In the dead of night, only the stray dogs wandering Old Street broke the silence with the occasional bark. A few rats scurried through the sewers, searching for scraps.
Dark clouds blotted out the moon, plunging the entire city into darkness.
Several figures crept up to the Antoine Alchemy Workshop, which had long since shut down. The man in front raised a hand to signal the others to stop, then whispered,
"Make it quick. Don't alert that guy."
The man was Sanderson. Dressed in black with the lower half of his face covered, he carried a package of some kind and walked up to the entrance of the Antoine Alchemy Workshop.
He set the package on the ground and pulled back the black cloth covering it. Beneath was a grayish-black stone with a long fuse attached.
There was no doubt about it: it was an explosive.
This powerful explosive was commonly used to blast through rock and was extremely dangerous. Its inventor, Alfred Yast, had lost his younger brother and the hearing in one ear in an accident during an experiment.
Each of the four men following Sanderson carried two charges. They placed them around the Antoine Alchemy Workshop. The blast would be powerful enough to destroy the entire workshop. Sanderson didn't care whether Antoine survived.
Once everything was in place, Sanderson nodded with satisfaction. He pulled the fuse out toward the shadows nearby, then struck a match and lit it.
Sssss—
The flame raced along the fuse, sparks blazing in the night like a venomous serpent slithering toward the dilapidated house.
A massive explosion erupted. Flames like those of the abyss instantly swallowed the Antoine Alchemy Workshop. The shock wave shattered all manner of potions, which mixed together and triggered an even more violent explosion. Faint screams and cries of agony could be heard as the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Sanderson could almost see it all happening.
But nothing happened.
"Huh?"
Sanderson tilted his head. He watched the dazzling sparks race along the fuse, only to abruptly die out just before reaching the explosive.
A night breeze stirred, driving away the clouds. Moonlight spilled across the ground, and Sanderson finally saw why the flame had gone out.
A foot was planted on the fuse, smothering the sparks. Following the boot upward, he saw a woman in a light blue uniform. Her wheat-colored skin stood out against her pale short hair. She wore leather gloves, with a complex magic circle drawn on the back. It was standard gear for the Magic Crimes Division of the Public Security Department.
"A security officer?"
Sanderson's heart sank. Damn it.
What was a security officer doing here? Had everything been exposed?
He didn't stop to think. He tried to flee, but she was faster.
The security officer strode forward, reaching the alley where Sanderson was hiding at astonishing speed. Several of his men tried to stop her, pulling folding knives from their pockets.
"Hmph. Do you know what it means to draw a weapon in front of a security officer?"
The security officer spoke coldly, clenching her fist as the magic circle on her glove gleamed.
The spell inscribed on the circle was called the Copper Wall of Isaris. It was a second-circle spell, engraved on the gloves, and could be used three times, for five minutes each time. Its effect was to coat the arm in an invisible field of force, powerful enough to deflect even the sharpest blade. It was standard-issue equipment for the Magic Crimes Division.
"Iron Fist Sanction!"
Sheila swung her fist. The knife in the man's hand snapped under the tremendous force almost instantly, and her punch struck him in the chest. In the stillness of the night, the crisp crack of breaking bones rang out. The next moment, a seemingly solid shock wave burst from the point of impact. The man flew backward until he slammed into a wall, then collapsed to the ground, unable to fight back.
In truth, the Copper Wall of Isaris was little more than a lightweight suit of armor. That punch had been entirely the result of the security officer's brute force. But it was more than enough to intimidate the others. The remaining men in black had never seen anything like it, and immediately turned to run.
But Sanderson blocked their way at the other end of the alley. The former thug stared at the other man barring his path, breaking into a cold sweat.
"Sheila, I told you not to get too violent. I'm the one who'll have to write the report afterward."
It was Security Officer Leslie. The scruffy, bearded man held a pipe between his teeth and a flintlock pistol in his hand, keeping Sanderson from daring to make a move.
"No problem, boss. They already drew weapons on me. Under the third supplementary rule of Article 125 of the Public Security Regulations, I was perfectly justified in fighting back."
Sheila took two strides forward and threw a heavy punch, knocking another man down.
"Damn it!"
Sanderson gritted his teeth. With nowhere left to run, he could only risk everything.
He flipped the dagger in his hand and drew on his old street-thug experience, darting toward Leslie and weaving from side to side to evade the pistol.
He knew a flintlock pistol only held one shot and would need time to reload. If he used that opening, Sanderson could overpower Leslie and have a chance to escape.
Bang—
A shot rang out. Sanderson reacted quickly, grabbing a man beside him and using him as a shield. A dull thud followed, and the man crumpled in pain, while Sanderson had already reached Security Officer Leslie.
"Die!"
Sanderson thrust with his dagger, but Leslie remained calm. His left hand, which had been hidden behind his back, revealed a second flintlock pistol.
"Heh. Didn't see that coming, did you?"
Bang—
The bullet struck Sanderson's shoulder, throwing him off balance and sending him tumbling to one side. By then, Sheila had dealt with another man. She rushed over and quickly subdued Sanderson, locking him up with a pair of cast-iron handcuffs.
"Boss, you're still such a tease."
Sheila looked at Leslie's second flintlock pistol and shook her head helplessly.
"That's called catching them off guard."
Leslie twirled the pistol in his hand and holstered it. Then he took the pipe from his mouth and continued,
"Choosing to lie in wait here really paid off. I didn't expect Mr. Antoine's prediction to be right."
He looked coldly at Sanderson, whose mask had been pulled off.
"You're Sanderson from the Pilam Alchemy Workshop, aren't you? I'm arresting you for endangering public security and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent, but everything you say will be used as evidence in court."
Sanderson said nothing. Pain twisted his face, while shock had utterly overwhelmed the young man, who had never experienced anything like this.
"Sheila, go let Mr. Antoine know. I remember he said he'd be staying at Crescent Academy these next few days."
Leslie's words were the final straw. Sanderson's mind roared. Everything he had done that night had been pointless. It had all been a trap, designed to drag him into the abyss.
Buzz—
Sanderson's ears rang, and he promptly passed out.