In the midst of this storm-like cognitive interference...
Charlotte's vision could no longer focus.
But within those bizarre, twisted patches of color, only her mother's shadow appeared so clear.
It emitted a faint blue halo.
It was as if she had never been laid to rest beneath the earth.
However.
The last sliver of Charlotte's sanity was frantically ringing alarm bells in the depths of her mind.
That was not her mother.
That was Victoria!
The blonde girl who had been drawn by an unknown force and fallen into a trance.
Charlotte didn't know what had suddenly happened.
The surrounding world seemed to have completely collapsed.
It was as if an abyss called death was pulling at her.
The foul stench in the air continued to spread.
The night wind disrupted the rhythm of the tree shadows swaying on the ground.
Under the dim gaslight, they looked like demons.
Her vision blurred even further.
Charlotte could hardly tell.
Whether this was due to that sudden evil force...
Or her own tears.
Charlotte's consciousness was like a small boat in a sea tide.
Floating and sinking as it was swallowed by this massive wave.
The sensation in her limbs was being stripped away bit by bit.
Finally.
She felt something cold slowly climb onto her cheek.
That touch.
It felt like a waking dream.
On that face wearing her mother's features, a kind smile appeared.
"Mother" reached out both hands.
Gently, she cupped Charlotte's cheeks.
They were bone-chillingly cold.
“Lottie.”
The voice rang directly in Charlotte's mind.
Accompanied by a distant echo.
“Always stay strong.”
This was the teaching her mother had most often given her when she was alive.
Charlotte's heart suddenly throbbed with pain.
“Always...”
Listening to "Mother's" murmurs.
The strength in Charlotte's bones seemed to be sucked away instantly.
She lost all power.
Her body lost all points of support.
Like a broken marionette, she collapsed completely beside Victoria.
“Always maintain...”
The voice continued.
But the tone was quietly changing; the original kindness faded, replaced by a mechanical, icy fanaticism.
“...your spirituality.”
Mother...
She never said things like that...
This was the last clear thought that surfaced in her mind.
But it was already too late.
An invisible darkness surged forward like a tide.
Charlotte's consciousness was completely swallowed, falling into an endless dark.
...
On the other side.
At the sewer exit in the western outskirts of Hope County.
Ms. Cecil led her remaining subordinates, supporting one another.
They finally emerged from that cramped passage that had grown narrower as they went.
She tilted her head back and took a deep breath of the air, which was free of the scent of blood.
It felt like finally returning to the civilized world.
Above them, though the Spark Festival fireworks had ceased, the night sky remained clear.
At this moment.
Without exception, everyone had injuries on their faces and bodies.
Their uniforms were torn, and blood was mixed with sewer filth, leaving them in a wretched state.
The sound of heavy breathing permeated the team.
Recalling the journey they had just taken.
Cecil's gaze instantly turned cold.
She couldn't help but grit her teeth.
Her fingers tightly gripped the weapon in her hand.
Because.
Just as their small group had left that empty Temple of Slaughter.
Right after entering this narrow passage leading to the West District.
They had run headlong into big trouble.
It was a group of Mist Veil Society members up ahead.
She didn't know what they were waiting for.
But the moment they saw the people from the Seventh Agency emerge from the dark passage.
To a man, their faces showed expressions of surprise.
That look of having seen a ghost.
It was as if they had never expected anyone from the Seventh Agency to appear here.
But surprise or not.
The slaughter did not stop because of this displacement.
The moment the two sides made contact.
Intense concentrated fire erupted instantly.
In the narrow passage, bullets ricocheted wildly off the stone walls, and the light from spells was so blinding one could not open their eyes.
Facing the cultists who had the advantage in numbers.
Ms. Cecil held nothing back.
She directly pulled out her metronome.
With the rhythmic swinging of the metronome's needle.
The movements of all the Mist Veil Society members were frozen, like lambs to the slaughter.
Although.
There were no lack of tough characters in the enemy ranks.
There were still a few desperate outlaws who decisively raised their weapons and pierced their own eardrums.
Using this method of self-mutilation.
They cut off the sound and freed themselves from the metronome's rhythmic resonance.
However.
Most of the cultists who didn't self-mutilate in time died under the Seventh Agency's ruthless volley of fire.
Bodies fell all over the ground, and blood stained the wastewater red.
The remaining few cultists resisted to the death.
At most, they only managed to give the Seventh Agency members some minor wounds.
At the cost of some flesh wounds, the enemies were finally cleared out completely.
But it was predictable.
Fighting in a passage where it was difficult even to turn around.
Stray bullets and blindly swung blades were impossible to guard against entirely.
No matter how excellent an investigator was, they couldn't emerge completely unscathed; they would always get a few nicks.
Ms. Cecil touched the long, thin cut on her arm that was still seeping blood.
The stinging pain from the wound made her mind even clearer.
Even after leaving the underground and seeing the sky again.
Ms. Cecil's brow had not relaxed once.
While leading the team on a forced march toward the convent, she frantically replayed the events in her mind.
She was constantly thinking.
Why had the situation spiraled out of control to the point where they were now being attacked from both sides?
It was as if they were being led by the nose, stepping into a pre-set labyrinth one step at a time.
At its root.
The reason was obvious.
The main cause was that their entire Seventh Agency had collectively misjudged the importance of the Golden Rose Hotel lead!
That was the culprit that led to the dispersal of their forces and the lag in intelligence.
Of course.
She didn't know yet what that charlatan-like man in black...
Actually meant by the "great gift" he said he left at the convent.
But no matter how important or dangerous this "great gift" was.
For the current case.
The stolen Soul Pendulum was the primary target to pursue.
That was the core.
And the chaotic battle in the passage now.
Was clearly planned by the man in black to defeat them one by one.
The map of the sewers had been pulled from the agency's archives.
It was exactly the same as the map of the cultist hideout.
So there was no possibility of using a map in the hideout to lead them astray.
In other words.
That man in black hiding in the shadows, and the power behind him.
Had completely predicted the entire course of events.
They had exploited human nature.
The problem was.
How did they do it?
Who was pushing things from the inside?
Ms. Cecil's pace slowed by half a beat.
She recalled that the reason Branch Manager Guardian had personally led the team to pursue the hotel lead.
The key turning point was.
When they discovered that inconspicuous mystery lock fragment in the folds of the hotel room curtains.
Originally, Ms. Cecil felt this matter felt suspicious.
It looked too much like a tactic the enemy had deliberately left behind to confuse their vision.
But because Branch Manager Guardian was swift and decisive at the time and had already led the team into the depths of the sewers for a field investigation.
The arrow was already on the string.
As a special envoy, she couldn't easily divert the entire branch's investigation direction without solid evidence.
And.
What was more fatal was.
According to the stolen top-secret documents.
That Soul Pendulum was originally kept together with those key documents.
In the same document box.
They shared the same origin.
This clue was like a chicken rib.
Tasteless to eat, yet a pity to discard.
Throwing it away meant risking missing something crucial, but following it felt like a trap.
The Seventh Agency couldn't just ignore it; they could only be led by the nose.
Looking back now.
The parchment the man in black gave at the underground altar.
Did indeed record the Fifth Element buried at the bottom of Moon Bay.
And that parchment.
Was indeed confirmed to be part of that batch of top-secret documents transported by the confidential carriage.
This thing couldn't be faked.
To be sure.
This clue was extremely valuable—valuable enough to alarm a Saint.
But for the current case centered on recovering the pendulum.
It was a completely meaningless distraction!
This was a perfect cognitive smokescreen.
Using a larger secret to cover their true intention of seizing the pendulum.
Ms. Cecil stopped her steps.
Suddenly, it was as if she had been struck by lightning.
A cold flash of inspiration instantly sliced through her brain.
Clearing away all the mist.
The fragment in the curtain folds.
The timely appearance of the clue.
The precise delivery of intelligence.
The person who had been trying to guide her in the shadows, and who ultimately succeeded in guiding Manager Guardian.
From beginning to end, there was only one person.
That Scale One rookie—
Luke Jone.
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