Gathering Husbands with a System in a Game Like World [BL]

The warehouse still smelled of blood and violence when a carriage stopped directly outside.

City responders had already cordoned off the street. Two officials stood near the broken main doors. When the tall figure stepped down from the carriage, both of them looked visibly relieved.

He was a demon. He had Grey skin, red hair that was unusually neatly kept, and a single dark horn curving back from his left temple. He had Night-blue eyes, that took in the scene with quiet focus. He wore a well-cut dark suit beneath a long coat that gave him the air of a consulting detective rather than a common investigator. Everything about him suggested precision.

Well, he actually was a top tier Detective his name was Nox Holmes, the most revered private investigator in the entire west.

”You came quickly,” one of the officials said.

”You said the scene was unusual,” the demon replied. His voice was calm, measured. ”That is usually enough to get me going, you know i love a good mystery”

”Yes, your reputation preceedes you” The official said.

He walked past them into the warehouse without waiting for further explanation.

On getting into the ruins he gasped..

It reeker of destruction, he liked that.. It filled the space....The destruction...The burnt and ruined floorboards. The Shattered crates, the Dark stains, the blood anf and A lingering wrongness in the air that most people would have struggled to name but he knew what it was...

”Corruption” he muttered to himself as he stood still in the centre of the main floor and exhaled slowly through his nose.

Then he activated his ability.

It began behind his eyes, a cool pressure that spread outward.

The sixth eye, that’s what he called it ... through this eye , the world did not darken.

Instead, the thin layers of residue began to rise from the surfaces around him like pale smoke given shape.

The ability did not show the past as a clear vision. It reconstructed what had left a strong enough imprint, the movements, the violence, the concentrated emotions, and the intense residual mana.

Figures formed from that residue, translucent and soundless, replaying the events that had soaked into the wood and stone. Everyplace has a memory, Nox knew how to extract them.

He watched the whole thing in silence.

He saw five figures drop through the skylights. He saw the interrupted exchange. He saw the guards turn and raise their weapons. Then he saw the man with the dagger move through them with clean, merciless efficiency. One guard fell, then another, then the rest in a sequence so controlled it looked almost rehearsed.

”This is a bloody scene,” the demon murmured. ”And who is this?”

His gaze shifted. Among the phantom figures, one outline shone brighter than the others. A hooded shape, smaller than the rest, but the residue around it clung more stubbornly to the air, as if the memory of that person refused to fade at the same rate. The demon tilted his head slightly, studying the brighter outline for several seconds.

Interesting.

He thought, whoever this person was, It was clear that there was something special about them.

He continued watching as the residue played forward. The merchant’s panic. The mechanical release of the cages. Corrupted dogs and larger beasts spilling into the room. The hooded figure fighting with raw physical force. The precise killer moving through the pack. Then another presence arriving with fox-like traits, cutting into the battle with a different kind of speed. And finally the chimera, a grotesque mass of shifting flesh and violet energy that made even the residual image feel heavy.

The demon watched until the phantoms thinned and dissolved. When the last traces faded, the warehouse returned to ordinary ruin.

He crouched near a dark stain and brushed two fingers across the boards. Residual energy clung briefly to his skin before sinking away. Deliberate corruption. Not natural. Someone had shaped this.

A soft sound came from the doorway.

A demon cat padded into the warehouse on silent paws. It was roughly the size of a large lynx, fur a deep green that shifted toward black in the low light, with two short curved horns rising from its skull. Its eyes glowed a muted gold. The animal moved straight to the red-haired demon and brushed against his coat before beginning to circle the room, nose low to the ground.

”Midnight,” the demon said quietly. ”Search.”

The cat worked with focused efficiency. After a minute it stopped near a broken crate and made a low sound. The demon walked over. Caught on a splintered edge of wood was a small tuft of fur, dark and fine. He pinched it between two fingers and held it up to the light.

Not from the corrupted beasts this one had different texture

He lowered the fur toward the cat. Midnight sniffed once, then again, more thoroughly. Its tail lashed once. Then it turned toward the broken rear doors of the warehouse and made a quiet, certain sound.

The demon’s mouth curved slightly.

”You have the scent.”

Midnight looked back at him, waiting.

He took a final glance around the destroyed space. The brighter phantom outline of the hooded figure lingered in his mind longer than the others. A person who shone differently in residual memory was rarely ordinary. Combined with the precision killer, the fox-type fighter, and the sheer scale of the chimera, this was no simple failed exchange.

Someone competent had been here. Several someones.

And they had left a trail.

The demon slipped the tuft of fur into a small envelope inside his coat. Then he straightened, adjusted his cuffs, and spoke quietly to the cat.

”Find them.”

Midnight moved toward the rear exit without hesitation, nose to the ground. The red-haired demon followed at an unhurried pace, night-blue eyes calm, the single horn catching a thin edge of light as he stepped out of the ruined warehouse and into the streets of Voltra.

The city was large.

But residue always left a path.

And Nox Holmes had always been good at following paths.