Watching the Sapphire Robin slowly fly away, Iver merely revealed a carefree smile.
Iver was no longer as afraid of Professor Moriarty as he had been.
--That was how intelligence warfare worked: calm on the surface, yet perilous underneath.
A mere choice of wording could allow a keen hunter to tear open such a massive flaw; a mere information gap in a single sentence could instantly reverse the balance of power between two people.
Although "knowledge was poison"... from another perspective, cognition itself was also power.
In a sense, "intelligence" was an extremely dangerous and twisted mystical ability--on one hand, it could let someone seize the initiative at every turn, exploit others without a trace, see through their weaknesses, and leave them dizzy with fear while unable to even find the enemy's whereabouts; but on the other hand, relying too heavily on that power would poison the mind and make one arrogant. It would also bind one's hands and gradually erode one's courage, eventually turning back to bite its master.
The instant Iver saw through the weakness in Professor Moriarty's intelligence, a powerful premonition immediately arose in his heart: I feel like I can control him and use him.
"...I mustn't become the next James."
He muttered under his breath, warning himself.
Although he had imitated his adoptive father since childhood, Iver had discovered that the older he grew, the more he resembled him. His habits, temperament, and style were all gradually drifting in that direction.
Toward his adoptive father, he now felt respect, pity, and wariness.
Although it could not be called hatred, the Professor was undoubtedly Iver's greatest enemy--if there were a button that could kill Professor Moriarty when pressed, Iver would push it immediately.
--Because the Professor really would attack the people around Iver. And since Iver