Three major power systems formed the cornerstone of the supernatural forces that had influenced Europa for millennia: Divine Arts, rooted in faith and piety; Thaumaturgy, derived from one's innate talent; and the Arcane Curses employed by non-human entities.
Even though the tide of the Enlightenment and the roar of the steam engine had signaled the end of the age of myths and miracles, their remnants continued to stir up trouble within Great Britain. MI6 was born specifically to deal with them.
"Fourth lock-on..."
Lemuen silently kept track of the time in her head. She tapped away at an instrument resembling a typewriter, its rhythmic clack-clack-clack echoing sharply within the cramped, sealed darkness of the room.
Six years ago, Princess Isalina had reorganized the centuries-old Royal Bureau of Mystery into MI6. As the Empire's highest intelligence agency, it reported directly to Queen Victoria, tasked with both overseas infiltration and domestic suppression. Under MI6's relentless crackdown, those "rats" who used the supernatural to commit crimes had almost entirely vanished in recent years—except for one man.
"The Shadow of the Foggy City..."
Lemuen felt her lips grow dry. She licked her red lips, an excited light dancing in her golden eyes. Beneath her black gloves, her fingers rubbed together in a nervous, subconscious twitch. She was the one who had come up with that codename.
From what was known, the Shadow of the Foggy City could travel freely through shadows and even commanded a demon. Unlike other criminals, he made a point of notifying Scotland Yard of his objective before every hit. This flair for the dramatic had made the Shadow an undisputed legend and an icon in the criminal underworld. Since the founding of MI6, the Shadow had shifted the recipient of his notices from Scotland Yard to them.
Lemuen had been investigating this opponent for two years. In that time, he had already outlasted nine of her predecessors.
"The Shadow hasn't struck for two years. Why did he suddenly appear today?" Lemuen mused. She admitted that the Shadow was a formidable foe, but as the youngest director of MI6's Special Operations Department, she had been determined to apprehend him since the day she took office.
"Found him!" The detector technician beside her threw an excited punch into the air. "We finally found him!"
Lemuen looked over. "Where?"
The technician's smile slowly faded. His face turned deathly pale, and his lips trembled. "At... at Buckingham Palace."
"What did you say?" Lemuen's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
"I'm certain, ma'am. The Shadow's destination is Buckingham Palace."
Buckingham Palace was the lifeblood of all Great Britain. It boasted the world's most elite defenses; the anti-detection systems alone were enough to give anyone a hard time. Lemuen wasn't worried about the Queen's safety—she was simply shocked that someone actually had the guts to go there and seek their own death.
"The Queen is currently on a tour of Scotland... and I know him. The Shadow's target definitely isn't the Royal Family."
Lemuen picked up the telephone. "This is Lemuen from MI6. This is an emergency. Are there any special arrangements at Buckingham Palace tonight?"
"Tonight, Her Highness Princess Isalina has an appointment with Mr. Bruce Wayne to discuss investments for a new factory."
"Thank you. There is a high probability that the Shadow of the Foggy City will raid Buckingham Palace. Please be prepared." Lemuen hung up. Bruce Wayne, the second wealthiest factory owner in the Greater London area, fit the Shadow's target profile perfectly.
Twenty-eight minutes... Even if they rushed now, it would take at least half an hour to get there. Lemuen gave the order: "Connect to the decoy line in Bruce's carriage."
Inside the carriage, Bruce picked up the phone with a mix of confusion and suspicion.
"Hello, Mr. Wayne. This is MI6. Please do not panic; MI6 will ensure your safety. We have learned that a specific criminal has targeted you. You must reach Buckingham Palace as quickly as possible. Avoid staying in shadowed areas at all costs. You will be safe in twenty-six minutes."
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My : https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Stop arresting me, Miss Holmes (40 Chapters, Ongoing)
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Bruce hung up, his hands shaking as he lit a cigar. Who wanted him dead? Bruce thought of the workers who had stood up for the strikes; he wished he could fire every last one of them right now.
"There's no need to be upset over this, Master. They're just a bunch of stupid pigs," the driver said, glancing in the rearview mirror. Suddenly, he felt as though a patch of shadow had twitched.
The carriage slowed down. The golden splendor of Buckingham Palace was already visible in the distance. Two Redcoats stood guard at the main gate.
"It looks like your business deal will be settled very soon," the driver smiled.
BOOM—
A massive explosion sent shards of glass flying. The shockwave hurled Bruce from the carriage, slamming him hard into a flowerbed. Through the ringing in his ears, Bruce saw his butler—or rather, the half of his butler that was left.
A pair of legs appeared in his field of vision. A young man whose face was obscured by total darkness checked his pocket watch. "Three minutes left. I have more time than I thought. I told you, Mr. Bruce Wayne—the wicked eventually meet their retribution."
"So it's you," Bruce snarled, his mouth stained red with blood. He looked at the Royal Guards rushing toward them and laughed hideously. "You stupid pig! You're finished!"
Countless searchlights converged on Luomiu's face, leaving no place for shadows to hide.
"Report! The Royal Guard has neutralized the Shadow of the Foggy City!" The technician jumped up in excitement.
"Well done!" Lemuen clenched her fist. "How is Bruce?"
"He was decapitated by the Shadow. The body has disappeared."
Lemuen felt a flash of regret, but the joy of capturing the Shadow overwhelmed it. But just then, the technician froze as he hung up another phone call.
"Ma'am... Her Highness Princess Isalina has personally ordered... the termination of this operation."
Lemuen was stunned. "How is that possible...?"
At that moment, the telephone line reserved exclusively for the "Shadow of the Foggy City" rang again.
On the other end, Luomiu was leaning back comfortably on his sofa, sipping a cup of coffee. He spoke into the receiver: "Britain's waters run deep, Director. You're out of your depth. Come by Buckingham Palace sometime and I'll buy you a coffee—I like mine with sugar, of course."
He hung up the phone.
Creak. The door pushed open. Sherlock walked in, carrying a bag of groceries and looking thoroughly annoyed. "Who were you talking to?"
"Nobody important. Good heavens, Miss Sherlock, you know Inspector Renault has a phobia of vegetarians. Why did you buy all this green..."
"Where was I supposed to buy meat at this hour?" Sherlock looked at him with utter disdain.
"It's fine. I already had my staff pre-order some pork; it should be delivered shortly." Luomiu gave a mysterious smile. "Oh, it's 'Little Sa.' You know him."
It seemed Inspector Renault might be working overtime until dawn tonight after all.