Chapter 369: Just a Little Trouble

Amid the cheers of a group of Texas rednecks, Solomon downed an entire Depth Charge, leaving only foam in the beer glass. Triumphant, he held the glass aloft, spinning in place to show off his achievement to everyone present. His ability to drink without showing any sign of wobbling had earned him respect in this bar—a reputation he solidified one day by smashing the heads of a few rude men who insulted his mother against a wall. Instead of fear, the rednecks cheered and applauded him.

When it became clear Solomon wasn't about to stumble or fall, the crowd let out disappointed jeers and turned their attention back to their drinks. If this bar ever held a "walk a straight line drunk" contest, Solomon would undoubtedly win. His tolerance for alcohol far surpassed most people on Earth. Even among Kamar-Taj sorcerers, whose bodies were fortified by the power of Vishanti, Solomon was known as one of the best drinkers in the No Doors Bar.

As long as he released his stigmata, alcohol had virtually no effect on him. However, he usually chose not to drink.

Solomon ignored the call from Agent Coulson. He had already provided Coulson with the critical information needed to solve the current problem and trusted that the Level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent could handle it. Coulson had the skills to deal with this situation; the only thing holding him back was his high school diploma. With his capabilities, he could have climbed far higher within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ranks.

Lara Croft, however, had her doubts. To her, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work seemed fascinating. During this whirlwind trip across countries, she discovered things she never imagined, like Randolph being an Asgardian. "You know Thor," she began, suddenly struck by a thought. "If Professor Randolph really is a deserter, what would Asgard do to him?"

"If Asgard finds out, unless he's granted clemency by the All-Father, he'd have to return to face punishment," Solomon replied. "Asgardian civilians are staunchly committed to martial values. They despise deserters and those who break their oaths. If Randolph returned, he'd likely end up in a dungeon. Given that recent events have cleared out many of the cells, they might even place him next to Loki to keep him company."

"Professor Randolph is a good man," Lara said, picking up on the implications in Solomon's words. "When I was a child, he often visited the manor. He was always polite, even when drunk… well, I suppose he was never really drunk. But still, he's done nothing wrong; he just loves Earth."

"Don't worry," Solomon reassured her with a grin. "I've already issued him a certificate on behalf of Kamar-Taj. I'm not going to bother the All-Father over this. Given Asgard's alliance with Kamar-Taj, we can formally recognize Randolph as a special envoy from Asgard. As long as he doesn't have children or contaminate the human gene pool, it's all good."

"Strict rules you've got there."

"Solomon Damonet isn't answering his phone," Simmons said, setting her mobile down before returning her attention to Agent Grant Ward, who was undergoing tests. "We've never studied the physiological effects of someone exposed to the Berserker Staff before. Perhaps we should try something scientific, like sedatives. They could lower your adrenaline levels and make you feel a bit more comfortable."

Ward had encountered Professor Randolph in the Eldvevni Viking ruins near Seville, Spain. Unfortunately, he accidentally touched a piece of the Berserker Staff, unleashing the artifact's magic upon himself. The staff's power exacerbated uncontrollable rage, bringing forth all the buried anger and darkness within its wielder. It exposed these inner shadows mercilessly, like leaving rot to fester in the sun, and made it impossible to ignore.

Fear and fury were the only gifts the Berserker Staff bestowed upon its wielders. Randolph, at least, had managed to free himself from its grip. To him, the youths who found the first fragment were little more than impulsive kids. Their anger would fade, and they'd grow old and die. He didn't see them as much of a problem—even when those same young men found him and took another fragment of the staff.

Randolph barely cared about their intrusion.

It wasn't until Coulson used the professor's hidden identity as leverage that the Asgardian reluctantly agreed to help locate the remaining fragments.

"Maybe we could take a small sample of his fluids or something," Simmons suggested. "That might help us figure out a solution to Ward's condition. If we can avoid using those rune stones, we should. They feel unreliable."

But Ward was determined to handle his problem his own way. Punching a heavy bag was as good an option as any. According to Randolph, the searing pain in his gut and the nearly heart-exploding fury would subside—eventually. In a few decades.

"Decades? Are you saying the effects of the Berserker Staff can last decades?" Lara's eyes widened. "Don't dismiss this so casually. I don't know how you magic types think, but decades are a long time for ordinary humans, Solomon. Can't you step in and do something?"

"The Berserker Staff doesn't have the power to overthrow the world. Its wielders are still vulnerable to bullets," Solomon said, his expression calm, as if he'd stated something completely mundane. "I saw those guys on TV. They're just a bunch of street punks with delusions of godhood. One small fireball could deal with them. If Coulson wants to be cautious and waste a few extra bullets, that's fine too. I prefer cost-effective solutions."

"You're suggesting… killing them?" Lara whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. She sought clarification repeatedly. "I admit they're foolish, but they'll be arrested. S.H.I.E.L.D. will enforce the law. This is a civilized society!"

"Miss Croft, secular laws don't cover everything," Solomon said, his tone heavy with implication. "In the vast ocean of existence, human laws only govern a small rock—barely enough to cover humanity's own island. Outside of this secular society are realms governed by different rules. Most of the time, those rules are Kamar-Taj's laws. We are the stewards of all supernatural forces on the material plane. Human society is still a baby in its cradle."

"That's… harsh."

"If you were stranded on an island inhabited by cannibals, how would you respond?" Solomon posed a philosophical question. "Would you fight back and kill to survive, or extend mercy to intelligent lifeforms? That's your choice. But only the living can debate morality. The dead cannot. The foundation of all good and evil is survival. Only those who live have the luxury of discussing civilization."

"You make a compelling argument," Lara admitted reluctantly. "Maybe I'll read The Case of the Speluncean Explorers. It might offer some perspective."

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