"Minister, this is the last batch of case closure reports for now."
"Mm."
Kallen took the reports. In them, punishments like "erasure" counted as lenient; more involved extracting and tormenting consciousness or hypnotizing the mind through cycles of reincarnation, denying the condemned death and torturing them until their souls collapsed.
He raised his head again and glanced at Vic standing before him. The bags beneath his eyes were as deep as an eighty- or ninety-year-old woman's, practically sagging down his face.
He was clearly exhausted and overdrawn, yet he displayed a strange, contrary excitement.
Vic loved this work. Like a vicious dog, he dragged "suspects" into his kennel one after another and ravaged them to his heart's content.
Who could have imagined that this student Rasma had so carefully selected would now become the most terrifying executioner in the Whip of Order?
His reputation was still fairly good, however, because Kallen had shouldered all the "notoriety."
"You've been tired lately too. Get some proper rest."
"Minister, I'm not tired." Vic's attitude was firm, as though he desperately hoped Kallen would immediately assign him a new mission or select a new target for him to tear into.
"Take a break and get yourself back into shape. Before long, there's a big project I'll need you to carry out with me. I want you well rested."
"Minister, could you tell me what this big project is?"
"No."
"Understood, Minister."
"But you can go have a new set of clothes made."
"Hm?"
Kallen waved a hand at him, indicating that was all he could reveal.
"I'll take my leave."
After Vic left, Kallen began reading the reports from the front.
Half a month had passed since Order declared war on Life.
That was actually very short for a war, but compared with the