Blackhead, No. 34 — Birgy Police Station, March 28th, 5:00 PM.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The frantic sound of typing echoed throughout the room.
It was a spacious office lined with shelves containing blood samples, forensic records, and other important materials.
At that moment, the door was pushed open, and Lumian and Hargreaves stepped inside.
Hargreaves looked at Derrick, who sat before the computer with his neatly combed brown hair and typed frantically at the keyboard.
"How is it going, Derrick?" Hargreaves asked.
Without looking up, Derrick replied, "It's going well. At least we've managed to collect blood samples from all of the corpses, and everything is being properly recorded. We will also send the reports to the families of the deceased."
Derrick stopped typing and finally looked up at the two of them.
With a quiet sigh, he said, "Almost one hundred and fifty people died in this incident."
"One hundred and fifty," Hargreaves repeated, his voice tinged with sadness. He fell silent briefly before speaking again. "That also means one hundred and fifty children, spouses, and parents left behind. I wonder how their families will cope."
Derrick let out a quiet sigh as he continued typing. "Approximately eighty men and seventy women died," he said. "According to the statistics, the oldest victim was only twenty-nine years old."
Hargreaves sighed once more. "No wonder people are leaving Betyl," he said gravely. "With tragedies like this, more and more will choose to leave."
Derrick gave a final sigh and saved the completed report.
"Are you done?" Hargreaves asked.
Leaning back in his chair, Derrick let out a tired sigh. "Not quite," he replied. "What I've only finished is entering their online reports and saving them before sending them to the Hanged Associates and the government. We still need to complete the manual records."
He turned to Lumian and added, while pulling out a thick hardcover file filled with papers, "Lumian, you'll go and bring the blood samples for the names I call out."
Lumian nodded and explained what had happened in the autopsy room, then asked what would happen to the ongoing investigation.
Derrick thought for a moment before replying solemnly, "This may affect the families who come to claim the bodies for burial. But since the official report already lists it as suicide, and most of the families have not yet seen the corpses, we can attribute the damage as fire caused during the incident."
Hargreaves let out a heavy sigh. "This situation is going to cause a lot of trouble," he said. "And Lumian also reported that the corruption doesn't just kill, it can reanimate the dead into undead afterward."
Derrick shook his head gravely. "We need to move quickly," he said. "Both the field response and the documentation must be completed as soon as possible. Right now, everything is under scrutiny from the churches, the government, and the public. That's why these statistics are critical."
Hargreaves nodded.
Derrick returned to the computer and resumed typing, swiftly sending the compiled information to the churches, the government, and the Hanged Associates.
Once that was done, he opened the physical records and began filling out the thick hardcover register with a pen in his left hand.
After a moment, he glanced at Lumian. "Lumian, go and bring the blood sample labeled Ellison. It won't be difficult, the shelves are arranged alphabetically. Start from 'E' and you'll find it."
Lumian nodded without replying and immediately headed toward the storage shelves.
He scanned the rows carefully, moving along the alphabetized sections until he located the correct sample.
He lifted it gently, handling it with care to avoid damaging it, then carried it back to Derrick.
After receiving the sample, Derrick set it carefully on the desk.
Beside the victim's photograph, there was a designated space on the report form.
Using a small brush, Derrick applied a thin layer of the blood sample onto that section.
Once he was satisfied, he tore off the completed page and placed it inside another sheet made of translucent material.
He then fed it into the printer.
A few minutes later, the machine produced a fresh copy.
Derrick removed the printed document and examined it closely, noting how clean and precise the result was.
Satisfied, he opened a large folder case and filed the report inside.
After that, he returned to his computer, pulled up the information for the next victim, and turned to Lumian once again to request another blood sample.
He received it, and at the same time, Hargreaves let out a tired sigh. "This is really going to take time."
Derrick sighed as well and continued working. Using his Order abilities, an invisible hand helped in some aspect, with it's movements steady and precise. He rapidly completed the forms using his usual method before turning to Lumian again for the next sample.
With that routine established, their efficiency improved significantly.
Within thirty minutes, they had processed about sixty cases.
During that time, Hargreaves gave another weary sigh and walked over to the couch, where he briefly dozed off from exhaustion.
Time continued to pass in the same repetitive rhythm of work.
Roughly twenty-five minutes later, they had completed around one hundred and twenty records.
After another thirty minutes, they finally reached the last case.
Derrick exhaled and gave a small chuckle. "Phew… this is the final one. We're done." He stretched slightly, then added, "Lumian, go and bring the blood sample labeled Hart, H-12. You know what I mean. It's clearly marked."
Lumian looked exhausted, but he still nodded and turned back toward the storage shelves to retrieve it.
When he returned, Derrick took the sample without hesitation and carried out the procedure immediately, without even checking the label.
Same old Derrick… Lumian thought inwardly. Now I understand why he once poured my potion ingredients, and now the blood samples without second-guessing. He must have trusted me that I'll provide the exact result. Though trusting someone you just met, at that time is a little bit extreme.
Just then, Derrick leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied chuckle.
"Done!"
At that moment, the sound seemed to wake Hargreaves.
He quickly stood up, adjusted his clothes, and, surprisingly, looked completely refreshed, as if he had never been asleep at all. His expression was sharp and alert. He turned to Derrick with his cold black eyes.
"You're done?"
Derrick nodded as he rose from his seat.
Without another word, Hargreaves stepped outside and pulled out his phone.
Meanwhile, Derrick, with his neatly combed brown hair, began gathering the folders and organizing them neatly.
Noticing this, Lumian stepped in to help. Together, they arranged the remaining documents into the cupboard and closed it properly.
Once finished, Derrick let out a light chuckle. "I just hope the station actually pays us for this job. Heh… by now I would've been back in the Faculty alchemy room, reading my precious books." With a small smile he added, "And admiring the scenery of potions."
Hearing that, Lumian let out a small chuckle.
...
After ten minutes.
Blackhead, No. 34 — near Birgy Police Station, 6:05 PM.
With the crimson hue of the sky gradually fading and darkness beginning to settle in, Lumian, Hargreaves, and Derrick stood outside the station.
Hargreaves gave a brief nod and waved goodbye to the station captain.
Almost immediately after, a black car pulled up beside the station.
It came to a smooth stop.
One by one, familiar figures stepped out—Rosanne, Vincent, Sharley, and Berlie.
As they exited the car, it remained idling nearby, as there were still more passengers to enter again.
Not wanting to waste time, Hargreaves quickly explained the situation, summarizing everything that had occurred.
Berlie, with her short yellow hair, let out a sigh. "This is truly serious. I heard about the case on the news, but I didn't think much of it at the time. Though I did find the 'suicide' explanation a bit suspicious."
Vincent nodded. "Same here. But Captain, with a situation like this, how are we supposed to stop the cursed arrival?"
Hargreaves, holding a golden box etched with mysterious patterns, the Grey Lander Charm, along with a green dried leaf in his other hand, began explaining the purification plan.
"It's relatively simple," he said. "As long as nothing goes wrong."
Rosanne chuckled softly. "Alright."
Hargreaves gave a short nod in response.
Then, signaling to Lumian, the young Magician stepped forward and ignited a small flame, only the size of a thumb, and placed it onto the dried leaf.
Immediately, a burst of fire and a sharp scent spread outward.
At the same time, Hargreaves handed the Grey Lander Charm to Lumian so he could better stabilize the flame.
Derrick, having collected the other purification ingredients, quickly walked over to the black car, opened it, and carefully placed them inside before returning to the group.
Hargreaves held the flame closer to everyone so the scent could reach them properly.
Meanwhile, Lumian glanced at the Grey Lander Charm and saw fragmented visions of himself performing impossible acts. A faint urge to kill those around him and drift into sleep rose within him.
But he ignored it.
Instead, the corners of his lips curved slightly upward.
Truly remarkable… a restricted charm indeed.
Restricted charms in the faculty are normally called Restricted-1,2,3. And they are very dangerous and not easy to control. Depending on their quality and danger they are grouped as deadly if high, and restricted if lower.
Meanwhile, my own charms are stable, but far less dangerous… more like negative-class FFF-1 charms. Weak, but reliable.
While the weakest of them all are the negative-class FFF-2 charms. They can only be used once or two times.
After a few moments, Hargreaves finally lowered the flame and signaled to Lumian once more.
Lumian created a small sphere of water and extinguished it.
Hargreaves quickly discarded the charred leaf, now reduced to ash, and made his way toward the car.
Lumian sniffed his sleeve and caught the powerful scent clinging to his clothes.
For some reason, the smell was so strong that he felt as if he had been given an entirely new colon.
Shaking off the absurd thought, he walked over to Rosanne, who was just about to enter the car.
With a playful grin, he leaned closer and sniffed theatrically. "You like the smell, don't you?"
Rosanne squinted and smiled. "Like it? I feel like a bundle of smoked paper," she said with a chuckle.
Lumian laughed as well, but his expression soon turned more serious. "Are you afraid?"
"A little," Rosanne admitted as she opened the car door.
Then, with a playful gesture worthy of a gentleman, she said, "Shall we proceed to the purification?"
Lumian chuckled. For a moment, it felt as though Rosanne had read his thoughts, because he had used almost the exact same line on Derrick earlier today.
Still holding the Grey Lander Charm carefully, Lumian stepped into the car.
The others followed, dressed in shirts and coats, their modern attire contrasting sharply with the dangerous ritual awaiting them.
Moments later, the car pulled away and disappeared into the darkening evening.