Dark Crusade (16, Trazyn's Interrogation Techniques)

Trazyn slowly raised his right hand.

A green light followed immediately, humming as if a weapon was being preheated, but this was actually just a preliminary signal for molecular transmission.

He has hideouts throughout the galaxy, which serve other purposes when not awakened. For example, they can automatically identify and capture high-value targets, or, as they do now, act as transit points for molecular teleportation.

This is a very convenient and practical technology. After all, Trazyn often travels long distances and always prefers to travel light, which means he can't bring too much stuff with him.

Moreover, sometimes even something as good as the Empathic Obliterator isn't enough to solve everything. Trazyn dislikes direct confrontation and the use of violence. He always hopes his enemies will have their backs to him.

In the past, before he had thought of this move, if something unexpected happened, he would often have to make do with what was available or use his silver tongue to gain some advantage for himself.

But not now. Now, he only needs to spend a few minutes to summon something from the other side of the galaxy. Anything will do, as long as it's not a living thing and has been marked by him beforehand.

Convenient, isn't it? But he was heartbroken. He wouldn't want this precious instrument of torture to leave his museum unless absolutely necessary. The Drukhari's things have many advantages, but durability isn't one of them. He was very worried that this summoning and subsequent actions might damage it.

But I am an archaeologist, Trazyn thought to himself. To reproduce and put this object back into use is part of my professional mission. Where it is reproduced, or on whom it is reproduced, is not important.

"To be frank, Your Excellency, I actually have some minor research on torture and forced confessions."

Trazyn said this, then turned and winked at someone standing behind him—the light in his left eye went out for half a second, then lit up again.

This wasn't a feature added during the design and modification of the body. To achieve this, he even temporarily modified his visual sensors and the multiple neural pathways involved in them.

However, he did not receive the praise he deserved, not even a smile.

So he immediately began to take remedial measures.

"Of course, I assure you, sir, I did not intentionally dabble in this dark art. I need to excuse myself in this matter."

He turned around, took two steps back, and the beam of light in his right hand suddenly expanded, outlining a square shape.

Trazyn focused intently on guiding the beam of light, causing it to slowly drift to the ground. A dozen seconds later, a stone platform made of obsidian appeared in the room kindly provided by the Emperor's Scythes.

He chuckled twice, feigning excitement, and walked to the stone platform. While searching for the start button he remembered on the table, he glanced at the other person in the room.

The man knelt not far away, covered in blood, his armor removed. Twelve silver metal rods, each as thick as a normal person's fist, pierced through his body, transforming into a complex cage with mathematical and architectural aesthetics.

These little gadgets that completely immobilize him are naturally also Trazyn's doing. The deal has already begun, and he has promised to help, so he must do his best in every aspect.

Only in this way can his sincerity be shown.

Trazyn tilted his head, pondered for a moment, and then spoke.

"You probably don't know who I am, Mr. Jando Skraivok. This will overshadow the wonderful time we're about to have, so I must introduce myself."

"Unlike you, I'm merely a collector, but my interests are very broad, and—"

He patted his breastplate; the Living Metal collided with each other, producing a dull echo.

Trazyn chuckled strangely twice, then said, "--Unfortunately for you, I have plenty of time to collect all sorts of artifacts, like this obsidian table in front of you, which is six meters long and six meters wide."

"It's one of the Drukhari torture instruments I spent some time collecting; they're all unique copies, and absolutely dark, depraved, shameless, and vile."

"Logically, I should stay away from these things, but then again, I am, after all, a collector. Mr. Jando, when your collection reaches my level of treasure, believe me, it's hard not to personally examine and understand their effects."

"So, it took me about four centuries, on and off, to learn how to operate these instruments of torture. And now, you will be my first living volunteer to put my knowledge to use. How do you feel now?"

Jando Skraivok raised his head grimly, saying nothing, but his eyes held immense contempt.

Trazyn tilted his head again, staring at the silent Jando Skraivok, and suddenly snapped his fingers. The sound of metal clashing was so clear that the twelve metal rods began to vibrate, causing the bones and flesh of the bound man to tremble.

The pain was astonishing, but it certainly wouldn't pose any life-threatening danger to a modified warrior like Astartes. Of course, the scene was still horrifying.

Trazyn himself could hardly bear to watch, but Jando's screams eased his discomfort.

He let the Count Tattoo scream for ten minutes before stopping, by which time his conscience had become accustomed to the horrific scene before him.

Trazyn began politely, "Before we begin, out of my personal conscience, and out of disgust at soiling the ground of this historic space station, I would like to know, are you willing to be frank, Earl?"

The Count Tattoo spat out a mouthful of thick blood mixed with shattered teeth, and growled incoherently and furiously.

"What do you want me to confess? You spineless coward, you didn't even ask me any questions!"

"Don't you know what I want to ask?" Trazyn asked in surprise.

"You—"

Once again, Trazyn snapped his fingers.

He successfully silenced Skraivok before he could utter any of the insults he didn't want to hear, turning his unspoken words into wails and screams.

He was quite satisfied with this, and Skraivok was probably quite satisfied as well, since he hadn't expressed any objections. He was currently busy coughing up blood, taking deep breaths, and trying his best to tilt his head back and close his eyes so that his eyeballs wouldn't slip out of their sockets.

His skin and muscles had become so loose that he was practically hanging from those twelve metal rods to barely maintain his form—and the power to manipulate his body through his nerves.

In other words, he is now a useless person.

If Trazyn were to remove these gadgets, then Jando Skraivok would lose control of his body and become a flabby, monstrous creature.

"How terrifying," Trazyn thought with a hint of disgust. "What on earth did I learn from the Drukhari?"

"Please be polite," the Necron Overlord advised in a tone he disliked.

It sounded authoritative, filled with arrogance, and utterly deserving of contempt. Yet, he had already sketched a profile of the relaxed, tattooed count through his Count Tattoo tattoos and the character he revealed.

His final conclusion was that, rather than being an affable collector, Jando Skraivok clearly preferred, or was more instinctively driven by, such a typical superior, even if he himself was not aware of it.

"He doesn't even like collectors with exceptional affability," Trazyn thought to himself. "What a boring fellow."

"Screw your manners!"

"I said, please be polite," Trazyn said softly, then raised his right hand again, placing his thumb and middle finger together in front of Skraivok, but without tapping.

According to calculations, if this were to happen again now, the noble Count Tattoo's bones would probably shatter, and at that point, he would be no different from being dead, which would not be a good thing.

Moreover, a warning is probably enough.

Trazyn was pleased to see that Jando Skraivok had shut his mouth.

He cleared his throat—or rather, cleared his vocal cords—before speaking.

"I, Trazyn the Infinite, on behalf of Karyl Lohars, Instructor of the Eighth Legion of the Imperium of Man, hereby inquire of you in accordance with the laws of the Imperium of Man."

"You need to swear an oath to your the Emperor, or anything you still respect and believe in, that you will remain completely honest in the following questioning."

"If you are lying, I will rightfully and legally punish you with this Drukhari instrument of torture that I'm holding under my left hand. Concealment, silence, and verbal abuse in court will all result in the same punishment. Do you understand, Jando Skraivok?"

"I"

Trazyn began rubbing his fingers together vigorously, making a sharp sound, then raised his voice. "Do you understand?"

"I understand." The Count Tattoo gasped for breath, struggling to utter the words clearly through the contortion of his tongue within his skin.

"Very good, then you can begin swearing."

"."

"Swear, Jando." Trazyn chuckled strangely. "You still have a chance to swear before my fingers make a sound, don't break it."

"I swear to Konrad Curze Curze that I will remain completely honest during the upcoming questioning."

Oh.

This is really bad.

Trazyn struggled to keep his reactor running in the face of the sudden surge of energy that exceeded the threshold of his preset alarm program.

He did everything in his power to avoid immediately entering combat protocol, but he paid the price. His visual sensor malfunctioned—at least in Trazyn's eyes.

At this moment, the private room provided by the Emperor's Scythes has become pitch black, and a colossal form is slowly rising within it.

That was not human, without a doubt not human. No human being could possess such a direct and cosmic stance.

Trazyn collapsed to the ground with a thud, his spare body's legs sparking as they remained in place. This was intentional; he needed some external stimulus to reactivate his nearly stalled reactor and the stiffened activated metal.

As the saying goes, falling down is so that you can get up better next time, and Trazyn put this saying into practice perfectly.

He grabbed his legs with both hands and stood up, then put his body on them. His fingertips were split open, and rudimentary repair tools popped out to begin repairing the smooth, sharp cut.

At the same time, his visual sensor error returned to normal, the room was no longer pitch black, and the terrifying figure disappeared.

The only issue to worry about is that there's now one more person in front of Jando Skraivok.

"Is the courtroom performance over, Your Excellency?" Trazyn asked.

He received no answer, but he knew that was the answer.

"Am I still allowed to speak, sir?"

"Okay," Karyl said. "As compensation."

Trazyn, using his newly repaired legs, walked to his side. He understood what "out of compensation" meant, and considering the speaker's status, it was an unimaginable act of magnanimity.

But Trazyn knew the truth. He had done extensive research on the Horus Heresy and the history of the Imperium of Man afterward, and he knew the truth—at least part of the truth—about the secret name of Karyl Lohars, which was not recorded within the Imperium.

His politeness, like my collecting obsession, is a kind of paranoia.

However, at least both of these kinds of fanaticisms can be categorized as virtues.

"I can provide you with an analytical device, Your Excellency."

What kind of analytical device?

"Comprehensive," Trazyn said cautiously. "And absolutely capable of revealing everything that this Jando Skraivok has hidden to us, whether it's the secrets he knows or the secrets he doesn't."

"Give me a few minutes," Karyl replied calmly.

Trazyn tapped his chin—a gesture that indicated tension in his body language, something he had done since he was still flesh and blood—and then walked out of the room.

As he expected, the Emperor's Scythes were on guard outside, and most of their elite forces were probably here. Realizing this saddened Trazyn.

He was so sad that he couldn't help but speak.

"Shouldn't you go to the surface of Sotha and save your people?"

"That's none of your business, Xenos," retorted an Emperor's Scythes missing its left hand.

Trazyn glanced at him, realizing that he clearly misunderstood him, and spoke again.

"From what I understand, in your classification, Sotha is a very good agricultural planet. This means it has fertile soil, vast plains suitable for cultivation, and a favorable climate."

"This also means that the people living there must be quite satisfied with their lives. After all, you consider yourselves to be nobles like knights, so you won't oppress them; on the contrary, you will do your best to ensure that they can live without worry."

"And what I want to say is that if even the most elite of your warriors intend to stay here to guard me, then your people will surely be slaughtered."

Someone immediately roared, "It's making a threat!"

Trazyn let out a sigh through his speech device, clearly frustrated.

"I didn't. This was a prior warning. And I don't need to threaten you. If I were your enemy, I could simply let it go. In short, your homeland is being invaded by a bunch of ruthless scum. Aren't you going to stop it?"

His words caused the man with the missing left hand, the Emperor's Scythes, to growl and turn around with his men. Trazyn smiled with satisfaction at the remaining dozen or so people, then turned off his hearing sensors.

In the room he was facing away from, some things were happening that he didn't really want to know.