Something Fell from the Sky

The mental illness known as paranoia had been passed from the Sorcerer Supreme to her heir, yet her heir knew nothing of it. He knew even less that, in another dimension, someone was discussing his mental state. Perhaps some of the abnormalities Nick Fury had noticed really did exist. Salomon Damonet truly needed a psychologist, but the reality was that no one could help his mind return to the normal range of an ordinary person.

For someone as unusual as him, the mental burden he had carried since birth had already driven him mad. The Sorcerer Supreme’s cruel methods during his childhood had only worsened that condition. The Venerable One had forcibly placed the bloody reality he should never have encountered before him and made him take lives with his own hands. Perhaps living with the Witch was slowly softening his mind, but how long it would take, or whether it would work at all, remained unknown.

Oblivious, Salomon had no mood to consider his own mental state. He was busy traveling. Not long ago, he had passed through Marduk’s territory. In the early days of human history, this devil had been regarded as Babylonia’s guardian deity. Yet he was an extraordinarily frenzied devil, with almost none of a devil’s traits visible in him. His temperament was closer to that of a demon, and many Hell Lords considered him insane. Since this devil was also one of those coveting the Seventh Throne, merely showing himself would make Salomon a thorn in Marduk’s side. Phoenix had not advised Salomon to rest in Marduk’s territory. Instead, they continued onward until they found a place with slightly better air to eat and rest.

Salomon had only jerky and water to eat. He could endure it during the first meal, but by the third time he stuffed jerky into his mouth, he wanted to return to the Prime Material Plane and gorge himself at a restaurant.

If he had not used Magic Tricks to turn the jerky into various fruit flavors, Salomon truly would not have been able to endure it any longer. The jerky was being consumed faster and faster, and he pulled out nearly everything edible in the Dimensional Bag for a taste. Aside from food, Salomon had a high tolerance for everything else. Heat and dryness were only minor issues; he could still solve them with magic.

At the very least, he would not let himself die of thirst.

But Pegasus could not endure such a terrible environment. Sand and dust got caught in its feathers and mane, even burrowing into its nostrils, and no matter what it did, it could never clean them out completely. Unable to bear it any longer, Pegasus had Salomon give it a bath after the first day’s march. Once the dust in its nose had been cleared out, it returned to the Astral Plane to rest, waiting until Salomon needed to summon it again.

Eating, traveling, eating, sleeping. No one knew how many days passed like that. Salomon only hoped he could reach Mephisto’s territory, meet the other Arcanists, and blast that old devil’s palace to pieces so he could go home and rest.

Phoenix was also somewhat exhausted, because Salomon’s safety had been its responsibility throughout the journey. It could only rest a little while they were traveling.

Fortunately, before Salomon completely lost his sense of time, he encountered the Arcanist who had come to meet him. This old steward seemed highly experienced with marching through Hell. Whether such knowledge had been passed down orally through his family or whether he had personally experienced it, Salomon did not know. When he met Salomon, he skillfully produced a great deal of food, none of which was jerky.

"Once you break through the protective magic within Mephisto’s territory, you can return to Earth first." The old steward shook his head, somewhat dissatisfied with Salomon’s pampered upbringing. Still, it was no great matter. This could be trained. The old steward believed he should suggest to the Sorcerer Supreme that Salomon’s endurance in harsh environments be strengthened through multiple sets of training, until Salomon could tolerate the cruel conditions of the Outer Dimensions alone.

"That’s great!" Salomon was so excited he nearly cried. He was soaked all over, water constantly dripping from inside his armor. This was how he cooled himself down and retained moisture. Otherwise, he would have been roasted alive by that suit of armor long ago.

He missed the Witch terribly now. It would not matter even if Bayonetta gave him a few lashes with her little whip!

"Let’s get moving already!" he said excitedly.

"Calm down, young man." The old steward spoke disdainfully. "Your mortal friend is still behind us. For the final stretch, you will arrive with us, and then leave the rest to experienced Arcanists like ourselves."

Nick Fury had spent the entire journey taking pictures of Hell’s scenery with a camera. He looked as though he had come sightseeing. During his military service, he had experienced several battles. Though they had all been jungle campaigns, that did not prevent him from learning wilderness survival skills for arid regions. Thus, compared to the other Arcanists who were just as dusty and bedraggled as Salomon, Nick Fury had been fairly comfortable in Hell thanks to his thorough preparations. At least US military rations were more nutritious than jerky, and he did not need to worry about mouth ulcers.

The moment he saw Salomon, he was overjoyed. He had encountered many things he did not understand along the way, but the Arcanists’ attitudes had been even worse than Salomon’s. None of them wanted to answer Nick Fury’s questions. This mortal’s courage bordered on arrogance, and that feeling made the Arcanists deeply uncomfortable. So although they had agreed to Fury’s request, they had no interest in answering his questions. They even turned up their noses at the food Fury offered them.

"You look awful." Nick Fury did not forget to seize the verbal advantage first. Only afterward did he begin to show concern for Salomon’s condition. He still stubbornly wore that black leather outfit, as though he feared that if he took it off, people would see the little alien inside his stomach controlling him. The other Arcanists had wisely changed into lighter clothing. Only Nick Fury and Salomon were still suffering under the torment of their attire.

"Yeah." Salomon replied weakly, "Let’s get this over with."

"Wait." An Arcanist walked over, gripping something that vaguely resembled a human figure, interrupting their conversation. "You should listen to what he’s saying." The younger Arcanist gestured for Nick Fury to look at the crimson, twisted humanoid. "He just arrived in Hell. He seems to be saying something about Stark…"

Stark made a phone call and waited for a long time, but no one answered.

He paced around irritably. After a while, he dialed another number, but no one answered that one either. Finally, unable to take it any longer, he directly called S.H.I.E.L.D.’s office line. Agent Maria Hill answered.

Agent Hill was also powerless to help with Stark’s current situation. No one knew which corner that terrorist had crawled out from. Agent Hill could only tell Stark that the terrorist organization had nothing to do with the CIA and was not an anti-government armed group supported by the US Government. She could not provide any information.

"Where’s Nick Fury?" Stark asked impatiently. "Isn’t there anyone who can provide information?"

Stark was starting to regret provoking that terrorist, but Happy had been seriously injured and hospitalized, so Stark was unwilling to lose to the terrorist in terms of momentum. All he could do was put on a brave face before the media while seeking help in private.

"I don’t know where Director Fury is right now." Agent Hill lied. She knew Nick Fury’s current location. Every agent involved in that mission had signed a confidentiality agreement and could not reveal anything that had happened that day. As Nick Fury’s assistant, Agent Hill had also learned the details during her subsequent work, but due to confidentiality rules, she refused to say anything.

"But I gave out my address!"

"I suggest you accept S.H.I.E.L.D.’s protection. I’ll send agents to escort you and Miss Potts."

"But that means I’ve lost to the terrorist!"

"What exactly are you insisting on, Stark?"