Ever since the incident with the Devil's Son, when Solomon ransacked the monastery's relic chamber, he still had enough shroud-cloth left to craft a few more robes. Otherwise, he wouldn't have used the original one as a cloak for his armor. As for those centuries-old monastery wines? They'd long since been repurposed into fruit vinegar in the Immortal City's kitchen and used for salad dressings. Compared to the simple garb he used to wear, his current outfit was significantly more ornate—his hands wrapped in steel gauntlets like black serpent scales, always armed with a short and long blade. A magic tome with golden inlays hung from his waist by an iron chain, his cuffs studded with finely cut gemstones, and an elegantly crafted silver brooch pinned at his collar—all enough to grant him ample combat and survival ability even without donning powered armor.
"Let Tita access my private library. She has the clearance to retrieve Jacob's Brethren," Solomon said. "Tell her it's my reward to the Sisterhood. As for tactical training… ask General Hale if he can come up with a solution."
"Oh, and about the regular army—Sophia lashed a few Nordic soldiers for suggesting weekend leave. She's proposing joint training with her people involved as well…"
"That's standard NATO soldier behavior. Nothing surprising. As for training targets, aren't there enough local warlords in Africa?" Solomon replied.
"You mean the kind who can be wiped out with a few attack helicopters?" Stephanie forced a laugh. "We've eliminated so many warlords funded by diamond and oil magnates—you don't think they'll just let that slide, do you?"
"Then eliminate them too. Last time, the Sisterhood trained against private corporate armies and African warlords with great results. The region's quiet now, steadily supplying resources to the Immortal City." Solomon waved his hand impatiently. "This kind of trivial matter you can handle yourself. I've given you access to deploy assassins and air force units—if it benefits the Immortal City, I don't care if you launch a full-scale airstrike downtown or send assassins after corporate heirs."
"There's one more matter: the war machines deployed from the Martian Foundry during the Battle of Fimbulwinter…"
Stephanie dragged Solomon straight to the office without mercy. Even the Honor Guard couldn't stop her, because there were still piles of documents that needed his personal signature—a duty tied to his role as the ruler of the Immortal City. Besides, the city's security systems, including those of the Ministry of Internal Affairs building, were managed by Constantine himself. The Honor Guard knew that few places on Earth were more secure than that office, encased in vibranium armor plating and capable of dropping into subterranean tunnels at a moment's notice.
Stephanie had completed most of the logistical work. Now Solomon needed to host a meeting with Mars to discuss upgrades and modifications for the weapons used in the war, as well as the performance of new models. Stephanie had already prepped all the relevant data. All he had to do was review and approve it. These were straightforward tasks—just a matter of data and scheduling. That's what the employees he recruited were for. All he had to do was give the orders, then let Constantine handle the rest. He'd already approved several infrastructure projects: a cargo-optimized undersea tunnel, upgrades to the Immortal City's support and security systems (a collaboration between the Honor Guard and the Martian Foundry), and postwar measures for local residents near Fimbulwinter.
But his truly important task was to go personally break someone's hands.
Severing the link between Kamar-Taj and the title of Sorcerer Supreme had been the Ancient One's decision from the very beginning. She believed humanity's fate shouldn't depend on the mercy of extra-dimensional gods. Who could say when the Vishanti might change their minds, or trade humanity to Gaea the Earth Mother for some unfathomable reason? That possibility was very real.
Solomon's ideology was shaped entirely by the Ancient One. He, too, believed that binding Kamar-Taj to the Sorcerer Supreme title was a dangerous risk. Even with Agamotto—the first Sorcerer Supreme—among the Vishanti, neither the Ancient One nor Solomon placed any faith in them. Especially given that the Ancient One knew Solomon's secret plan and supported it fully. For the plan to work, divorcing the Sorcerer Supreme title from Kamar-Taj was vital. Whoever inherited the title had to be someone ultimately answerable to Kamar-Taj's true leadership.
Out of professionalism and responsibility, Solomon first went to handle a personal matter before executing that plan.
"This is a bank card, and this is a passport. I hope you'll learn to use a smartphone within the next few days—after all, those didn't exist five hundred years ago." Solomon's rapid-fire lecture made Baldur raise his eyebrows more than once. If Rosa hadn't been sitting beside him, he would've already snapped at Solomon. He hadn't liked the man from the beginning. Despite Solomon's overwhelming combat strength and consistently polite demeanor, Baldur simply couldn't stand him. But since both Bayonetta and baby Solomon had been raised by Rosa, Baldur—the absentee father who'd never even seen his daughter before—had no right to object.
If he tried, Rosa would just bring up what happened five hundred years ago.
Behind the bus was a mountain of luggage. The assassin driving showed zero reaction to the situation inside—not that anyone expected Solomon's hidden bodyguard to be pulled out just to chauffeur. Solomon and Baldur were crammed into the same row of seats, while Bayonetta and Rosa whispered to each other across from them. Jeanne sat at the front, speaking to no one. All of them wore civilian clothing. Rosa and Bayonetta looked uncannily alike—same youthful beauty, nearly indistinguishable as mother and daughter—more like sisters. Only their eyes revealed that Bayonetta carried Baldur's bloodline.
The release of five centuries of pent-up shopping desire was astonishingly powerful. Ever since Rosa decided to travel the world with Baldur, she'd been prepping everything she'd need. The Oxfordshire manor's hall had nearly drowned in shipping boxes. If not for Diana's tireless cleaning, those packages might've ended up floating in the Thames. Had Stephanie not bought out a logistics company and established a dedicated supply line, Rosa's departure could've been delayed by months. The bulk of her purchases were clothing and essentials. Bayonetta had been so busy helping choose everything that she hadn't spoken to Solomon in days.
Bayonetta even set up a special account to cover Rosa and Baldur's expenses.
Baldur initially tried to refuse, but Solomon explained bluntly that this wasn't charity—it was a way to track the movements of the Sage and Witch through the flow of money. That only made Baldur hate the calculating mage even more—especially since he was from Kamar-Taj.
"And please, try to avoid killing people… or anything else. Absolutely no summoning extra-dimensional beings," Solomon added, knowing full well Baldur disliked him. He kept it short. "You're still under Kamar-Taj jurisdiction. I trust Lady Rosa can explain what's allowed and what isn't."
Baldur took a deep breath.
If he were a pressure cooker, his ears would be shooting steam right now.
(End of Chapter)
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