Fantasy Writers 1860

Chapter 102 Earthquake!

The location of that demi-human auction was an abandoned warehouse not far from here, on the riverbank.

Dorian's heart tightened, and he abruptly stood up.

"What's wrong?" Dickinson asked with concern.

"Earthquake! It's an earthquake! Everyone get out of here!" Dorian shouted.

One of the reasons I came here was that, as the only person with supernatural abilities on site, I could at least evacuate the unrelated people if something really happened to me.

Fortunately, the tremors from the battle over there can be explained as an earthquake, saving me a lot of trouble.

"earthquake?"

"My God! This is like an earthquake!"

"Ah! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

"Run!"

Perhaps because the scale of the battle over there was getting bigger and bigger, everyone present felt the tremors under their feet becoming more and more obvious.

At first, it only shook slightly, but within a few seconds, the vibration became so strong that it shook the wine glasses on the table to the ground and shattered them.

If this isn't an earthquake, what else could it be?

Chaos erupted in the hall. Faced with the real crisis, all decorum and etiquette were thrown to the wind. Whether they were gentlemen and ladies or servants just moments before, they were now screaming and shouting, scrambling to escape to the door.

Dorian hadn't expected the Countess to be the most decisive and resourceful, because he saw her resolutely tear her long dress in half, and then, when no one was paying attention, climb over the window and jump out.

Anyway, it's only on the second floor.

"Quick, get out the window!" Dorian grabbed Dickinson's arm and pulled her out of the crowded stairwell, running towards the window from which the Countess had jumped.

The ground was shaking more and more violently, and now he was even starting to lose his balance.

"Huh?" Before Dickinson could react, she was dragged to the window by Dorian, who then forcefully tore her elaborate long dress apart.

"What did you say? Jump down?"

"It's just the second floor. The Countess just jumped off from here. You can do it too!" Dorian's voice was surprisingly calm.

After Dorian said that, Dickinson felt that there was no problem.

The countess stayed at home all day and jumped down without any problem; now she's vanished without a trace. I myself am someone who enjoys hiking, so I'm definitely even less likely to have any issues.

Meanwhile, Dorian looked out the window and noticed a pile of hay right below it.

This thing's appearance here is so abrupt; it feels like the Countess was prepared for it all along.

Recalling Dickins' earlier statement that her family were nobles who had fled from the Iris during the French Revolution—

It seems there's quite a story behind it.

"After you go down, leave here immediately and get as far away from St. George's District as possible."

What does it mean to be as far away from St. George as possible? Does it mean that earthquakes only occur in St. George?

Before Dickinson could even ask, the ground shook violently again, knocking the window frame off. Dorian immediately reached out and supported her waist, pulling her to the window: "Jump!"

Dickinson also saw the haystack below. Calming herself, she adjusted her posture slightly, leaped down, and cried out in surprise as she tumbled into the soft haystack.

Apart from a slightly numb buttock from the fall, I'm otherwise fine.

She had just gotten up and brushed the grass clippings off her body when she heard a whoosh of wind overhead, and Dorian jumped down right after her.

As soon as the two of them stood firm, they saw something fly from the riverbank and smash through the three-story pavilion, creating a large hole. The pavilion collapsed instantly, and flying bricks and stones crashed down, startling the guests who were already frantically fleeing for their lives, causing them to scream again.

Dorian dragged Dickinse a few steps away, then looked back towards the abandoned factory by the river. He could see faint flames rising and black smoke drifting in the wind.

Meanwhile, at the salon, more and more people, inspired by Dorian's earlier actions, jumped out of the windows to escape. In addition, the flying bricks and stones had damaged some walls, allowing many people to climb down through the gaps in the walls.

Following Dorian's gaze, Dickinson noticed that the ground beneath her feet had inexplicably returned to calm.

The earthquake stopped, as if nothing had happened.

The gentlemen and ladies who had just barely escaped from the salon and were now in a sorry state stood blankly on the street.

Just then, Dickinson saw Dalton Richie running towards them from the end of the street with a number of police officers.

"Mr. Dorian? What are you doing here!" Richie recognized Dorian from afar.

She glanced at Inspector Richie and the Scotland Yard men who had just appeared there, then looked at the billowing black smoke in the direction of the inner river, and then at Dorian, whose face was grave.

"This isn't an earthquake at all, is it?"

Having once been a journalist, her journalistic spirit ignited within her. She sensed that what had happened today was definitely not simple, and there was probably a big story behind it all.

"Perfect timing, Scotland Yard is here. Just follow their instructions and head home as far away from St. George's as possible. I'll explain things to you later if I can." With that, Dorian turned to leave.

This time, it was Dickinson's turn to grab his wrist.

"You're going over there?" Dickinson immediately saw through his intentions. "What's the situation over there?"

Dickinson, who hadn't been particularly curious about the matter, became intrigued by Dorian's mysterious manner and riddle-like words, and her journalistic passion burned even brighter.

"—There are still many guests who attended the salon and haven't come out yet. I need to go and rescue them," Dorian said, making up a flimsy excuse.

Although those people are now standing blankly on the street.

He still remembered the confidentiality agreement. The commotion over there was so big that it was probably related to the Illusion Book. This kind of situation shouldn't be known to ordinary people like Dickinson.

Having said that, Dickinson understood that the other party was not willing, or unable, to tell the truth.

Now is not the time to dwell on this, so she let go of his wrist, grabbed the torn edge of her long dress, and ran away from here.

"So why are you here? Who was that lady just now?" Richie asked as he ran up to Dorian.

He had heard his mentor, Inspector Lesder, mention this person before, and had also seen him at the police station, so he had some impression of him.

"I came here for a literary salon, but as you can see, something went wrong. There are still quite a few people fleeing for their lives over there. Please help them," Dorian said.

"An accident? This is a minor incident—"

"You don't need to tell me this, I know, the detective told me." Dorian recalled that when he visited Detective Lesder before, he mentioned that he had an apprentice named Richie, and that if the police department needed cooperation, they could contact him.

"You know, but do you know what the situation is over there right now? What else do you know?"

"I'd also like to ask what else you know, so I can decide what I can tell you."

Dorian knew that Richie across from him should know about the abandoned factory demi-human auction, but he didn't know if Richie knew about the Phantom Book.

Inspector Leeds knew, but it was unclear whether he had told his apprentice.

Just then, several streaks of light, like shooting stars, flew from the direction of the abandoned factory and struck the center of the road, raising a cloud of dust.

Two hooded figures emerged from the smoke, their faces obscured by the hoods and the thick dust.

They saw Dorian, Richie, and a group of Scotland Yard officers blocking the road. "Hey! Did you see that rock that just flew over here from over there?" The voice sounded like a woman's.