Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

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Under the soft white glow, Solomon's wound slowly healed. Positive energy worked wonders on external injuries, and within seconds, his wound had stopped bleeding. New flesh began to grow, forming fresh muscles and skin.

"I fear I won't be able to keep my promise, Mr. Barnabas," Solomon said, paying no mind to Elizabeth's shotgun or Victoria's threats. He remained in a kneeling position, speaking calmly. "Unless you let them go now, I won't harm them. Are you going to show yourself, Mr. Vampire?"

His trump card had been kept well hidden, and he still hadn't revealed it. This gave him confidence in threatening the vampire.

It was a decisive move that could end the confrontation quickly, but the collateral damage would be immense. Solomon didn't want to involve the living members of the Collins family—they were merely trying to protect their own loved ones, something he fully understood.

If he were in their position, he might have acted even more extreme. Elizabeth had shown great restraint by only pointing a gun at him rather than immediately blowing his head off.

Elizabeth's earlier shot had hit him only because it was a sneak attack. Now that she was out in the open, Solomon was confident that, even without defensive spells, she wouldn't hit him again.

"Shut up!" Victoria shouted furiously. "You hurt him so badly..."

"Alright, I understand." Solomon opened his eyes and uttered a single syllable. The next moment, he was once again surrounded by silver mist.

"Bang!" Elizabeth fired instantly, but all she hit was a patch of dirt and grass. Solomon had vanished.

"Where is he?!" Carolyn roared. Victoria and Elizabeth frantically scanned their surroundings, while David nervously pointed his gun at the dark, ominous shrubs—a place that filled him with dread, as though something might jump out at any moment.

He was now relieved that he had sent Willy to meet the fire department at the gate. A drunken old man had no place in such a dangerous situation; no one would be foolish enough to give him a gun.

Several moments passed, and just as they thought Solomon had left, a ring of orange-red sparks appeared on the gray stone path behind them. Solomon stepped out of that circle.

David's intuition, as it turned out, wasn't wrong. Solomon had indeed been in the bushes, where he had opened a portal to retrieve something. Now, he held that object in his hand.

It was a bronze round shield with a faint golden sheen. The surface was etched with snake-like scales, and on each side of the shield was a diamond-shaped pattern. At the center of the shield was a sculpted bronze woman's head, her face twisted in extreme agony. From the woman's head grew snakes that extended outward, covering the shield.

Without hesitation, Elizabeth fired her shotgun again. The pellets ricocheted off the shield, sending sparks flying, but no dents appeared on its surface. She fired once more, but even the force of the shotgun couldn't make Solomon budge an inch.

This was the Aegis (Αιγίς), the shield of Zeus, also known as the Shield of Medusa. Regardless of its name or the myths surrounding it, its greatest power came from the head of Medusa. Since being severed by Perseus and later embedded into the shield by Athena, the shield had possessed immense power: anyone who looked upon Medusa's head would turn to stone.

Solomon snapped his fingers, and four bright white orbs began to circle the shield. He bowed his head and silently recited the incantation Athena had taught him.

Unseen to him, the agonized face of Medusa slowly opened its eyes, which moved as though still alive, scanning the surroundings. The snakes on her head wriggled free from the shield, slithering and spitting venom in every direction.

He heard screams and names being called out—Victoria calling for Barnabas, Elizabeth calling for Carolyn, and Carolyn calling for David. The voices overlapped in a chaotic cacophony. But soon, the shouting ceased, though Solomon remained with his head lowered, unmoved. Only after a long pause did he finally lower the shield.

Four intricately detailed stone statues stood in the darkness, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and disbelief. Victoria had tried to lunge at Solomon, Elizabeth had stepped in front of her daughter Carolyn, and Carolyn had pushed David aside, trying to protect him.

But regardless of their actions, anyone who looked upon the shield's Medusa head was irreversibly petrified, including their clothes and even their weapons.

It was a nearly irreversible process.

Unlike the typical petrification spell, not even Dispel Magic could break the curse. Only a Supreme Sorcerer or Athena herself could reverse their state. Otherwise, they would remain statues forever.

It was more of a curse than simple petrification.

When Solomon had taken out the shield, he had hesitated for a moment. After all, the Collins family had done nothing wrong—they were only trying to protect their loved ones. Was this truly the right thing to do? But in the end, he resolved to raise the shield in front of the Collins family, as they now stood in his way.

It was hard to say whether Solomon's thoughts hadn't been influenced by the memories contained within the Stigmata. Ever since accepting those memories, cold, calculating ideas had been seeping into his mind, changing him, pushing him to make decisions that drew him from the comfort of a greenhouse into the blood-soaked battlefield.

For example, at this moment, he abandoned his earlier notion of sparing the Collins family once they attacked him. Now, as long as they stood in his way, he treated them as enemies.

In the past, his mentor had told him that walking this path would come with a price. Back then, he believed the price could be avoided with spell components. But now, he understood that the price wasn't material at all. As his mentor had mentioned, the old wizard who sacrificed his life to save a girl—life for life.

That was the simplest and most brutal price. As a special pupil of his mentor, Solomon knew he would have to sacrifice far more.

So, what is my price? Solomon wondered. Is it my conscience? Or my ability to empathize?

When he tried to explain it to himself, he found his reasoning to be painfully hollow.

In certain contexts, his actions could be seen as a battle between a wizard and an evil vampire.

After all, Barnabas had indeed killed innocents for their blood, and the Collins family had aided him. But even Solomon didn't fully believe that rationale—Barnabas certainly deserved punishment, but the other Collins family members were innocent.

Take David, for example. He was still just a shy kid.

This was a classic moral dilemma.

In the past, Solomon could have stood safely on the shore, commenting on the situation from a distance. But now that he was living it, he realized this might be the hardest thing in the world—because no matter what choice he made, it would be wrong.

To destroy the vampire, he would have to harm the Collins family. To spare the family would mean abandoning his mission to eliminate the vampire.

But having made his decision, there was no room for regret. Now, all he wanted was to hear his mentor's perspective on this matter. As someone who had lived for a thousand years, the Supreme Sorcerer must have faced this kind of situation countless times. Surely she would have a perfect answer to resolve his doubts.

"This was your doing," an icy voice spoke beside Solomon. "Are they dead?"

Solomon quickly discarded his scattered thoughts and turned toward the source of the voice. "Yes." He nodded, his face devoid of emotion. "I did it."

"Why!" For the first time, the vampire, who always prided himself on his composure, lost control of his anger. Barnabas's face was only partially healed, still covered in raw, bloody flesh. His eye socket was scorched from the positive energy Solomon had used in their earlier fight, leaving him partially blinded.

Before, Barnabas had nearly lost consciousness. Only after his eye had fully regenerated and upon hearing Victoria's cries did he manage to stumble out of the house, which hadn't yet been engulfed by the flames.

Solomon didn't respond. But after a few deep breaths, the vampire regained his calm.

"Everything I did was for the Collins family, and yet you've destroyed it," the vampire said, spreading his arms. "Now, you can destroy me too. Go on, raise that shield! Consider this your crowning achievement! Hang that medal on your chest! I'll mock you for it, Solomon. You. Will. Never. Forget. It! Faithless one!"

By the time the firefighters followed old Willy into the manor, all that remained was the burning villa. There was nothing else.

This chapter primarily addresses concerns about differing views. Don't worry, you'll get my explanation in the next chapter.

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