Chapter 23: The Fog of Londinium
The transition from the neon-soaked skies of Oakhaven to the charcoal-grey mist of London was more than just a change in geography; it was a descent into history. As the private Sterling jet broke through the thick, low-hanging clouds over the Thames, the city below appeared as a labyrinth of Victorian brick and modern glass, a place where ancient secrets were buried beneath layers of global finance.
I sat in the plush leather seat of the cabin, my eyes closed, but I wasn't sleeping. Through the [Global Network] I had recently unlocked, I could feel the city breathing. Unlike Oakhaven, which felt like a raw, bleeding wound, London felt like an old, sleeping dragon. Its desires were subtle—tempered by centuries of tradition and a cold, British reserve.
[System Notification: Regional Scan Initiated]
[Location: London, UK]
[Host Detected: The Alchemist (Rank 3)]
[Aura Signature: Mercury-Gold / Transmutation Logic]
"You've been silent for six hours, Fang," Elena said, her voice soft against the hum of the engines. She was sitting across from me, a tablet in her lap, her eyes reflecting the data-streams of the Sterling acquisition of a major London bank. She had become my shield in the daylight world, while I became the sword in the night.
"I'm listening to the city, Elena," I replied, opening my eyes. The silver rings within my pupils pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light. "The host here... he's not like Zhao. Zhao wanted to suppress the city. This one—The Alchemist—he's transforming it. He's turning the very air of London into a catalyst for his system."
The plane touched down at a private airfield. We weren't greeted by the usual entourage of bankers. Instead, standing on the tarmac was a single man in a tailored tweed suit, holding a silver-tipped umbrella. His aura was a shimmering, liquid gold that flowed like mercury around his feet.
[Aura Perception: Alistair Thorne (The Alchemist)]
[Threat Level: HIGH]
[Current Desire: Intellectual Stimulation]
I stepped off the plane, the damp London air clinging to my coat like a wet shroud. Isabella followed closely behind, her hand resting on the hilt of a concealed dagger, her violet eyes scanning the perimeter for 'Silent Sisters' or their British equivalents.
"Welcome to the Old World, Mr. Li," Alistair Thorne said, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey. He didn't bow; he didn't move. He simply watched me with a gaze that felt like it was trying to dismantle my molecular structure. "I must say, your performance in Oakhaven was rather... loud. The Consensus usually prefers a more surgical approach."
"I've never been a fan of surgery, Alistair," I said, walking toward him until we were just a few feet apart. The ground between us seemed to vibrate, the blue sparks of my [Sovereign's Authority] clashing with the gold mist of his [Transmutation Logic]. "I prefer a complete renovation."
Alistair chuckled, a cold, dry sound. "A renovator. How quaint. But London is not a house of cards like Oakhaven. It is built on the bones of empires. You'll find that here, desire is not just something you inject... it's something you brew, over centuries."
He gestured toward a vintage Rolls-Royce waiting at the edge of the runway. "The First Apostle told us you were coming. He described you as a 'stain' on the logic. I, however, see you as a rare element. I'm curious to see what happens when you're exposed to a superior catalyst."
[Warning: Environmental Manipulation Detected!]
[The air within a 5-meter radius is being converted into 'Gaseous Lead'!]
I felt the weight of the air suddenly triple. Every breath felt like inhaling liquid metal. My lungs burned, and the [Sovereign's Body] struggled to filter out the toxins. Beside me, Elena and Isabella began to cough, their faces turning a deathly pale.
"System," I roared in my mind, my silver eyes flaring. "Counter-act! Use [Desire Overload] on the atmosphere! Turn their 'Lead' into 'Will'!"
[Cost: 500 DP]
[Atmospheric Purge in Progress...]
A shockwave of blue energy erupted from my chest, shattering the golden mist around us. The heavy air cleared instantly, replaced by a sudden, exhilarating rush of oxygen that made Alistair's eyebrows twitch in surprise.
"Impressive," Alistair noted, tapping his umbrella on the ground. "You don't just use the system; you force it to rewrite the physical laws. You really are a virus."
"And you're just a chemist playing with a dead man's tools," I countered, stepping closer. "I'm not here to talk about elements, Alistair. I'm here for your System Core. You have two choices: you can hand it over and remain the 'Alchemist' of your little corner, or I can burn this city's soul until there's nothing left for you to transmute."
Alistair's smile vanished. His aura intensified, the mercury-gold light turning into a jagged, metallic storm. "You speak of burning souls in a city that invented the stake? Come then, Fang Li. Let us see whose logic is more absolute."
He vanished into the fog, leaving only the faint scent of sulfur and a golden invitation card floating in the air.
The British Museum. Midnight. Bring your Queen.
I picked up the card. It was made of solid gold, yet it felt as light as a feather. Through my [Shadow-Link], I could feel the British Museum beginning to pulse with an ancient, terrifying energy. It wasn't just a museum; it was a massive alchemical circle.
"He's leading us into a trap," Isabella whispered, her face still pale from the lead-gas.
"I know," I said, looking at the city skyline as the clock towers began to chime. "But he forgot one thing. I don't just survive traps. I consume the one who set them."
[Ding!]
[New Mission: The Alchemist's Gambit]
[Objective: Infiltrate the British Museum and neutralize Alistair Thorne.]
[Reward: Rank 4 Authority | Alchemical Synthesis Ability.]
I looked at Elena, taking her hand. Her pulse was fast, but her eyes were steady. "It's time to show London why they should have kept the gates closed."