Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

Solomon's footsteps were soundless as he walked through the dimly lit corridor of the Collins Manor, a faint orange-red glow from the half-circle of sparks in his hand faintly illuminating the darkness.

Perhaps due to Solomon's presence, the Collins family avoided him as much as possible. Even Willie, who was supposed to turn on the lights, stayed far away. When night fell, the manor sank into complete darkness. Solomon didn't use any illumination spells or pull back the curtains to let in the last remnants of twilight. He merely adapted to the dismal environment, relying on the faint light in his hand.

After a while, his pupils slowly dilated, allowing more of the reflected dim light to enter his eyes, enabling him to see the surroundings somewhat clearly. The black curtains swayed slightly in the windless corridor, like living shadows. The last rays of twilight vanished entirely after filtering into the hallway, and the night quickly engulfed the entire estate. The chilling aura of negative energy seeped into every corner. The only thing still gleaming was the three gemstone rings on Solomon's fingers, occasionally casting faint reflections across the corridor.

"I've already sent them out for a walk, including Victoria. Ever since she became a vampire, she enjoys walking under the stars. After all, she's completely said goodbye to the sunshine and the woods she once loved," Barnabas suddenly appeared from the darkness behind Solomon. Even now, he was dressed in his 18th-century attire, leaning on his cane with his back straight, his white lace cravat immaculate. "Are you truly not planning to keep your promise and turn us back into humans, Mr. Damonet?"

"The Book of Vishanti indeed contains the perfect counter to the curse. For every dark spell in the book, there's a corresponding white magic spell," Solomon stiffened for a moment but then slowly relaxed without turning around. "Even so, do you really think white magic won't harm you?"

"Meaning…" The vampire slowly stepped out, raising his eyebrows. "I can never become human again? And the method in the Book of Vishanti to lift the curse is to kill the vampire outright?"

"Yes, it's a spell specifically for dealing with vampires. And…"

"What else?"

"And I never promised to turn you back into a human." Solomon slowly turned around to face the vampire, maintaining his spell in hand. "What I actually said was, 'This is related to my second question.' Therefore, I didn't break my word, Mr. Barnabas. Your story is indeed touching, but ultimately irrelevant. All I need is that book. As for the third vampire in town, they are also my target."

"So, you've planned to kill me from the start," Barnabas drawled, "and my story didn't matter at all, did it?"

"Yes," Solomon admitted without hesitation. "You probably don't realize your uniqueness, Mr. Barnabas. You were cursed into becoming a vampire through magic from that book, not born or created through typical means. Your power potential is nearly limitless. The last person cursed into vampirism through that magic was a long time ago, and I know that they became an immortal, unkillable entity."

"Vampires are like a cancer. If just one exists, countless more can be spawned. Mr. Barnabas, you're still a young vampire and haven't accumulated enough power. You don't yet possess the terrifying immortality of others. That being said, do you really think I'd let you go? Of course, these are all just formalities. Truthfully, vampire ash is also a valuable material."

"My existence itself is a sin." Barnabas continuously tapped his cane on the ground, producing dull thuds. Even though Solomon couldn't see his expression, he could sense the bitterness and frustration in his heart. Barnabas continued, "My existence is a sin, and I've made Victoria share in that sin. We've been abandoned by God."

"Ever since the Grandmaster expelled all gods and demons from Earth, humanity has been left to its own devices. Since then, civilization has progressed without divine or infernal intervention," Solomon stepped forward, tapping his heel lightly. A complex spell structure flashed briefly on his boots. The young mage advanced slowly until he stopped at an appropriate distance. "Don't expect to ascend to heaven or descend to hell to atone. Your soul has already been claimed by that terrifying entity. If I manage to kill you, your soul will belong to the God of Dark Magic, just like Angelique Bouchard."

Chthon—Supreme Sorcerer could say that name, but Solomon could not. He wasn't yet strong enough to even mention it. Simply saying the name might attract the entity's gaze. Though, with the Supreme Sorcerer present, Chthon couldn't influence Earth. Solomon still had no intention of adding himself to the God of Dark Magic's list.

"And Victoria?" Barnabas asked.

"No," Solomon replied. "If what you said is true, she was turned after death. While she won't ascend to heaven, as long as she hasn't taken a life, she won't go to hell. Her soul will simply belong to death itself, an eternal place of silence."

The vampire fell silent for a long time, while a faint breeze, coming from an unknown source, gently tugged at his clothing, as if urging Barnabas to make a decision. Solomon waited quietly for his answer, knowing that no matter what, a fight between them was inevitable.

"When I was your age, I had just arrived in the New World. I knew nothing back then. But my father often told me, 'Family is wealth.' I've always lived by that philosophy. It's because of the efforts of my family members that the Collins family was able to establish itself in both Europe and the New World, becoming a renowned noble family. In England, we still hold titles, and here in Maine, in this New England region, we nearly monopolize the fishing industry along the northeastern coast."

As Barnabas spoke, he spread his arms wide, as if embracing all the great accomplishments of the Collins family. He looked at Solomon with a grave, serious expression. "We did all this for the sake of the family. Regardless of the outcome, I want you to promise me that no matter what happens, you won't implicate the Collins family."

"By the source of white magic, I swear in the name of Vishanti," Solomon nodded.

"Good. I finally see where your faith lies," Barnabas said with satisfaction, nodding. "But I still have one more question. You could've found me during the day, so why now? Could it be that you…"

The young mage's expression stiffened.

He had never fought before, nor had he ever tried to kill any sentient being. He admitted that Barnabas' story affected him. After all, who wouldn't be moved by the reunion of lovers after two hundred years? Who wouldn't wish for Romeo and Juliet to finally be together? Who wouldn't want to witness the beauty of love and true emotion in the world? Who wouldn't envy the passionate kisses and the vibrant meeting of roses?

But they were vampires. From the perspective of Kamar-Taj, such creatures had to be eradicated. As long as Solomon stayed at Kamar-Taj and drew power from the Vishanti, he would inevitably face these situations. Even if he spared them this time, there would be a next time. Solomon had received the finest magical education in the world—perhaps even in the universe. And that had burdened him with inescapable responsibility.

However, Solomon was unwilling to admit one thing: he wanted Barnabas to have an advantage. He didn't dare admit that part of him, just a tiny part, was hoping to fail and retreat. Despite the memories constantly hardening his character, Solomon hadn't held the Stigmata long enough to fully change his soft-hearted nature developed in his previous life.

Perhaps the Supreme Sorcerer had noticed this and assigned this task to him.

A young vampire like Barnabas could be killed by any senior Kamar-Taj official, even without the need for a guardian to intervene. But Solomon's detached, indifferent attitude was too lazy. He needed something to bear, some responsibility to carry. As the Supreme Sorcerer had once said to Mordo, Solomon had to bear certain burdens—not his own pain, but the lightest of the sufferings he would one day face.

This was one of the prices he had to pay for becoming powerful. Barnabas was just a whetstone the Supreme Sorcerer had prepared for Solomon.

"This is none of your concern, Barnabas," Solomon's voice was as cold as his expression. Another half-circle magic array appeared in his hand, his face flickering in the glow of the sparks. No matter what Barnabas thought, Solomon had made his decision. Allowing Barnabas a slight advantage was merely to express the deeply hypocritical guilt in his heart, like offering a white glove before a duel.

"Let's finish this quickly. I don't want to wait any longer," he said.

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