Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Rodolan (2)
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Ronan narrowed his eyes at the sight of Eudon and Syrila. It was a gruesome state that would make ninety-nine out of a hundred people vomit or faint, sparing only the blind.
A mischievous voice flowed out from beneath the interrogator's beak-shaped mask.
"Did you all have sweet dreams?"
The square room had no windows. All six surfaces were made of dull grayish stone. The only light source, a small lantern, flickered from the center of the ceiling.
"Keurgh... Huuugh...!"
"Augh... Aaaaah..."
Eudon and Syrila were firmly bound to steel chairs, spaced about ten steps apart. Beside each was a long side table.
The three-tiered tables were neatly arranged with tools specialized for interrogation or dissection. The interrogator, hands clasped behind his back, slowly approached Eudon.
"Unfortunately, I've heard that you two still have secrets left to spill."
Eudon's limbs remained severed. No tentacles grew from the four stumps covered in black cloth.
Instead, tentacles writhed out from every orifice on his face except his mouth. When the interrogator tugged on one emerging from his eye socket, a scream like marrow being crushed erupted from Eudon's mouth.
"Thanks to you, I lost face in front of our esteemed guests."
"H-Huaaaagh!!"
Eudon thrashed about. The interrogator wound the tentacle around his finger and spoke.
"This Eudon fellow learned black magic."
"Black magic?"
"Yes. It's a magic so brutal and horrific that it vanished from the Empire. Unlike other schools that require innate affinity, anyone can learn it with enough skill. His body's regeneration is one such form."
"The problem is that this old man studied black magic once too."
The interrogator chuckled darkly and pinched another tentacle. Eudon, convulsing, whimpered as he opened his mouth.
"Huuugh...! S-Stop, stop it! I've told you everything!"
"Heh heh, I didn't expect you could redirect where the tentacles grow."
The interrogator explained that each tentacle strand carried his pain points. There was no trace of his former loyalty or composure in Eudon's desperate pleas, even using honorifics to beg for mercy.
Releasing the tentacle, the interrogator asked kindly.
"Is that so? You've told us everything?"
"Keurgh... Y-Yes! Everything...! I've told you everything...! The cult's name is Nebula Klazie, this woman is Syrila Lemation, executive of the 8th Branch! Everything we've done, all of it...!"
"Then answer this. What is the Coming of the Stars?"
Eudon gasped at the words. A brief but heavy silence fell.
Snap! After exactly three seconds, the interrogator seized all the tentacles from his face at once. Then he ripped them out wildly.
"Kuaaaagh! Aaaagh! Huaaaagh!"
"Damn."
Naviroje clicked her tongue. Eudon's struggling made the steel chair rock as if it might topple.
With sounds like uprooting deep weeds, wriggling tentacles burst out. The interrogator yanked them mercilessly, like a child unwrapping presents.
"Kweeeee..."
Soon, empty eye sockets were revealed. Various flesh chunks writhed beneath the fainted Eudon's chair.
"I'm disappointed in you, Eudon. Don't you know the old adage that friends share no secrets?"
Having pulled out all the tentacles, the interrogator turned away. Hearing his footsteps, Syrila flinched. Yellow urine trickled down the legs of her chair.
"You're my friend too, right, Miss Syrila?"
"P-Please. Please just kill me. I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong...!"
Syrila's limbs were reduced to just her left arm and right leg. Thick bandages wrapped thickly over her eyes, stained with red marks, hinted she could no longer see.
Most striking were her ears, each hacked to less than half, the elves' signature long points crudely cut into irregular polygons.
The interrogator picked up pruning shears from the table, like those for gardening. He placed Syrila's left ear between the blades and looked at Ronan.
"Pain is truly remarkable, isn't it?"
"Pardon?"
"The other day, I asked Miss Syrila her age. Two hundred and twenty-two years, she said. Even an elf who's lived four times my life screams like a child when pushed beyond her limits. Begging for the right to end that long lifespan."
As he spoke, he snipped off a knuckle's width from her ear. Snip. She jerked like a freshly caught fish, letting out a bone-chilling scream.
"Kyaaaaaaaagh!"
"Not many ears left to cut now, Miss Syrila. What exactly is the Coming of the Stars?"
Syrila only screamed, no answer. The interrogator chuckled lowly and took a vial from the bottom drawer of the table.
"Is it such a grand secret? Let me share some good news."
He poured the liquid into her ear. The pus-filled wound began to heal slowly. In a gentle voice, he said.
"You won't leave Rodolan until you've spilled every secret. Alive or dead."
"Ah... Aaaah!... Aaaaaah!"
Syrila, pale as a ghost, wailed in despair. Turning back to Ronan and Naviroje, the interrogator shook his head regretfully.
"This... might take more time. Since they do have secrets left, shall we head back for now? I'll contact you later."
"I see. What do you think, Ronan?"
Ronan didn't answer. He pondered the conversation he'd overheard in the Grand Hall and the current scene.
- Unfortunately, I can't answer that question.
- Please kill me...!
It was odd. At first, he thought they were just stonewalling. But they spilled everything else yet wouldn't utter "Coming of the Stars."
An absurd possibility crossed his mind. What if Eudon's words meant exactly that? Stroking his chin, Ronan muttered his deduction softly.
"Maybe... some kind of magic is at play?"
"Pardon?"
"No, just something feels off. They've talked about everything else for two days of torment, but not that. What if they literally can't say it? Like a spell that prevents telling non-members... something like that?"
Silence hung for a moment. Ronan scratched his head awkwardly. Surely no convenient magic like that existed. Then the interrogator dropped the shears like they burned him.
"...This is a real blow to my pride."
"Pardon?"
"I must have been shocked that secrets remained. No, that's an excuse. To miss something so obvious... Mind waiting a moment?"
His voice oddly excited, the interrogator abruptly left the room.
Bang! As the door shut, silence returned. Only Syrila's sobs echoed in the dim room. Ronan gave a hollow laugh.
"What can I say... He's really good at his job, that old man."
Every action and word showed his love for his craft. Naviroje, arms crossed throughout, looked at Ronan and asked.
"Doesn't bother you?"
"Ah, a bit gross, but I can handle it."
Of course, the interrogator's handiwork was horrific. Syrila and Eudon now resembled statues carved by hammers of malice and precision.
But rolling through battlefields meant facing worse, repeatedly. Naviroje shook her head in disbelief at Ronan's profile.
"...You're a weird student. That old interrogator doesn't disgust you?"
"Not at all. Someone has to get their hands dirty."
If anything, Ronan respected the old man. Was it kinship from his penal legion days, handling the filthiest tasks? Minutes later, urgent footsteps opened the door.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"...What the fuck—no, what is that ugly thing?"
Ronan frowned. The interrogator returned with apple-sized lumps in each hand. Tumor-like meat blobs, each with a large eye in the center.
The golden pupils rolling around looked utterly repulsive. Holding one up, the interrogator said.
"A curse-eating monster, the Curse Eye."
"Monster? Curse?"
"Yes. Used to interrogate criminals silenced by curses. The binding magic you mentioned... that sort is classified separately under curses."
Ronan had never seen one. The interrogator approached Eudon with a Curse Eye. Tentacles had already regenerated, slithering in his ears and eyes.
Bowing Eudon's head forward, the interrogator placed the Curse Eye on his nape. Splats! It stuck like an octopus, its pupil flashing open.
"Huuuugh!"
"Relax. It's removing the curse binding you."
The Curse Eye's eyelid fluttered. Continuous groans came from Eudon. Ronan noticed the eye's color slowly changing.
"Uruuluk."
Finally, the pupil turned fully blue. Smiling satisfied, the interrogator lifted Eudon's chin.
"Now, Eudon. Surely the wall between us is gone."
"Heuk... Hek, huuuugh...!"
"One more time. What is the Coming of the Stars?"
Silence again. As the interrogator reached for tentacles, Eudon's lips parted slowly.
"The day... the stars come. The fateful day our cult dreams of..."
Ronan's eyes widened. Hearing Eudon, Syrila whipped her head away.
"Eudon, no!"
"Shut up."
Thud! Ronan punched Syrila's stomach. She retched and slumped. Eudon continued.
"We are so frail... Humans who don't even live a century, elves who age with mountains... All racing toward meaningless ends... We of Nebula Klazie... Heuk, are torches gathered beneath eternal starlight..."
Starlight again. Ronan's breathing grew rough. The interrogator and Naviroje listened with puzzled expressions.
"The Coming of the Stars... is the day we joyfully welcome the starlight pouring from beyond the sky. Our wish... is to halt futile progress... to keep barbarism's blade from the stars."
"Verbose. My age must be showing; hard to follow. In short, something comes from the sky that day?"
"It's..."
Eudon shut his mouth again. Impatient, Ronan pushed past the interrogator.
"Hold on."
"Ronan?"
Ronan took a deep breath. Pressing his face to Eudon's ear, he whispered.
"Do you know the name Ahayute?"
Eudon's shoulders flinched. He slowly turned to Ronan. A trembling voice emerged.
"Wh-where... did you... Uuk!"
Suddenly, Eudon's forehead swelled. Everyone's faces hardened.
His head ballooned like a balloon about to burst. Should he slice it? As Ronan reached for his hilt, the interrogator pulled him back.
"Step back."
"Kweeeee..Uuugh!"
The interrogator deployed a mana shield. Boom! Eudon's swollen head exploded. Brain matter, bone shards, and torn tentacles sprayed everywhere.
But the mana shield protected the three and Syrila. As he dispelled it, clinging flesh and fluids pattered down.
A calm voice came from beneath the mask.
"Hm. The curse was stronger than expected. Or multiple layered ones."
"Damn, does this happen often?"
"Cases where breaking bindings kills them aren't rare."
He seemed less fazed than someone spilling side dishes at dinner. Looking at the headless corpse, he continued.
"But surprising that the Curse Eye didn't absorb it all. It hadn't eaten in a year..."
The Curse Eye fed on curses afflicting people. Even stuffed full, the curse persisted—meaning it was too potent for one or multiple intertwined.
Mulling it over, Ronan spoke.
"First curse: can't tell non-members about the Coming of the Stars. Second: head explodes if deeper info spills. Probably more."
"Spot on, the most credible theory. But... I've noticed, Ronan, you have a talent for interrogation."
Suddenly, the interrogator removed his mask. Offering a handshake, he said.
"Ever thought of working in Rodolan later? Name's Karaka."
"Don't recruit my student to weird shit."
Naviroje growled, watching. Her sharp eyes gleamed under thick brows. Karaka chuckled awkwardly and stepped back.
"Easy, former Sword Saint. Just a suggestion."
"Thanks for the offer, Karaka. If I go deaf, I'll consider it seriously."
Ronan smirked and shook hands—a refusal. Naviroje tsked, displeased even then.
"Pity we lost one. Harder to catch than most phantasmals..."
Eyeing Naviroje, Karaka smoothly changed topics. The Curse Eye on Eudon had perished in the blast.
Karaka held up the remaining one.
"Looks cute up close. Want to pet it?"
"Pass."
"Me too."
No way he'd touch it without pay.
"Urororok!"
Suddenly, the docile Curse Eye on Karaka's palm lunged at Ronan. Seeing suckers spread, Ronan instinctively drew.
"Fuck, startled me!"
La Mancha slashed air. Thunk. The halved Curse Eye fell. Karaka's eyes bulged.
"Huuugh...!"
Even bisected, it wriggled like alive. Recalling they were rare as phantasmals, Ronan bluffed.
"Shit, sorry. It lunged first, you saw."
"Th-this...?"
Suddenly, Karaka grabbed Ronan's right arm. Before he could speak, he pressed the corpse to Ronan's hand.
The bisected Curse Eye's pupil instantly turned blue.