Chapter 387 The experience of mortals (second update)

Designing weapons and developing new technologies is very time-consuming. Stark sold a large number of weapon production lines, and the remaining production lines have to be modified to produce what Salomon wants, and the output is not high. Salomon gave Stark the Asgard's Centurion Seiko sword as one of the rewards. Although the sword was bent by the cursed warrior, the energy field energy generator on it was intact.

He wants Stark to replicate this energy field generator, and Salomon will also join it as a research and development participant. It is precisely because of this thing that Asgard's melee weapons are invincible.

Asgardians don't like ranged weapons (although they are equipped), and they think that a good battle is only when the blood of the enemy is sprayed on them. Only a melee weapon that is powerful enough can allow those Asgardian men who are strong enough to fight interstellar gangs to enjoy the battle. The empire with the most martial arts in the universe is not in vain. Although the emperor of this empire is now eating healthy salad in the Finnish countryside, Odin, who has put down his burden, does not hide his picky eater at all. A diet that can lead to high blood pressure and high blood lipids in humans is not a big deal for the Aesir. The queen Frigg just doesn't like Odin's beer belly.

His Holiness' vision of making Earthlings as powerful as Asgardians still has a long way to go.

This is the first step, starting with analyzing the weapons of the Asgardians.

"I assure you, the energy force field generator of the Asgardians is a 100% technological creation, without any magic." Salomon blinked. Although he also liked the smell of the cutting machine after it was turned on, he wanted to avoid the blue metallic fumes that filled the air and rushed down his nose and into his brain. He stepped back a few steps, pointed to the golden sword of the Centurion's Seiko sword and said, "This is your strong point, Stark."

"I know, I know." Stark stood up, slammed aside, and put on his favorite armor with a thud. He couldn't wait to see the inner workings of that power generator, but it had no screws. The excellent alloy blunted the blade of the cutting machine, and the blue smoke rose, choking Salomon to cough. This made Stark both annoyed that he had done nothing, and delighted that it proved that the sword had a lot of technology to discover.

The sword was not forged by the dwarves, the dwarves were only responsible for forging the weapons and armor of the royal family.

There is no suitable equipment here, and Stark can only use the laser generator installed on the arm of the armor to cut it by hand. As a senior fitter, he is confident that he will not damage the internal structure. "I can judge the thickness of the alloy through flaw detection, and then estimate the appropriate laser power based on parameters such as hardness." He raised his head triumphantly, like a kindergarten boy with a red face showing off toys to his friends. Salomon believed that Stark had done this when he was a child.

"Most of the credit for that goes to my extensive experience."

"Of course, sir." Jarvis offered a well-timed flattery. "Would you like a Coke, Mr. Damonette?"

"Of course, thank you very much." Salomon took the cup from the dumb robot arm, and the cold liquid soothed his alcohol-burned stomach very well. He felt that the hot breath he exhaled was full of alcohol, and the laser might ignite the air later. "I've often wondered, Stark. Will you one day have a whim and transform your body into a machine."

Stark didn't put on his helmet, and his eyes seemed to say that Salomon's idea was very absurd. "I'm not that crazy yet, boy," he said. "I don't want to turn myself into a bunch of metal and plumbing. That's crazy."

"That's good, so I can pay less copyright fees." Salomon was very happy to see Stark's attitude towards death.

"Aren't you going to stay for dinner?" Stark changed the subject. "Pepper will definitely welcome you. Your trick of conjuring flowers last time was very good, but it didn't take long for the flowers to disappear from the vase. I saw them disintegrate into air. Pepper wants some magic bouquets, can you do it?"

"Of course, but I still can't stay for dinner." Salomon said, "I didn't eat lunch, and I relied on black tea to support myself. My girlfriend doesn't like the dishes made by the artificial maid. I think I have to go back to New York and go home to prepare dinner."

"Look at you, Salomon, look at you." Stark waved his hands, wrinkled his face, and said in a very slobbering, hateful tone, "Master of magic, master of swordsmanship, silver knight, polymath. Can't you see that we are doing extremely important work now? Can a dinner with a girlfriend be more important than this?"

"Whether it's a master of magic, a master of swordsman, or a silver knight, a polymath eats, shits, and sleeps, Stark," Salomon said with a smile, "and washes the dishes and clothes. Although these tasks are now done by my maid, but before that, I did these things with my own hands, using magic. This is mortals. Mortals need families. I like doing these things because I want to remind myself that I am a human being. It is important. It is important to everyone."

"I don't understand what you're saying, but one more thing... you really don't need to send your Aston Martin here for modification? I'll tell you the truth, all my cars have been modified, and you can't be a man without learning the craft."

"Ah, forget it. I don't like the feeling of oily hands. This is an American craft, not British, let alone Jewish."

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"You should get a good night's sleep, dear. Reading too much magic will make you tired, I can almost hear the sound of your joints rubbing." Beunita stuffed the toasted croutons into her mouth, watching Salomon sit at the table under the service of the maid. She stretched out her hand and pinched Salomon's face, then sniffed it under her nose. "Very well, at least no one kisses your face today." She said happily, "You get a reward tonight."

Salomon smiled. The reason why he was so tired was because he had gone over Randolph Carter's notes alone, and the dark and profane magic tormented his spirit. He wanted to find information about the mark Yog-Sothoth left on him.

"You'd better let him sleep well, Teresa." Joan fiddled with the knife and fork dissatisfiedly, waiting for the android maid to bring the dinner. "Yesterday you were sleeping in the middle, and I heard your little movements in the middle of the night." The witch with long white hair glared at Salomon, who was smiling foolishly, "I also heard him chanting spells! Do you all use magic when you do that kind of thing?"

"Is there any problem with this? We are witches, and he is a wizard." Bayoneta fought back boldly. She put the crouton under the nose of the curious Cheshire cat, and hugged the familiar into her arms before the cat jumped off the table in disgust. "I have to say, those magics gave me a good experience, if only all the magics could make me so comfortable."

"Theresa!"

"Meow!"

Bayunita leaned across the table, raised Salomon's chin with her fingers, and kissed him on the lips. At the same time, she squinted her eyes and looked at Joan with provocative eyes. However, Joan didn't jump up from the chair as she expected. The long white-haired witch lowered her head and pretended not to see it, but the sound of the knife and fork scribbling on the empty dinner plate already showed her mood.

"Okay, you shy little cutie~" Bayonetta smacked her lips and whispered a few words in Salomon's ear. Salomon's eyes still couldn't leave this extremely beautiful woman for a second, the temptation of Bayonetta in translucent black pajamas was too great for him. "And you, my little sweetheart, do you want a reward?"

"What do you say?"

Ask for a ticket!