Arknight : The Rise of The Grand Detective

The descent was silent.

Howard and Heixian stood in the dimly lit elevator, the cold metallic hum of the machinery the only sound between them.

The walls were lined with polished steel, reflecting their solemn faces in the flickering overhead light.

Howard leaned against the railing, one hand resting in his pocket, the other tapping against his coat absentmindedly.

"What's down here?"

he asked, not really expecting much of an answer.

Heixian swallowed hard.

"I—I don't know. I never had the clearance to come this far. Only the top brass could."

Howard gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.

He had expected as much.

The Feilong were not just another gang; they were something more insidious.

They had operated in Lungmen's underbelly for far too long, untouched, unseen.

That alone meant they had powerful hands shielding them from above.

He rolled his shoulders, exhaling softly as the elevator slowed.

A chime.

The doors slid open.

20 guards stood waiting.

For a brief moment, there was a pause.

Just a fraction of a second—enough for their brains to register the intruder, for their hands to twitch towards their weapons.

However Howard had already raised his hand.

The serpent exploded forth from his finger, its gargantuan form unraveling into the dimly lit corridor like a living abyss.

The guards moved.

These ones were sharper, more disciplined than the thugs upstairs. They fanned out, some rolling into cover, others raising their weapons in perfect unison.

Too slow.

The serpent struck.

Gunfire erupted, but bullets meant nothing to the beast. It coiled, twisted, surged forward with unnatural speed, its massive fanged maw unhinging—

And then came the screams.

One by one, they were devoured. Their bodies snapped up like mere morsels, their limbs flailing helplessly before being swallowed whole.

Their muffled cries continued even after they were inside.

It was a massacre.

And when it was done, the beast coiled once more, and from its scales, the cocoons began to form—thick, pulsating sacks of crimson and flesh, gently swaying from the ceiling like grotesque ornaments.

Howard exhaled, rolling his wrist as the monstrous serpent retracted, slithering back into the confines of his pinky.

He walked past the now-empty corridor, stepping over pools of blood, his expression unreadable.

Heixian stumbled forward behind him, his breath ragged, his body trembling.

He had known Howard Layman was something else, but this—this was beyond anything he could have imagined.

The door loomed before them.

It was large, reinforced, the kind used to contain something—or someone.

Howard pushed it open.

The sight that greeted him made even him pause.

Rooms.

Rows upon rows of them, their doors left slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of what lay inside.

Howard stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His eyes trailed along the dimly lit corridor, the walls lined with chains, hooks, and the unmistakable metallic scent of old blood.

His gaze flickered to one of the rooms.

He stepped inside.

And for the first time in a long while, something twisted in his gut.

The body—if it could even be called that—was ruined beyond recognition.

A mass of mangled flesh, skin flayed open in jagged, grotesque patterns. Limbs contorted in ways no person should ever endure.

Organs exposed.

A lung lay beside the corpse, torn and shriveled.

The ribcage had been cracked apart like a hollowed-out vessel.

And yet, despite it all—

The man was alive.

Faint, labored breathing.

A wet, gurgling noise that barely resembled life.

Howard stood over him, his expression unreadable. He knelt, raising a single finger.

A drop of blood slid from his fingertip.

It moved.

The crimson droplet slithered through the air like something sentient, sinking into the man's wounds.

And then—

The body began to mend.

Bones cracked as they snapped back into place. Torn muscle knitted itself together. Exposed organs slid back into their proper homes.

It was grotesque. Unnatural. But it was effective.

And when it was done, the man still lay there—physically healed, yet completely broken.

Tears ran down his hollow, sunken cheeks, his eyes dull, empty, barely able to focus.

Howard sat beside him, voice calm, almost gentle.

"Your name."

A pause.

Then, a stuttering whisper.

"...Jin Yao."

Howard's eyes flickered.

"You were with Lin Kojui."

A slow nod.

Jin Yao's voice trembled as he spoke.

"We… we were reconnaissance. We were supposed to track Feilong's operations, gather intelligence."

His breath hitched.

"But they knew."

Howard narrowed his eyes.

"Someone betrayed you."

Another nod.

"One by one, we were picked off. Drugged. Taken. Tortured."

His voice broke.

"We were toys to them."

He swallowed, his body shaking.

Howard placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I'll heal the others soon. But first…"

He stood, his eyes trailing toward the far end of the corridor.

A door.

Not just any door—something grander. Heavier.

Howard turned to Heixian.

"Come."

He pushed it open—

And what he saw beyond was madness itself.

****

Howard stood before the towering shelves, his sharp eyes trailing the seemingly endless rows that stretched into the dimly lit expanse beyond.

The air was thick with the scent of chemicals, damp stone, and something far more insidious.

He stepped forward.

Wooden crates lined the shelves, meticulously labeled in a language that sent a cold shiver through him.

Ursus.

His fingers traced the insignia burned onto the side of one of the crates.

His suspicions had been correct.

The Feilong were not just another gang scrabbling for dominance in Lungmen's underworld. They were a proxy. A front for something far worse.

If Ursus had its claws in the city's criminal networks, it meant only one thing—

Lungmen was being infiltrated from the inside out.

Howard's expression darkened.

He moved further in.

Beyond the shelves, another room revealed itself.

A workspace.

Rows of workers hunched over battered tables, their movements slow and mechanical. Some were mixing compounds, others packaging, sealing, stamping.

Their faces were hollow, their eyes vacant. Around their necks—

Collars.

Thick, metallic restraints, pulsing with faint runes.

Howard exhaled, raising a single finger.

A shudder passed through his body as his flesh shifted, the subtle crack of bone and sinew rearranging.

He had never cared much for the theatrics of Arts, but there were times when fear was a weapon as sharp as any blade.

His form began to alter.

The warmth of flesh ebbed away, replaced by something colder. His skin lightened, his ears become far longer than normal resembling an elf . His presence became heavy, oppressive—

And then, a single pulse.

An invisible shockwave rippled through the air, saturating the room with an unnatural stillness.

The workers froze.

Their hands stilled over their tasks, their bodies unable to resist the weight of his power.

Howard stepped forward, his boots echoing against the cold floor.

His gaze flickered between them, reading their vacant expressions, their trembling fingers.

They weren't criminals.

They were slaves.

His eyes narrowed.

As he moved between them, his fingers worked deftly, sliding beneath the thick, metal collars.

One by one, the restraints snapped open, falling away with dull clinks against the stone floor.

Howard worked quickly, methodically, until all of them were freed.

The spell still held them in its trance, keeping them docile—for now. He needed to act before panic set in.

Then, something caught his eye.

A special emblem he knew.

He turned.

Among the packages, something stood out—an emblem, barely visible beneath the grime.

Howard picked it up. He turned it over between his fingers, his gaze sharpening as he recognized the mark.

A stylized penguin.

Penguin Logistics.

Howard exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the insignia.

It made sense now.

The Feilong had been using Penguin Logistics' name to distribute their product—exploiting their reputation to move their supply without suspicion.

They had built their operation in the shadow of a legitimate name.

Howard's jaw tightened.

He stood, turning back toward Heixian.

The man was still frozen at the entrance, his face pale, his body rigid with barely contained horror.

Howard stepped toward him, his presence looming.

"From now on, you follow my instructions."

There was no room for hesitation. No room for debate.