Quiet......

The scene just now was actually incomparably brief, half a minute from the time Deacon Bardell charged through the smoke and dust until the rainy night erupted into the gunfire that pinned him down.

It wasn't even as long as the hand saw that sliced through his skull afterwards.

So it was that the sound of the sharp blade rubbing against the bones was extraordinarily harsh, and the sound of the fingers churning up the brain also sent shivers down one's spine.

Catherine on the bell tower was so far away that she didn't hear this ear-piercing and sticky churning sound, but it was also because she was far away and in a high position that allowed him to clearly see everything that had happened on the ground before;

At the same time, it also made her the most shocked person in the crowd.

At that time, in the line of sight, in the middle of the long road in the distance, that extraordinarily bizarre figure that acted as if it were unpredictable, an ordinary firearm that had not been modified, and a few bullets of the worst quality had suppressed a deacon of the Judgment Division?

Although it was at its weakest......

But also at its most powerful!

And why did this uneducated guy not show a single bit of fear during this whole process! On the contrary, everything was so bland, silent, sparse, and flowing, all at once!

Is it ignorance?

Or was his mind already hard and strong enough to ignore the near-death counterattack of a second-order contractor?

Catherine didn't know, she just stared blankly at the faded body below her, as if welcoming the curtain call in a spotlight, and floated uncontrollably back to the smiling but incomparably hateful face when they first met outside the elevator.

In a flash, her body froze violently, and only then did she remember with the benefit of hindsight......The other person was just a mortal, a civilian from the lower city, a private detective..

......

Sherlock had no idea at this point how much of a shock he had caused His Excellency, the high and mighty Sister of Judgment in the bell tower.

He just looked at the broken body on the floor, which was absolutely impossible to get up again, and then stretched his body with great satisfaction.

He turned to the old priest-sama behind him and looked at her again:

"Is everything okay......"He asked.

In fact, he had some good feelings towards this old man who didn't say much, because the other party, when he wasn't dozing off, always seemed to respond to himself with a very friendly smile, which even contained a hint of encouragement and appreciation, a kind of smile that was rarely seen in the face of commoners by the higher-ups.

And the rain curtain, the old priest Lord seems to this only slightly back to God, he struggled to suppress the shock in his heart, and then weakly smiled and nodded, indicating that he is not seriously hurt.......

After that, his dry, thin lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something.

But Sherlock didn't hear it, because in the next second he was surrounded by a group of Protectorate soldiers who rushed nearby.

At that moment, of course, the High Priest's safety was more important than anything else.

The rain continued to fall, and after a few more minutes, when everyone had finally calmed down from the images they had just seen, some of the medics who had been waiting quietly at the edge of the battlefield finally dared to step under the searchlights.

They began to quickly search for the wounded who might still be alive, and began to treat the wounds of those soldiers who had been almost vaporized by their armor in a very cruel and painful, but incredibly quick and effective way; a few ropes dangled from the zeppelin, and dozens of people, not equipped with steam armor but wearing the uniforms of the Papal Guards, slid down and began to quietly and quickly sort out the battlefield, recovering the corpses and equipment.

So the post-war cleanup began in an orderly fashion; Deacon Bardell's body was swept from the pool of blood into a pile and loaded, along with his Void creature, into a huge iron crate and fished up the rope to the dirigible, and the wailing around the infirmary began to fade to a dominant theme as Kathryn's vines and the giant spider had quietly retreated back into the Void rift, and everything began to come back under control.

And in the process, almost all of the survivors would unconsciously look in the direction of where Sherlock was.

These glances contain complex meanings, there is gratitude, there is shock, there is incomprehension, and even some hidden fear, so much so that they only dare to look sideways from a distance, and then hurry to look away the moment they meet the detective's line of sight.

Ten minutes later......The old Lord Priest was finally helped into a wheelchair, after several paramedics had checked that his body wasn't in any serious condition; he waved away the guards who tried to shield him from the rain with an umbrella, and pushed the wheelchair over the blood on the floor to Sherlock's side.

He smiled, the smile in no way hiding the frustration and gratitude of an aging man.

"When I was at Scotland Yard before, I inquired about you....I just thought you were an outstanding young man, and that you would be even more outstanding than I imagined, but I didn't realize that you were so much more than I imagined."

Sherlock had been standing in the rain, his hair all wet and hanging down on his cheeks, and he didn't know where he had picked up a rope and casually tied his messy hair behind his head, and facing the old High Priest, he skillfully changed into a false smile, just like the workers in the lower city who met their boss.

"Where, just a small favor."

"You don't have to wear that look!" a voice suddenly came from beside him.

Sherlock looked sideways and saw Catherine coming towards him with weakness, there were some dark lines under his skin, which should be the blood vessels in his body having some kind of spasm after a backlash, and there were traces of blood left in his mouth, but she didn't care at all, and she didn't even want to let the entourage cover him with an umbrella to protect him from the rain:

"You've done well, and the Order will give you the reward you deserve, so your modesty will only annoy people."

Sherlock shrugged, thinking that this Sister Superior of Judgment really didn't like him very much.

"How do you do it?" asked Catherine again.

"How did what get there?"

"Don't play dumb! You just killed a Deacon of the Judgment Division......!"Her tone was a bit annoyed.

"Oh, that's just it......I have a gun."Sherlock gestured a BIU pose with his hand, "It just so happens that Lord Badr was very vulnerable at the time and could be killed with a gun."

This was said, somewhere between an explanation and a fart, Catherine listened with displeasure, about to raise her voice in question, but suddenly...... inexplicably felt a strong sense of rightness between the lines.

Yes, that was the point, what she had witnessed was a gun? It killed someone who could have been killed with a gun.

This eerie but real sense of history made her hesitate for a moment.......

"You've killed a lot of people?"

"More like I've killed a few," Sherlock replied, seemingly distracted as he fiddled with his shoe in a puddle of standing water, but immediately looked up and added, "All within the law."

Hearing Catherine narrow her eyes suspiciously......