Operation Night Witch

 After Aurora became an aristocrat, it wasn’t long before Sherlock Holmes decided to take serious action to capture the Night Phantom. He had been closely studying the Night Phantom’s attacks for the past few weeks, noting every detail. Night fell. Sherlock sat alone in his small room. A weakly glowing lamp lit the desk, casting half the room in shadow. Thick books lined the shelves, while papers and maps were scattered across the desk. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke. Reclining in his chair, Sherlock slowly puffed his pipe and gathered his thoughts. “This Night Phantom… there’s a pattern to his actions. He never falls under magical surveillance. So, he’s not just a magic user—he uses tools. Perhaps he has an artifact that protects him from magical detection.” His eyes fell on a sheet of paper on the desk. It contained reports from the knights. “Interesting… he predicts his opponents’ movements. This isn’t precognition magic. If he were a seer, he would have known I’d come to the tavern. So, he relies not on magical ability, but on some device.” Sherlock stood and began pacing the room. “And he uses explosives, shoots with unknown weapons, yet it all fits together. A simple village boy couldn’t do this. He must have military training or exceptional knowledge.” Sherlock sighed heavily and put out his pipe. “This kid is not weak,” he murmured. “Trying to capture him by force would be foolish. We must confront him with our minds, not our weapons. Intellect.” He returned to the desk, scrutinizing the papers. “I must anticipate his moves… only then can I capture the Night Phantom.” Under the lamp’s glow, Sherlock began devising a new plan. Then he went to discuss the matter with the King. Arriving at the palace gates, Sherlock looked coldly at the guards. “I need to speak with the King privately. It’s urgent. Notify him immediately of my arrival.” The guards glanced at each other and ran to the royal chambers. “Your Majesty, Sherlock Holmes has arrived. He wishes to speak with you alone.” King Julius paused thoughtfully, then nodded. “Escort him to the guest room. I shall join you there.” Sherlock entered the guest room and bowed respectfully to the King. “Your Majesty.” “Sherlock, how is your work? Any new information on the Night Phantom?” asked the King, seating himself. Sherlock spoke with weight: “Unfortunately, concrete data is scarce. I’ve studied the memories of all the knights who encountered him, but no one could identify him. However, I have understood one thing: his abilities—flight, reconnaissance, devastating attacks—are not from a single magic. It’s a combination of tools. He may possess special artifacts.” King Julius raised an eyebrow. “So, he’s not an ordinary magician…” “Yes, Your Majesty,” Sherlock nodded. “That makes him even more dangerous. If we don’t stop him in time, he will become a legend among the people. This would be a severe blow to our reputation.” The King leaned back and sighed heavily. “What do you intend to do? I await your suggestion.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up. “I need an elite knightly order. But they won’t work in their usual form; they’ll operate in plain clothes. The people must not know of their involvement.” The King thought for a moment. “Using the elite order against a single criminal—won’t that tarnish our prestige?” Sherlock answered solemnly: “Your Majesty, if we do not act now, tomorrow your prestige will fall even more. This is no ordinary criminal—he’s a strategist. We must defeat him with his own method: intelligence.” King Julius remained silent for a while, then finally nodded. “Very well. I support your plan. But be cautious. If you fail, it’s not just your reputation at stake, but mine as well.” Sherlock smiled slightly: “Do not worry, Your Majesty. The next move in this game of chess is ours.” The King nodded in approval of his bold words. Sherlock then made his way to the base of the elite order, known throughout the kingdom as the “Silver Sword.” Famous for strict discipline and ruthlessness, no ordinary knight could oppose them. At the gate, a captain with black hair, a thick mustache, and blue eyes, Lord Lawrence, stepped out and greeted Sherlock with a cold expression. Anger and mockery danced in his eyes. “Why have you come, detective?” Lawrence asked, resting his hand on his sword’s hilt. Sherlock calmly, with his usual smirk, replied: “You have work to do. You’ve been idle for too long, living quietly. Now it’s time to wake up.” “Enough joking,” Lawrence frowned. “What’s the situation?” Sherlock chuckled lightly. “You’ve been unaware? A highly dangerous criminal has appeared in the kingdom. You are needed to capture him. This is not my word—it’s the King’s command. You may not like me, but you won’t defy the King, right, Commander?” Lawrence’s eyes narrowed. “So you recommended us to the King?” “Of course,” Sherlock said nonchalantly. “You’ve been idle for far too long. I pity you and brought you a new assignment. You’ll fight, complete the mission, and feel alive again. Aren’t you going to thank me?” At that moment, Sherlock placed his hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. Lawrence grit his teeth, barely enduring it. “Damn it, I hate your arrogance,” he muttered. Sherlock understood his anger and smiled inwardly. “Sharpen your sword, Lawrence. But remember: this opponent is cleverer than you think. He cannot be defeated by force, only by intellect. And intellect is your weakness.” Lawrence ground his teeth and fell silent. Even knowing he could not defy the King’s command, his resentment toward Sherlock grew. From this moment, a hidden rivalry between the two was unmistakably set. Sherlock gathered with the chosen warriors of the Silver Sword order around a large table. Each had a lit lamp before them, and a large parchment for tactical planning lay in the center. Sherlock spoke slowly, emphasizing each word: “First, we will neutralize the criminal’s control devices. Otherwise, he will anticipate every step we take. If we fail here, the entire plan collapses.” One knight, doubtfully: “How will we disable his devices?” Sherlock: “We need the Altar Lamp.” The gathered members exchanged surprised glances. One whispered: “The Altar Lamp? Isn’t that the artifact that can neutralize any magical tool?” “Exactly,” Sherlock nodded. “But remember: the issue isn’t just magic. His devices themselves aren’t artifacts, but the Altar Lamp will weaken their defenses. Most importantly—we cut off his surveillance. Everything else will be easier.” Then he looked at the marksman: “Marksman Harry, your role is critical. The criminal’s flying device glides through the air. You must shoot it down. It doesn’t need to be completely destroyed, but it must be rendered unable to fly.” Harry responded gravely: “Understood. No matter how fast it moves, I won’t miss.” Sherlock approached the table and glanced at the others: “Once his devices are disabled, the marksmen and mages will distract him and strike. He will retaliate—wait for the right moment. The defensive team must be ready. Only when he approaches will we strike decisively.” He concluded in a firm voice: “But remember: this opponent is no ordinary criminal. He is intelligent. If you act hastily or without thought, he will expose us all at once. We are fighting with intellect, not brute force.” The hall fell silent. Everyone’s eyes held a mix of anxiety and determination. Though Sherlock’s plan was risky, it was their only hope. Next, Sherlock ordered the magical council to gather so he could obtain the Altar Lamp. When Sherlock arrived, golden lamps hanging from the domed ceiling illuminated the hall. He took his seat and patiently waited for the others. Soon, the guild masters, knight commanders, and nobles entered one by one. Among them was the graceful and elegant Aurora. Once everyone was gathered, Sherlock stood and spoke firmly: “Gentlemen, we have prepared a complete plan to capture the criminal—the Night Phantom. The next step requires your assistance. We need the Altar Lamp. Only it can disable his control devices.” The council murmured. One aristocrat stood: “We do not possess such a valuable artifact. It is kept in the royal treasury. Currently, Duke Fenriel is responsible for it. Unfortunately, he hasn’t come to the council,” he said. At that moment, someone turned to Aurora: “Miss Aurora, you are closest to the Duke. Can you influence this matter?” Aurora hesitated but kept her expression neutral: “I’m not sure… but I will do what I can,” she replied. After the council, Aurora hurried from the palace toward Moris. Her heart raced, her face anxious. Moris greeted her calmly. “Aurora, what happened?” he asked casually. “Moris, do not go out tonight!” Aurora said anxiously. “They are planning to capture you.” Moris smiled slightly: “What kind of plan?” “They will disable your surveillance devices, then shoot down your flying device. Everything has been carefully planned.” Moris couldn’t hide his grin: “Seems like fun. How can I lose in this?” “No!” Aurora’s voice trembled. “You are truly in danger.” Moris approached her calmly: “Don’t worry. As long as you report every move in time, nothing will happen. They’ll trap themselves, not me.” Aurora’s eyes filled with concern: “But… they intend to use the Altar Lamp to disable your devices. It will cut off your surveillance.” Moris paused, eyes alight: “A scientist always keeps a secret treasure. You’ll see soon enough. This time, they will regret their plan.” Aurora nodded, but her fear didn’t subside. Then, as planned, she retrieved the Altar Lamp from Fenriel and delivered it to Sherlock. The awaited night arrived. Sherlock and the Silver Sword knights entered the forest under the cover of darkness. They activated the Altar Lamp. Immediately, bluish waves spread over the forest, and the air seemed to tremble. At that moment, Moris’ reconnaissance drones, deliberately released from the sky, fell all at once. The knights rejoiced: “It worked! His control is gone!” they whispered. Sherlock, in a firm voice:“Now he doesn’t see us. Our plan is working,” they said. They hid in the forest, watching Moris’ B-29 plane. Moris observed with binoculars from his hidden spot, a smirk playing on his lips. “Let’s begin, the game is heating up,” he said. He entered the cockpit, put on his goggles. The engines roared, and the plane rose into the sky. Sherlock gave the order to the order. “Be ready! He’s coming!” From the dark shadow, Moris’ plane appeared. Mages and archers attacked, but Moris skillfully maneuvered the plane, dodging every strike. Marksman Harry held his breath. Sherlock gave him a subtle signal. “Now, Harry… now!” As Harry pulled the bowstring, Moris changed the plane’s direction and fired from his machine gun. Harry fell to the ground. Sherlock was astonished: “How… how did he know where Harry was?!” As the plane flew away, it dropped a black box. The knights opened it and found a sheet of paper: “You won’t shoot from behind rocks or face me directly? Where are the knights of the elite order?” Lord Lawrence, boiling with anger: “Look at this mockery!” Sherlock remained silent. He realized Moris was even more cunning than he had thought. Lord Lawrence said: “Sherlock, this is your plan! Go to the King and report how humiliated you’ve been!” Sherlock pondered deeply: “Very well,” he said in a cold voice. Entering the palace, the King was seated. Sherlock greeted and began his report: “Your Majesty, the plan did not fully succeed. Our opponent anticipated every step we took. There is only one conclusion: there is a traitor among the messengers.” The King asked: “Are you sure, Sherlock?” “Yes, Your Majesty. No one outside the magical council knew about this plan. Moris knew exactly where Harry was—such information could only have come from the council members. If you permit, we should review the testimonies.” The King thought for a moment: “Very well… your request is granted. But remember, Sherlock, if you make a mistake, your reputation and position will be shaken,” he said. Sherlock reviewed the accounts of all guild members, knight commanders, and aristocrats. When he came to Aurora’s testimony, the hall fell silent. Sherlock’s eyes hardened. In the testimony, Aurora rushed to Moris: “Moris, do not go out tonight! They have made a plan to capture you…” Everyone tensed. Sherlock slowly said: “You’ve been caught, Miss Aurora… this girl had direct contact with the criminal. The traitor is her!” The hall gasped. Guards thrust their spears toward Aurora. The Count exclaimed: “See! I never trusted her from the start!” The King, in a thunderous voice: “Then seize her! In three days, the death penalty will be carried out!” Aurora turned back: “Moris… be careful…” The message from the palace hit Moris like fire: “Because of me, my friend will be sacrificed. I must save Aurora at all costs…” Moris set aside caution and fired up his plane. Through a signal, he gestured to Aurora: “I’m coming,” and ascended into the night sky. Sherlock: “He will come. We can only wait.” Despite his injury, Harry climbed the tower: “No, I will kill him with my own hands!” From among the dark clouds, the plane appeared. Harry fired an arrow. Moris pulled the lever, dodging the shot, and steered the plane toward the forest: “Aurora, I won’t leave you…” As he approached, Moris opened the hatch and jumped with a parachute. Behind him, the plane struck the bushes, its frame twisted. The knights cheered: “Even if we couldn’t capture him, we left him powerless!” Sherlock only smiled: “A criminal never leaves such a gift for free. It’s a trap.” One knight jumped onto the plane. Then… BOOM!!! The explosion echoed through the forest, scattering the knights in all directions. Sherlock also fell to the ground. Later, Lord Lawrence shouted in anger: “Now what will we tell the King, fools?!” Sherlock: “I fulfilled my duty. I brought the criminal before you. If you let him go, that’s your responsibility. I am not accountable.” The King ordered to continue the search for the criminal. Moris had already vanished into the forest, but time was running out—if he did not act quickly, Aurora would face the death penalty.