Chapter 33: The Truth of the Witches
In the shadows, the darkness was spreading. The Black Organization was moving its new pawns into place.
All across the globe, there were contractors who had signed their lives away in the Organization's service. They had used their powers relentlessly, been deliberately deprived of Grief Seeds, and their Soul Gems were now almost completely corrupted, on the verge of shattering. They had been the Organization's tools in life, and now, they would make one final sacrifice for the cause. Each one carried the pulsing seed of their own despair, and they were sent to their final destinations.
A young intern, walking down the hall of a government building in London, toward the office of a politician investigating the Organization's money laundering.
A devoted fan, waiting in line at a book signing in Paris for a journalist who had written a series of damning exposés.
A waitress, serving drinks at a private club in New York frequented by the CEO of a multinational corporation who had refused to cooperate.
Their mission was simple: get as close to the target as possible, and then, expend the very last of their magical energy.
In a high-end office near the Houses of Parliament in London, the intern, her face pale, her steps unsteady, collapsed in the hallway. "Finally... it's over..." she whispered. At that moment, the space around her Soul Gem rippled. The walls, the ceiling, the very air twisted into grotesque, candy-colored shapes. A Witch's Labyrinth had bloomed in the heart of the government building, swallowing the politician, his aides, and several unfortunate staff members who happened to be in the vicinity. A few minutes later, the Labyrinth vanished. The hallway was normal again. Except the politician's office, and everyone who had been inside or near it, was gone. The area became a dead zone, and anyone who entered never came out. The official report: "Sudden structural collapse and an unidentified gas leak."
In Paris, the girl in the coffee shop looked up as the journalist walked in. "For the future of humanity..." she murmured, and then her body went limp. The cafe dissolved into a nightmare of swirling colors and distorted shapes, trapping everyone inside.
In Washington D.C., a new maid was dusting a bookshelf in a CEO's private study. "This is a necessary sacrifice..." she wept, and then the shadows in the corner of the room swelled, consuming the entire study and the man within.
Similar incidents were now happening all over the world, targeting a specific list of individuals. Each "purification" was sudden, bizarre, and left no conventional evidence. The Witch's Labyrinth had become the perfect weapon for the Organization, a deniable, unstoppable assassination tool forged from the final despair of their most loyal servants.
In the quiet, subterranean lab of Dr. Agasa's house, Conan and Haibara sat before a computer screen, a pale, ghostly light illuminating their faces. A constant stream of news alerts and encrypted messages scrolled by. Publicly, it was a string of bizarre, unrelated "accidents"—a politician's sudden death, a tycoon's mysterious disappearance, a key witness killed in a "gas explosion." Privately, the fragmented intel from Vermouth painted a much darker picture.
Target Scope: Global Key Nodes.
Method of Execution: Deployment of "Corrupted Samples" in target vicinity.
Observed Effect: Localized spatial anomalies, resulting in mass "abnormal disappearances."
The cold, clinical language was more terrifying than any detailed report. The memories of the train, of Vodka's massacre, of Kyubey's evasions... it was all starting to connect, forming a single, horrifying conclusion.
"'Corrupted Samples'... magical girls... corruption... Witch's Labyrinth..." Haibara's fingers traced the words on the screen, her scientific mind and her magical experience colliding.
"What if..." Conan's voice was a hoarse whisper, a terrible light dawning in his eyes. "What if the corruption reaches a critical point... They're deploying magical girls on the verge of collapse near their targets... the final transformation into a Witch... the birth of a Labyrinth... engulfing the target in an 'accident'..." He looked at Haibara, his eyes wide with a dawning, soul-crushing horror.
"The final fate of a magical girl... whose Soul Gem becomes completely corrupted..."
"...is to become a Witch."
At that exact moment, a final message from Vermouth appeared on the screen, a death sentence delivered in a single line of text.
Internal research has confirmed: Full Soul Gem corruption = Witch transformation. This mechanism is now operational in "Purification Protocol." Publicly classified as natural disasters or accidents. Technical assessment: "Efficient, but unstable."
It was confirmed.
Conan and Haibara slumped back in their chairs, the strength draining from their bodies. The miracle of the contract... it had been a lie from the very beginning, a rigged game. The destiny of a magical girl was a one-way street to damnation.
And the Black Organization... they hadn't just acquired magic. They understood its darkest secret and had weaponized it, unleashing a silent, bloody war on a global scale.
The sun was still shining outside, but in the dark, quiet lab, it felt as if the light would never penetrate the suffocating darkness that had enveloped their hearts.
Was there any hope left for the future?