Sherlock Holmes is not a warp god.

At this point, the mining area on the ground was completely under control.

Once inside the warehouse elevator, Sherlock shielded Fren in front of him to protect him from any potential dangers that might arise once the elevator doors opened.

The younger brother has too much health; it's time for him to shield his older brother from the storm.

Sherlock was well aware of how fragile he was.

Furen didn't care. [Leakage] could make him immune to mental attacks, and with [Self-Healing], even missing limbs could grow back.

Furen felt that his current weaknesses were his lack of offensive power and his complete ignorance of the abilities he could unleash through the subspace.

Considering the cufflinks Sherlock gave him, which could effectively deal with the subspace, Furen decided to hold back and deal with him when they got back.

......

"Anya, don't be afraid, it's alright."

In a cozy double room, the floor was covered with a plush carpet and filled with dolls and children's books. Two beds, neither too big nor too small for a child, were placed against the corner, one of which was empty.

On another bed, two girls snuggled together, one no more than four years old and the other only seven or eight. They were both wearing loose and comfortable white pajamas.

On their chests, one is marked 007 and the other 003; these are their code names in the laboratory.

They all chose their own names.

The young girl had pink hair and wore two decorative hair clips. Her body was trembling slightly as she buried her head in another girl's chest, calling out the name "Linda".

The girl had short black hair, rare purple pupils, and skin so pale that you could see the veins.

She lowered her head, patted her companion's back, and uttered words of comfort.

But her tense body and curled toes proved that she was not at peace. Her forearm, peeking out from under her sleeve, revealed a slightly different shade of skin, the edges of which were not clearly defined.

It's like the scars whose boundaries fade as children grow rapidly.

Just over ten minutes ago, the previously quiet accommodation area suddenly began to shake.

Shouts, screams, and the sound of objects shattering on the hard ground.

There were also occasional gunshots.

None of this had ever happened in the past of this building.

"It's okay, it's okay..."

Linda pursed her lips, pulled the blanket over herself and Anya, and wrapped them up.

As she comforted her companion, Linda noticed the temperature around her subtly rising as she listened to the approaching footsteps.

Looking at Anya so close to her, Linda forced herself to calm her thoughts.

Tonight is the night of the full moon, and Anya's abilities will be ineffective.

Linda didn't know whether to be happy or sad for Anya. If they had Anya's abilities, they could know what was happening outside. But the thoughts of so many strangers were an immense pressure for Anya.

Anya, as long as you're safe...

Linda's purple eyes flickered uncertainly; Anya was now the only family member left beside her.

...

The accommodation area is located on the edge of the laboratory, completely embedded in the rock wall.

The gate is a single piece of metal, and normally requires a motor to be started to open it.

But now, a pair of large hands are pressing on the alloy door, with their ten fingers bent. The first knuckle successfully penetrates the alloy door, as if it were a block of tofu.

With his forearms, which were several times thicker than Beveren's thighs, he spread them to the sides, directly destroying the locking mechanism of the door. The door made a loud bang and then burst open.

"John, it's up to you guys now."

Major Wezley Watkins knew that the scene that was about to unfold was not suitable for them to get involved.

The military is good at suppression, but when it comes to easing public sentiment, they are never needed.

At this point, there was no one more suitable than John Watson, the army doctor.

Sherlock removed Fren and then shielded Watson in front of him.

"I didn't expect you to actually go on stage yourself," Fren teased.

"Otherwise what?" Sherlock retorted. "These children who possess power but are extremely young, if they fall into the hands of politicians, would be better off being sent to Azkaban."

First, determine the children's situation, then help each of them find a suitable home.

Fren nodded. That's human nature.

Sherlock's choice is enough to prove that not everyone in the church is a good person.

The true gods don't care what their power is used for either. Naturally, there are many factions among the various churches, and the only thing that can connect them is interests.

The royal family has the strongest bloodline, and the best-case scenario for these children is that they are raised as guards from a young age and cannot grow up as independent individuals.

The government, the church, and the royal family were all unsuitable, so Sherlock had to take matters into his own hands.

Watson, who was walking ahead, thought about the introduction of these children.

As a military doctor, Watson not only treated internal injuries, external injuries, and mystical injuries sustained on the battlefield, but he was also adept at post-war treatment.

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), as a mental illness, is something Watson is also familiar with. Of course, the names of the disease may differ in the world, but the meanings are roughly the same.

Watson himself suffers from PTSD, yet he is always irresistibly drawn to danger, which is why he becomes Sherlock's assistant. Sherlock's antisocial personality makes him accustomed to walking the line of danger, a lifestyle that Watson also enjoys.

PTSD only has a chance to flare up when you leave the battlefield and return to a peaceful life. Sherlock's detective life makes up for this perfectly; when he has free time, he can get a good night's sleep, so there's hardly any chance for PTSD to flare up.

A doctor cannot heal himself; when Watson did not treat himself, his professional skills were very high.

Most of the blessed people he saw on the battlefield were madmen or insane, some of whom couldn't even distinguish between reality and illusion. In his eyes, these children were just children.

Without making a selection, Watson headed straight for the nearest room. His professional ethics wouldn't allow him to choose his patients; he wouldn't leave any child out.

This man, as a rare creature, attracts all kinds of creatures, and is also attracted to all kinds of creatures.

Even Fren had to admit that Watson possessed a rare affability, so it's not surprising that such a description of him was included.

No wonder Charlotte was chained up so tightly.

Considering that Charlotte had gone to great lengths to do something worthwhile, Fren felt he could use his appraisal skill to help her out.

At least we can see if there are any "bombs" here that might explode.

Children who experience pain and erupt in silence are not surprising, even if Charlotte lost half her life here.

Without making a sound, he passed by the timid pink-haired melon god, and wondered if he should study a skill similar to Occlumency.

That way, even if it's not a full moon night, I can still have some fun teasing this little curly-haired girl.