Chapter 182
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 182
The Western Branch’s underground.
As I descended the stairs, the stagnant air—heavy with the metallic tang of blood—stung my lungs.
Clang—.
Alfredo pulled open the heavy iron door, revealing a long corridor lined with iron bars on either side. These cells held criminals, political dissidents, and anyone else deemed a threat to Panopticon’s rule.
“Aaargh!”
“H-Help me...”
Horrific screams echoed through the prison.
The sound was a stark reminder that my associates in the criminal underworld weren't exactly "good" people. Then again, it was hard to call them uniquely evil, either. Given the nature of this world, this was simply the norm. Even in the modern era, where people pride themselves on being civilized, torture still happens behind closed doors.
Following Alfredo, I reached the deepest part of the prison. I opened the door to a room labeled 'Interrogation Room,' where Rebecca was waiting.
“Oh, you're here?”
Rebecca sat with her legs crossed, idly twirling a wicked-looking tool around her finger. Between her leather outfit and the frightening implement in her hand, it wasn't hard to guess what she’d been up to.
I frowned. “...Were you in the middle of torturing someone?”
“Torture? Call it an interrogation. Hey, you can leave now.”
“Yes, Warden.”
At Rebecca's wave, a mage bowed and hurried out.
I watched the mage leave before shifting my gaze to a man slumped in a chair, bound tightly with ropes. Despite the grim atmosphere, he didn't have any visible injuries. They were likely using illusion magic for the interrogation.
Rebecca clicked her tongue. “Tsk. Illusion magic is humane, I guess, but it’s less effective than actually ripping out fingernails. And it’s no fun.”
So that’s what the plier-like tool was for. I swallowed hard and tried to stop her.
“...Let's put that away for now.”
Rebecca spun the tool one last time. “Why? Are you scared?”
Of course I'm scared, you psycho.
I wince in agony just from pulling a hangnail the wrong way, and here she was talking about ripping out entire nails with a pair of rusty nippers. Just the thought made me feel sick.
Rebecca shrugged and set the tool down on a side table. “Do you have a better way, then? A more skilled illusionist, perhaps?”
The realism of illusion magic depends entirely on the caster's skill. Torture via illusions cast by a master would naturally be more effective. I couldn't use illusion magic, but...
“I brought something better than illusions.”
I reached into my Subspace Pouch, pulled out Ariel's Ring of Truth, and showed it to her. Rebecca blinked at the glowing, yellow-green ring.
“Oh, it's pretty. Is it for me? Can I try it on?”
“You wouldn't like what happens if you do.”
It might look like jewelry, but its purpose was anything but aesthetic. After all, lie detectors are only ever used when things have gone south.
Instead of handing the ring to Rebecca, I slipped it onto the finger of the man tied to the chair.
Rebecca grimaced. “What the hell? Is that your kink? No wonder you refused when I offered you money. For a young guy, you have some weird tastes.”
“...Shut up.”
She was talking nonsense. I slapped the cheeks of the unconscious man, who still had a burlap sack over his head, to rouse him.
Slap, slap—.
“Wake up.”
“Hic, heek!”
The man, who had fainted from the mental strain of the illusions, twitched and gasped as he regained consciousness.
I spoke in a low, warning tone. “From now on, you will answer my questions with 'yes' or 'no.'”
“W-What?” the idiot stammered, clearly still disoriented.
Thwack—.
I kicked him in the shin. “Again. Yes or no. You will only answer with those two words. Understand?”
“...Yes.”
I leaned in toward the man. “Answer honestly. Are you a spy from the Anti-Rebecca Faction sent to the Western Branch?”
“N-No! I'm not! I'm innocent!”
The man thrashed as if having a seizure, desperately pleading his innocence.
Vmmmm—.
The ring on his finger vibrated, emitting a harsh red light.
‘A lie.’
I felt a small sense of relief. ‘At least they weren't torturing an innocent man.’
“Good. Let's begin for real. Go to sleep for a bit.”
I pressed the gem on the ring.
Click—.
The man immediately slumped over, losing consciousness. A needle inside the ring had pierced his skin to collect a blood sample, activating [Time of Truth]. In this state, he would spill everything he knew as if he’d been injected with a truth serum—only this was far more effective than any drug that merely scrambled the mind.
I whispered into the man’s ear. “What is your real name, and where do you belong?”
The man mumbled in a hollow voice. “...Locke Hinne. Panopticon Eastern Branch Intelligence Team. Shadow number 385.”
“What was your objective here?”
“To monitor Rebecca's movements... to map the layout of the Western Branch and confirm its organizational structure.”
As the man who had been so stubbornly resistant began to leak information like a sieve, Rebecca's eyes widened.
“So that's what the ring does? It’s actually pretty useful.”
“Why? You want to buy it?” I asked, though I had no intention of selling.
Rebecca shook her head and grinned. “Nah. If I used that, the fun of the torture would be gone.”
“...”
She was even more terrifying than I’d imagined.
“I'm kidding. I torture when I have to, not because I enjoy it. Besides, you wouldn't sell it even if I asked, right?”
She said it was a joke, but I didn't believe her for a second. Shuddering, I continued the interrogation.
After the interrogation, we gathered in the Western Branch's reception room.
“We've gathered quite a bit of intel.”
Having organized the information extracted from the spy, Locke, we could finally breathe a sigh of relief. We now had a clearer picture of the enemy's movements and their status at the time he was dispatched.
However...
“We couldn't get the most crucial information.”
A mere pawn like Locke only knew so much. We couldn't learn Carmilla's exact intentions or the current deployment of her main forces.
Alfredo spoke up. “Still, we learned about 'Edrin.' Knowing they've developed a body enhancer by processing Dark Mana Stones into a drug is a huge gain in itself.”
“True.”
Edrin was a variable I hadn't encountered even after clearing the Underworld Conflict quest dozens of times. It was likely a new development caused by my presence—or perhaps the absence of the player character. By finely dividing a Dark Mana Stone, they could distribute its power evenly, lowering the risk of mana overload while allowing for strategic use.
“Theoretically... it allows an ordinary soldier to temporarily exhibit the strength and agility of five men,” Alfredo noted.
“Right. Facing them head-on will be suicide.”
Mathematically, the enemy's combat power had quintupled. But that was only if we fought them on their terms. They couldn't stay on the enhancer indefinitely; if we could strike during their window of vulnerability, we had a chance. In a way, this was better than facing a demon in a state of total overload, which would simply destroy everything in its path.
“Do you think they kidnapped Lady Lize... to mass-produce this drug?”
I nodded at Alfredo's question. “Most likely.”
Lize's Eye of Replication can copy objects regardless of their inherent properties. While she might not be able to replicate the raw power within a Dark Mana Stone, she could easily copy its chemical structure and form. All Carmilla would have to do is infuse the copies with power—a simple task for someone of her caliber.
I summarized the situation. “Everyone, listen up. To win this war, we must launch a preemptive strike.”
Given the disparity in our forces, we had zero chance of winning if the enemy started the battle fully prepared and drugged up on enhancers. We had to hit them when and where they least expected it.
I pointed to the map on the table. “We must be the ones to dictate the terms of engagement—the time and the place.”
That was the first condition for victory.
Alfredo looked skeptical. “...Can we truly make that happen?”
He had a point. The enemy already occupied over seventy percent of the underground city. The initiative belonged to Carmilla.
“It won't be easy. That's why we need bait.”
“Bait...?”
“Yes. Bait to lure them to a specific location at a specific time. We’re going to arrange a parley.” I turned to Rebecca, who was lounging in her chair. “And for this parley... it would be best if Rebecca went in person.”
Panopticon Central Headquarters.
The villa of Carmilla.
“Humm, humm~”
“Lady Carmilla, a message from the Western Branch.”
As the messenger delivered the news, Carmilla—who had been busy fashioning a statue out of fresh blood—snapped her head toward him.
“What is it?”
“A request for a meeting. The Western Branch Chief, Rebecca, says she will attend in person.”
“A meeting? She wants to meet me face-to-face?”
Splaash—.
Carmilla waved her hand, letting the blood statue collapse into a puddle, and looked at her subordinate. “What do you think, Gulados?”
Gulados, who had been standing silently in the shadows, answered immediately. “It is likely a ploy. They are at a severe disadvantage, so they must be scheming to create a variable. There is no need to accept.”
The power gap was overwhelming. There was no reason to play along with the enemy's games. If they simply proceeded with their original plan, victory was guaranteed.
But Carmilla just shrugged. “But if we just grab that bitch Rebecca, it’s over, right? I’ll meet her. I was getting bored anyway.”
The heart of the Western Branch was Rebecca—Big Brother’s granddaughter—and her right-hand man, Alfredo. If those two were eliminated, the conflict would end without a full-scale war. Why pass up such an easy opportunity? Besides, she was so bored she’d resorted to blood-sculpting. The timing was perfect.
Gulados didn't object further. “...If that is your wish, my lady.”
She wasn't the type to listen to advice anyway, and pushing the point would only put his life at risk. Besides, Carmilla had a point. Whatever scheme the enemy was plotting, they could simply crush it with overwhelming force. The risk was negligible. If things went well, they could subdue the Western Branch without a fight and save their strength for conquering the Union.
As Gulados fell into thought, Carmilla added, “By the way, I heard that kid returned to the Union a few days ago. Don't you think he'll show up at this meeting?”
Having absorbed Panopticon’s intelligence network, Carmilla’s faction controlled most of the information within the Meteor Archipelago. According to their reports, Roen Devalis—the successor several Venerables had their eyes on—had returned. Since he had a cooperative relationship with the Western Branch, he was likely to attend.
“The probability is high. It would be a good opportunity to meet him again.”
Carmilla grinned and shouted to the messenger.
“Fine. Tell them we accept the parley. But we will be the ones to decide the time and place.”