Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

The reason Luka was being chased was simple: not long ago, he had disguised himself as a member of the Ragnar Order and attempted to infiltrate their headquarters—the Isabel Tower.

Of course, the plan failed, and not just because of his highly recognizable scarf. The real reason was that the moment he stepped into the building, Luka couldn't resist taking pictures of everything, including the guards at the entrance.

In fact, it was while he was re-taking the guard's photo that he was discovered, which became the main reason for his capture.

However, the Ragnar Order likely never anticipated an intrusion at Isabel Tower. After all, anyone who came to Vigrid either had a pass or belonged to the Order itself. It wasn't until much later that the guards finally realized something was off, by which time Luka had already filled an entire memory card with photos. Still, even when he slipped toward the exit, the guards mistook him for someone who had just entered.

Oh, and by the way, Luka had bought another camera—on credit. Now, in addition to his car loan, he had camera and lens payments to worry about.

"Are you French? I can hardly detect an accent, but your style, and the fact that you wear a scarf with a tie, makes me wonder about your nationality. Do French people love Louis XIV so much they'd strangle themselves with ties?" Solomon quipped. "And to think you're still trying to flirt with young women while running for your life. You're as foolish as Pangloss from Voltaire's Candide."

"That's way too harsh!" Luka retorted. "Sure, I've read Candide, but that doesn't mean I buy into Leibniz's optimism. Also, wearing a tie is a lifestyle choice—it's a privilege of adulthood! Clearly, you haven't reached that age yet." Luka added with a smirk, "Besides, isn't it romantic to meet a beautiful girl in such a thrilling environment, amidst this cruel, monster-filled world? What's your nationality, anyway?"

"British."

"Ha!"

"I don't intend to argue metaphysics with you, slave to consumerism. You just keep working hard to pay off your loans. As for me, I don't need to work, even when I grow up," Solomon replied, sneering. "Now, let me see the dirty, voyeuristic stuff you've collected. Show me the intel, as promised."

"Why are you so mean to me, Solomon? Are all sorcerers like this? I bet you're still in school at Hogwarts, and your headmaster is Severus Snape. Damn purebloods, damn capitalists. Oh, and I like Gryffindor," Luka muttered as he placed the camera in front of the arcanist. "Remember your promise!"

"Shut up. I didn't ask for your preferences, you idiotic lion. I'll keep my promise as long as you do," Solomon grumbled as he inspected the photos under Luka's guidance. Before long, something caught his eye, something horrifying. Pointing at the image, he said, "Ha! I didn't expect you to stumble into a place like this! Looks like I found the right guy after all."

"Of course. I'm a journalist, after all," Luka boasted, puffing his chest. "Go ahead, praise me some more. I won't mind."

Solomon ignored him, continuing to examine the photos. The thing that had caught his attention seemed ordinary at first glance—a bright red coffin mounted on a massive pillar. It had a metallic sheen, and a sharp metal spike protruded from the chest of the humanoid shape within. A tube connected to the coffin was transporting dark red liquid. There were more of these devices, though Luka hadn't had the chance to investigate further.

When Luka took the picture, he hadn't realized what it was. But Solomon, with his sharp vision, quickly identified the small runes etched into the design. Despite the technological appearance, the core mechanism was magical, and the red liquid was blood.

It was likely the remains of dead witches. Even after their deaths, their vast reserves of magical power remained trapped within their souls. These coffins were designed to imprison the souls and extract their magic, powering the Isabel Tower or something even more sinister.

The device had probably been operating for centuries, and whatever required such immense magical power had to be something significant.

Solomon frowned deeply, thinking hard: What exactly was Badr trying to fuel? How did he plan to use Theresea to achieve his goal? Could it be some form of suggestion magic? But the little girl couldn't even hold a blade properly—how could she be a threat?

The mysteries of Isabel Tower greatly concerned Solomon. He questioned Luka in detail about where each photo was taken. The photos provided Solomon with a clear understanding of the building's layout, the paths within it, and the sequence of events that might unfold. While Solomon wasn't fond of Luka's carefree attitude, he had to admit that Luka had a talent for journalism. His investigation made Solomon's task much easier.

But first, Solomon needed to find Bayonetta and provide her with a clear route.

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At the top floor of Isabel Tower, inside Badr's chamber, a warm light spilled from a strange, embedded structure in the ceiling. Angels, once human-sized, now looked as small as ants fluttering their wings beneath the glowing energy. The figure enveloped in energy was becoming clearer by the day. A gigantic female face with a metallic sheen had come into focus, complete with a towering golden hairstyle and disturbing white faces adorning it.

"The Eyes of the World are about to reunite. The resurrection of Jubileus is at hand, and the angels continue to fantasize as always. You are the sacrifices for the 'Left Eye's' awakening. Our desires are the same—all is in service of our ultimate goal. Yes, light, darkness, humanity, everything is for the creation of a new world."

The Lumen Sage Badr stood beneath this warm light, his voice growing more passionate. Countless angels began to emerge from the strange space and fly into the real world. The orange glow surrounding Badr shifted to a blinding white light as they approached, and the radiance around him grew even more intense.

"Hahaha!" Badr raised his arms and shouted, "Go, angels! Sacrifice yourselves and become the foundation to awaken the 'Left Eye'! Jubileus' glory will forever be with you! Go, and let my dear daughter realize her true strength! Let my sweet child understand the purpose of her existence. Don't hold back, and don't worry about her failing. Only through this game will she learn her true power and her reason for being!"

"I love you so much, my daughter." Unlike his previous grand proclamations, Badr's final words were soft, barely audible to anyone but himself. He lowered his head, his expression hidden behind the half-gold mask.

"Become a god of the new world with me, Theresea."

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[Suggestion], 2nd-level enchantment (control); Casting Time: 1 action; Range: 30 feet; Components: V, M (a snake's tongue and a bit of honeycomb or a drop of sweet oil); Duration: Concentration, up to 8 hours.

You suggest a course of action (limited to a sentence or two) and magically influence a creature within range that can hear and understand you. Creatures immune to being charmed are unaffected. The suggestion must seem reasonable. Commands to stab themselves, throw themselves onto a spear, set themselves on fire, or any other blatantly harmful act will end the spell.

The target must make a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, it pursues the action you described to the best of its ability for the spell's duration. If the suggested activity can be completed in a shorter time, the spell ends when the target finishes what it was asked to do.

If you or any of your companions harm the target, the spell ends.

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