Chapter 22: The Tables Have Turned

Morin’s eyes grew colder. This was no longer about nation or identity. He simply wanted to eliminate these scumbags who abused their authority to prey on the weak.

Morin peered out from the staircase. The three abducted girls seemed to have been taken into separate rooms. And those depraved officers hadn’t even bothered to close the doors. This was practically an invitation for someone to come in and kill them.

After reaching the top of the stairs, Morin quickly scanned the situation on the second-floor corridor, taking it all in instantly. In the rooms on the left and right, one officer in each was tearing at a girl’s clothes, pinning her to a table and the floor, respectively. In the room directly opposite the staircase, the scene was even worse: two officers were struggling together to drag a desperately fighting girl toward the bed.

Morin pulled his head back and swiftly issued combat instructions using a simple and clear set of hand signals. He pointed to the two side rooms, then indicated four soldiers, signaling them to split into two pairs to deal with the targets. Then, he pointed to himself and Corporal Bowman, and finally to the middle room.

Everyone understood and nodded in assent.

Morin took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening. He held up three fingers and slowly folded them down one by one. The instant the last finger retracted, he fiercely swung his hand down!

The six figures moved like silent cheetahs, pouncing on their respective targets.

In the middle room, the two Royal Army officers were completely lost in the excitement of imminent success, utterly unaware that death had arrived. When one of them sensed something behind him and instinctively turned around, it was already too late. Morin materialized behind him like a ghost, his left hand flashing out to clamp tightly over the man’s mouth and nose, preventing any sound. Simultaneously, the bayonet clenched in his right hand pressed its cold edge against the officer’s throat. This ‘lucky survivor’ needed to be kept alive for the time being; Morin and his team had many questions they needed to ‘consult’ him on later.

Beside him, Corporal Bowman’s action was more direct and brutal. He tackled the other officer like a hungry tiger, slamming him hard to the floor. Before the man could react, the bayonet in Bowman’s hand cleanly sliced horizontally across his neck. The officer didn’t even have time to scream; his body twitched a few times before falling completely silent, executed like a butcher slaughtering a pig.

The fighting in the other two rooms ended just as swiftly. With an overwhelming two-on-one advantage, the two officers who were alone had no chance to resist and were neutralized almost simultaneously. The entire process took less than ten seconds, fast as a sped-up silent movie.

Morin did not immediately finish off the captive in his grasp, instead tapping the back of the bayonet blade lightly against the man’s neck, signaling him to cooperate.

The three rescued girls were huddled in corners, their clothes torn, shaking violently in fear, their eyes filled with terror and confusion. Morin had two soldiers fetch blankets from the rooms to cover them, then led them to a nearby empty room to calm them down.

He and Corporal Bowman then began to interrogate the officer whose life had been temporarily spared.

The tables have turned. Two days ago, Morin was the captive, tied to a chair and tortured. Now, he was the one holding another man’s life in his hands.

The officer controlled by Morin looked at the gruesome state of his companions on the floor and felt the cold steel on his neck. His body trembled violently, and a large wet patch quickly spread across his trousers.

“I ask, you answer.” Morin spoke coldly in fluent Aragon. “Dare to play games, or fail to satisfy me, and I will slit your throat immediately. Understand?”

Hearing Morin’s words, the officer nodded frantically like a pecking chicken, his eyes full of the relief of having narrowly escaped death.

“Name, rank, unit designation.” Morin’s voice was devoid of emotion, looking at the officer as if he were already dead.

“Juan… Juan de Rivera,” the officer’s voice was hoarse and trembling, thick with the sound of crying. “Royal Army 24th Infantry Division, 48th Brigade, 126th Regiment, 1st Battalion… Lieutenant Colonel Battalion Commander.”

Hearing this answer, Morin and Corporal Bowman were both surprised. They had expected to take out a few regular officers, but they had snagged a big fish: a genuine Lieutenant Colonel Battalion Commander. However, looking at the man before him—terrified out of his wits and utterly lacking any soldierly bearing—Morin felt doubtful.

“Lieutenant Colonel Battalion Commander? You?” Morin lightly patted the side of the man’s cheek with the flat of the bayonet blade, his voice filled with suspicion. “You don’t look like one.”

At his words, Juan violently flinched, almost rushing to answer: “I bought it! Sir! I paid money for the rank!”

“…”

“I was originally just a nobleman from the north. I heard that the Holy Britannian Empire’s allies were coming to help and thought the war would soon be over! So I… I wanted to pay my way into the army to earn some credentials for the future…”

This confession explained his earlier behavior. An opportunist who clawed his way up with connections and money could not be expected to have any backbone.

“Very well, you are honest.” Morin nodded, continuing his interrogation: “Has the 24th Infantry Division entirely garrisoned Seville?”

“Y-yes! The entire Division has arrived, stationed in the city and the surrounding positions!”

“What is your mission in Seville?!”

Juan dared not conceal anything, spilling everything he knew like beans poured from a bamboo tube. “We… our mission is to use the city as a strongpoint, cooperating with our Holy Britannian Empire allies to block your attack.”

“What about the Britannians? Where are they?”

“They’ve arrived too! Their men are in the city! There are about two or three thousand of them, they say they’re the elite troops of the Northumberland Fusilier Regiment!” Saying this, Juan seemed to recall something important, and urgently added to save his life: “Sir! Sir! The Britannians also brought over a dozen robed Mages this time!”

“Mages?” Morin’s heart sank sharply.

“Yes! I saw them once when I went to the Division HQ to socialize with senior officers. It seems they are preparing to attach these Mages to different units to assist in operations!”

“Do you know the specific operational plan?”

“Sir, I’m only a Lieutenant Colonel Battalion Commander, how could I possibly know the high-level operational plans…” The captured Royal Army Lieutenant Colonel said with a distressed face, but upon seeing the cold reflection of Morin’s bayonet on his neck, he quickly added: “I only know that our superiors told us not to launch any preemptive attacks, but to conduct a defense inside Seville. I truly don’t know anything else!”

“Alright, thank you for your cooperation.” Morin stepped in front of the officer, smiled, and patted him on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Sir. It’s my honor to be of service to you…” The Royal Army Lieutenant Colonel managed a strained smile, but before he could even sigh in relief, he felt a sudden chill in his heart. He looked down and saw a slender bayonet plunged right into his chest.

(End of Chapter 22)