Reverse Smuggling

This was a twisted humanoid with orange-red skin all over its body, constantly radiating intense heat. No one knew what the devils or demons had been thinking when they fished this soul out of the River Styx and then simply left it alone. As the Kamar-Taj party made its way toward the lower levels of Hell, this thing fell from the sky. There was more than one passage between Hell’s different layers. Going downward was like crawling through tunnels, and there were countless such openings—no one could say exactly how many. Several of the larger ones were controlled by the Hell Lords. Other than the River Styx, these were the routes connecting Hell’s various layers. The Arcanists were all sneaking across illegally.

"Why did he say Stark? Who is this man?" Nick Fury stared at the delirious soul, his face full of confusion. Then he suddenly thought of a possibility. "Does time flow at the same rate in Hell and on Earth?" he asked. "What time is it on Earth now?"

Yet every Arcanist merely shrugged at the question, indicating that they could not answer. Only Salomon weakly mentioned the laws of time in different planes—time flowed at a constant rate within any plane, and it remained continuous in the subjective perception of planar travelers. But when crossing between planes, travelers might find that their objective time had increased or decreased. Thus, it was perfectly normal for someone who entered Hell physically and then emerged to discover that the time they had experienced in Hell differed from the time that had passed on the Prime Material Plane.

So even Nick Fury knew nothing about this matter occurring on the Prime Material Plane, something he should have known inside and out. Only Salomon had some information. But he had no intention of saying it, because they were still in Hell, and saying it would be useless. One thing was certain, however: Stark’s mental state had to be much better than that of his counterpart in the parallel world during the same period. The only question was how far Stark had developed the Iron Armor without fear driving him onward.

Salomon was very much looking forward to seeing his work.

Nick Fury’s attempt to get an answer from the twisted soul failed. The thing’s consciousness was already blurred, and it could no longer sense anything. Perhaps that was why the devils had abandoned this soul. It was already filled with pain, with no energy left to squeeze out of it. Only lesser demons cared about such trash; otherwise, no devil would ever let go of hard-earned "clinks"—this soul had not been directly corrupted. Rather, one of its superiors had been tempted by a devil, which had led this soul into Hell as well. This matched the information revealed by the previous Demonkin incident: the US Government had devilish agents within it.

"He was a soldier." Fury listened closely to the soul’s mumbling and pointed to the oval metal tag on its chest, nearly melted beyond recognition. "This is military identification. He was a soldier, and his accent is from the southeastern United States. Chad Davis, that should be his name."

"Who cares?" Salomon signaled for the Arcanist not to bother with this. Their mission was Mephisto, not Stark. Only Nick Fury cared deeply about the soul. He even used rope from his backpack to tie it up and dragged it along behind the Arcanists. Salomon had asked Nick Fury what he intended to do, but Fury said he could not stand by and watch a soldier who had served his country go to Hell. This was not the fate he deserved. He was going to bring the soul back.

But Salomon believed Nick Fury merely wanted to study the soul properly. That excuse would have been more convincing coming from Captain Rogers. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had no credibility at all.

He reminded Fury that this soul only possessed a physical form while in Hell. Once it reached the Prime Material Plane, it would be dragged back into Hell and would not be able to remain for even a moment. This was an iron law governing the world. Only after the soul had finished atoning in Hell could it return to the universe’s ultimate resting place and enjoy eternal peace. Until then, the soul belonged to Hell forever.

"Can a tiny metal tag really bind a person’s life and values? When he enlisted, he probably did not even know who he was fighting for, or what ideals he was fighting for. If he had fought for humanity’s welfare, how could he possibly have gone to Hell? I think the devil that corrupted him must be terribly upset, because it has suffered a complete loss." Even though Salomon was exhausted, he still forced himself to mock Nick Fury. It was one of the rare amusements he had in Hell.

"He fought for capitalists’ oil, not for his country. There would be no security for him after he left the military. Capitalists would not give their tools any decent benefits—he had no remaining value. The fries I bought from a roadside stand last time were not even drained of oil. What happened? A squad of US soldiers rushed out halfway through and pointed guns at me, forcibly snatching my fries. Maybe he was one of them."

Nick Fury gave Salomon a look and let him interpret it himself.

The old steward glared at Salomon. This young man’s lack of focus annoyed him, but there was not much he could say. After all, this operation still needed Salomon to take the lead. Even with the Sorcerer Supreme backing them up, this was still rather too much pressure for a minor—let him relax a little. As long as they completed the mission, it was fine.

"Quiet down. We’re almost there." The old steward turned back with displeasure and reminded Salomon, who was walking at the rear of the group, "Get yourself ready. We need you."

Salomon happily shut his mouth.

"What the hell is going on? Why has everyone I know disappeared?" Stark was somewhat angry. Not only had Nick Fury vanished, but Salomon had disappeared as well. Captain Rogers did not know Fury’s whereabouts, Agent Romanoff could not be contacted, and Stark had secretly called Salomon in hopes of learning something through divination magic. But he got nothing, because Salomon had vanished too.

School had already started, yet Salomon had not gone at all. There was only a long-term leave application submitted by his adoptive mother! Stark refused to give up and went to Salomon’s apartment again, but the only one who answered the door was the Artificial Human. Salomon’s rumored live-in girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

Today, he visited Happy again. Happy was in terrible condition—one could say it was extremely bad. If not for a mysterious medicine delivered by Agent Hill, Happy might even have died in his sleep. Stark found that bottle of medicine strangely familiar, because its packaging was unmistakably Salomon’s style—of everyone Stark knew, only Salomon still used cork stoppers and glass bottles for medicine.

His good friend Rhodey had come to see him once. The US military was willing to offer Stark protection, but Stark could guess what those high-ranking military officials, who could not even defeat terrorists, were thinking with his toes. They surely wanted to use this incident to persuade him to hand over Iron Armor technology. Those people still had not given up, and the Battle of New York had only intensified their desire for the Iron Man Armor.

With Nick Fury absent, these people had already begun reaching out.

Stark could never agree to such a thing, while Rhodey was deeply concerned for Stark’s safety. Thus, the two parted on bad terms beside Happy’s hospital bed. Only after returning to the mansion did Stark remember that it was actually Pepper’s birthday, and he hurriedly went out to buy her a gift.

Without Happy to help and with J.A.R.V.I.S. unable to carry things, Stark had to handle everything himself.

"Hmm?" The rested Arcanist party encountered another unbelievable event. Yet another soul fell from the sky, landing near Mephisto’s territory. This soul was in exactly the same state as Chad Davis had been, which made Nick Fury anxious.

He greatly disliked being kept in the dark.

"When will this be over?" he asked the slow-moving old steward impatiently.

"It has only just begun."

I’m exhausted to death. I wrote this together with the first update, but decided to split it before posting.

I want to sleep, slack off, and take a day off!!!