Doing something absurd was indeed helpful for relaxing the mind and body, even if the consequence was Solomon sleeping on the couch for a whole week and washing his face fifty times a day before Bayonetta would even kiss him. Still, Solomon was content; the witch eventually forgave the idiot who could only respond to his own blunders with a sheepish grin.
After that, he returned to being the highly efficient, utilitarian monarch of the Eternal City—the version of him Victor Von Doom referred to as the responsible figure. To low-ranking internal affairs and intelligence personnel, this was exactly what their monarch was: pragmatic, focused, and powerful. Some who had taken part in the Battle of Finbovent even added a layer of myth to that image—describing him as a golden, radiant giant.
But to high-level administrative staff like Stephanie and her secretary Diana List, especially the women, they often received exquisite little gifts from Solomon. Stephanie believed these to be the by-products of Solomon's magical crafting practice—unfinished enchanted accessories that couldn't be imbued with spells due to some misplaced rune lines. Since there were no dedicated software or printing tools for drawing magical PCBs, and making these trinkets was more of a hobby (like cooking), Solomon didn't take them too seriously.
After all, the materials were cheap—only the gold and silver cost a little.
Constantine, as a member of Solomon's royal guard, knew exactly what had happened that day, though he didn't interfere. His job was to serve the monarch, no matter what Solomon did. That directive was etched into his DNA. He didn't understand Solomon's emotions—gene alchemy had stripped most emotional needs from the royal guard. While they still had individual personalities, only fulfilling their monarch's orders gave them a sense of purpose. As Solomon once joked, fulfilling a mission made them feel like cartoon birds were happily circling their heads and building a nest on their helmets.
After hearing that metaphor, Constantine had sighed deeply. He had no idea what it meant.
Gene alchemy had been adopted to eliminate any possibility of corruption by extradimensional forces. Once it was complete, no magic could influence the royal guards' minds. To beings of extradimensional energy, their souls were like refined vibranium—indestructible. Their spirits had been designed as tireless, durable tools. Trying to corrupt a royal guard was like trying to wash away vibranium atoms one by one with tap water. Achieving this required surviving the extreme physical and psychological torment brought on by gene alchemy—a process only one in ten thousand could endure.
Constantine had personally overseen the pre-op procedures for the children on the candidate list. Even before the actual gene alchemy began, two boys didn't make it through the preparation phase. The Extremis virus kept their genes in a state ready for immediate alteration, but it caused excruciating pain—many adults died from it, let alone children.
Constantine couldn't recall what he'd been like before his transformation, but he believed he was the first successful subject. Solomon had once told him that his survival was "destined." Why Solomon was so certain, Constantine had no idea, and when he asked, Solomon refused to explain.
That was rare. Solomon almost never kept secrets from him. Still, Constantine didn't press. Discovering those secrets wasn't part of his mission.
His current mission was to meet Wanda Maximoff in Los Angeles and check on the Ghost Rider assignment. The Scarlet Witch had been delaying the task for too long—even her master couldn't let it slide any longer. The Eternal City wasn't the Avengers, where tasks were optional; everything followed a strict chain of command. Wanda, apprentice or not, couldn't violate protocol. If she failed or wanted to change the mission, Constantine would continue it himself—he was the immovable will of the monarch.
Still, he brought non-lethal weapons aboard his assault dropship and anti-gravity jet bike.
Things like a high-voltage net gun capable of stunning a full-grown elephant instantly, or gravity weapons derived from dark elf technology that could repel targets and maintain distance. These were experimental models. The Eternal City usually needed lethal force; non-lethal scenarios were rare, like endangered species.
Not everyone was as composed as Constantine. When Stephanie found out the Eternal City's power structure had changed, she nearly fainted from shock. She had no idea why Solomon appointed Victor Von Doom as regent—handing the entire system over to, in her words, "some guy who appeared out of nowhere" whenever Solomon couldn't exercise power. She had assumed she would be chosen. The Malik family had contributed greatly to the development of the Eternal City, and she was Solomon's most trusted aide. This wasn't just a challenge to her authority—it was a threat to her family's standing.
When she stormed into Solomon's office demanding an explanation, he paused his work and invited her to sit on the sofa. He poured her a glass of red wine, motioned for her to take a sip, then sat across from her gently.
"You still haven't shaken off the Malik family's influence. More precisely, your father Gideon Malik's influence."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stephanie frowned, her voice full of resentment. "The Malik family already gave you HYDRA. Isn't that enough to earn your trust?"
"Then would you sacrifice the Malik family for the Eternal City?" Solomon asked softly, raising an eyebrow as he held her hand.
Stephanie seemed to choke on air.
Solomon didn't press further. Instead, he changed seats to sit beside her. "I know it's hard, so your hesitation is understandable. I get it. It's a cruel demand. But understand this—there are no eternal alliances. The Malik family is growing stronger by the day. If they ever find themselves on a path opposing the Eternal City for the sake of profit, you'll have to choose. You'll need to give the order to kill your own kin. You're the Minister of Internal Affairs, not some feudal vassal. It might never happen, but we can't predict the future. I know you, Stephanie. You love your family. But a regent must be ruthless. If you want that job, you're inviting a life of unbearable mental torment. I don't want that for you, Stephanie."
"And Victor Von Doom is ruthless enough?"
"He's a man who stops at nothing. He betrayed Kamar-Taj to search for a way to save his mother. He endured constant assassination attempts until the Sorcerer Supreme intervened. He survived—and that's the point. The Ancient One saw something in him. That's why she didn't kill him," he said. "I need Victor Von Doom. Alright?"
"Alright." Solomon gently placed a hand on her shoulder. With such tenderness, Stephanie couldn't keep arguing about the regency. After all, everything the Malik family had now was because of Solomon. She couldn't defy his decision. "But—" she drew out the word until Solomon met her gaze, "—as long as I live, the Malik family will never betray the Eternal City. I promise you that."
"That's very sweet," Solomon replied with a soft smile, masking the certainty in his eyes. "You can take the day off. Want to watch Constantine's mission livestream with me? Might be a royal guard vs. Ghost Rider showdown. I bet it'll be spectacular."
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