Chapter 129: The First Case of the New World — The Cruel Death of the Black-Hearted President
Black mist roiled violently around the skyscraper, faintly taking the shape of a screeching skull before morphing into a blade-like form that sent chills down one's spine.
This is bad, Conan thought. Though he hadn't fully grasped the situation yet, driven by his innate sense of justice, he couldn't sit idly by while evil transpired. He instinctively tried to dash toward the building.
But his short legs hadn't carried him far before he froze in place.
With several sharp whooshes, a large crowd of people teleported into existence near the entrance. They transformed into a pack of onlookers, craning their necks to look at the floors wreathed in black mist and critiquing the scene:
"Whoa, such potent criminal energy! There must be a legendary case unfolding in this office building. No wonder my Stand pulled me here via frame-skip!"
"The Criminal Mist has appeared, and the color is so pitch-black... it's definitely a homicide. Even the Death Skull omen manifested; this is a world-shaking atrocity. There must be at least several victims. This time, the editor won't complain that my report isn't explosive enough..."
"The mist is mainly hovering around the 13th floor; that's definitely the crime scene. It looks like a blade; the murder weapon must be a knife. Still, a case of this scale—the property value of this building is going to tank hard..."
"I wonder what the killer's Stand ability and method are. To breed such a massive mist, they must have put in immense effort to craft a flawless scheme. I hope the police release the details; I really want to study them..."
Conan stood in silent, complex bewilderment. He never expected that in the Sixth Divergence, even random pedestrians could frame-skip and observe cases through "Energy Reading"!
The onlookers blocked the entrance. Conan tried to squeeze through but was stopped by a passerby who lectured him earnestly:
"Kid, you're too young. At this level of homicide, even being a bystander is dangerous. If you want to watch a show, start with a regular case first..."
What could Conan say? He couldn't exactly reveal his true identity and tell them that he personally orchestrated the world-shaking murder at Tropical Land. In terms of experience in crime and courting death, he was leagues above these amateurs.
Suppressing his sense of justice for the moment, he decided to gather information from the crowd. These onlookers were quite chatty, and by listening, Conan collected a wealth of data on the new world line.
In this "Great Stand Era" where everyone had an ability, social dynamics had indeed shifted.
First, crime was hard to hide. The bigger the crime, the easier it was to trigger an omen. Like right now, a multi-victim homicide created an omen visible from streets away. Conan understood this; when the Organization came for him, the omen had been visible for a hundred miles. This setting had clearly carried over.
Second, difficulty in hiding didn't mean criminals couldn't succeed. The more ingenious and secretive the plan, the more likely it was to trigger a phenomenon called "Criminal Mist." This mist acted like a bounded field (Kekkai), possessing the power to invert reality and shroud the truth. The criminal received buffs within it. Ordinary people who entered would find their senses distorted and their minds clouded—leading to false deductions or even death. Only those with superior minds and penetrating wisdom could walk through the mist, peel back the lies, and drag the culprit out.
Third was the Frame-Skip movement of the crowd. While everyone had a Stand, they couldn't teleport whenever they wanted. Only during specific events would their Stands be "pulled" toward a location, forcibly moving them there.
Conan was puzzled by this third point. These onlookers included reporters, real estate agents, "mystery enthusiasts" wanting to study the killer's craft, and simple gawkers. They had nothing in common. Why were their Stands pulled here?
It can't just be that the crime needs an audience, can it?
Soon, he found the common thread in their chatter. Every teleported person was somehow related to this building—many had visited it recently. Conan's professional instincts kicked in: These people are all 'Related Parties' to the case!
He rubbed his head. In the old days, related people appeared naturally around a case. Now, the world just forcibly warped them onto the scene!
Regardless, Conan's skills were sharp. From snippets of conversation, he pieced together the motive: A "black-hearted" president ran a "black-hearted" company with several "black-hearted" executives. They had done a laundry list of terrible things—forced overtime leading to employee deaths, contract fraud causing partners to go bankrupt, and general workplace bullying. They were universally loathed.
The 13th floor was their headquarters. Given the scale of the mist, the president and executives were likely already "cold." As for suspects? Because of the "Relation Rule," practically everyone in the crowd was a suspect to some degree.
The victim template feels familiar, Conan noted. I've handled many cases involving presidents like this.
Despite his curiosity, Conan waited until he could sneak toward the scene. But before he got close, someone grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up!
"Kid! Don't get near a crime scene covered in mist! It's dangerous!"
Conan's body went stiff. He knew that voice. He turned his head and saw Kogoro Mouri, who had apparently just frame-skipped in. Conan frantically looked around; when he didn't see Ran, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Kogoro's ghostly appearance startled him, but he quickly adapted. The times had changed!
Moments later, with several sharp whooshes, police cars teleported out of thin air. Inspector Megure and his team stepped out. The crowd erupted:
"It's the famous 'Little Brother Hunter' Megure! Now the real show begins!"
"Even the 'Sin-Washer' Mouri is here! This case is going to be spectacular!"
Conan noticed that Megure's fame had skyrocketed. He was treated like a superstar. Even the "Sleeping Sot" Kogoro was popular—people actually got his name right for once.
Megure looked solemn. He stared at the mist-shrouded building, took a deep breath, and said: "With an omen like this, it's a nightmare of a case. Standard procedure: detain the onlookers for questioning. Mouri-kun, come with me inside to see the scene."
Conan was surprised. Megure's first move wasn't forensics—it was crowd control. Even weirder, the crowd complied as if it were routine.
Being part of the crowd, Conan was rounded up. A policewoman approached him and, seeing he was just a child, explained gently. Ever since the "Great Stand Era" began a month ago, the law found that those who teleported to a scene were always related to the case—knowing clues or even being the killer. Thus, the investigation flow had changed.
Conan had no clues and didn't know the victims. Since he couldn't reveal his background, he spun a lie. He used the information he'd overheard to fool the officer. Seeing he was just a kid and his story matched the others, she let him be.
Megure and Kogoro went up. Conan's "Detective Soul" was burning, but he was stuck outside. Then, by coincidence or necessity, the Criminal Mist suddenly expanded, swallowing the onlookers and the police.
Conan's vision spun. When he came to, he was on the 13th floor. Everyone—the crowd, the cops—was there. Conan was secretly excited to participate, but the others looked grim.
"Crap! The mist expanded! The case level just spiked—even the witnesses are in danger now!"
"Are even the 'Little Brother Hunter' and the 'Sin-Washer' being played by the culprit? This is bad!"
Before Conan could ask more, a thunderous boom echoed. He turned and gasped.
Thick silk threads were webbed across the walls, forming a massive net. Scuttling across it was a two-meter-tall Spider Stand with razor-sharp blade limbs.
Inspector Megure stood with one hand in his pocket and the other clutching his hat in a flamboyant, JoJo-esque pose. Behind him, a humanoid Stand made of multi-faceted crystals manifested, unleashing a barrage of punches at the spider:
"ORA ORA ORA! Criminal! Reveal your true self and surrender!"
The black spider swung its blade-limbs in a flurry of slashes, clashing with the punches:
"MUDA MUDA MUDA! You fools! As long as you cannot solve my trick, I am INVINCIBLE within this Criminal Mist Kekkai!"
Megure shouted: "Mouri-kun! Haven't you found the clue yet? Hurry! The killer's Stand is getting stronger!"
"Brother Megure! Hold on a bit longer, I'm almost there!"
In the distance, Kogoro was struggling through the webbed office, searching for something. The spider lunged at him. Kogoro panicked, and his own Stand appeared. It was... a human-sized, muscular Sake Bottle with arms and legs.
The Bottle Stand performed a surprisingly effective "Drunken Fist" style, knocking the spider back. But after its victory, it wobbled, leaned against a wall, "puked a rainbow," and slid to the floor, unconscious.
Megure looked ready to pop a vein. "Mouri-kun! Your Stand is drunk again!? Did you drink with your own Stand last night? I told you at its last check-up—due to chronic alcoholism, its Persistence stat has dropped to E-! You're going to give your Stand a heart attack!"
Kogoro looked embarrassed. "Don't worry, Brother! I'll make him quit and start exercising when we get home!"
Watching this, Edogawa Conan felt his mind reeling. "Solving a case" in this world line was much more... kinetic than he expected. And Kogoro Mouri, despite the world changing, was still exactly the same unreliable idiot.
End of Chapter
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