A solemn and oppressive silence reigned on the second floor of 221B Baker Street, despite the increased number of residents in the house.
"That was the plan. The plan of this guy named M."
H laid out all the collected evidence with a serious expression. Staring at the result of his analysis – the living key to the "Magic Fog" project – he said softly:
"A crazy undertaking. An absolutely insane plan. But... why is she still with us? Isn't it dangerous?!"
"U-u-u..."
Dedchu, still smoothing his sparkling fur, pointed fearfully at the red-haired girl holding a heavy club. She stood at a distance, frowning at the strange raccoon who was clearly saying something unkind about her.
"Don't you dare touch her, Wade. And take your finger away..."
"Look at her! Kid, you saw it yourself! As soon as she got going, a whole building went up in the air! Look at us all!"
Dedchu pointed eloquently at Ritsuka.
Ritsuka, trying to calm him down, looked pathetic: his magic cloak-poncho couldn't withstand the monstrous power of the explosion and turned into rags, and his exposed skin was covered in small cuts from debris. Fortunately, Chaldea sent healing scrolls, and the wounds were treated, but the situation was on the verge.
Mash and Mordred, thanks to their high endurance, were not injured by the explosion itself, but the shockwave was so powerful that it significantly depleted their magical energy, leaving them exhausted.
H himself almost died under the rubble of his own house, but he was saved by the fact that he managed to cover his head with a large bucket at the moment of collapse. However, he was not without injuries: a piece of debris fell on his right hand, and now it was tightly bandaged.
"Be that as it may, M's design is now clear. As is the reason why this fog enveloped London..."
H calmly stood up, moved the board, and began his explanation.
"You saw it yourselves: when Victor's experiment released energy, there was an explosion. A normal static discharge doesn't have such destructive power. At least, as far as I know... So, it's all about the fog."
Drawing a rough map of the city on the board, H swallowed and continued:
"A few days before your arrival, I visited the scene of the second Ripper's crime. And there was an explosion. And not only there... Here, here, and here. A total of five points. Since that day, London has been completely hidden in a haze. It has literally turned into a 'city of fogs'... Oh."
H paused, grimacing in pain, habitually took a painkiller, and continued:
"We don't know who M is yet. But his goal is clear: to use Victor's legacy, that is, the energy of this creature, to cause a series of detonations throughout the city. He wants to erase London from the face of the earth. This is what they call the 'Magic Fog' project."
Putting down the chalk, H looked at the red-haired girl – Frankenstein. Although it was only the name of her deceased creator, there was no other way to address her.
"U-u-u..."
Embarrassed by the strangers' intense stares, she hid behind the wall, only occasionally peeking out cautiously from around the corner.
"Communication with her is impossible. She understands words, but her reaction..."
"Maybe that's why Doctor Victor called her a failure?" Dedchu interjected.
H, agreeing, took a step towards Frankenstein.
"U-a-a! A-u-u-u!"
As soon as he approached, the girl bristled and bared her teeth – exactly like a wild beast sensing danger. H had to retreat.
"So what now? Are we going to sit here and guard her until the fog dissipates?"
"No. The fog won't dissipate on its own. If I were in M's place, I would have taken care of that."
Mordred clicked her tongue. She tried to think of a way out of the situation, but her thoughts hit a dead end.
"It's dangerous to drag her around – she could explode at any moment. We can't leave her here either – these guys will eventually figure out where we're hiding..."
A choice had to be made. Until they found M – the root cause of all their troubles and the puppet master behind the scenes – this nightmare wouldn't end.
"The most important thing now is to figure out who B and M are. We're still in the dark."
When things get stuck, you have to look for clues in the details. With this thought, H picked up the partially deciphered order again.
"H is Hyde, the second personality of Doctor Jekyll... according to his own words. V is Doctor Victor Frankenstein. His 'legacy' is this girl. M is the mastermind of the entire operation. That leaves B..."
H wrote the letter "B" on the board and thoughtfully propped up his chin. If Victor was useful to M, then B must also hold significant weight in society. Who could be hiding behind this initial? H went through the options.
"E-uh... excuse me for interrupting your deductive torment, but I think I have a guess about B's identity."
Doctor Romani turned on the communication, hoping to help. H, massaging his temples with the look of someone receiving a highly unwelcome guest, waved his hand – continue.
"Charles Babbage. The man called the father of the computer. I think it's him."
Upon hearing this name, H looked at Romani for a long time, then gave a dry chuckle.
"Impossible. He died ten years ago. How can a dead man participate in M's plans? Did you read the order? M told his people to pass the following instructions to B. Therefore, Charles Babbage, who died in 1871, must be alive and active today. It's absurd."
H was right – for someone who lives within the framework of ordinary history. But for Servants, the rules were different. Romani hurried to object:
"Charles Babbage invented the prototype of modern computing technology based on a steam engine. That's why he was nicknamed the father of the computer. Such an achievement is more than enough for his name to be entered into the Throne of Heroes."
In fact, even Romani couldn't be sure of the power of modern Servants. Their achievements and scale of activity are incomparable to the heroes of myths and legends, whose mark on history is indelible. Modern souls rarely leave the bounds of cause and effect, and therefore their registration in the Throne of Heroes is an exceptional case.
"Or someone could have used the Grail to forcibly register him as a heroine and summon him as a Servant," Mash suggested.
When she added this example to Romani's theory, Holmes looked as if he refused to believe his ears. On the other hand, Ritsuka and Romani, who had already experienced the power of the Grail in practice, merely nodded in agreement.
"I've heard of the Grail," Holmes admitted. "The almighty wish-granter. But even so... is it possible to summon someone who died only ten years ago as a Servant?"
"That's precisely why there's a high probability that this person, M, has the Grail in his hands," Mash replied.
Holmes knew something about magic and had even received Command Spells from the Clock Tower for summoning, but he was not a mage himself, and therefore had difficulty accepting such assumptions.
"Ah, well. Now is not the time to argue about faith. Let's assume B is Charles Babbage. What task did he receive from M?"
After Holmes's question, everyone fell into deep thought.
At that moment, Frankenstein, who had been sitting quietly in the corner until then, reacted to something. She sniffled amusingly and began to look around.
"What is it? Did you smell something?" Holmes asked.
"Hmm... it's definitely not my gas," Dedchu interjected.
Frankenstein walked past Holmes and Dedchu, sniffed Mash and Ritsuka, and headed straight for the window. Mordred, watching her, voiced the emerging guess:
"Could it be... she picked up the trail of this B?"
"U-u-u..." Frankenstein nodded, confirming her words.
"What do you say, detective?" Dedchu chimed in. "It's better than just sitting around and getting moldy."
Holmes pondered.
It was obvious that inaction would not bring them closer to solving the mystery. But leading the target that M was looking for out into the open was too risky. Leaving her here was also impossible – they would have to split their forces, which was even more dangerous. In the end, the best solution was to take her with them.
"Alright. If we encounter B, Jack the Ripper, or M's men, priority number one is the protection of Frankenstein. Do not engage unnecessarily, stay together."
Holmes put on his coat again and headed for the exit.
"Damn it, I'm leaving the house unusually often today. I don't usually do this..." he muttered, stepping onto the foggy streets of London.
Visibility was almost zero, and in their search for B, they could only rely on Frankenstein's senses.
"U-u... khm-khm..."
She walked confidently forward, catching scents in the air. Holmes, Ritsuka, and the others surrounded her in a tight circle, ready to repel any sudden attack.
"The Clock Tower is in that direction. Hmm. I don't recall Charles Babbage studying magic during his lifetime," Holmes, despite the thick haze, easily navigated the route.
"Or maybe B is one of the mages at the tower?" Wade suggested. "Troy Baker, for example, or Bayaba... or even Bongo Pasta."
"Wade, those are dish names," Ritsuka sighed.
"Are you hungry? Want a pancake?"
Dedchu, like a blue robot-raccoon from a cartoon popular in Ritsuka's homeland, pulled an appetizing pancake from his bottomless pockets. But Ritsuka politely refused.
"U-u-u..." Frankenstein stopped.
"My guesses are confirmed. We are at the Clock Tower."
They stood before the majestic structure named after the famous Big Ben – a symbol of London.
"Correct. If anyone knows the background of this 'Nebula Plan', it's the mages. Perhaps M is hiding among them..." Holmes paused for a moment, propping his chin with his hand. "If that were the case, they would have contacted me long ago or taken measures. But it's suspiciously quiet here. Could it be?!"
A bad premonition pricked his mind.
To top it all off, Frankenstein bristled. Baring her teeth, she stared into the thick fog, taking a fighting stance.
"U-u-u-i-i-i!"
"Something is approaching," Mordred, understanding her companion's reaction, also sensed something was wrong and drew her sword.
[Frankenstein's intuition didn't fail! – Romani's voice rang out. – A Servant's signal is very close! A huge surge of magical energy. Be careful!]
The doctor's words were drowned out by the noise: a colossal silhouette emerged through the fog.
"Wow. Now that's what I call ill fate," Dedchu chuckled.
"Tsk. I should have torn off all his limbs back then!" Mordred defiantly raised her sword.
A heavy steam robot emerged from the mist. Clanking with its metal joints and emitting clouds of thick steam, it seemed even larger than during the previous clash with Ritsuka and Mash. Its red lenses flashed ominously.
"U-u-u-u-u!!" Frankenstein instinctively raised her heavy mace with a ball.
"So, this tin can is B, meaning Charles Babbage?" Holmes clarified.
"Uh-huh!" She nodded vigorously, and the detective stared at the giant with disbelief.
"Wow, it's been heavily upgraded!" Dedchu exclaimed. "Wait a minute. We have a robot and a detective here. And our detective is... Stark? Oh, my stomach is tickling with anticipation!"
"Listen, Mr. Chu. The development you're thinking of won't happen."
"Hey, author! Let's be honest: you specifically chose this detective to pull off such a trick!"
"Not at all. It's just a coincidence."
"Yeah, lie more. I know you're depressed after 'Endgame', so you're having fun."
"I'm telling you... Ha-a..."
"Ha-ha! I won!" Dedchu once again proclaimed victory over the void, and Ritsuka patted him reassuringly on the stomach.
"Mordred, can you handle it?"
"I don't have much mana, but I can handle this tin can anyway!"
Mordred confidently stepped towards the steam colossus. Her silver armor clanged, her helmet closed, and her blade was enveloped in a red glow of magical discharges.
"Come on, lump of metal! I'll tear you to pieces now!"
With a playful smirk, she pushed off the ground and charged.