magic, exchanging thoughts and intent, that she understood his rhetorical joke.
Solomon admitted that he had never encountered a spell that could achieve immortality through ceramic and glass transmutation, but he could still deduce a few incantations. He shared them with Wanda on the spot. They were experimental at best, unlikely to produce any actual effect. Scarlet energy sparked briefly from her hand, and the blade of grass she was holding snapped clean in two.
"This feels more like a curse," Wanda concluded.
"Correct, my apprentice. Just like the spell that turns people into salt pillars, turning into glass or ceramic is a form of self-curse. That witch cursed herself—and Bathabas. It proves her skill in black magic, but her power doesn't align with her behavior. If she were that strong, she could've destroyed her own vampire creation thirty years before I arrived. That likely means the power wasn't hers to begin with."
Solomon dug into the earth, pulling out a yellowed werewolf skull from a shallow pit. After so many years, even cursed flesh had long since decomposed, becoming a deadly feast for the decomposers below. Under proper lighting, Wanda could have seen the insect corpses nearby—victims of the residual curse. Flies drew beetles, which then became carriers themselves, passing the curse until even they died, exposed in sunlight.
But she didn't need her eyes. Her sixth sense laid the terrain bare, revealing a lattice of residual curse traces beneath the ground like spider silk—a network so vivid it might as well have been her primary sense.
Solomon hadn't purified the werewolf's cursed remains, leaving the soil barren. The skull bore long, deep cracks, and shattered fangs littered the ground like biscuit crumbs.
"I must've punched it first, knocked out its teeth, then drove my blade through its skull. Thank the Vishanti for the Sling Ring—it's as much a weapon as it is a tool. Without it, those fangs would've torn through my skin," he muttered, brushing at the foul air with a scoff. His fingers traced along the jawbone. When he found a fracture, he nodded with satisfaction. "Its jaw was shattered from the start. No wonder it couldn't bite me."
"You remember all that?"
"Yes," the sorcerer said quietly, as if the stench of decay had returned to his nostrils. He recalled the bloodshot eyes of the beast, glassy and wild, the madness and rot. Blood and fury were his only companions then. Death and fire were his gifts to that town. "Fifty-six werewolves, twenty-two vampires on the verge of devolving into ghouls, 244 victims—tourists and locals alike. But not everyone. Bathabas's vampires had been fighting ghouls for decades. As their progenitor, he had the advantage. The final monster in Collins was buried two hundred meters from here. Since then, not a single murder case has occurred. This unlucky one attacked me first, so I buried him on the spot."
"You did all that… alone?"
"Bathabas gave himself up—that spared me a lot of trouble." Solomon nodded. "It was my first official mission. Took me a while to finish off every creature feeding on humans in that town." He dropped the shovel and picked up the skull. "Now follow my thoughts, Wanda—but don't go too far. We've got many more corpses to dig up tonight. This is only the fifth."
Cheshire the cat came over and sniffed its master's robes, blinking wide, round eyes in disbelief. Apparently, even the smell stunned it. Bayonetta strolled over too and took a sniff.
"Were you rolling in the mud, Boy?" she teased, tousling his hair from above. "Hmm. Seems like it. Can't your own home satisfy your hobbies, or do you have to go writhing in the dirt for fun? Even Cheshire wouldn't go that far."
"He only throws litter everywhere."
"Ha! You're worse than the cat now. But don't think you can change the subject—what's with the girl you brought home?" Bayonetta asked, her fingers delicately picking out leaves and dust from Solomon's hair. Dressed in a sheer black nightgown and lacy stockings, her curves shifted and shimmered with each motion.
Solomon sighed. "Remember: don't overreach." Even as he warned her, he knew how powerfully Chthon's dark magic pulled on Wanda. The slippery mental currents beckoned like standing on the edge of a skyscraper. He had to keep close watch, monitoring her state constantly. One wrong turn, and he would immediately extract her spirit and return it to her body.
But tonight's workload was heavy, and Wanda had inevitably seen things she shouldn't have.
"She'll lose all memory of tonight by morning," Solomon murmured, recalling what he and Wanda had ultimately uncovered. The beautiful witch had come from England. By tracing the curse back through the werewolf and vampire remains, they had seen her childhood memories—visions conjured by necromancy, no different from traditional séance magic. They had witnessed how the werewolves died, how they were born, and how the curse festered.
Jeanne nodded—after losing the memories, the girl's condition had clearly improved. Combined with a potion mixed by the witches, Wanda could finally rest peacefully in the guest room.
"The girl of chaos," murmured the white-haired witch. "Is Kamar-Taj trying to control her?"
"Observe," Solomon corrected, shooing away the cat that tried to bite his hand. "She's the perfect conduit for the Great Dark Shadow's arrival. Through her, we can observe the state of the Dark One sealed within Mother Earth—like watching magical tides through her aetheric body. To keep her from losing control, I've been educating her."
"You Kamar-Taj types are always using people," Jeanne muttered, glaring fiercely at him.
Solomon only smiled wryly. The witches were Kamar-Taj's blade—meant for cutting angels. He had been sent to monitor them, ready to kill them if they ever lost control. That mission still stood. Bayonetta and Jeanne knew this full well. They also knew what choice Solomon would make when the time came.
They didn't resent him for it. It was his lifelong duty—not just to them. But that didn't stop Bayonetta from exploiting his tiny pangs of guilt.
As Solomon buried his face into her chest and exhaled deeply, the dark-haired witch stuck her tongue out at Jeanne.
"You brought back another woman, you little playboy."
"Forgive me, Bayonetta. It's the time zone difference."
Cheshire stuck out its tongue too.
Poor master—played like a fiddle by witches.
------------------
If you're enjoying this novel, please check out my new work: I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS ⚡
Your support means a lot! Reading, commenting, or voting with Power Stones helps the story grow and reach more readers. 🙌
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
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)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]