Hillston District, Cragg Club.
It was around four in the afternoon, the perfect ti for tea.
On the spacious, bright first-floor dining room, round tables were arranged in sequence, separated by screens that provided guests with relatively private spaces.
Waiters moved through the restaurant.
The rich aroma of black tea drifted between the seats, accompanied by the crisp sound of cups and saucers clinking and the guests' quiet laughter, creating an exquisite afternoon tea scene.
"Can you tell how your colleague disappeared?"
Klein held his warm teacup and asked the renowned surgeon across from him, Alan Kreiss.
"My colleague's na is Lian Thomas. Last night, he had an ergency surgery added to his schedule at the last minute.
Because of that surgery, he left work several hours later than usual, and by the ti he left, only the on-duty staff remained at the hospital."
Alan wore gold-rimd glasses. He was tall and thin. Though usually sowhat aloof, he now seed anxious.
"At first, we thought Thomas was just running late because he was so tired from last night.
But when noon ca and we still hadn't seen him, even his family ca to the hospital looking for him, saying he never ca ho last night.
That's when we got worried."
"Did you report it to the police?"
Klein asked.
"We did, but the officers at the West Villas Field Station, forgive my bluntness, they didn't seem professional or concerned about Thomas's safety."
Alan answered, his brow furrowing slightly as if recalling sothing unpleasant.
Loen's police force, huh?
Klein couldn't help but smile faintly, then quickly lowered his head and took a sip of tea to cover it. "What did they say?"
"The officers thought Thomas had only been gone one night and it wasn't worth making a fuss over.
They figured he was probably sleeping off a hangover in so bar, or had gone off to 'deepen his relationship' with so lady.
It's ridiculous! Thomas is the most dedicated and disciplined doctor I've ever t. He would never abandon his patients to go off and fool around!"
Dr. Alan rarely showed such emotional intensity.
"Alright, Alan."
Mike the reporter beside them laughed. "Don't get angry. Let's hear what our great detective has to deduce."
Unfortunately, I don't actually deduce things. Divination for finding people, anyone?
Klein grumbled internally.
"Have you searched the route from his ho to the hospital?"
"We have. No one."
"Has he shown any unusual behavior recently?"
"No, everything's been normal."
"What about his financial situation? Has he borrowed money from anyone, or suddenly co into a large sum of unexplained money or anything like that?"
"Nothing like that either."
Alan answered.
Sounds pretty normal...
Klein thought, casually pulling a coin from his pocket with his right hand.
While silently chanting "Thomas is safe right now," he flicked the coin up and let it fall freely into his hand.
"Snap."
The coin landed, and he felt no pull on his spirituality. Perhaps there were just too few known factors.
If he wanted to investigate seriously, he'd need to go to the hospital or Thomas's ho, which could take quite a bit of ti.
The problem was, Klein didn't have much ti right now.
Recently, The Sun needed to use his All-Black Eye to lure out the corrupted investigation team mbers and reveal their true forms, requiring Klein to respond promptly and receive that item back.
Not only that, he'd also asked Miss Justice to help investigate the bookmark among Roselle's exhibits.
It might be hiding a "Blasphemy Card." On top of that, he still had to attend the Eye of Wisdom gathering tonight.
Klein thought it over and decided to be honest.
"I'm very sorry, Alan. I have other cases I'm busy with right now and really can't spare the ti."
He said sincerely.
"I see. Sherlock, you don't need to apologize. I was presumptuous." After hearing this, Alan showed a hint of disappointnt.
"I should have realized that a famous detective like you would have many commissions."
You're giving too much credit. I just happen to have a pile of things going on.
Klein thought to himself, then said to Alan, "How about this: if the police really can't help you, I'll introduce you to other reliable detectives."
Isengard Stanton, Stuart... I do have so connections in this circle.
"Alright, thank you very much."
After hearing this, Alan relaxed a bit.
So Klein gave him Isengard Stanton's contact information. After that, they chatted for a while before Klein made an excuse and left.
The Sun had sent word that corrupted followers had already co knocking, and conflict could break out at any mont.
---
City of Silver.
"What is that thing on you?!"
"What is that thing on you?!"
A gloomy, crazed voice echoed through Derrick's room.
He watched in shock as his forr friend Darc beca increasingly inhuman and showed extre interest in the item carrying the True Creator's aura in his hand.
"Give it to !"
Countless bloody tendrils burst from Darc's body, making him look like a porcupine of flesh and blood.
He had completely lost his humanity, consud only by intense greed for that black eye.
"Boom!"
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era..."
Derrick swung his axe down.
Lightning accompanied the strike, slashing into Darc's twisted body and stopping his movent.
Seizing the opportunity, Derrick began reciting Mr. Fool's honorific na in a low voice, followed by other incantations.
"...I pray for you to accept his offering..."
Whoosh!
An invisible wind swept through the room as the sacrificial door opened.
He had successfully made Darc reveal his corrupted true state. Now, before being stopped, he needed to quickly return the All-Black Eye through Mr. Fool!
"Stop!"
From a hidden corner, the observer secretly watching all of this hadn't had ti to intervene before Derrick successfully sacrificed the item.
"Swish, swish!"
Dark shadows turned liquid, separately enveloping both Darc, who had beco a flesh porcupine, and Derrick.
Seeing the sacrifice successfully completed, the observer seed sowhat angry.
He quickly restrained both of them, then rushed toward the area where the City of Silver's Chief was located, intending to report what had just happened!
On the dark street, he moved at flying speed. Thunder occasionally rumbled in the sky overhead, intermittently illuminating the road.
However, what this observer didn't know was that within his shadow's enclosure, Darc, who had transford into a monster, was still active.
Within the shadows, Darc's entire body had mutated into flesh, with only his head remaining intact. He opened his mouth and recited in a low voice:
"The Lord who created everything..."
That was the True Creator's honorific na!
"Lord, please accept your humble servant's sacrifice..."
As Darc said this, blood began flowing simultaneously from his nose and ears, followed by grayish-white fluid.
At the sa ti, an invisible force began to erge, transmitting his mories—all the scenes he had just witnessed and the prayer words he'd heard Derrick speak—to an unknown existence.
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