Arriving behind the house, the three brothers crouched down against the cold brick wall. From inside, the sharp sound of wooden boards being hit echoed faintly catching their attention. Damon instinctively sought a vantage point, sliding toward the window to take a peek.
Through the glass, he caught sight of Mr Watson's head of gray hair, rising stiffly from the floor. His broad frame was bent slightly, as if adjusting something beneath his feet and a hammer hang loosely in his hand as if he'd just driven a nail home.
Knock… Knock… A noise sounded at the door and Mr Watson turned sharply, his gaze fixing on the front entrance.
"Who the hell could that be at this hour…? Can't they just leave me alone" A low, grumble passed his lips before he set the hammer down on the armchair with exaggerated care and moved to answer the door.
"He's here. And he's heading to the front," Damon whispered, ducking back.
"Now's our chance," Vincent murmured. He raised a hand, spiritual energy beginning to gather at his fingertips to shatter the windowpane silently.
"Wait," Henry hissed. "We already loosened it." He bent slightly and retrieved a dagger from his hidden inventory, sliding the blade into the gap. He then wiggled it slowly between the wooden frame and the sill, finding the latch they had compromised hours before. Lastly with gentle lift of his wrist, followed by a careful pull, and the window swung outward without a sound.
The trio moved quickly, slipping through the narrow opening and landing silently on the wooden floor inside. Almost immediately, they could hear Mr Watson's raised voice carrying from the front of the house.
"My Margaret would never… S-She was waiting for Cecil to come home!" The anger in his tone cracked like broken glass, filled with grief and frustration. "And your colleagues are no better! Weeks, and you have nothing! Is my daughter just another file to be buried?"
"Mr. Watson, The Goddess gathers all tears and has seen your family's plight. Please… Come with me. Let us take you to the cathedral on Sanguine Street. You shouldn't be alone in this house, not with this sorrow." Lorelei's voice, was a gentle, steady counterpoint woven with compassion.
However, her words only caused Mr Watson to become apprehensive."The cathedral on Sanguine Street?" Mr. Watson's tone shifted, the grief sharpening into wary confusion. "That's under the authority of the Church of Destined Death. Why would a servant of Olympia send me there?"
"It… I—" Lorelei faltered slightly, her soft tone wavering.
Kruger's deep voice quickly cut in, leaving no room for question. "Mr Watson, your daughter's disappearance was originally under the care of the Church of Olympia, given her devout faith," he explained. "However, following new discoveries relevant to the case, authority over the investigation has been transferred entirely to our congregation."
"What discoveries?" Mr. Watson inquired, desperately clinging to hope. "About Cecil? Is she–?"
"We cannot disclose sensitive information at this time," Kruger's voice did not waiver. "For your own safety, I strongly advise you to follow Lady Lorelei and take the carriage we prepared to the cathedral. Your life may be in immediate danger."
The man hesitated, skepticism warring with caution. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Very well… but give me a minute to grab my coat."
As Mr Watson moved toward the living room, the brothers melted into the shadows behind the kitchen counter. The faint scrape of his steps against the floorboards drew every ounce of their attention. The man's hand found the coat draped over a chair, gripping it firmly before stepping back toward the front door.
He paused briefly, turning to Kruger. "Do what you must in here," Mr. Watson said, his voice now dull and resigned. "But try not to damage the foundation. I just repaired the floor boards."
Kruger inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Understood."
Mr Watson then stepped outside, following Lorelei to the waiting carriage. Damon exhaled sharply, tension leaving his shoulders. "Finally," he muttered, standing. Vincent and Henry mirrored him, rising cautiously.
"Looks like Mr Watson didn't exactly trust the churches much," Vincent remarked, his gaze following the departing man through the front windows.
Upon entering, Kruger calmly scanned the living room with his silver eyes, noting the gloomy spiritual energy left behind and the old family portraits."It is not uncommon for Snobar men to hold hostility toward the Church of Destined Death," he said flatly. "They hold the minority position in the congregations."
Aware of their Snobor lineage, Vincent and Henry exchanged glances, neither responding. Damon, however, felt a spark of curiosity ignite.
"Do either of these churches have rules in place to reduce discrimination among believers?" he asked, voice carrying the faintest edge of challenge.
Kruger's eyes met his briefly before returning ahead. "No," he replied. "They believe the devout should have the freedom to live according to their own beliefs, without interference from authority."
"That sounds like convenient hypocrisy."
Following behind Damon, Vincent gave a skeptical snort. "The churches regulate rituals, jurisdictions, and moral law. Yet you allow prejudice to flourish unchecked. Doesn't that throw the entire idea of 'free will' off balance? It's freedom within a cage of your own design."
Kruger paused mid-step, seemingly contemplating Vincent's words. He then turned towards Vincent and stared into his eyes.
"The churches do not grant free will. It exists, inherently. Our doctrines recognize this." He held up his gloved hand, the sinister devil's face seeming to watch them. "You possess the free will to attempt whatever you desire. That does not mean you should be free from the consequences of those desires. The Church of Destined Death believes in a rule of judgment. For every wrongful action, there is an equivalent consequence. The scale must balance. That is not a cage. It is the architecture of reality."
The group fell into silence as they found the hallway branching off the main living room area, yet Damon's thoughts began spin rapidly with questions as he looked ahead.
'What the hell is this…? Were we caught in an illusion?' his eyes widened as he hesitated to take another step.
Before him wasn't the same four doors and staircase he had seen previously, instead they had been replaced by an even larger space dimly lit with overhead lights and cracked porcelain tiled floors.
But he wasn't the only one who noticed
Henry's heart sank to his stomach as he quickly came to the same realization. An intense sense of dread began to watch over his mind and only a single thought remained.
'We need to leave, Now!!'
As if anticipating this reaction, Vincent immediately grabbed onto Henry's shoulder as he tried to run back and then said. "There's no point running now, we have already been had." He then pointed his finger, directing their gazes behind revealing an endless hallway.
"We must have walked into a trap from the moment we entered the house." Vincent said grimly, summoning his broad sword.
'That's right we aren't alone this time. Vincent and Mr Kruger are strong…well stronger than us at least.' Seeing Kruger and Vincent remain calm, Damon's racing heart slowly began to settle.
But the question remained, could they truly handle the threat.
Before they could sense anything, the creature had somehow shifted, then reconstructed the entire space to its own will and by the time they realized it their escape route had already been closed.
It all happened so fast they couldn't even react.
Such a feat was terrifying to think about.