For a brief moment of endless movement, walking around with Klaus, his mind focused more on the place they were going than on the person leading him there.
After a few minutes, both of them were closer to their destination.
Klaus led him straight to where the Black Crow officers had instructed them to meet.
Orin glanced at a rope being tied across a building, the officers dressed like Klaus—their main job was to direct people away from the site, away from the building. At least, it was more like a shop… a store, more precisely.
His mind lingered on the other special officers rather than the people evacuating.
The silly but confident friend of Percy quickly adjusted himself and took position, directing the crowd away from the building. Orin Morvane had no time to play around; now occupying Percy's body, he had to move his legs and follow Klaus's lead.
After a moment of directing the crowd away,
Both took a position at the corner, standing on the left side of the building, while the other officers blocked the entrances.
Inside, the building was even more intimidating. An unsettling dread filled the store, giving the setting an almost tangible weight. Bottles and tiny silver glasses were scattered across long shelves, each one containing eyes—mostly of monsters, some human.
The stench of rotting animal remains clung to the walls. Unsettling symbols were drawn in every corner. Talismans were placed at every edge.
Standing at the corner was a middle-aged man—tall, lean, sharp-looking, slicked-back dark hair streaked with white.
His gaze drifted across the room, taking in the horror: intestines, remains, every creature—or human—turned monstrous by the manuscript, bottled and arranged.
Different human remains filled various bottles.
But what caught his attention most was a bottle of red liquid—and the badge inside.
The unmistakable symbol of the Black Crows—it was impossible to look away.
Black Crow Symbol
A black crow perched on a broken iron key.
(Simple. Recognizable. Ominous.)
With a motto:
"Silence Follows."
At the back corner, a young lady with dark hair pressed herself against the wall, vomiting. What lay in that room was far worse than the store.
On one side, people were tied up, hanging from the ceiling—at least three. Their intestines had been exposed.
The young lady, dressed in a long garment, quickly turned away, wiping the liquid from her mouth.
"Blackwell," she whispered into the air.
The middle-aged man glanced around, then moved to his left, appearing at the doorway of the room.
"Blackwell." Even though the sight was more unsettling, his eyes stayed locked on the badge. His expression did not shift. He wanted to know who the bastard was who did this.
Shifting his head, he looked at the young lady and said—
"I trust you've placed a protective barrier across this store, so that nothing will go outside."
The young lady stared at him, realization dawning. She had forgotten entirely.
She turned, muttering, "Oh… I forgot. This… this is worse than we thought."
Blackwell's eyes didn't leave her. "It's not your fault. This… it's eating me up inside too. Don't worry."
Before he could finish, a soft creak echoed through the room.
The two special officers shifted closer to the table at the center, where the bodies hung from the ceiling.
A tiny box rested on the wooden desk.
They exchanged a glance. Blackwell's voice cut the silence, sharp and tense:
"Was there a wooden desk… or a box here before?"
The young lady spun, scanning the table. She didn't remember either—a detail lost to the horror she had endured.
The creaking stopped abruptly. Silence pressed down like a weight against their chests.
Both Blackwell and the young lady froze. Every instinct screamed that time itself had stopped.
Blackwell, even noticing the shift in presence, was unable to react fast enough.
Every sound of iron and every trace of spiritual gunpowder burst at once from the room, rushing through both of the special officers—inside and out.
Orin Morvane, feeling the shift in the atmosphere, heard the explosion and immediately broke into a run, heading straight into the store. Klaus, surprised, reached out to grab him—but Orin was already inside.
The door slammed open, the bell ringing sharply.
Orin could not allow his only chance to slip away like this. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the broken wristwatch.
His eyes scanned the entire place as he tossed the watch a few feet away from him.
It landed near a table—a skull placed at the center, a candle resting on top of it, and a bottle of salt nearby.
He paused briefly, a grin forming on his face. In his mind, he said, fully packed.
Grabbing the salt, he sprinkled it closer. "Maybe this will work for now… this is all I have," he muttered, turning to search for a lighter, his eyes shifting away from the skull candle.
He had no choice. There was no time to light it. The explosion was already consuming the building—and this wasn't just an ordinary explosion. This was caused by an artifact.
An explosion like this could take the entire Iron Gate City before he could even find the piece of the manuscript he was tracing.
Stepping back from the salt he had thrown near the broken wristwatch,
He pressed his two hands together and whispered words beneath his breath—
Creating different hand signs with speed, he whispered the words briefly, then said out loud:
"The mechanism of heaven and earth… time and space… the slave that does not belong to any era—"
He stopped.
A twitch of his lips, a faint crack in his voice—he had forgotten the rest of the spell.
But just saying the last part he remembered—
"The mechanism of fate and mystery—"
Shifted everything at once. It was like machine parts—iron and steam—locking together, appearing out of nowhere, rewriting time itself.
He smiled faintly. "I just wasted all my spirituality…"
The explosion rewound, pulling back into its origin—the room, the desk, the box on top. Everything snapped into place, clearer than before.
Back to the first shift in atmosphere, Orin Morvane was still in Percy's body, standing close to Klaus.
He muttered under his breath, then looked down at his feet. His eyes were filled with fear—the twitch of his lips, sweat dripping from his chin to the ground.
His fingers shook as he quickly raised his left hand to his stomach, pressing tighter.
"What just happened…" he muttered, followed by, "You cursed bastard, you just wasted—"
Before he could finish, Klaus stopped him.
"What's wrong? Did you see anything?"
Orin shifted his stance and raised his head properly. He placed his hand at the back of his head, scratching it with a small smile—the usual way Percy brushed people off.
"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself."
In his mind, he whispered, Percy… What a bad liar.
Back inside the store, in the room, Blackwell felt the shift in the atmosphere once more, but couldn't piece together what had just happened.
He pulled out a revolver and fired at the box on top of the desk. Wrapping the bullet with his spirituality, the artifact vanished on impact.
The young lady with dark hair quickly turned and said,
"It was just an illusion."