Chapter 416

“It would be nice if you cooperated willingly. I don’t have much time, you see.”

I approached the trembling boss, who was slowly backing away.

“Hah, haha! Don’t mess with me…! You think this Dermont would cower at your threats and start blabbering?!”

“Uh.”

Looks like it won’t even take five minutes.

The sight of him desperately pointing a broken Black Iron Sword at me was so pitiful it was almost laughable.

“You think I’d tell you anything, you bi—”

“Wait. If we’re going to have an honest conversation, we need to be on the same level first.”

I recalled a story from Greek mythology I read as a child and glanced at his ankles.

Once upon a time, on a hill in ancient Athens, there lived a man named Procrustes. His only hobby in life was inviting travelers and treating them with utmost hospitality.

He was so kind that he not only offered them wine and feasts but also willingly prepared a bed for them. The only problem was that the only bed left in his house was a relic used by his son.

A bed of an ambiguous size—too small for an adult man to lie on, yet too big for a child. It was something that would make anyone uncomfortable.

Not wanting his guests to feel such discomfort, Procrustes came up with a brilliant idea.

‘If the bed’s size doesn’t fit the guest, then we should adjust the guest’s body to fit the bed!’

And thus, the birth of the Ankle Butcher.

He would carefully cut off the ankles of guests who said the bed was too small and stretch the bodies of children who said it was too big to achieve the perfect size. His skills were so perfect that the satisfied guests never left his house and lived there for the rest of their lives.

Do you understand the moral of this story?

– *Sssk!*

“Kyaaaaah!”

It means, when you meet someone taller than you, cut their ankles first.

—

A blue-white flash swept across the ground like a gust of wind.

The sword tip grazed both ankles, and Dermont’s height instantly shrunk by a hand’s width.

Considering men’s obsession with height, it was truly a horrific tragedy.

“You, you bi—!”

“Now that we’re roughly at eye level… I should probably get rid of anything dangerous, right?”

Two swings. Two severed wrists flew through the air.

Fresh blood gushed from the stumps of his limbs.

“Guh—! My hands! My hands—!”

“Calm down, you can reattach them later, right?”

I looked down at Dermont, who was flailing on the ground, and ignited Up-hwa to cauterize the wounds.

– *Sssss!*

“Kweeeeeek!”

The searing pain of his wrists and ankles being cauterized made him writhe like a pig struck by a hammer.

After confirming the bleeding had stopped, I extinguished the Up-hwa and crouched in front of him.

“Kuh… you… damn…!”

Dermont trembled violently. His brown irises dilated and contracted repeatedly as our eyes met.

His gaze was filled with fear, agony, and hatred.

“Looks like the preparations are done. Shall we talk now?”

I grabbed a broken corpse, sat on it, and began the interrogation in earnest.

—

What I wanted to know was simple.

There was no way just ten guys could spread drugs throughout this entire area.

They were likely just a part of a larger drug organization. Given how they boasted about their swordsmanship, they were probably the muscle.

So now it was time to dig out everything about their organization.

“First question. Who’s the one supplying LSD to this slum? Not the small-time dealers, but the ones providing the drugs. Where can I find them?”

“Kuh… you… bi—!”

Dermont struggled to speak in a low voice.

“Nemi…? What’s that? The name of the organization? Or a person?”

“Your mom, you damn bi—!”

Dermont gritted his teeth and smirked. The typical bravado of a back-alley thug. It was almost laughable.

“This guy still doesn’t get the situation.”

– *Gulp!*

I scratched out his left eyeball with my fingernail like I was doodling.

The cornea tore away instantly, and the lens squished and oozed out.

“Kyaaaaaah!”

Dermont screamed like a pig. I waited for him to calm down after plucking out his eyeball and popping it.

“Got your senses back? Ready to talk now?”

“Kuh…!”

Dermont trembled, tears of blood streaming down his face. I tapped his head and continued.

“Let me ask again. Where can I find your friends? I’d like to know before you lose the other eye.”

“…Inside… find them….”

Dermont finally spoke after gasping for breath for a while. His slurred speech made it hard to understand.

“Speak clearly. Where?”

“Inside your mom… find her…!”

…Ha, this guy.

He really loves talking about other people’s mothers.

[Do I have to keep listening to this nonsense?]

Hersela was fuming in my head. Even though I knew the insults weren’t directed at her mother.

[Stop messing around and use your specialty. Let’s see how long this cockroach can keep spouting nonsense.]

‘My specialty?’

[Torture. You usually dismember people, but this time you just plucked out an eye? Do you think that’s enough to make him talk?]

Well, usually, I have a priest or potions ready. If I open a butcher shop alone, he’d die before I could get anything out of him.

“What are you doing, you don’t have time…! Go find your mom! Want me to tell you where she is? I saw her earlier at that prostitute den, looking for her runaway daughter…!”

Dermont, mistaking my silence for anger, kept ranting. Even with his wrists and ankles cut and an eye plucked out, he still had the guts to talk like this. Gotta respect his resilience.

“Wasting your breath. You think I’d kill you that easily?”

I could see right through him. He wanted me to get so angry that I’d kill him impulsively.

You think I haven’t dealt with scum like you before?

“……!”

Dermont flinched, realizing I’d hit a nerve.

“Looks like you don’t want to talk to me. Fine. We’ll chat a bit later. Say, in five minutes.”

I stuffed his eyeball, now a lump of meat, into his mouth to shut him up and ignited threads of Life Force at the tips of my ten fingers.

I’m not sure if this will work…

But it’s worth a try.

[What are you planning?]

‘You’ll see.’

I grabbed Dermont by the collar, slammed him to the ground, and pressed my fingertips against his exposed back.

– *Plunge!*

The threads of Life Force at my fingertips turned into sharp needles, piercing into his body.

Specifically, into the nerves connected to his spine.

It was like stabbing a writhing needle directly into his nerves.

“Kuh…! Gweeeeeek!”

Dermont convulsed and screamed like a beast struck by lightning, but he couldn’t overcome the force pinning him down. All he could do was flop around like a fish out of water.

– *Crackle!*

“Gweeeeeek!”

It was an extremely effective torture method.

There wasn’t much bleeding, so the risk of death was low, but the pain from the scraped nerves far surpassed that of amputation or burns.

It was a shame I couldn’t send an electric current, but I could ignite Up-hwa at the tip of the Life Force needles to melt the nerves.

I spent about four minutes shredding his nerves.

For the last minute, I shortened his limbs a bit more and plucked out his other eye for symmetry.

Five minutes later.

Dermont was oozing fluids from every orifice, letting out only soulless moans.

“Kill… kill me…! Please… just kill me…!”

“Poor thing. I’d like to, but I can’t. You haven’t told me anything yet. If you want to die, you’ll have to answer my questions properly.”

Dermont nodded frantically. After five minutes of my efforts, he had transformed from a mama’s boy into a true adult willing to sell out his friends.

He cooperated smoothly with the following interrogation, and as a reward, I gifted him death.

I hung him over a bonfire, so he’d slowly roast to death. If he’s lucky, the fire might spread and kill him faster.

“Take care.”

“Kuh…!”

I bid farewell to the writhing, moaning Dermont and left the tavern.

My pockets were filled with evidence I’d gathered from the corpses.

—

Dermont knew quite a lot, as expected.

The name and structure of the organization ruling the back alleys of Holon, the locations of their hideouts—everything.

Dream Paradise Society.

That was the name of the organization spreading drugs in Holon’s slums.

Under a nameless, faceless boss, there were three executives, each managing their own subordinates in a cell-like structure, overseeing the back alleys.

…I didn’t expect to hear that name here.

Just hearing the name gave me a rough idea of the boss’s identity.

The Dream Paradise Society was an organization from the original story.

Of course, the original story had been a mess for a long time, so I couldn’t be 100% sure. The timing and location were completely different from the original.

Anyway, Dermont was an underling of the executive in charge of force—the one they called “that person” earlier.

The other two executives were in charge of drugs and finances, respectively… meaning one sold drugs, and the other handled the money.

Dermont didn’t know the identities of the executives or their motives for doing this.

Well, it’s not like a mere underling would know such things.

But I’d already gotten the most important information.

The location where the executive in charge of force was staying. That much, Dermont knew well.

I’ll just go and ask.