33: A Different Kind of Interrogation

The lower deck of the Nightfall was a vast area, but only a third of it was allocated for the crew to live in. Don't get me wrong, this was not because the Eighth Legion was exploiting the ordinary people on board, but because a third was enough.

As for the other two-thirds of the area, it is mostly dark and gloomy, and not open to ordinary crew members. Thanks to the eerie environment of the Nightfall, many ghostly stories have naturally arisen in this place.

Although the Imperial Truth has been accepted by many and genuinely regarded as "truth," you must admit that humans simply love stories that seem plausible but are actually false.

But what is the truth?

The truth is, there was actually nothing in that two-thirds of the area.

There were no secrets, no stored valuable weapons, and no contraband, only many rooms that had been built in advance. It was empty because there weren't many people on the Nightfall to begin with, so there was no need to reuse it. In fact, the few times it was used, it was used as a warehouse.

Now, it is a prison, guarded by giants clad in sinister armor.

The crew still didn't know the truth, nor did they need to. Their work on the Nightfall was ordinary, even easy—they didn't have to deal with things that would make people uncomfortable.

"What are they saying?" asked Fer Zalost. He walked side by side with his adjutant Adebiman Basley, down an empty corridor filled with doors, each tightly shut. The excellent soundproofing ensured that not a single sound could be heard from within.

Therefore, you can probably guess one thing— Fer wasn't asking about the prisoners.

Adebiman shrugged. "To say we're stealing credit, deliberately showing off in front of the Primarch and the instructors..."

Who said that?

"A lot of people." Adebiman grinned.

"Give me a list later," Fer said. "I'll call them into the duel cage one by one and have a good talk with them. These bastards, they're clearly envious but won't say it outright; I can smell their bitter, sarcastic jealousy."

"Can you really smell it, platoon leader?"

Fer stopped and glanced at him. "You're unusually lively today, Adebiman."

"I'm certainly happier that the instructor is back unharmed," Adebiman said, emphasizing the words "unharmed" when Fer heard his adjutant say that.

"Don't change the subject," Fer said with a hint of warning. "We're discussing your exaggeration of my sense of smell and the potential rumors that might follow, not the instructor's injuries."

"Come on, Company Commander, don't give me that crap. We've seen the instructors wandering around in their robes before, haven't we? Can you honestly say you haven't seen their 'true colors'?"

"So?" Fer asked. "You'd better give me a satisfactory answer so I don't have to throw you into the dueling cage before I cause trouble for those people."

Adebiman sighed and obediently carried out his company commander's request, "I just think we need to cover this up, at least hold a meeting and get the whole regiment on the same page."

Fer paused for a moment, then nodded. "I'll discuss this with the company commander when he returns."

He turned around and opened a door to a room. Inside were thirty people, all dressed in identical gray uniforms, each with a badge on their collar—silver-edged, black with a burning flame gleaming on it.

Their reaction to the arrival of Fer and Adebiman was one of fear, but the woman in the lead displayed an unusual fortitude.

Facing these two giants, who were far taller than her, she forced herself to walk over and, after a brief pause, spoke in Nostraman.

"Who are you? I demand to contact our trading partners. You have no right to detain us and our ships; this is illegal!"

"Which law?" Adebiman asked, his voice softened by the breathing grille, like the murmur of the dead.

The woman's face paled slightly, but she managed to remain calm and reply, "The laws of Harkosus! We are conducting a normal commercial transaction; you have no right to do such a thing!"

"I've never heard of this Harkosus you're talking about," Adebiman replied softly. "As for now..."

He reached out and easily pulled the woman out—acting violently, yet without actually hurting her. He dragged her out of the room, and Fer immediately slammed the door shut behind him. The heavy sound made the woman visibly tremble, almost collapsing to her knees.

"Stand up," Fer told her. "Imperium law gives us the right to detain you, but it doesn't require you to kneel before us."

He turned around, and Adebiman chuckled, shoving her forward.

Where are you taking me?

"Shh," Adebiman whispered. "I understand, you uniformed people always have more confidence than ordinary citizens, but you'd better keep quiet, ma'am. You're speaking a hellish language right now, which means you might not be clean."

"This is Nostraman!"

"Yes, and Nostramo is a living hell," Fer said without turning his head. "In other words, you're dealing with the devil."

He turned his head, his scarlet visors gleaming in the darkness, and the woman saw her reflection in them—a terrified face. Then she heard a sentence.

"So you'd better keep quiet."

--

The woman—or rather, Tracy from Harkosus —sat trembling on a cold iron chair. The walls were a dull gray, there were no windows, and the ceiling was unusually high. She sat there, not knowing what would happen next, so she could only wait.

In the next five minutes, other people she knew were brought into the room and made to sit in the same chairs.

Tracy recognized them; they were, like her, senior traders in Harkosus. But not anymore. Now, they were just a group of prisoners slumped in their chairs, their uniforms disheveled, and many had even lost their badges.

They sized each other up, fearfully trying to speak in the dim light, when a sudden voice interrupted them before the matter could even begin.

"Good day, fellow prisoners."

The speaker chuckled softly, the sound dissipating in the room without distortion. Tracy began searching for a possible sound-producing device, but no matter how hard she strained her eyes through the darkness, she couldn't find a loudspeaker or anything like that.

The room was empty except for five iron chairs.

"I hope you all did not suffer on the way here. Of course, if you did suffer, I will not sympathize. After all, if anyone was beaten, it was because they asked for it."

Tracy looked at a man sitting to her right. His name was Massaro, a middle-aged man with a bad temper. At that moment, he was rubbing his stomach, silent, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat.

"I should introduce myself, but I'm not sure if you're even worthy of it, so I'll leave that aside for now—so, prisoners, is there anyone among you willing to tell me something?"

Silence.

Five pairs of eyes met quickly, exchanging information in the silent stillness.

"Hmm, it's alright if you don't say anything." The person who spoke paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I can get it myself."

The next second, a heavy and terrifying chill instantly spread throughout the room. Thick white fog suddenly appeared and continued to dissipate.

Tracy's eyes widened as she noticed the darkness before her slowly shifting. She anxiously observed it, but then, in the next instant, a pale face suddenly appeared in the previously empty darkness.

"Ah--!"

Tracy couldn't help but scream, and her reaction caused the other four to scream as well, but the expected attack or punishment did not come. There was only a soft laugh coming from behind them.

Then came the sound of calm, heavy footsteps.

Tracy turned around abruptly, only to see a pale, giant hand emerge from the darkness and rest on Massaro's shoulder.

The sound rang out again the next second, and this time, it began to change, becoming like the whisper of a monster. The hissing sound characteristic of Nostraman was still present, but it did not diminish the terror of the sound; instead, it made it even stranger.

Fear completely seized Massaro at that moment.

"Would you like to talk to me, sir?" the owner of the voice asked in the chill of the room.

"Is it fun to scare them?" Konrad Curze Curze asked.

No.

"But you laughed several times while you were inside."

"That's because I had to create a... well, rather creepy and neurotic image to scare them."

"I think you'd be better off just talking to them directly," Konrad Curze Curze said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Or you could just let Fer and the others do it."

"The former would scare them to death, or at least make them lose their minds for a while. As for the latter, Konrad Curze, we haven't determined whether they are guilty or not yet."

As Karyl wiped his hands with a handkerchief, he said, "Therefore, it might not be a good idea to rashly adopt the interrogation methods favored by the Eighth Legion."

Konrad Curze Curze thought about it carefully, then nodded in agreement with Karyl's statement, and raised a new question.

"So, what do we do about Harkosus?"

"We'll wait," Karyl said.

"Wait?"

"Yes, we'll wait. What else can we do? Your company commander is still on his way back. And Nostramo is still in the process of rebuilding. Are we supposed to sail out to reclaim lost territory and have the Ultramarines, led by Lucretius, do the heavy lifting for us?"

Karyl sighed. "So we'll just have to wait. After all, I believe this world called Harkosus won't only have three ships."

Update complete. Also, when do you guys think would be a better time to add it next month? The 1st won't work because the author needs to go to the dentist.