chapter_0148

147 – Do Not Insult the Saint

147 – Do Not Insult the Saint

Unable to ignore the call of the division commander, Daniel followed his intelligence officer, Pelf.

As he left the trench and arrived at the field headquarters, Daniel captured the attention of numerous officers.

To the eyes of others, Daniel was a genius chief of staff who had struck at the enemy’s blind spot right from his appointment.

A few officers who spotted Daniel exchanged quiet praises as they passed by each other.

“Chief of Staff.”

“That was an excellent operation.”

“Please continue to lead the army in the future.”

Each of their words felt like a heavy burden to Daniel.

However, he couldn’t just shout, “It’s a misunderstanding! I did give the order, but I didn’t expect it to actually happen!” So he merely nodded with a solemn expression.

After passing several officers, Daniel finally reached the command tent.

“He’s waiting for you inside, Commander.”

Nodding at Pelf’s words, Daniel let out a quiet sigh and entered the tent.

Division Commander Mordone was examining a tactical map depicting the battlefield when he sensed Daniel’s presence, turned around, and broke into a smile.

“Oh! Our Chief of Staff! You’ve come!”

Gone was the prickly demeanor he had shown on the first day; Mordone wore a friendly smile.

“You were right! The Allied Nations’ rats were hiding in the caves of the forest near the division, weren’t they? Truly, you’re different from the elite staff sent from headquarters!”

“…You flatter me.”

“Flatter you? I haven’t even started praising you yet!”

Laughing heartily, Mordone patted Daniel on the shoulder and walked over to a small table.

On the table were two glasses and a bottle of expensive whiskey.

As Mordone sat down, he opened the bottle of whiskey and said,

“I’ve heard you like whiskey. Come over and sit.”

“I do like whiskey, but drinking on the battlefield…”

“I get it, but just sit down for now. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Thinking he couldn’t refuse, Daniel walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Once he confirmed that Daniel was seated, Mordone poured whiskey into his glass.

“This is Lantemille 1932. It’s not easy to come by.”

“Lantemille, you say…”

“Yes. It’s made by my family. We’ve been distillers for generations. Honestly, our family may have a terrible temperament, but we make exceptional liquor. You’ll like it.”

With such a strong endorsement, Daniel couldn’t resist tasting it.

“Then I’ll have just one sip.”

He raised the glass to his lips, and to his surprise, he exclaimed,

“…It’s incredibly smooth.”

Mordone seemed pleased with Daniel’s succinct impression and chuckled softly.

“You have a discerning palate. That’s why our family can do business with picky drinkers. It’s not top-tier, but it’s at least second-rate. More importantly…”

Pouring himself a drink, Mordone set the bottle down and looked at Daniel.

“You’ve done something remarkable. To be honest, I didn’t believe it at first. It seems the rumors of you being a war hero aren’t just nonsense?”

“I was just lucky.”

“No need to be humble. Even if it was luck, the fact remains that you achieved results. As you know, if we play our cards right, we might be able to turn their operations against them.”

Mordone raised his glass and emptied it, then let out a low hum.

Gazing at his empty glass with a serene smile, Mordone turned to Daniel.

“A Morse transmitter was found in their backpacks.”

After a brief moment of thought, Daniel replied,

“They intended to send coordinates in Morse code to avoid interception. Even if they were intercepted, they would have encrypted it, so the enemy’s attack would have begun before it could be deciphered.”

“Indeed, you’re sharp. Then you must know how to quickly decipher the encrypted Morse code and operational frequencies?”

“Coercion would be the most desirable method, but given that the enemy crossed the front lines risking their lives, that’s unlikely to work. Are you perhaps considering torture?”

At Daniel’s serious question, Mordone shrugged his shoulders.

“I know it’s inhumane, but it’s unavoidable. We’re at war. If we can’t extract information from the enemy, it’s our side that will suffer.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The battlefield was not a place where one could proceed solely through humanitarian means.

Considering that the Allied Nations had also tortured and executed Imperial soldiers, it was a mutual situation.

“…Is torture currently underway?”

At Daniel’s question, Mordone nodded.

“I have an officer who is confident in that area, so I left it to him. He also contributed to the capture of the enemy squad. Ah, speaking of which, you brought in a talented individual.”

Curious about who it was, Daniel quietly listened as Mordone continued.

“You should know him, given your acquaintance. It’s Lieutenant Frien…”

As soon as he heard the name Frien, Daniel hurriedly interjected.

“That’s not acceptable! It could become dangerous!”

Mordone, puzzled by Daniel’s reaction, soon seemed to understand and chuckled.

“Such devotion to your subordinates. Don’t worry. The prisoner is tied to a chair and in no position to resist. Lieutenant Frien won’t be in any danger.”

As he watched Mordone pour himself another drink with a smile, Daniel broke out in a cold sweat.

What he was worried about wasn’t Frien, but the prisoner being tortured.

‘Having a nationalist like Frien in charge of torturing an Allied Nations officer…’

It was like throwing a fish coated in catnip to a cat.

–

Field temporary interrogation center.

“Ugh…”

Allied Nations squad leader Dahamen was tied to a chair, groaning.

His mind was still in chaos.

The Imperial Army, which should have been completely unaware, had suddenly launched a search operation and stormed the caves.

By the time he realized it, the Imperial Army had already surrounded him, leaving him no chance to escape.

In the end, he was captured and dragged all the way to the 7th Division, becoming a prisoner.

“Damn it.”

The Imperial Army would undoubtedly attempt to torture him for information.

However, Dahamen clenched his teeth, his eyes filled with hatred.

‘Do they think I’ll succumb to their torture?’

He would rather die than divulge any information that would harm the Allied Nations.

As he steeled his resolve, a female officer entered through the entrance of the temporary interrogation center.

The woman, with light brown hair braided into a ponytail, had clear and deep black eyes.

‘What is this? Trying to reassure me?’

Her youthful and delicate appearance seemed out of place for torture.

The woman spotted Dahamen and smiled gently.

“Hello. I’m Lieutenant Frien, currently serving under Colonel Daniel Steiner, the Chief of Staff.”

“…Daniel Steiner?”

Hearing a name he couldn’t help but recognize, Dahamen smirked.

“Damn. I was wondering which lunatic had given such a crazy order, and it turned out to be the devil of the Empire.”

It all made sense now.

If Daniel Steiner was a genius chief of staff known for his devilish tactics, he would have easily seen through the Allied Nations’ plans.

“No matter what, how did that bastard figure it out…”

Dahamen trailed off, closing his mouth as he noticed the icy glare from the woman who introduced herself as Frien.

“How strange. I don’t recall giving you permission to insult the saint.”

Sensing the atmosphere grow heavy, Dahamen merely scoffed.

“A saint? Are you seriously calling that devil a saint? It seems the lunatics in the Imperial Army aren’t just limited to Daniel Steiner.”

Frien, who had been quietly observing Dahamen, suddenly smiled and walked toward a corner.

There, a wooden table was set up with torture instruments.

“It seems I need to reform you, a heretic and beast, before we have a proper conversation. It might get a bit intense, but there’s no helping it.”

Frien picked up a pair of pliers and examined them slowly.

“Do you know why fingernails are usually pulled out during torture? It’s because the area under the nails is densely packed with nerve endings that are sensitive to stimuli.”

“…”

“Moreover, fingernails aren’t just attached to the skin’s surface; they are deeply rooted. Forcing them out will tear the nail bed and root, causing severe bleeding and tissue damage.”

Frien lightly opened and closed the pliers.

“During that process, a chemical called prostaglandin is released, which makes the nerves even more sensitive and causes excruciating pain.”

“You…”

“Ah, I just remembered. To put it metaphorically, it’s like hammering down on flesh that has been carved out with a knife. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

Satisfied with the state of the pliers, Frien turned and approached Dahamen.

“However, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m actually quite skilled in healing magic. I can regenerate your nails multiple times in the same spot and pull them out again.”

Dahamen’s breath began to quicken.

With each step Frien took closer, his body trembled as if in convulsions.

“Aren’t you curious now?”

Shadows fell across Dahamen’s face.

“Just how many times will I be reformed…”

Looking down at Dahamen, who gazed up at her in fear, Frien smiled sweetly.

“At which nail will you be reformed?”