Ch.379Open, Door of Truth

The unexpected truth is that many people are mistaken.

They think that with strong enough willpower, they can endure any torture.

Without truly understanding what level of endurance that “strong willpower” actually requires.

Pain breaks people.

If it hasn’t broken someone, it simply means there wasn’t enough pain.

Fortunately, this time, there was no shortage of pain.

Should I say, “Hurrah for magic”?

—-

“Whew… I must be focused because it’s getting hot in here. Don’t you think?”

I wiped the sweat trickling down my forehead and stepped back with a satisfied expression like a farmer who had just finished planting rice.

Splash. The sound of water. The pool of blood covering the basement floor stained the soles of my boots red.

“Y-yes… it does seem to have gotten warmer. Should I, um, create some ice for you?”

The mage who had come to assist with the interrogation was sweating profusely with a face turned pale blue.

Perhaps the scene was a bit too stimulating for a bookworm.

“No need. If you have mana to spare, you should bestow it upon this fellow.”

I tilted the cigarette in my mouth slightly, pointing toward the Ka’har prisoner in the corner.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anywhere left to bestow anything…”

The mage looked at the creature with an expression that suggested he might vomit.

Before proceeding with the Holy State’s brainwashing, I had conducted a preliminary interrogation as a sort of test.

The Ka’har warrior who had been cursing vehemently was now twitching and convulsing, his appearance somewhere between human and monster.

[What a horrific sight. Death would be more merciful.]

‘He can’t die. I’ve put in all this effort precisely so he wouldn’t die.’

I looked down at what had been a Ka’har until an hour ago, exhaling cigarette smoke with a satisfied smile.

The mint fragrance at the tip of my nose masked the stench of blood and entrails filling the basement.

His condition was beyond what could be described as wretched.

It was like a masterpiece created by surrealist painters, serial killers, butchers, and doctors combining their passions into one creation.

Without the help of the mage, potions, and the priest, even I couldn’t have completed such a masterpiece.

Even the strongest warrior would have died eight or nine times out of ten if subjected to this treatment.

“Graaaeeegh…”

The half-insane warrior emitted a grotesque moan.

Bloody foam leaked from his gaping mouth, flowing down his neck.

Honest hearts and sincere conversations always begin from an open chest.

He was proving this truth firsthand. In a somewhat anatomical way.

“…I’ll continue the life-sustaining measures for now.”

The mage approached the warrior with an extremely reluctant expression and poured a potion all over the creature’s blood-soaked body.

“Ugeek! Giaaak!”

The warrior convulsed as if struck by lightning.

His limbs, stripped of muscle and bone with only nerves remaining, fluttered like sheets of paper.

Yes. It must be quite painful.

Cold liquid being poured into a body splayed open like a dissected frog.

The first interrogation was an experiment conducted under the pretext of testing whether Ka’har’s will could be broken through pain, and I had applied myself to the task with utmost dedication.

Deboning his limbs was just the beginning.

I opened his abdomen to remove his intestines, spread his ribs to expose his lungs and heart, and inserted metal needles into the exposed nerves and heart.

The warrior, who had been hurling insults without restraint, began to scream in agony when he realized something was terribly wrong.

In the normal world, it wouldn’t have been strange if he had died right then and there, but unfortunately for him, this world was full of mysterious techniques that surpassed modern medicine.

The mage cauterized severed blood vessels and collected the spilled blood with magic to transfuse it back into him.

Though it was only a temporary measure, when combined with potions, it was enough to prevent death from blood loss.

Additionally, the priest sent by Ludwig was performing healing miracles to keep his life thread intact.

It’s truly frightening that one can survive even this.

Thanks to that, I could proceed to the “next stage” without any problems.

[How barbaric, like a savage westerner, to reduce a person to such a state…]

‘I don’t think you’re in any position to say that.’

Though the words sounded like criticism, there was no trace of displeasure or rejection in the tone.

Rather, it was a voice mixed with expectation and excitement, like a child visiting a zoo for the first time.

Yes. It’s not just interesting—it’s downright impressive.

All that talk about it being terrible is just to tease me.

—-

“GIAAAAAAAAAAH-!”

A scream that could only come from the depths of hell shook the dungeon.

The Ka’har warrior had thought there could be no greater pain than having needles inserted into his nerves, but that was just the beginning.

Why else would I have specifically prepared “metal” needles?

“Once more. Increase the power by about 20 percent.”

“Y-yes!”

The mage nodded and gathered mana at his fingertips.

“párvŭlus fulgor.”

– Zap!

The soft incantation transformed mana into lightning.

Though the power itself was close to static electricity, it was enough to inflict terrible pain on him.

“Haah…”

The mage sighed and extended his right hand, sparks flickering, toward the Ka’har warrior.

More precisely, toward the metal needles embedded in the warrior’s nerves.

Electricity flows through metal.

Magic was not much different in this regard.

The mana lightning penetrated the warrior’s nerves.

“Grreek! Geok! Ororororp!”

The warrior, his eyes rolling back, convulsed like a thrown fish, dripping tears and snot.

His upper body thrashed wildly.

His dilated pupils wandered, repeatedly contracting and expanding.

Urine mixed with blood leaked from his crushed groin.

His bladder, pulled outside his body, twitched and contracted like a deflating balloon.

“This isn’t what I learned magic for…”

[It’s so ingenious it’s chilling. Were you perhaps a witch rather than a soldier?]

“Oh Saulite…”

A scene of extreme cruelty.

The mage shuddered, Hersella let out a hollow laugh, and the priest muttered prayers with gleaming eyes.

“…But we can restore him, right?”

I directed my question to the priest who was reciting prayers.

It would be problematic if he died before we obtained sufficient information.

Normally I wouldn’t go this far, but this time I had completely destroyed him, trusting in potions and healing miracles.

“No problem. Complete recovery would take time, but it’s not difficult to restore him to a state where survival is possible.”

That’s a relief.

“By the way, if it’s not too presumptuous, may I share this interrogation method with the brothers at the Heresy Inquisition? They would surely be delighted.”

The priest smiled, looking at the Ka’har with entranced eyes.

Though I’m not one to talk, having reduced him to this state, it was truly an unsettling expression.

“The inquisitors would be pleased? Didn’t you people choose brain purification instead of torture for some ‘humanitarian’ reason or something?”

“There’s no reason to treat heretics humanely.”

…Can’t argue with that.

—-

“GYAAAAK! STOOOOOP! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything, just please stop!”

The current flowing through his nerves completely shattered the warrior’s will.

He squeezed out his last strength to express his willingness to cooperate, then went limp.

He hadn’t fainted; both his physical and mental strength seemed completely drained.

“Yes, yes. How much better would it have been if you’d been this cooperative from the start? You couldn’t even last three hours.”

The priest and I provided some basic treatment for his body.

Though “treatment” merely meant putting his intestines back inside and sewing up his widely opened chest.

“Heuk, heuuk…”

Every time the warrior exhaled a thin breath, the fine wires protruding from various parts of his upper body trembled.

He looked as if metallic hair had grown all over his body.

Even after the suturing was complete, wires penetrating his skin remained connected to the metal needles embedded in his nerves, allowing for external electrical stimulation.

—-

After a break long enough to smoke two cigarettes, I began a full-fledged question-and-answer session with the warrior, who had recovered enough to converse.

His attitude was impressively cooperative.

The warrior who had poured infinite hatred toward westerners and traitors had evaporated with the electrical stimulation, and all that remained was an automatic answering machine readily selling out his homeland.

Every time the mage created sparks at his fingertips, the prisoner convulsed like an epileptic patient and spewed out all kinds of information.

He seemed to have concluded that it was better to vomit information than bloody foam.

“O-Orhan’s main force should still be at Marun Plains. Lord Targiyan…”

“‘Lord’ Targiyan? My friend, it seems you’re not fully drained of Ka’har loyalty yet? Do you still think Targiyan is your superior?”

I snickered as I extinguished my cigarette in his ear canal.

I had originally planned to press it against his eyelids, but if he fainted, it would be troublesome to wake him up.

“HIAAAK! Targiyan! That incompetent Targiyan bastard couldn’t find Amin even after reducing Dahamei to that state! But that cunning bastard Shahalan found Amin! He was completely crippled!”

“Crippled? That’s incorrect. That vermin was already crippled from birth. Isn’t that right?”

The warrior nodded desperately.

His head movements were so violent that the cigarette butt stuffed in his ear canal almost popped out.

“It’s hard to believe such incompetence from someone of the Aishan-Gioro bloodline. Perhaps Dahamei actually rolled around with a dog?”

“That’s right! Amin was always like that! That woman Dahamei must have given birth after mating with a dog!”

Look at him so passionately insulting his superiors. How delightful.

I grinned, gazing lovingly at the warrior who had become an enthusiastic traitor.

It had taken a full two hours to get here, but the result was quite satisfactory.

Even the Holy State’s truth dispensers created through brainwashing weren’t this effective.

The truth dispensers merely provided awkward answers to what they were asked.

But this fellow was going beyond diligently answering questions—he was volunteering information that hadn’t even been asked.

You might call him a truth lecturer.

It was proof that violence trumps holy power.