Bab 7: Chapter 7: The Fourth Guardian of the British Museum
It seemed that the magic emanating from Solomon's body had excited the otherwise invisible spirits surrounding them.
"I'm feeling a bit uneasy..." Wong muttered as he nervously glanced around, sensing a cold, eerie presence creeping over him.
What neither Solomon nor Wong had realized was that their attire made them stand out. Solomon wore a long robe made from red sacramental cloth, designed to prevent the overexposure of his stigmata, which could cause his soul to be burned away. Meanwhile, Wong was clad in the standard Kamar-Taj training robes—brown, with an option between gray and dull yellow.
But in the 21st century, no one dressed like that, especially not in early autumn. Even though the museum had air conditioning to preserve the artifacts at an optimal temperature and humidity, their outlandish outfits still drew attention.
As soon as Solomon noticed a security guard heading their way, he grabbed Wong and pulled him deeper into the museum. He assumed their suspicious behavior had attracted unwanted attention but failed to realize his taste in fashion had been completely skewed by the memories of the ancient sorcerers, who almost always wore robes.
Passing through the Grand Court, with its dome composed of 3,312 triangular glass panels, Solomon and Wong reached the Egyptian wing, home to countless artifacts, many of which had been seized by the British from the French after Napoleon's defeat in Egypt. With over 100,000 items, it was also the area most saturated with magical energy.
"What are you even looking for?" Wong asked, growing frustrated by his inability to see what Solomon could. However, Solomon forcibly sat Wong down on a public bench. Gesturing to the increasingly agitated Wong, Solomon said, "Meditate. It's the only way you'll see them."
Truthfully, Wong's behavior was starting to attract public attention. Sitting cross-legged on a bench wasn't exactly proper museum etiquette, so Solomon... distanced himself from Wong.
Don't look at me. I don't know him.
When Wong opened his eyes again, he didn't notice Solomon's retreat. Instead, he was awestruck by the sight before him—countless large, twisted spirits roamed over the artifacts.
Had there been only a few powerful relics, they wouldn't have attracted these spirits. But the British had looted so many items from overseas, and the relics were displayed by civilization. The power of each pantheon resonated, amplifying the energy in the room. The wandering spirits sought to sustain themselves by tapping into this magical force.
"Do you see them?" Solomon asked, moving closer when he saw that Wong had snapped out of his trance.
"I… I see them," Wong stammered, reaching out as if to touch the spirits but then hesitating, afraid he might disturb them. His chubby fingers recoiled. "There are so many spirits here, and we've done nothing to deal with them..."
"That's because someone is controlling them," Solomon narrowed his eyes, gesturing toward the source of the disturbance. "You ready to throw a punch? We're about to face them."
"What?" Wong asked, still confused.
"Are you hungry again, my little darlings?" came a voice from behind. An elderly woman, wearing a deep blue wide-brimmed hat, stepped forward. A ring adorned her finger, and her silver hair peeked out from under her hat. The hat's ribbon, orange and red with a pale blue feather, waved in the air.
She wore an extravagant deep-blue coat, even for the season, its light-blue fur collar hiding her chin and nearly brushing the pearl earrings hanging from her ears.
She extended her hand, smiling as she spoke, "Very well, then. You may devour their souls, but afterward, you must return to your slumber."
The woman was referring to two tourists standing in front of a display. She stood behind them, completely invisible to everyone except Solomon and Wong.
Before the spirits could move, a beam of positive energy shot toward the one closest to the tourists. The twisted spirit let out a silent scream, its face contorted in pain as its features stretched grotesquely.
"Who's there?!" The old woman's expression immediately darkened as she whirled around, glaring viciously. Solomon had already warned Wong not to hold back, but...
"You want me to punch an old lady?" Wong asked hesitantly.
"Of course, but it's too late now, you idiot. We've lost the element of surprise, so just protect me!" Solomon rolled his eyes. "You missed the perfect moment to attack."
"Hey, ma'am..." Wong tried to engage, but before he could even finish his sentence, the woman raised her hand, and a beam of magic shot from her ring, knocking Wong flat on his back.
"I smell the stench of foreign magic," she said with disgust, as magic poured from her ring and flowed across the ground, urging the spirits forward. Both Solomon and Wong had to retreat as the spirits drew closer.
"I am Emojie Tuttel, the fourth guardian of this museum," the woman announced. "These blind fools wandering through here can't see it, but every day I use my sorcery to control these dangerous pagan spirits and prevent sorcerers like you from awakening them!"
Her voice rose as if she were a goddess on Olympus, and Solomon was the hapless Tantalus about to face her wrath. As the magic surged around them, Solomon and Wong had no choice but to keep retreating, Wong shielding Solomon with his body. Wong raised his fists, trying to fend off the spirits pressing closer.
"Fists won't work on these things, Senior Brother," Solomon muttered calmly as he reached into his pocket for a handful of silver dust. He chanted an incantation and sprinkled the dust over Wong, which dissolved into points of white light. "Now charge. Get her ring off—those spirits can't touch you anymore."
"You sure this will work?" Wong asked, feeling that the situation still had room for negotiation. But after Solomon's spell, his inexplicable fear vanished. He shouted, "Miss Tuttel, we're not—"
"Miss Tuttel!" she corrected sharply.
"Alright, Miss Tuttel... we're not trying to awaken these spirits..."
"Yes," Solomon added, "That's not our goal at all."
"You're not sorcerers?" Emojie Tuttel hadn't seen Solomon cast his spell, as Wong's body had blocked her view.
"We..." Wong hesitated, unsure how to respond, since he hadn't yet officially started magic training.
"Stop wasting time, Wong," Solomon interrupted, placing the old woman in a position of evil to spur Wong into action. "She's letting these spirits consume souls. And where do you think those souls come from...?"
Wong finally stopped hesitating. He charged forward, deftly dodging the magic tendrils and rushing through the spirits. But just as he reached her, the magic on the floor grabbed him, and with a massive force, Wong was pulled to his knees.
Emojie Tuttel had never faced a real battle. The sorcerers who had previously come to the museum seeking spirits were small-time amateurs, barely capable of casting basic spells. They had no chance against someone with one of the Rings of the Vishanti.
So when she saw Wong bound, she felt triumphant. To her, Solomon and Wong were no different from the lowly wizards she had dealt with before.
Solomon didn't stop chanting his spell, even as he swallowed the back legs of a grasshopper with disgust.
Jump spell, he thought, grimacing. Grasshopper legs were necessary spell components—and not the grossest ones.
"I really need to learn component-free casting," Solomon muttered, but he didn't let the revulsion break his concentration. With the spell complete, he leaped onto the bench and dashed forward, skillfully dodging the magic on the ground. He vaulted from the end of the bench and sprang toward Tuttel.
The Book of the Vishanti contained the world's most powerful known white magic and defensive spells, which could never be used for offensive purposes. So Solomon had to rely on the spells in his stigmata's memories for combat—including the grasshopper legs, which he used for jumping.
Solomon's jump tripled his original distance, and as he landed, his speed doubled.
Upon landing, he reached into his pouch, pulled out a small dagger, and hurled it at Emojie Tuttel.
The sharp blade sliced through the air, headed straight for Tuttel's coat.
But just before the dagger hit, a massive burst of magic exploded from her, sending Solomon and the struggling Wong flying backward. Solomon tumbled across the ground, his head ringing as if explosives had gone off beside his skull. His vision went black, and for a few seconds, he nearly lost consciousness. Even thinking was impossible.
He felt as though his brain had been scrambled. It wasn't until Wong, who had recovered quicker, hauled him to his feet that Solomon regained his senses. Still, half his vision remained black, and the tourists around them looked as though their souls were detaching from their bodies, surrounded by an aura of shifting colors.
"What do we do now?" Wong asked.
"Take her down!" Solomon shouted.
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