Chapter 446 446

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Chapter 446 Chapter 446

"No, Reaves. Dracula has been the same as far as I can tell. The only peculiar thing is that he seems to be aging more noticeably. Lately, he's been prone to dozing off in his recliner." Nexus's words hang in the air, a revelation that carries a peculiar weight.

Upon hearing this, Reaves visibly relaxes. The tension in his shoulders eases, replaced by a sense of reassurance. A subtle exhale escapes him, indicating the weight lifted off his chest. As long as Dracula is not implicated in the recent disturbances, Reaves's confidence remains unwavering.

Reaves leans back in his chair, a palpable relief evident on his face. "That's a relief to hear, Nexus. The last thing we need is Dracula being involved in this turmoil." His tone carries a mix of gratitude and acknowledgment.

Nexus, sensing Reaves's concerns, adds, "I understand, Reaves. Dracula is old, but I haven't seen anything that would suggest he's involved in the recent incidents."

The two men sit in contemplative silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering in the room. Reaves breaks the quietude with a question, his eyes searching Nexus's for any signs of hidden knowledge. "Have you discovered anything else during your visits to Dracula's house? Any clues that might help us unravel the mystery behind these attacks?"

Nexus furrows his brow, recalling his interactions with Dracula and the surroundings of the enigmatic mansion. "Not much, Reaves. Dracula keeps to himself mostly." Reaves was also aware of this so he knows Nexus was not lying, or he believed Nexus was not lying.

As he sifts through the fragments of his memories, Tom's mental landscape becomes a labyrinth of unanswered questions. The night of Tiffany's attack replays in his mind like a haunting melody, each note resonating with the echoes of the inexplicable. When Tom remember the image of Charlie, who was once a vibrant presence in the police office and his best partner, now a lifeless puppet at the hands of a malevolent force, it fuels the flames of Tom's anger and determination.

"What happened that night?" Tom wonders, his mind is like a battleground of conflicting emotions. The rage at the assailant, the sorrow for the loss of a colleague, and the relentless pursuit of justice converge into a singular focus. He recognizes that the answers lie in the shadows, elusive and just out of reach.

Tom grapples with the complexity of the case. "The one who killed Charlie in the police office and the one who manipulated his body into a walking dead are completely different person, I can feel it. Two distinct malevolences. Why?" The question reverberates within the recesses of his thoughts, a mantra that propels him forward in his quest for clarity.

In that moments of solitude, Tom's thought becomes a resolute declaration. "I won't let this remain unsolved. Charlie deserves justice, and so do the victims of these Necromancers. I'll delve deeper, sift through the details, and expose the truth, no matter how deeply it's concealed." The mental storm persists, yet within the tempest, Tom finds a steely resolve.He knows he is a step closer to the revelation that will quell the anxieties and bring justice to the unsettling mysteries that have ensnared his investigative spirit.

The flickering light of an old desk lamp casts shadows that dance like phantoms around the room. Tom was surrounded by the weight of the unsolved mysteries, and he could feel the storm raging within his mind. The unanswered questions echo like thunder, reverberating through the chambers of his consciousness.

The distant sound of rain tapping against the windowpane underscores the intensity of the moment. Outside, the city is drenched in a downpour, mirroring the tempest within Tom's soul. Yet, amid the chaos, a glint of determination gleams in his eyes.

His fingers trace the edges of a worn-out notebook, the repository of his thoughts and deductions. Each entry is a testament to his relentless pursuit of the truth. The ancient clock on the wall ticks methodically, a metronome to the symphony of his investigative prowess.

With a sudden clarity cutting through his mind, Tom straightens in his chair. He senses the proximity of a breakthrough, an elusive revelation that promises to unravel the threads of uncertainty. The storm within him is no longer a harbinger of despair; instead, it fuels the fire of his resolve.

As he scans the evidences once more, a map of connections and contradictions, Tom begins to piece together the fragments of the puzzle.