Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

As the black sedan silently followed behind, two black SUVs that had been parked by the roadside also quickly joined the pursuit. Neither Kaecilius nor Solomon paid much attention. Since Eton College was in Berkshire, Kaecilius had to drive west from London, and the M4 motorway was one of the main routes out of the city. The road was busy with traffic, making the three tailing vehicles barely noticeable.

When Kaecilius' car passed Heathrow Airport, the following vehicles, which had been trailing at a steady pace, suddenly accelerated. They flanked Solomon's vehicle on both sides, just as Solomon was fastening the small cape—a sign of the scholarship he had won. Wearing the cape at Eton would elevate his status, ensuring that the upperclassmen, who often bullied younger students into doing chores, would think twice before bothering him.

Well, perhaps not only elevate his status but make him "above the upperclassmen." After all, younger students at Eton were sometimes forced into tasks typically assigned to girls, and the culture at British boys' schools had a reputation for being somewhat…gay. But at least Solomon could ensure his own safety, which was the most important thing.

On Solomon's wrist was a gift from Bayonetta. Like the suit, Bayonetta believed a mature man should have a proper watch. Solomon didn't know the exact value of this watch with its matte black alligator strap, but it certainly wasn't cheap.

Jeanne's gift, on the other hand, was a bit more peculiar. She had somehow obtained Solomon's class schedule, and upon seeing that he had fencing lessons, she immediately gifted him a lavishly decorated rapier. Solomon didn't quite understand why this Frenchwoman thought fencing lessons in modern times required an actual weapon—after all, today's fencing classes had safety gear, and the tips of the practice swords were rounded. But Jeanne insisted, as the rapier was still a symbol of nobility. Even Bayonetta encouraged Solomon to accept it, seeing this as Jeanne's first step toward reconciliation.

"With a tailcoat and a sword, all you're missing now is a few ladies," Kaecilius teased, cigarette dangling from his lips. He took a deep drag. "Too bad you're going to an all-boys' school. Otherwise, this noble look would surely attract some girls."

"You know I'm not interested, Kaecilius," Solomon replied, idly adjusting the strap of the sword bag. "Neither in girls nor boys."

"Then why don't you tell me about those two witches?" Kaecilius asked. "Come on, Mordo's already told me how you spend all your time with them… And they're quite the charming ladies."

Solomon rolled his eyes. "Other than being five hundred years older than me, there's nothing special about them…"

At that moment, the car was approaching the Queen's Reservoir. After passing it, they would reach Old Windsor, with Eton College just beyond, near Windsor Castle's northern end. Traffic was much lighter here compared to London, and the two black SUVs sped up, pulling alongside Kaecilius and Solomon. Ahead, the black sedan blocked the road, trapping their vehicle in the middle.

Even an idiot could tell something was wrong now. Kaecilius narrowed his eyes, letting go of the steering wheel to reach into his suit pocket and pull out his sling ring, slipping it onto his hand. "Who do you think it is?" he asked. "I have a feeling they're after you, Solomon."

"I think so too," Solomon said, mirroring Kaecilius' movements by putting his own sling ring on his left index and middle fingers. As he did, he quickly reviewed the recent events that might have caused suspicion. Nothing stood out—except for one thing. "I think I know," he said. "I had a brief run-in with a SHIELD agent."

"Are you serious?" Kaecilius asked. "Do you really think SHIELD would come after you just because of that?"

"You never know," Solomon replied, opening the sunroof and unzipping the sword bag to pull out his rapier. "She was a Level 9 agent."

"How do you know that? Wait, you're going to handle this yourself?" Kaecilius quickly grabbed Solomon's shoulder. "They definitely have guns."

"Oh, that's helpful," Solomon replied sarcastically. "You focus on setting up the mirror dimension." He muttered an incantation, and a protective force field enveloped him. Then, standing on the seat, he gracefully leaped out of the sunroof, sword in hand. With his back straight, Solomon stood confidently on the car roof, his cape billowing in the wind like black waves. The tails of his coat flapped behind him like flags in the wind. His slender fingers gripped the hilt of the sword, and he resembled a young noble from centuries ago, fully prepared for an upcoming duel. In his mind, he wasn't standing on a speeding car, but in a leaf-strewn garden, with an audience of courtly ladies watching from the stands.

Solomon loosened his tie slightly—it had been uncomfortable the entire ride. He imagined the ladies' handkerchiefs fluttering in the air, a symbol of victory.

"The target has exited the sunroof and is standing on top of the car," reported one of the agents from the black SUV. He glanced at Solomon, who smiled at them and mouthed something. Panicked, the agent radioed, "We've been spotted!"

"Move in!" The windows of the black SUV rolled down, revealing the muzzles of several guns. The black sedan in front suddenly braked, trying to force Kaecilius to stop. Simultaneously, the road ahead fractured as though made of broken glass, but the agents seemed oblivious. Solomon grinned. Kaecilius had already prepared the mirror dimension, and now Solomon could unleash his full power.

In the blink of an eye, all four vehicles vanished from the road, leaving no trace behind.

"Drop your weapon!" shouted one of the masked agents, unaware that they had entered an isolated dimension. They still pointed their assault rifles at Solomon. "Drop your weapon! CIA! Stop and submit to inspection!"

The black sedan ahead came to an abrupt stop, and Kaecilius floored the gas pedal, crashing into it with a loud bang. The front of the car crumpled on impact. Solomon had already lifted his foot and stepped onto the roof of the right-side SUV. The jolt from the collision didn't throw him off balance—thanks to magic, he no longer needed to eat spiders to cast Spider Climb.

One of the agents fired a shot, aiming at Solomon's leg. The bullet whistled through the air but was intercepted by an invisible force field. The bullet rebounded, hitting the agent in the chest armor.

"The target has firearms!" the agent shouted, falling back into his seat, clutching his ribs from the pain. "I didn't even see him fire!"

"Radio communication is down!" yelled the driver. "We've lost all contact! The enemy has jamming equipment! We've been compromised!"

"Fck! Fck!" One of the agents cursed as he peeked out the window, only to find Solomon had disappeared. The next moment, something even more bizarre occurred. The straight road ahead suddenly bent upwards, like a long piece of paper being folded. The right-side SUV and the other three vehicles were no longer on the same plane. The road beneath the SUV slanted, pulling them farther away from the others. The driver had no time to process the situation—he had to accelerate to keep the car from flipping.

"Target lost! I repeat, target lost!"

"What the hell is going on?!" the squad leader shouted in frustration. This mission had been strange from the start—first, an opponent too fast to follow, then radio interference, and now warped terrain. None of this made sense on the M4 motorway!

"Wrong answer," Solomon's voice came from above. "You didn't give me the information I wanted."

"He's on the roof! How is he still standing there?!" an agent swore, pulling out his handgun and leaning out the window to shoot at Solomon—after all, the SUV was bulletproof, including the roof. But before he could see Solomon, a narrow sword blade appeared before his eyes, its sharp tip driving cleanly through his eye socket and out the back of his skull.

As Solomon pulled the rapier out, dark red blood gushed like a fountain, splattering the car roof like the handkerchiefs thrown by ladies after a victorious duel. With a dull thud, the lifeless body fell out of the vehicle, crushed beneath the wheels of the speeding SUV.

"Fire!" Before the squad leader could give the order to attack, the rapier, now wreathed in green flames, pierced through the roof, severing the squad leader's spine with surgical precision. The eerie green fire leapt from the sword to another agent's body, engulfing him.

"Shit!" the agent panicked, slapping at the flames consuming his nylon body armor, which offered no protection against fire. Solomon didn't stop. He continued stabbing through the roof, and though some agents tried to lean out of the windows to shoot him, they were quickly ensnared by magical lightning that bound their arms and yanked them onto the roof, where Solomon swiftly slit their throats. The only sounds that followed were their bodies tumbling off the car and hitting the road behind them. Every scream and every thud struck fear into the hearts of the remaining agents. They had fought many superhumans before, but none as bizarre as Solomon.

Though these agents were fearless, today, terror wrapped around them like

 a cloak. They were powerless, like chickens awaiting slaughter, trembling as they faced their fate. Solomon's figure gradually morphed into the embodiment of their deepest fears—those childhood nightmares, crawling out from under the bed, from the closet, or from the pages of storybooks, cackling as they reached out with cold, clawed hands to touch their shoulders and faces. It was a long-overdue reunion with the terror that had haunted them as children, now descending upon them once more. Any glimpse of Solomon's silhouette was enough to send them into a frenzy of panic.

Survival, not completing the mission, was now their priority. When they first received the assignment, they thought they were dealing with a pyrokinetic superhuman. But now they realized all their intel was wrong. No one would blame them for fleeing—going on a mission with faulty intelligence was a death sentence.

Suddenly, the vehicle leveled out, and the driver eased off the gas. No one spoke. Aside from the barely-breathing squad leader and a few agents clutching their guns in terror, everyone else was dead. The car came to a slow stop, and no one dared to breathe loudly, fearing that the slightest noise would attract an attack.

Solomon was puzzled. Shouldn't this be the perfect moment for a counterattack? Why weren't they doing anything? Or maybe… his use of Fear magic had been too intense for ordinary people?

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