Ch.439Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

**Note: This chapter contains descriptions of torture conducted within an intelligence agency. I advise discretion for underage readers before proceeding.**

“The target has been stolen.”

“I’ll secure entry records from all gates and check the magical surveillance equipment.”

“Cultists have forcibly infiltrated headquarters. Start questioning all personnel involved.”

Ibrahim narrowed his brow as he issued orders to the Templar Knights. His expression was what you might call sour.

It was understandable, given that the Saint’s blood had been stolen. There was no question that whatever the cultists planned to do with Lucia’s blood would lead to nothing good.

I concealed my pistol and slipped out of the chaotic headquarters building. Bill, who had been directing the operation team nearby, approached me casually.

“Did you find it?”

“We lost it.”

“…Damn it.”

The cultists had already taken the blood and fled the scene. There was no way to know when they had infiltrated the medical ward, but one thing was clear: by now, they had completed their mission and left the camp.

“What do you think they’re planning to do with the Saint’s blood?”

“That’s not particularly important.”

Matt appeared and answered Bill’s question.

The operation team leader crossed the sandy ground with his military boots, placed his hands on his hips, and let out a small sigh.

“What matters is the cultists’ location. It would take at least ten days by car from the camp to Necropolis. On foot, about a month. There’s a high chance they’re still in this country.”

“…”

“Are you planning to pursue them immediately?”

“No.”

I shook my head and looked back at Matt and Bill.

“Let’s gather information first.”

**Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood**

The Royal Intelligence Service operation team had established a base in Hassan warlord’s territory. With hostile forces surrounding them on all sides, they determined there was no safer place than the domain of a friendly warlord.

Nasir, Hassan’s leader, was a former operative. He had been recruited by Leonie during her time as an operative and had served as a sniper under her, assassinating numerous government officials and generals.

Perhaps because of his background as an operative…

The safe house provided by Nasir had quite a favorable location.

A reasonable distance from government buildings, minimal interference from neighbors. A position that allowed occupants to avoid external surveillance based on terrain while allowing residents to come and go without arousing suspicion, plus defenses as solid as a fortress.

A safe house like an isolated island in the middle of the city.

A mid-level official from the Sanya warlord faction was being held there.

“How’s Yunus doing?”

“Not well, Team Leader.”

A Royal Intelligence Service employee reported to Matt as he got out of the van.

“He was already in poor health, and the torture is taking a toll on his body.”

“I know Yunus has a chronic illness. What about his nutritional status?”

“We’re providing essential nutrients, but…”

The intelligence officer trailed off ambiguously.

Just then, a dull thud echoed from beyond the door.

“Urgh…!”

Following Matt’s orders, some intelligence officers who remained at the safe house were continuing their interrogation of the Sanya warlord’s recruiter.

Yunus’s condition, as he was being questioned by the Royal Intelligence Service officers, was visibly poor. His hair was matted with blood and sweat, and his front was soaked with what might have been filth or grain.

A fist struck his jaw, making the chair shake. As bare feet splashed on the wet floor, an officer grabbed his hair and pulled it up, then delivered a powerful blow to his abdomen.

“Urgh…!”

Matt, watching Yunus’s image on the monitor, questioned the officer.

“Did you waterboard him?”

“Yes.”

The Royal Intelligence Service officer calmly admitted to conducting water torture.

The person in charge who had ordered the torture asked another question.

“How long?”

“According to regulations. Twenty minutes.”

According to the Abbas intelligence agency manual, waterboarding should not exceed 20 minutes.

Waterboarding, which can cause hypothermia and respiratory distress, could potentially lead to the death of the subject if mishandled.

Despite waterboarding for over 20 minutes and even applying electric shocks, they apparently hadn’t gained much information. Shadows fell across Matt’s face as he examined the interrogation records.

Flipping through papers, Matt looked up and directed his gaze at me.

“Go upstairs and rest for a while. I’ll let you know as soon as we get any new information.”

“Can’t I go in?”

Matt, who had been reviewing documents, gave me a suspicious look.

After surveying the interrogation room, I met his gaze.

“Cultists have stolen the Saint’s blood, and all we know is that they’re heading to Necropolis. But we have Yunus.”

“…”

“If he helped with the illegal entry, he must know something. The Sanya faction wouldn’t have operated without some insurance, would they? I’ll take over Yunus. Matt, please monitor the situation from above.”

“Are you sure? It won’t be easy.”

He didn’t seem particularly inclined to stop me.

I smiled slightly as I loosened my tie.

“Don’t worry.”

“Alright. Let’s see what you can do.”

Matt knocked on the iron door and unlocked it. Meanwhile, I gathered my things and headed down to the basement.

Just before the door opened, Matt warned me as I was about to enter the interrogation room.

“His condition isn’t good. Try to handle him gently if possible.”

“Are you afraid Yunus might die?”

“What kind of joke is that…”

The Royal Intelligence Service paramilitary operative let out a faint sigh.

“I’m afraid we’ll be called to a friendly congressional hearing together.”

*

The nauseating smell of burning flesh mixed with the stench of excrement is overwhelming.

Bloodied tools lie scattered on the cold table.

Next to the table, an intelligence officer with a cigarette under his mask takes a break, while in the center, Yunus sits in a chair, reduced to a rag.

“Get out.”

I addressed the Royal Intelligence Service officers.

The intelligence officers who were taking a short break after their grueling work looked up as if asking what business I had.

The senior officer standing outside the door silently gestured to his juniors. The intelligence officers exhaled smoke, gathered their cigarettes and lighters, and left the interrogation room.

I slowly walked over and lifted Yunus’s chin.

“Hng…”

Bloody foam flowed from between his clenched teeth.

His front teeth, stained crimson, protruded from between his lips, and I noticed a black hole—a place where a tooth had been knocked out.

Intelligence agencies sometimes force-feed subjects during torture.

This is typically done when the torture subject attempts suicide by starvation or refuses food.

Of course, since it’s obvious that someone would resist being force-fed, intelligence agencies don’t simply provide food on a tray. Therefore, such forced feeding is usually done through intubation.

It seems he bit the tube and lost a tooth in the process. Since the Royal Intelligence Service officer said they had provided essential nutrients, they probably inserted a tube into his esophagus. The tubes used for intubation are typically made of rigid material, so it’s not surprising that his front teeth broke.

“…”

I let out a faint sigh and tilted Yunus’s head back. The broken front tooth hadn’t come out cleanly; its root was still embedded in the gum.

In the silence, only rough breathing could be heard.

An old magical lamp flickered weakly.

“Yunus Abdullah Mohammed. Mid-level official of the Sanya warlord faction.”

I gripped Yunus’s hair and continued.

“You recruited sorcerers from the Jutari refugee camp. Low-level members would lure refugees, you would verify them, and then send them to nearby cities.”

“…”

“How many have you recruited so far? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

Hmm, the bloody foam subsided momentarily. Yunus displayed a deep smile.

“Quite a few, it seems.”

I held his head and slowly circled around him.

The sensation of his blood-matted hair tangling was distinctly felt through my palm.

“Did you enjoy giving small amounts of money to people in desperate situations and sending them to the battlefield? Even the sorcerers fled in terror. You must have been quite desperate to mobilize refugees too.”

“…”

…Ptui!

Yunus spat out phlegm.

Since his body was fixed to the chair, the phlegm only managed to dirty the floor, but it was enough to come across as a provocation.

“…Eat this.”

Yunus twisted his head and muttered. He revealed his blood-stained teeth in a grin.

“Just a middle manager who only follows others’ orders…”

“…”

“I am a warrior. I’ll die before I talk. I won’t give you the answers you want.”

“…Yes, I know.”

A fierce gaze peered through the blood-matted hair. Despite the torture, his eyes remained alive.

I released the hair I had been gripping.

“At the same time, I know you helped four cultists enter the country illegally. You let four people into the refugee camp in exchange for funds from the cult group.”

“I don’t know what nonsense you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb. You knew they were cultists.”

The materials recovered from the Sanya warlord faction’s residence contained information about the cultists. This meant Yunus and Sanya were clearly aware that they had brought cultists into the camp.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’ll find out soon. You’ll soon spill everything.”

“…”

“I know. Of course, you don’t plan to talk easily. But you will soon. Want to know why?”

“…Why?”

“Because I have experience.”

I knelt down and bent forward. Then I looked directly into Yunus’s eyes.

“And patience. With these two things, a person can do anything.”

The warlord’s official suppressed a laugh.

“What can you do?”

I smiled slightly and replied.

“You’ll find out soon.”

*

The fact that it’s difficult to change a person is a truth everyone acknowledges.

There’s a reason many people empathize with this adage.

However, saying something is difficult to achieve is synonymous with saying it’s possible.

Although the process may be difficult, people can change.

In whatever form.

“Aaaaargh!”

As the crisp sound of cutting began, Yunus screamed with all his might.

The blade smoothly tore through flesh and muscle, cutting through bone in one go. The sensation of cutting through lotus root traveled up the handle, and blood gushed like a spring from the severed surface.

After pushing aside the severed finger with the combat knife, I knelt to meet Yunus’s eye level.

“How does it feel? Does it wake you up?”

“Haaaaargh!!”

“You’re making such a fuss just from losing your pinky.”

I roughly tousled his hair.

The Kien Empire military combat knife had enough power to sever a person’s fingers. After cutting off the little finger, the knife moved to the side and began to scrape the ring finger. In response, Yunus’s screams grew louder.

It was only after about three fingers had been cut off from his left hand that he, who had been resisting by spitting phlegm and curses, began to provide proper answers.

“Yes, yes! I knew they were cultists all along!”

“Good. It seems you’re now ready to answer properly.”

The interrogation continued as Yunus thrashed so violently that the chair shook. I placed the combat knife between his fingers and asked questions, while Yunus sprayed saliva with his rough breathing.

“How many cultists entered the camp?”

“Four, four!”

“Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know! I first met them at the border! The border with the Tispon Republic!”

“Who did you meet at the border?”

Yunus twisted his arms so forcefully that blood flowed from the ropes as he answered.

“A missionary. A cult missionary came forward as a representative. He promised money if I would just let some believers into the camp! He promised 70,000 shillings!”

70,000 shillings is roughly equivalent to two years’ salary for Abbas company employees.

The questioning continued.

“Where did the funds come from?”

“How would I know that! Whether they extorted it from believers or sold drugs, they must have gathered it somehow!”

I tilted the combat knife. The sharp blade, held upright, penetrated the skin without any resistance.

Even as I cut off another finger, Yunus desperately shook his head and repeated that he didn’t know. He even swore to God that he was telling only the truth.

If he insisted he didn’t know even as his index finger was being cut off, it seemed Yunus truly didn’t know the source of the funds provided by the cultists.

As I was leaving the interrogation room to get a tourniquet and disinfectant, Matt, who was standing near the door, quietly called me out.

“Can I see you for a moment?”

“Did you find something?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m wondering if you’re being too harsh.”

It seemed he didn’t like my approach. He said this wasn’t the time to push Yunus so hard and asked me to exercise restraint.

“The church only needs to find out what the cultists targeting the Saint are planning, but that’s not the case for us. Yunus is a middle recruiter for the Sanya warlord faction. Whether we deal with Sanya or bring them in, we need to find out what information he has. But what if you cut off his fingers?”

“What do you want me to do? He won’t open his mouth.”

“We need to leave some for later.”

He meant I should handle Yunus gently because we would need to continue interrogating him for the operation Leonie had ordered. More explicitly, he was saying to leave a few fingers for cutting off later.

I agreed.

“If it’s an order, I have no choice.”

“Yes, thanks for understanding. Do you need anything?”

“Lend me a few people.”

Matt sent three intelligence officers he had with him into the interrogation room.

“Hold him.”

“U, umph…! Mph!”

“Be careful with his jaw. If he closes it, his skull might shatter.”

-Whiiiirr!

A dental drill rotates with a loud noise.

The Royal Intelligence Service officer tilted Yunus’s head back and forced his mouth open, while I used the drill to probe his gums, avoiding the teeth that swayed from side to side.

“Nnnnngh…!!”

The high-speed rotating drill dug into the gums and damaged the nerves. As the broken front tooth was ground down, his upper body, fixed to the chair, jerked, and his hands, contorted in pain, tore at the armrests.

Every time Yunus writhed, the drill dug firmly into his nerves. The expressions of the Royal Intelligence Service officers holding him down also contorted.

I cursed at the intelligence officers who were turning away with grimaces.

“Hold him down, you idiots!”

After damaging his dental nerves for a while, Yunus finally began to spill all the information he knew. This included not only the information Ibrahim wanted but also what Matt had requested.

“How did you recruit the sorcerers?”

“…The recruiter has someone who can identify sorcerers. Someone with the ability to see magical power.”

“Where do you take the recruited sorcerers?”

“First to the city… We take them to a safe place and then move them elsewhere. To a training facility. People from the warlord faction are escorting the sorcerers, and the person in charge is an official…”

“Where are the sorcerers sent after training?”

“Initially to the front lines… They’re sent wherever they’re needed. Most are assigned to the elite guard, as far as I know… That’s all I know. The official in charge would know more details.”

“What’s the name of that official?”

He confessed most of the information he knew.

I kept asking questions. Whenever he was slow to answer or showed signs of not focusing on the interrogation, torture began to ensure he couldn’t think about anything else.

Since it was no longer possible to cut off more fingers, other means had to be employed, but fortunately, I still knew many forms of torture.

-Whiiiirr!

Torture by damaging dental nerves.

-Hiss…!

Burning torture using a lighter to sear the skin.

-Splash!

Waterboarding by covering with cloth and pouring water.

Through the Cold War and the War on Terror, intelligence agencies’ torture techniques had improved dramatically, and the process of extracting information had become more delicate and specialized.

I used every means I knew to torture Yunus. I damaged his nerves with a drill, scorched his skin with a lighter, and after waterboarding, burned his mucous membranes with wires stripped from the lamps.

The torture didn’t end in the physical realm. Given the time constraints, there was a need to extract information as quickly as possible. Therefore, the torture moved into the realm of psychological warfare.

I needed to push the cornered Yunus to the edge. To stimulate his sense of shame, I had the intelligence officers strip him naked.

“Talk. Otherwise, you’ll become a eunuch.”

“Hng, hng…!”

Looking at Yunus, who was glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, I sprinkled water on his groin and applied electrical wires.

The electricity passing through his groin traveled across his abdomen up to his solar plexus. Hanging on the wall, he screamed until his throat was raw.

It was around this time that the intelligence officers keeping watch began to protest. The officers who had participated in the interrogation on Matt’s orders tried to stop me, saying it was enough.

“Let’s stop now. If we continue, he’ll really die.”

“Let’s do a bit more.”

“I said stop.”

I turned my head toward the intelligence officers and retorted.

“I’ll make that judgment.”

“…”

“If you insist, go ask your team leader if we should stop now.”

The Royal Intelligence Service intelligence officers silently looked at Matt. The Royal Intelligence Service paramilitary operative, who had somehow entered the interrogation room, was sitting on the table eating jerky.

He gave his subordinates a look, and the intelligence officers let out faint sighs. They sat the unconscious Yunus in a chair and injected his heart with a syringe to revive him.

Huh, exhaling breath, Yunus jerked his body with violent coughing.

“Ku, cough! Urgh, sob, urgh…!”

“…”

As I was taking a scalpel from the metal table, my eyes met Matt’s. He stared at me with an expressionless face, and I turned my head to face Yunus.

The fire-scorched scalpel crosses his thigh.

As the copper-colored skin splits, red muscles and countless blood vessels reveal themselves. After incising Yunus’s thigh, I cut away more flesh avoiding blood vessels, and firmly secured the skin and muscle to prevent them from closing.

“From now on, I’ll ask just one thing. If you don’t want to live as a cripple for the rest of your life, you’d better answer carefully.”

“…”

“What’s their plan?”

Yunus, who had been panting, raises his head. His blurry pupils capture me.

Placing the scalpel against a nerve, I spoke again.

“Tell me the cultists’ plan. Why did they take the Saint’s blood? You must have heard from the missionary who met with you at the border.”

There was no answer.

I put down the scalpel that I had placed against the nerve. Then I raised my finger and probed inside the incised thigh.

Yunus threw his head back forcefully and screamed. Prominent veins bulged on his skin, which was covered in blood, saliva, tears, and sweat.

I said:

“What’s the purpose? When did you last see them?”

“Urgh…!”

“Where are they going?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know, you bastard…”

I withdrew my finger that had been probing the nerve.

I roughly wiped my soaked finger on Yunus’s skin. He was panting and couldn’t regain his composure.

I grabbed his hair and forcibly tilted his head back to meet his gaze.

“You said you’re a warrior? I’m a soldier. And this is real war.”

“…”

“So go ahead and keep resisting. I’m curious to see who will win.”

Kneeling and bending forward, I whispered in Yunus’s ear.

“I can do this all day.”

*

Two days later.

Two reports were presented to Leonie.

One concerned the whereabouts of the cult group that had stolen the Saint’s blood, and the other stated that Yunus had died.

The first report was classified as confidential and stored in the document archive. The second report was placed in an envelope and sent to the incinerator.

Just like all information that has lost its value.