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18.96% Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel / Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The White Family's Ghosts

Chương 11: Chapter 11: The White Family's Ghosts

"Did you get it?" Solomon asked urgently, his eyes on Wong, who was panting heavily as they hid in a narrow alley in Salem. The alley stank of garbage and vomit, but Solomon was far more concerned with the situation at hand than the filth around them.

"This… This is my first time stealing anything," Wong said, pressing his hands to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart. The thrill of their actions had been too intense for him. He took a deep breath, only to gag as the putrid stench of the alley assaulted his nose.

"Technically, it was more like robbery," Solomon replied with a guilty flutter of his eyelids, patting Wong on the back. "Let's hope there aren't any security cameras that caught you. If there were, next time you step outside, you might find yourself facing down a few trigger-happy cops. Given… well, certain factors, they might just shoot first and ask questions later. So, I'd suggest we prepare some defensive spells before going out again. What? Me? Don't worry, I've been keeping my face covered the whole time. Ugh, I regret picking this place—it stinks."

Meanwhile, back in the square, the crowd was still in chaos as people slowly regained their vision after the flash of light. Ricky White was shouting hysterically. Even though he hadn't been able to see, he could definitely feel the ring being pried from his finger. A chubby hand had firmly gripped his wrist, forcibly opening his palm before snatching the ring away. 

That ring was the White family heirloom. Since Ricky had first worn it, he'd never suffered a single misfortune—no cuts, no scrapes, not even a nick from sharpening a pencil or shaving. Now, however, his wrist bore purplish bruises, possibly the worst injury he had ever endured.

Having his pants pulled down in public could be shrugged off as a political gaffe, but being robbed in broad daylight was a different matter entirely. One was fodder for tabloid jokes, while the other was a serious security breach. The situation escalated rapidly—Salem's police force quickly locked down the area, rounding up everyone on the scene, including the clueless reporters still shouting about freedom of the press. The police were swift and forceful, pinning down anyone who didn't comply.

Fortunately for Solomon and Wong, they had fled early enough to avoid the chaos, but if they continued lingering in Salem, it was only a matter of time before they were caught.

"Here it is," Wong finally managed, holding out his hand and speaking in a muffled voice as if still processing the adrenaline rush. "I have it."

The ring was an extravagant platinum piece set with a large pink gemstone. The setting was latticed, with two smaller round pink gems at either end of the oval centerpiece. Between these and the main stone were four smaller pink diamonds. Even with Solomon's rudimentary knowledge of gemstones, he could tell this was no ordinary ring—its value far exceeded the term "expensive." In fact, it looked like something even the Queen of England would envy.

"Alright, we should leave now. Drop it into my pocket," Solomon said, nodding. Although he knew the magic to conjure a portal, it was a bit absurd—they hadn't used one to get to Salem in the first place. Instead, they'd taken a long bus ride. Without access to vast reserves of the Vishanti's magic, Solomon wasn't able to use many of their spells yet.

Wong peered out from the alley, preparing to make a swift exit. The stench of the alley had been almost unbearable; if he stayed a moment longer, he was sure to vomit up every tuna sandwich he had eaten earlier. He waved to Solomon, signaling him to follow, but received no response.

Suddenly, Wong felt a chill creep up his spine, as if cold, clammy fingers were slowly wrapping around him. Goosebumps spread across his skin, and he shivered involuntarily. The sensation was all too familiar—he had felt it once before, back in the British Museum.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy," he muttered to himself. Then came a loud crash behind him, and a powerful, unseen force yanked him off his feet and slammed him to the ground. 

As Wong scrambled to his feet, peeling leaves off his face, he saw that the narrow alley had widened considerably. The stone walls near the entrance had crumbled as if something massive had smashed through them. The destruction was still ongoing—Solomon was darting back and forth in the alley, dodging chunks of debris that rained down from all directions. Whatever it was—something invisible and enraged—seemed determined to destroy everything in its path, Solomon included.

Pedestrians screamed, and police officers turned their attention to the disturbance. Wong ignored their shouts and the advancing officers. His focus was solely on Solomon, who was trapped in the alley.

"Get out of there! Solomon, hurry!" Wong shouted desperately.

"No!" Solomon glanced around wildly. The alley was now filled with spectral figures—ghosts, their skeletal forms wrapped in tattered old-fashioned clothing and surrounded by a pinkish magical aura. One of the ghosts launched itself at Solomon, forcing him to roll across the sharp rubble on the ground to avoid the attack.

"Heretic! Thief! Sorcerer!" the ghosts screamed in voices only Solomon could hear. Their rotting faces were expressionless as they cried, "Return what you have stolen from our family!"

"F—k you!" Solomon retorted, raising his middle finger at the vengeful spirits. It was the only "attack" he could muster while dodging their relentless assault. A heavy brick slammed into his back as he cursed them.

Wong, braving the flying debris, sprinted into the alley and grabbed Solomon. Without hesitation, he hoisted him under one arm and bolted out of the alley.

"Are they still following us?" Wong gasped as they ran, his legs burning with exhaustion.

"If… if you put me down… I could… take care of them!" Solomon wheezed, each word punctuated by the painful squeeze of Wong's arm around his stomach, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

"Easy, easy—put me down!"

"No! Not here!" Wong panted, barely able to speak between breaths. "We can't expose magic…"

"I… thought… we weren't… the Ministry of Magic…"

But these ghosts weren't ordinary spirits. Unlike the twisted, mindless wraiths at the British Museum, these were bound to the ring itself, lingering in the world through its power. They were far stronger than normal ghosts, and as they pursued Wong and Solomon, they left a trail of destruction. Storefront windows shattered, asphalt cracked, and even parked cars were flipped over as if an invisible beast rampaged through the streets.

However, ghosts, no matter how powerful, still had universal weaknesses. Fire and lightning were the bane of all spirits, and magical physical attacks could also harm their ethereal forms.

"This is the place," Wong finally gasped, skidding to a halt in a deserted area between two abandoned buildings. He hadn't chosen the spot at random—Solomon had repeatedly, and painfully, mumbled instructions to him. Out of breath and desperate, Wong had brought them to the most secluded area he could find.

Once they arrived, Wong unceremoniously dropped Solomon to the ground before collapsing against the wall, his lungs burning and his ears ringing from the strain. He felt like he might vomit from sheer exhaustion.

"Ugh—" Solomon groaned, wincing as he hit the ground. Wong's hasty rescue had shaken him so badly that his brain felt scrambled, but there was no time for complaints. He quickly stood, wobbling slightly, and ignored the throbbing pain in his back and abdomen. Brushing the dust off his robes, he gathered his focus and began chanting a spell.

For the first time, Solomon was grateful for the combat training at Kamar-Taj. It had taught him to endure pain and remain focused during intense battles. Even while being pummeled by bricks, he had managed to keep his spellcasting uninterrupted.

There was one spell Solomon particularly favored—a spell that unleashed pure magical energy. Due to its unique nature, the spell would always hit its target unless blocked by magic. Whenever a sorcerer faced a non-magical enemy and didn't know their specific weaknesses, this spell was the go-to option.

That spell was none other than—

"Magic Missile!"

___________________

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