Interrogation and Division

Creak!

Late at night, deep in the dungeon beneath the Governor's Office.

As the door slowly swung open, Elvis Lincoln, seated in a chair, opened his eyes and looked toward it.

The deputy commander of the Francia Kingdom's Court Mage Guard Corps was in a wretched state.

Anti-Magic Stone shackles bound his hands and feet. To prevent the Transcendent Tier mage from gathering mana and escaping, Balga had also driven one of the Demon King's Army's infamous Soul-Breaking Nails into his chest. Its interference with his mana circuits had reduced Elvis from a mage who could command the wind and rain to an ordinary man limited to physical strength, cutting off every possibility of escape.

Over the past eight days, he had tried to escape or call for help. He had even claimed he was willing to surrender, hoping it might give him an opening.

But no matter how he pleaded or what he offered, the soldiers who brought him food each day had maintained the same attitude: "Shut the fuck up. Keep yapping and I'll kick you."

He had suffered none of the humiliation he had imagined during those eight days of captivity. His meals had even been unusually good. But the torment of that silence had made the time feel like a century.

So when the cell door made a sound for the first time in eight days, Elvis instinctively fixed his gaze on it. Two figures entered, one behind the other.

The first was a black-haired young man in simple, dark civilian clothes. He wore no insignia of rank, yet carried a presence impossible to ignore.

John Maslow and his deputy!

Damn it. Why had he come to interrogate me himself?

The moment Elvis recognized them, cold sweat broke out across his back. This was bad.

Before