After the flash of lightning, darkness returned to the alley. The boy was clearly terrified. Once his brief impulse had passed and his reason returned, he was stunned by what he had done.
He looked down at the broken half of the screwdriver in his hand, then threw it away as if it were a snake. He backed up quickly until his back hit the wall, then slid down to sit on the ground.
But Hunter was a smart child. He quickly realized he could not linger at a crime scene like this. Scotland Yard had become a gathering place for incompetents after losing Holmes's help a century ago, but too many people had died here. The local Superheroes might take over the case.
Not every Superhero could be reasoned with. It would be bad if he ran into a soldier who could not understand a scholar.
So, once he came to his senses, he climbed to his feet and prepared to run first and worry about everything else later. At the very least, he could not let anyone catch him at the crime scene, right? He needed to take the screwdriver too; it had fingerprints on it.
But by the time he bent down to pick up the screwdriver and looked up again, two people had suddenly appeared in front of him, along with a little cat whose tail was on fire.
"Who are you people?!" He was so frightened that he raised the screwdriver again, trembling like a quail.
Neither of the two answered him. Instead, the cat let out a strange cry, drawing Hunter's attention. When he looked at the cat, their eyes naturally met.
At that instant, he felt as though his soul had been drawn into the vortex within the cat's eyes. The vortex quickly