Bright and clean instruments, papers filled with notes, and busy workers all around. Reports moved rapidly from hand to hand, stacking up faster than they could be read, while the air buzzed with urgency.
A huge screen stood in front of them, showing different angles and streets, including satellite views and maps, all focused on one person.
After the Second Herrscher incident, Honkai activity had dropped a lot. Still, Orion Astra was a key figure. His movements should have been tightly monitored. However, because of his massive help in fighting the Second Herrscher, MOTH had no reason to stop him.
Orion's path covered the whole continent—mountains, oceans, crowded cities, and big towns. Wherever he went, MOTH teams were busy collecting data about him.
Who talked to him? What odd things did Orion do during his travels? Even what he ate or where he rested was important to MOTH , which kept track of it all.
MOTH was backed by the world's most powerful leaders. With the Honkai threat looming, it had become the organization to be in. Everyone wanted a piece of the fight—not just for humanity, but for status. A role in MOTH meant influence, connections, and a stronger grip on power.
Honkai research and combat demanded the sharpest minds in biology, physics, engineering, and materials. The industries funding it weren't just helping—they were investing, expecting returns. No one wanted to be left out.
Lately, a rumor spread among the elite: "If a clown mask appears at your door, an opportunity follows."
People whispered about this group, calling them "The Fools." This rumor was especially popular in Skydrift City, where Orion was currently located.
At night, Skydrift City felt completely different. The scent of alcohol and perfume filled the streets, often surprising newcomers. But for locals, it was just normal.
People called Skydrift City the city of night. Neon lights drowned out the stars, and if you didn't check a clock, you'd never know the sun had set. Flashing signs covered every inch of the streets, leaving no room for darkness—only hunger, greed, and those consumed by both.
Power, crime, and money ruled here. By day, celebrities basked in the spotlight; by night, they walked these streets in disguises, indulging in the city's true face.
But in the deepest shadows, something uglier thrived.
Crack!
A whip snapped through the air. In a dimly lit room, thick with sweat and blood, a group of tattooed men surrounded a bound figure. Teeth and crimson drops littered the floor. The man in the chair twitched, barely conscious, his swollen face unrecognizable.
His lips trembled. "Please... I have nothing left."
"Who the hell is this guy, boss?" one of the gangsters asked, cracking his knuckles.
The answer didn't matter. They beating continued—kicks and punches until the man on the ground was barely conscious.
"Spit it out!" A thug spat in his face, seething with anger.
"Boss, are we sure he is the right guy?" a younger gangster asked, shifting nervously. No one wanted to push their leader the wrong way.
"It doesn't matter," the boss growled. "If he knows, he talks. If he doesn't, we make him. We need that info on 'that thing'—or we're the ones getting buried."
The room tensed. Even the gangsters feared their own boss. He didn't tolerate failure, and mistakes ended in body bags.
On a nearby tray, a syringe filled with glowing purple liquid waited. Whatever it was, it promised either answers or agony.
The boss, known for running an illegal bar in this area, was feared by everyone. But when he opened the basement door, he was stunned by what he saw.
Broken bottles littered the floor. It wasn't from drunken fights—something else had happened. There were no customers, no thugs.
Only loud music still playing. His guards, armed with illegal weapons, lay knocked out on the ground. He couldn't believe it—someone had taken them down silently.
"This can't be happening..." the boss muttered, shaking in fear.
He desperately searched the room, but then he froze. In the shadows stood a figure.
"Are you the boss here?" The silver-white eyes of the figure pierced through the boss's mind. His fear made his legs weak, and he wet himself.
"Hey who do you...!"
"Forget it. You don't look like you're important enough to be in charge," the figure said coldly, and with that, the boss fainted, collapsing onto the floor.
Just as Orion was about to open the basement door, a loud explosion blew through the roof of the bar. He was on the first floor, and from the collapsed roof. Smoke filled the air of the bar.
Suddenly, the sound of metal creaking came from the smoke, followed by a loud, dramatic voice.
"Behold! The Great Magician her grand entrance!"