Morning sunlight finally pierced the smog, illuminating District 13. The dilapidated building, having weathered a night of chaos, now stood like an isolated island after a tsunami, surrounded by scattered lubricant, water stains, and blood that hadn't yet dried.

  John Doe stood on the roof, watching the bounty hunters flee in disarray. His hands were still trembling—not from fear, but because the overdose of adrenaline was fading, replaced by a profound exhaustion and a creeping unease.

  "Boss, we won, right?"

  Bone was busy digging a shoe that belonged to who-knows-whom out from between his toe bones. His tone carried a trace of relief at surviving the catastrophe. "Those bastards probably won't dare come back to this building in this lifetime."

  "No."

  John shook his head. The unease grew stronger, like a cold hand squeezing his heart.

  "A man like Moriarty wouldn't play just one card," John said, looking toward the distant community hospital where Margaret had been temporarily settled. "If a frontal assault fails, they attack our... soft underbelly."

  "Soft underbelly?" Grace’s projection flickered. "You mean..."

  "Mom!"

  John spun around violently, skipping the stairs entirely and sliding straight down the drainpipe.

  "Bone! Follow me!"

  The trio sprinted toward the community hospital like lightning.

  The hospital entrance was silent.

  Too silent.

  Usually, at this hour, it would be crowded with elderly people queuing for medicine, and vendors selling breakfast at the door. But now, the gates were wide open, and the inside was empty.

  Only the sign for the [Grant All Requests Clinic - Branch], hand-written by John, lay crookedly on the ground, bearing the clear imprint of a heavy combat boot.

  John rushed into the ward.

  Margaret’s bed was empty.

  The quilt was thrown back, the pillow still holding the indentation of her head. The potted flower on the nightstand had been knocked over, soil spilled across the floor.

  And on the white bedsheet lay a black envelope embossed with the dark pattern of the Necromancy Guild.

  It was even sprayed with cologne.

  John’s fingers trembled as he picked up the envelope.

  Inside was a single note, the handwriting elegant and cruel:

  To Dear Mr. John Doe:

  Your mother has been invited to be a guest at our "Safe House" in the old docks.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Given your astonishing creativity last night, we are very eager to have a face-to-face... in-depth exchange with you.

  Please come alone tonight at midnight. Bring your iPad.

  Friendly reminder: Please do not be late. An elderly person's heart cannot handle the wait.

  — Your faithful friend, M.

  BOOM!

  John felt something explode in his brain.

  The string of reason he had been desperately maintaining finally snapped.

  "How dare they..." John’s voice was terrifyingly low, like a wounded beast growling. "How dare they touch her!!!"

  "Boss!" Bone rushed over, saw the note, and the soul-fire in his sockets instantly turned a violent blood-red. "Those animals! I'll tear them apart! I'll crush Moriarty's bones one by one!"

  Bone lost control. He wasn't human; he was a dead soul. Once controlled by rage, a dead soul becomes a monster capable only of slaughter. One of his hands morphed into a massive bone blade, unconsciously cleaving the metal cabinet next to him in half.

  "Me too!" Grace’s holographic projection turned a blinding crimson, data streams swirling around her like a storm. "I'll hack their life support systems! I'll suffocate them all! I'll make them pay!"

  The rampage of two non-human beings caused the air in the ward to twist and distort.

  "ENOUGH!!!"

  A roar.

  John slammed the envelope onto the table.

  He turned around, looking at his two partners who had lost their minds. His eyes were bloodshot, tears swirling in them, but he held them back with deadly force.

  "Shut up, both of you!"

  John grabbed Bone’s bone blade, uncaring that the sharp edge sliced his palm, blood dripping freely.

  "What do you think you're doing? Going to die? That’s a trap! They are waiting for you to lose control! Waiting for you to turn into monsters so they can exterminate you with justification!"

  "But Boss! That’s Mom!" Bone roared, his voice cracking with a sob.

  "I know that's Mom!" John roared back, tears finally streaming down his face. "She's my mother! I hurt more than you do! I want to kill them right now!"

  "But..."

  John let go, allowing his blood to drip onto the floor.

  He took a deep breath, forcibly dragging himself back from the edge of collapse.

  "Anger won't save people. Only calm can save people."

  He looked at Bone, then at Grace.

  "This is Moriarty's setup. He is forcing me to go crazy. If I go crazy, I lose. If I lose... Mom is truly dead."

  The red light in Bone’s eyes slowly faded, returning to its original ghostly blue. Grace stopped her data storm, reverting to the little girl hugging her keyboard.

  They looked at John.

  This young man, usually the most cowardly, death-fearing wimp, was now the only sober person in the squad.

  "Boss... then what do we do?" Bone asked, his voice low. "We have no money. Merit Points are zero. We can't summon anyone."

  Yes. This was the true despair.

  To save someone, you need combat power.

  But without money, there is no combat power.

  In this dead silence.

  Ding—

  The Yin-Yang iPad John was gripping suddenly emitted a crisp, pleasing notification sound.

  The screen lit up.

  The [Sherlock Holmes Hotline], which had been "Offline," suddenly connected.

  There was no image of Holmes, only a simple text pop-up. The style remained concise and sharp.

  Sender: S.H (Sherlock Holmes)

  To: John Doe

  That old man (Singularity) asked me to pass on a message: Congratulations.

  Although the traps you designed last night were as crude as child's play, under such extreme fear, you did not abandon your teammates, nor did you flee alone. You protected not only yourself but also those neighbors who hadn't paid you a cent.

  In that old man's evaluation system, this unlocks a hidden achievement: [Qualified Leader].

  Attachment: This is a reward from the old man. Don't waste it.

  John tremblingly clicked on the attachment.

  It wasn't Merit Points.

  It was a card glowing with rainbow light, usable only once—

  [God-Tier Summoning Ticket (S-Class Trial Card)]

  [Description: Allows the forced summoning of a Legendary-Tier Heroic Spirit for "Limited Time Combat," ignoring Merit balance.]

  [Duration: 5 Minutes.]

  "Five minutes..."

  John looked at the card.

  Five minutes was too short for a war.

  But for a rescue, maybe it was enough.

  "Bone, Grace."

  John looked up, wiping away his tears. His gaze became colder than ever before—an awakening born of facing death and being driven to a dead end.

  "Pack your things. We're going to the docks."

  "Tell Moriarty... he wants a guest? I'm bringing him... a big one."

  [Message from Singularity]

  VIP Suite for you over on the Patreon Server. We are opening New Rooms (Chapters) for FREE daily. Even better? Select Chapters feature HD Illustrations for the full immersive experience.

  ?? [Enter the VIP Suite]