Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Red Star (3)
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Ten minutes passed, and they began moving again.
The first thing they did was wake Asren, who had fainted, and extract more information from him.
They verified the truth by repeating the questions they had already asked.
The content of his answers remained completely consistent.
If he were lying or making things up, the details would shift slightly, but that never happened with Asren.
Even if he could lie through having his nails pulled and bones broken, that would make him impressive in its own right.
Even if they were being fooled, they could let it slide once under the assumption it was possible.
But that didn't mean they were going to fall for it.
"Master, what do you plan to do with this man?"
Astier had switched back to calling him Master.
"Make him disappear."
He had no real intention of letting him live.
But he also had no plan to let the body be discovered right away.
Asren would vanish from this place.
Hearing that, Asren's face drained of color.
He had realized it was a play on words.
"F-Fucking bastard! You don't 'disappear' someone like that!"
"Then you should've used your head better. You need some remaining value before anyone decides whether to let you live or not."
"...Think about it. You'll need my help to storm the corpse dismantling facility. You really planning to kill me here?"
Asren had spilled details on other trade routes and fund flows.
That was how the corpse dismantling facility had come up.
But it only went that far.
Even as Asren pressed, his decision remained unchanged.
Realizing there wasn't the slightest change in his expression, Asren closed his eyes.
"...Well, yeah. You'd come prepared. But—"
Yet soon, he snapped his eyes open again.
All emotion had washed from his face, giving him an eerie edge somewhere.
His gaze wasn't on him, but on Astier.
"You really okay with this? Seems like your little bitch has other ideas."
Astier, standing silently behind, shook her head.
"I'm fine."
"Fine, my ass, you retard. Everyone knows she's an Imperial Intelligence rat playing servant. Enjoy your detective game?"
Asren grinned viciously.
Was it an appeal to emotion rather than reason?
But the method was too crude for that.
It felt more like the goal was to provoke her.
He had been relatively docile until now, but the moment he spotted a gap, he dug into it without hesitation.
Was this his true nature?
"You're playing rat, but you're sloppy at it. You could've stabbed me back then. But you didn't."
Asren's lips twisted grotesquely.
"Hypocrite bitch. No, wait. Did you hold back on purpose? Didn't see that coming. So the real psycho was somewhere else?"
He slammed his fist into Asren's solar plexus.
The sensation of cracking ribs reverberated through his knuckles.
Asren vomited his guts out.
Yet the venom lingering in his eyes hadn't faded.
"Whether on purpose or not, if you don't fix that shitty habit, you'll die. Hell, you'll probably die anyway. I know your type well."
Even trembling in agony, Asren cackled.
"You're the same killer scum, pretending to be all high and mighty. Those bastards never fix that habit till they—?!"
Asren finally shut up after another blow.
This time, the broken ribs began puncturing his lung.
Blood filled his lung, turning his face deathly pale.
He gasped roughly, mouth gaping like a fish desperate for oxygen that wouldn't come.
He grabbed Asren by the hair and yanked his head up.
Asren was smiling through the suffocation, a repulsive grin laced with twisted joy.
He turned to Astier.
Her face was still expressionless, but it felt markedly different from before.
"You can leave. I'll handle this alone."
Lips pressed tight, Astier hesitated.
Her fists trembled before she let the tension go from her hands and answered quietly.
Her nails had dug into her palms, blood trickling down.
"...Then, I'll leave it to you."
As soon as Astier left, he picked up Asren's sword that he had set aside.
Asren mouthed words at him.
There was no sound, but he intuitively understood what he was saying.
Right before thrusting the sword forward with a surge of aura energy, he gave Asren one final reply.
"Sorry, but hell isn't a place you go to after death."
He omitted the rest.
Asren already knew that fact.
There was no fear in Asren's eyes.
His paling face twisted into a smirk.
That was the end.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ After dealing with Asren, they moved on to the next target.
This time, it was the corpse dismantling facility Asren had mentioned.
Here, corpses from the Northern Frontline were dismantled into merchandise or passed along elsewhere.
In other words, it could be seen as a direct source of funds for Red Star.
That same day, they arrived at the sewer entrance.
It was one of the infiltration routes connected to the corpse dismantling facility.
"Further ahead, there'll be a branching point. After that, it splits into two paths—one leading to the records room, the other to the dismantling area. What'll we do?"
"Astier, you take the records room. I'll head to the dismantling area."
The goal was to secure physical evidence and find links to the higher-ups.
Astier nodded.
The sewer pipe was old, covered in moss, with rusted metal pipes everywhere.
The stench of rot assaulted their noses.
"Just so you know, it's easier to breathe through your nose."
"You done this sort of thing often?"
"Yes. I was mainly handling intel gathering rather than direct combat."
As Astier said, he tried breathing through his nose.
The foul stench seemed to seep into his bones.
After a bit more, he felt his nose adapting.
It was still bad, but less so than before.
Astier glanced at him and pulled a candy from her pocket, handing it over.
It got a little better with the candy in his mouth.
At the branching point, he split off from Astier and proceeded.
The path grew narrower.
Not meant for people, he had to force his body through.
Having infiltrated through the sewer pipe, he successfully entered the dismantling area.
Light seeped through from beyond the dilapidated wall.
He crouched low and peered over.
People in black robes bustled about with saws and knives.
Monster corpses lay on the workbenches.
With practiced skill that spoke of plenty of experience, they dismantled the monsters.
They peeled off the hides, separated bones and flesh, then extracted the organs.
The dismantled parts went into special storage containers.
"That one's for the necrophiles. Don't dismantle it."
"Sending it intact? Heard not to touch the shell either."
"Orders from above. Whatever those freaks do with it ain't our business."
"Fair enough."
He observed a bit longer from above.
The workbenches mostly handled monsters and great beasts,
but occasionally, human-like shapes appeared on them—actually real humans.
A quick glance revealed stab wounds that had killed them.
"This shell died ugly."
"Airlifted from the north. Subjugation battle happened. We'll be seeing nothing but dead ones for a while."
"Ah..."
The workers used strange proprietary terms in their chatter.
Necrophiles, shells, coins, veins, and so on.
From context, shells meant human corpses.
Necrophiles were customers receiving the intact bodies.
Coins seemed to refer to parts destined for the Auction House.
With limited info, he couldn't guess everything.
"Random question, but any special reason for dismantling shells?"
"You never dismantled a regular corpse?"
The worker being questioned shook his head.
"Why would I? Usually just burn or bury 'em."
"Then yeah, you wouldn't know. Normally, shells have tough hides and muscles."
"Isn't that just 'cause they're musclebound?"
"Nah, different vibe. Kinda like monsters."
...So shells refer to corpses of humans trained in Aura Energy.
"Still, we don't use 'em, right? Not even that tough compared to monsters."
"Most think that. Dunno. Heard the vein folks make stimulants or something."
"For real? Who'd eat corpse-made crap? Honestly gross."
"They say it works great if you don't know."
The casual chatter while dissecting bodies was something else.
He thought of Crim right away.
Then, one by one, faces from the frontline he had encountered flashed in his mind.
For some reason, he let out a chuckle.
There was no boiling rage.
Propped up by the hollow sense that he had known this would happen, a storm of emotions swirled.
Not everyone in the world was good-natured.
He knew that.
He also knew that someone who seemed nice to him might not to others.
So there was no sense of betrayal.
He couldn't say there was no anger, but it didn't reach any extreme.
He would just.
Do what he had to do.
He slipped into the workshop inside the dismantling area.
Without hesitation, he thrust his sword into the vocal cords of the younger worker.
Targeting the voice box.
To prevent screams, he severed the spine in one go while clamping the older worker's mouth with his other hand.
He slammed them against the wall.
"Scream and you die."
Through the gaps in his fingers, he could see the worker's pupils shaking.
"From now on, answer everything I say straight."