Amid Deathstroke's celebratory tone, Monac knew this 'congratulations' was ironic.
Judging by the dog tags, the deceased were all soldiers of the National Guard. As part of the Invasion Team, killing so many US Army soldiers has complicated matters.
"The command of the National Guard usually rests with each state. This system provided Faust with an opportunity. These anti-toxic masks don't actually prevent toxins; instead, Strangulation found mushroom spores-like substances in the breathing filter."
Su Ming clapped his hands, throwing away his trash. Mushroom spores are invisible to the human eye, and presumably that's how Faust controlled people.
To control so many people, how many years did he prepare to accumulate so many spores?
Now, Monac's expression was stiff, and he was silent.
It's easy to deal with controlled enemies, but bystanders don't care if these troops were controlled or what happened behind the scenes; they only see the result.
That result is the acknowledgment that WWII heroes killed a large number of American citizens.
Indeed, they were previously killing other civilians, but you can subdue them, right? Why use lethal force? That's not democratic!
But the family members of the victims would take a completely different stance, questioning why the heroes didn't kill the controlled people earlier to prevent harm to their loved ones.
This divergence in position, coupled with the differing stances of ordinary people and superheroes, only fosters hate.
Just like Lady Nine-Heads' new code name, Root of Hatred, this hatred implanted in the hearts of the masses makes unity among Americans an empty promise, turning superheroes into public enemies.
Monac felt cold in his limbs, his enemy's plan was too despicable and insidious.
Steve's capture might just be a ruse; if they manage to tie up Captain America, who could unite the army and special agent organization SSR, Hydra's divide-and-conquer plan would be unstoppable.
"Haha, is that panic? This small thing is nothing." Su Ming taunted Monac enough, stood up, clapped his hands to snap him out of it.
"Do you have a solution?" The Magic Prince pinned his hopes on Deathstroke.
"Ah, of course, I do," Su Ming nodded. "Let me ask, what's the main criterion for determining whether a case is murder?"
"You wouldn't..." Monac realized, furrowing his brow.
Su Ming turned away, looking at the street full of bodies. "Exactly, the crucial criterion for a murder case is the presence of a body or evidence sufficient to prove the victim's death, like massive blood loss or scattered vital organs. So now, we just need to destroy all evidence—no bodies, no murder."
"But...I still made a mistake, not identifying the enemy clearly before being ruthless, despite their fierce attacks." Monac instinctively resisted Deathstroke's suggestion, finding it too dark.
These troops wore everyday clothes, had gas masks on their faces, helmets, and even gloves covering their hands tightly, making them indistinguishable in battle.
Of course, he could walk away without any evidence proving he killed these people, but as a hero, he couldn't get past his own moral standards.
This is Hydra's objective—a plan specifically targeting heroes, not villains.
Of course, you can leave, hide the truth from the world, but can you comfortably continue to be a superhero?
Surely Monac wasn't the only superhero rising against them today. If Hydra uses evidence of other heroes slaying US soldiers to coerce them into serving their agenda, what would be the outcome?
Such secrets only turn people darker.
"Oh, another option is fabrication—stamp them all as traitors, proving their collusion with Hydra, marking them as enemies lurking within the country. Thus, their relatives and children would bear the stigma, living out their days amid scorn and denunciation..."
Su Ming leisurely folded his arms, watching as small snowflakes slowly fell from the sky, covering the corpses.
"That won't work either," Monac shook his head, that would just compound the error.
"I really can't help you, come closer, I have one more method," Deathstroke's shoulders sagged as he dejectedly beckoned Monac closer, acting mysteriously.
"What kind of plan is so secretive? Are there surveillance devices around?" Monac looked around, drawing nearer to Su Ming.
"Clang!!!"
Monac collapsed in response, and Su Ming, expressionless, put away the golden flat pan with a sigh.
"Honestly, hanging around Steve too long got him infected? As a mage, how can you possibly stand up to admit your existence?"
Even when the army publicized the Invasion Team, Monac was glossed over to cover up the existence of magic.
It's the truth; in the group photos of the Invasion Team members, Captain America and Baki always dominated the pictures. Namor was always faceless, while Monac posed with a machine gun, looking like an 'ordinary soldier.'
Now, Monac wanted to come forward to admit his mistake; it's simple.
But if people asked how he alone killed so many, making the bodies all die from dehydration?
Can Monac admit he used magic?
If ordinary citizens learned of the existence of the Magic Realm and how magic could effortlessly take lives, society would be practically doomed.
Panic, hysteria, hatred—Su Ming had already seen these emotions over in DC.
Monac wanted to admit his mistake, setting an example for the victim's families, but given the current situation, it's impossible.
Stepping forward to take responsibility is meaningless and would fall into Faust's trap.
As a friend and Supreme Mage, Su Ming must prevent him from making a foolish decision, because although Monac's actions align more with hero standards, this is war, and we must adhere to mercenary methods.
"Cloak, go to the New York Temple and bring Kaecilius."
He removed the Magic Floating Cloak, simply instructing it, and the black cape soon disappeared into the nightfall.
A moment later, a golden circle expanded amidst the street debris, and Kaecilius, young with a hint of malice, emerged respectfully bowing: "Master."
"Help me dispose of these bodies, whether it's Antarctica or outer space, it's up to you—the only condition is no snacking," Su Ming instructed, carrying Monac away.
That face resembling Dr. Lecter suggested to Su Ming that Kaecilius would be especially capable of handling bodies, and be a gourmet, too.
The young mage stood in the snow, face filled with confusion like a Black Man meme, thinking he wasn't a ghoul; the reminder seemed redundant, right?
But orders from the Supreme Mage must be followed.
He drew a large circle on the ground with the Suspended Ring and threw out hundreds of Seralto Red Belts to hook the bodies, tossing them all in.
As for where the teleportation gate led? It was the Endless Void that forever free-falls objects, the safest spot.
With keen insight, he understood the scene as Master Monac inadvertently killing too many, and the Supreme Mage planned to cover it up; Monac disagreed and was knocked out—probably the development.
In Kaecilius' view, guarding Earth and the Magic Realm's secrets is paramount, and the deaths of ordinary people aren't enough to provoke the Magic Prince against the Supreme Mage.
It's hard to understand the thinking patterns of the British, bizarre indeed.
While mind grumbling, Kaecilius quickly performed hand signs, summoning Hellfire from a Lord of Hell, directly covering the street in lava.
Gazing at the steaming, red-lit street left devoid of clues, he smiled satisfactorily, opened the teleportation gate back to the New York Temple, continuing his research.
Dark Magic is indeed useful; more must be learned...