It was a room with no light seeping through.
The man who opened his eyes there slightly furrowed his brow. He could see nothing.
After blinking a couple of times, his pupils gradually began to accept a faint light. The dark, damp basement exuded a gloomy atmosphere.
His weary gaze fell to his limbs.
The man’s arms and legs were bound by a restraining device. With handcuffs on his wrists and shackles firmly wrapped around his ankles, he looked barely able to move.
Under ordinary circumstances, it wouldn’t be strange for him to scream.
Having fallen asleep and woken up, he found himself dragged to a suspicious place, and his limbs bound. The psychological pressure had reached its peak.
Yet, the man showed no particular reaction.
His golden eyes revealed only a look of fatigue, and his expression was utterly indifferent. He appeared as if emotions had been stripped away from him.
As he unsteadily rose to his feet, the sound of metal chains dragging echoed.
Before him lay a set of bars. Beyond them, a small round table came into view.
At that table sat a man who appeared to be middle-aged.
His graying hair testified to the fact that he was younger than one might expect. However, the solid muscles and bold lines of his face indicated that he was still in his prime.
His outfit was a black uniform.
Traditionally, colors symbolize many things.
Black signifies power and authority, but it also carries one more significant implication.
Those who seep into the darkness under cover of night.
The Imperial Intelligence Department.
If he was in such attire, it meant he was a high-ranking official whose identity was exposed to the outside.
The middle-aged man took a sip from the cup of tea.
As his eyes slightly opened, a blue will-o’-the-wisp appeared in the void, creating an illusion. He offered a low greeting.
“I beg your pardon for the rudeness, Ian Fercurus.”
With a thud, the cup fell onto the table.
As he did so, the middle-aged man adjusted the white gloves on his hands. His expression while offering an apology was extremely solemn.
“I hope you can understand. You are quite an unpredictable individual… the more information I gather, the less I understand you. You are the first like this.”
The man, who had been silently gazing at the middle-aged individual, let out a faint sigh.
It was a reaction as if he had understood the entire context now.
Regardless, the middle-aged man continued speaking.
“The Imperial Court is taking the issue of the ‘Blood Rune’ seriously. Therefore, though I have overstepped some boundaries, we are trying our utmost to ensure your safety. By the way, this place is…”
“…the underground interrogation room of the Imperial Intelligence Department.”
The words burst forth unexpectedly.
However, the moment those words left the man’s mouth, the middle-aged man’s lips pressed tightly together.
In silence, he stared at the man with a wary gaze.
“The restraining device is a high-quality one, too. And there’s one, two—no, three hidden agents.”
As the man’s flat voice continued, the presence of wariness in the middle-aged man’s eyes thickened further.
As he said, this was the underground interrogation room of the Imperial Intelligence Department, and the restraining device was indeed of high quality. Unless one was a Master, the moment one wore such a device, their magical power would be rendered immobile.
That meant it was reasonable to assume that this man could not use his magical powers either.
But how?
The agents hiding here were carefully selected elites. Naturally, discerning their presence would be difficult.
Even if it were possible, it would require using at least some magical power. The presence or absence of magic created a significant disparity.
As the middle-aged man’s silence prolonged, the man asked nonchalantly.
“Are you planning to talk through the bars like this?”
The middle-aged man, who had appeared to contemplate for a moment, soon picked up his cup with a faint smile.
“At least, that’s what I think…”
Then, he savored a sip of tea, allowing its fragrance to envelop him with a smile.
“…what do you think?”
At that provocative question, the man first revealed a faint smile.
At the sound of the cup hitting the table, a sharp cracking noise echoed, accompanied by flames.
With a loud clang, the chains that bound the man’s wrists snapped. It was a feat achieved by forcefully spreading his arms wide.
As the man twisted his ankles, the chains clattered. Immediately after, as his foot trampled the chains, fragments flew upward.
They were shards of broken metal.
The process was so swift that one might question whether it was a prearranged script.
Next, the man unhesitatingly wrapped the chains around the lock that barred his way. As he twisted and pulled the broken chain that had been stuck in the handcuffs, something unbelievable transpired.
With a loud crunch, the metallic lock began to bend.
Before long, the chain leading from the man’s wrists was glowing fiercely. The chains reinforced with magic gradually crushed the lock.
With a pop, the lock was split in two and flew into the air.
Navigating through the bars took hardly a few seconds.
Without uttering a word, he stepped away and exited through the creaking iron door.
Until that moment, the middle-aged man had shown no reaction.
He merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued. He crossed his arms as he observed the man.
As if to see how far he could go.
Of course, the man was not so naive as to feel overconfident already.
His mouth once again spoke a few words.
“…One above, one on the left, another on the right.”
It sounded like a code, but there was no one in this space who wouldn’t comprehend its meaning.
No movement was felt. In this sealed room where even the wind did not pass through, the only sound that broke the silence was the rough scratching of a throat.
“Since you’ve all been discovered, come at me all at once.”
Dark blades shot forth, piercing the darkness.
While it may seem contradictory, this was the truth. The pitch-black weapons caused chaos in a single surge.
Even as they attacked, only flickering afterimages remained visible, revealing their trained precision.
Their speed and power could not even be compared to that of mere Academy News Department members. Even Neoris would pale in comparison to them.
It was a surprise attack from which there was no time to respond.
Even if one attempted to counter with superhuman reaction speed, it would be impossible to withstand the joint attack of these three. They were skilled enough to control countless variables through repetitive training.
They were true experts in killing.
However, in their eyes now, a faint tinge of fear lingered. The stronger they were, the more instinctively they could sense it.
They realized that this man was a monster beyond their understanding.
It wouldn’t take long for that unfortunate premonition to be proven true.
With a clang, the chains wrapped around.
There was no foreboding. At the moment the man crossed his arms, the chains ensnared the wrists of two agents stabbing daggers from the left and right.
The agents attempted to resist, but it was already too late.
As the man gritted his teeth and spread his crossed arms to the sides, the distance between the two agents quickly closed. Then, with a thud, their bodies collided in midair.
In the last moment, they curled up to avoid the gruesome fate of having their necks broken.
However, that was all. The man who had stepped back, creating space, did so with no daggers aimed at him.
One agent descended from above, bouncing off the air once more.
It was an obscure acrobatic maneuver that defied comprehension. The one who kicked off the void, avoiding a calamity of stabbing his comrade, immediately landed on the ceiling and threw a dagger.
With a lightning-fast throw, the man swung his arm in response.
With a clang, metal clashed, sending the dagger soaring upwards again. Regardless, the agent continued to throw daggers in succession.
The edges of knives glimmered. It meant they were coated with poison.
Since an interrogation was required, it wasn’t a fatal toxin, but a poison with a powerful anesthetic effect.
However, at this moment, it was a decisive battle where victory and defeat hinged on a slender margin. This alone was sufficient to inflict fatal injury.
Having thrown several daggers, the agent found no success.
Every dagger was deflected by the chains that whipped like a whip. Ultimately, the agent, having thrown all of his daggers, decided to shift his combat style to close combat.
The last remaining dagger was thrown in a single stroke.
With more numbers, it was inevitable that larger movements would be required to fend them off. The chains connected to the man’s wrists whipped around, batting away the daggers.
In the meantime, the agent on the ground drew a sword from his waist.
Bending his knees, he launched himself in a precise thrust.
It was a strike delivered with utmost effort.
Yet, it didn’t connect.
Just before the agent’s sword could land, the space warped, causing the man to evade the agent’s sword path as if the two were rotating around a midpoint.
There was still a chance.
As the agent thought so and hurriedly prepared to exchange blows once more, in that very moment.
A blade pierced through his shoulder.
It was a dagger.
Ian’s armaments had all been disarmed. Thus, he was not fighting with chains.
This dagger must have come from elsewhere.
The dagger that the agent had thrown, coated with anesthetic poison.
The one that had soared through the air due to a chain’s blow pierced through the agent’s shoulder.
In an instant, the anesthetic began to circulate.
The agent felt his senses diminishing as he questioned, bewildered.
“How… how…”
It was rare for a thoroughly trained intelligence agent to be this flustered.
Yet, no matter how he thought, he couldn’t comprehend.
The man’s skill in handling chains was remarkable. It was a level of finesse one wouldn’t even imagine from someone wielding non-armed tools.
That’s why it was strange.
No one undergoes training to wield “chains” as weaponry. It is highly inefficient and challenging to handle as a weapon.
One would be better off using a whip or wire.
Even that was something only those receiving special training, like agents of the Imperial Intelligence Department, would use as arms.
The response to the agent’s question came back plainly.
With a thud, the heavy chain struck the side of the agent’s head.
Even in a state where the anesthetic was already in effect, it was hard to remain conscious. The agent lost consciousness instantly.
Another body collapsed with a soft thud on the ground, signaling the end of the battle.
The man, watching the scene with indifferent eyes, moved again. Towards the middle-aged man seated at the round table.
Without a hint of hesitation, he sat opposite him and poured tea into the empty cup from the teapot.
From the poured tea, warm steam began to rise.
The middle-aged man maintained his silence.
After a long while, he managed to part his lips.
“…What is your true identity?”
As the man who had just lifted his cup met the middle-aged man’s gaze with weary eyes.
Taking a sip that moistened his mouth, he replied.
“Ian Fercurus.”
Then, with a sound, the cup tapped the table again.
“…A loyal subject of the Empire.”
Now, only two remained in the closed chamber.
