This villa in San Juan, Puerto Rico was built on high ground and boasted excellent ventilation. A gentle breeze drifted lazily through the corridors, keeping the air crisp even in the summer heat. With blooming flowers in the garden, it was exactly the kind of scene tourists came to Puerto Rico to enjoy.
Agent Coulson, however, was too focused on the severed head in Solomon's hand to appreciate the view. Wrapped in a chilling black mist, Whitehall's freshly severed head stared blankly ahead—then, suddenly, its eyes opened. A sickly iron-gray clouded over his gaze, and the head took a long, unnatural breath.
Solomon had deliberately preserved the vocal cords and larynx so Whitehall could speak again. But while that decision had been made with cold rationality, the resulting scene felt more horrifying than anything Coulson had ever seen. Whitehall's trachea pulsed in and out of his torn neck like a blood-red worm, twitching as if the man were still alive. The blood dripping down turned black-red, congealing into a foul-smelling, jelly-like mess.
Each ragged breath was accompanied by thick bubbles of gore that inflated and burst. Whitehall's consciousness returned slowly, his voice faint and wavering, like a candle guttering in a storm. Solomon clutched his hand tight, as if he had trapped Whitehall's soul inside his palm.
The magus whispered words of desecration, forcing the disembodied head to emit a silent, agonizing scream. Whitehall's soul resisted, but even death could not free him from Solomon's grasp. The mage unleashed terrible soul-binding magic, and after a brief "interrogation," he smiled in satisfaction.
"May, don't shoot!" Coulson yelled, raising his voice to warn his partner. Honestly, Solomon's current performance was so terrifying that any sane S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would have instinctively treated him as a Class-A threat and opened fire.
Although the spellcasting took only a few moments, the scene was worse than any horror movie. Coulson didn't want anyone to get hurt—because if past experience taught him anything, Solomon never showed mercy to anyone who attacked him.
"He's interrogating Whitehall for intel!" Coulson wiped the sweat from his forehead, carefully avoiding his hairline. "I know it looks horrific, but he's helping us. He's talking to the dead."
"Where's Skye? What is he doing here?" Agent Melinda May lowered her gun, but her body remained taut with readiness. The official mission briefing had made no mention of Solomon. Where the hell had he come from? Her instincts as an operative made her wary.
She suspected Coulson might have been influenced by magic, but so far, the evidence was inconclusive. Though she'd lowered her weapon, she was ready to strike at any moment. At this range, a punch was more reliable than a gunshot. Her strength and reflexes were enough to end most threats in a single blow.
She eyed Solomon's stance, then circled to his blind spot.
"It's a long story, and now's not the time for it," Coulson said, deliberately leaving out the embarrassing detail about the strip club invitation. "He said he'd be done soon. Then we'll know where Skye is."
He finally allowed himself to relax, glancing over at the unconscious Mr. Johnson.
"Any intel to share yet?"
Solomon didn't respond. Spellcasting required total focus. A true mage couldn't spare attention for anything else—it was a discipline every caster had to master. Wanda Maximoff practiced it every morning. Her curriculum, designed by Solomon, followed a magical university syllabus from another world, one modeled after the prestigious Seven Sisters colleges.
At long last, Whitehall's head fell silent.
"The Obelisk was taken underground," Solomon said, frowning. "But I don't understand why his soul would say it that way. What does it mean?"
"Oh? So he talked?" asked Katherine, a senior figure within the Sisterhood. She had clearance to know Hydra's secrets. The death of an ancient Nazi didn't faze her in the slightest. Hydra posed no threat to the Sisterhood or the Immortal City—not with their sovereign present.
"He said plenty," Solomon replied, ascending the cold, slippery stone steps. "But we don't know if he was lying. So his head goes to the Bio Lab for analysis. They'll dissect his brain and use our latest tech to extract any remaining information. He can die, but his knowledge must not go to waste."
"Your Majesty, please don't act alone again," Katherine said. "According to Tita's security protocol, you must always be accompanied by guards. She's drafted full duty rosters—everything from military formations to Sisterhood engagement plans. You can't just vanish anymore. Too many people want you dead."
"Tch," Solomon clicked his tongue.
Katherine had given up counting enemy kills. Counting heads was meaningless when fighting the undead. Their souls belonged to the so-called "Divine Source." As long as there were suits of armor, mindless soldiers could keep returning. Not even Jacob knew how many weapons he had stockpiled a thousand years ago. All his preparations had now become a problem.
With or without Solomon, the Sisterhood continued their methodical advance. But the nearly-complete Lost City was massive, and Jacob had foreseen its siege. He had designed it with numerous arrow slits, hidden tunnels, troop chambers, and cliff-spanning bridges. This forced the Sisterhood to clear each zone thoroughly, leave behind personnel and automated gun turrets to guard chokepoints, and prepare for repeated enemy resurgence.
Jacob's people had also joined the fight. The Immortal City's arrival had given them hope of reclaiming their home.
Solomon and the elite combat team from the Sisterhood were heading toward the location Jacob had marked as the chamber of the Divine Source.
Laura had wanted to come too, but Solomon had talked her down, citing the danger. Unlike the rear guard, they weren't clearing gradually—they were charging straight ahead.
One container of Greek fire hurled at the Sisterhood froze midair, stopped by Solomon's magic. Without even glancing back, he flicked his hand, sending the burning concoction arcing back where it came from—where it exploded against an icy tower.
Moments later, blue-flamed arrows rained from the ruins of towers and homes. An ambush. The group was under attack. Solomon quickly drew his wand and retaliated. Explosions and windstorms tore through the enemy ranks. Ice that had built up over centuries melted and collapsed. The falling chunks smashed through intricately built stonework and statues.
Jacob had poured all his wealth into building this city. He had left nothing for himself. In the sunlight, this city would have gleamed—its artful towers and bells rising in harmony with the sky. Music and reason would have filled its streets. It could've been a paradise of intellect, faith, and peace.
But now it lay in ruin.
The columns had fallen. The walls were coated in frost. Soot blackened the once-colorful frescoes. The undead army had ravaged everything like goats chewing on oil paintings. They even used catapults. Fiery death rained from the mountain's peak. Solomon only had time to cast a lengthy protection spell over the Sisterhood—he couldn't save the priceless art.
The towering city, built into the mountain, was now blanketed in ash and dust.
They reached the circular lecture hall at the summit. Its dome was unfinished. All the columns were encrusted with ice. Gray soot stained everything like an unremovable blemish.
Further ahead lay the so-called Soul Chamber—the true destination. The future Solomon had left a gift for his past self there. The Divine Source was not the only treasure.
But between them and that room… stood hundreds of fully armed, armored undead soldiers.
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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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