Datch struck a few dashing poses, then walked straight into the sealed building.
Two Watchmen started to stop him, but their commander shot them a stern look—they immediately refrained.
Datch's miracles—unlimited resurrection, miraculous construction speed, terrifying insight into daemons and heresy—had spread through the Watchmen and Macragge's upper circles.
Many regarded him as the Emperor's avatar, with status to match.
The Primarch had even ordered he be allowed in any important location.
Inside, the lighting was dim and oppressive.
Datch activated Detective Vision, and the world changed.
Details invisible to ordinary people were highlighted in gold:
Unnatural, faintly psychic scratches in the corners.
An icy, inhuman fingerprint on the stair rail.
An unusual electromagnetic fluctuation behind a certain door…
Datch moved through his element, investigating clues and piecing together the truth.
When talking to anxious residents, their info panels not only showed names and roles, but also clues such as:
[Was sleeping at the time of the crime, but seen elsewhere]
[Unusually sensitive to psychic fluctuations. Detected anomalies in the building]
[Seen leaving when someone entered, but later seen going downstairs]
…
These scattered clues formed a puzzle in Datch's mind.
Once enough were gathered, the Deduction Space icon lit up.
"Looks like the truth is about to be revealed."
"Deduction Space, activate."
Time froze.
The building became a semi-transparent model, like a video he could rewind, fast forward, or pause.
Datch observed as an outsider, calmly analyzing each clue.
He quickly saw the killer's path and methods.
The killer was indeed a daemon, but had not possessed anyone—instead, it killed five people disguised as various residents. When the guards arrived, it changed shape again and slipped out as another person.
With the answer, Datch exited Deduction Space and the world returned to normal.
He strode out, instantly becoming the center of attention.
Raising his hand, he signaled for silence.
"After my investigation, the truth is clear."
"The killer is not in this building."
The crowd erupted.
"Not inside? Then where?"
A bold citizen shouted, echoed by others.
Datch scanned the crowd and continued:
"The killer is cunning and can shapeshift. It committed the murders disguised as residents, then, when chaos erupted and the authorities arrived, it slipped out as someone else. Now—"
His voice rose with authority:
"It's hiding among us, in this crowd, enjoying the tragedy it orchestrated, and planning its next act."
The words exploded like cold water in hot oil—panic spread.
People shoved away from each other, eyeing everyone with suspicion and fear.
The Watchmen drew their weapons, ready for action.
"You're disturbing the peace, sowing panic!"
The haggard priest jumped out again, waving his arms, face red with zeal.
"Don't listen to his nonsense. The Emperor gave me a vision—the daemon is in the building!"
"This is a test of faith! Only the purest fire can quell the Emperor's wrath and protect us—burn them all! That's the only—"
"Enough." Datch interrupted, pointing at the priest.
"After my investigation, and ruling out all impossibilities—"
"The only answer, however absurd—must be the truth!"
"So the true killer…"
He stared at the priest, enunciating each word,
"Is—you!"
"You killed the innocent, escaped the building by shapeshifting, then disguised yourself as a priest to incite the crowd to burn the rest, playing us all for fools."
The crowd fell dead silent.
All eyes—Watchmen, auxiliaries, terrified citizens—locked onto the priest.
The priest's speech faltered, his face freezing in panic.
"You—you slander me! I am the Emperor's most loyal servant! I—"
But under Datch's soul-piercing gaze, his words crumbled.
The disguise was broken; denial was useless.
"How hateful—you ruined my carefully staged drama."
The priest's voice warped.
Before everyone, his body twisted, his robe melting like wax, revealing a shape of shifting mercury and colors, with only a pair of cunning, malicious eyes clear.
A Changeling of Tzeentch!
"Hehehe…" the Changeling cackled. "Such a fun game—I can't wait to play again."
Seeing the true form, the people panicked and fled.
Since the Great Rift, the secrets of the warp could no longer be hidden.
Many knew of daemons—faith in the Ecclesiarchy only spread further.
Knowing was one thing—facing daemons was another.
"Open fire!"
The Watchman commander shouted.
The guards opened fire, but the Changeling dodged nimbly, trying to escape.
"Trying to run? Try this!"
Datch produced a red-and-white ball.
He stepped back and threw it with all his might:
"Go! Poké Ball!"
The Changeling at first looked puzzled, but as the Poké Ball snapped open and unleashed a terrifying suction, it felt a primal, existential terror!
"No! What is this power?!"
It screamed, body twisting as it was sucked in, flashing as a beam of light into the Poké Ball.
The ball snapped shut, rattled a few times, and dinged—the button glowing steadily.
"Yes! Success!"
Datch cheered, bouncing over and carefully picking up the Poké Ball.
"Daemon Pokémon, Changeling—caught!"
The crowd was speechless, brains short-circuiting.
Catch… a daemon? With… a ball?
This Emperor's Angel had again shattered their understanding of reality.