Chapter 22: The Turning of the Tide

Morin’s eyes grew colder; this was no longer about nations or status. He simply wanted to eradicate these pieces of human trash who used their positions to bully the weak.

Peering into the stairwell, Morin saw that the three abducted girls had been taken into separate rooms. The depraved officers had not even bothered to close the doors, practically wearing "come kill me" on their faces.

After reaching the upper floor, Morin scanned the area, instantly grasping the layout of the hallway. In the rooms on the left and right, an officer in each was tearing at the clothes of a girl pinned to the table or floor. In the room directly opposite the stairs, the situation was even more wretched: two officers were struggling to drag a desperately fighting girl onto the bed.

Morin pulled back and issued tactical commands with clear, simple hand signals. He pointed to the side rooms and tapped four soldiers, signaling them to move in pairs and neutralize the targets. Then, he pointed to himself and Corporal Bowman, gesturing toward the center room. Everyone nodded in silent understanding.

Morin took a deep breath, his gaze sharpening. He held up three fingers and retracted them one by one. The moment the last finger disappeared, he slashed his hand downward!

Six figures lunged like cheetahs, pouncing silently toward their respective targets.

In the center room, the two Kingdom Army officers were so immersed in their impending gratification that they did not notice death had arrived. When one felt a disturbance behind him and reflexively turned, it was already too late. Morin appeared like a phantom, his left hand lashing out to clamp firmly over the man’s mouth and nose, stifling any sound. Simultaneously, the bayonet gripped in his right hand pressed its cold blade against the man's throat. This "lucky one" needed to be kept alive for a while; Morin and his men had several questions they needed to "consult" him about.

On the other side, Corporal Bowman’s approach was more direct and brutal. Like a starving tiger, he tackled the other officer to the floor and, before the man could react, drove his bayonet cleanly through the man's neck. The officer did not even have time to scream; his body twitched a few times before falling deathly still. It was as clinical as a butcher slaughtering a pig.

The combat in the other two rooms ended just as swiftly. With a two-to-one advantage, the lone officers had no chance to resist and were neutralized almost simultaneously.

The entire process took less than ten seconds, as fast as a sped-up silent film. Morin did not execute his prisoner immediately; instead, he tapped the flat of his bayonet against the man’s neck to signal him to behave.

The three rescued girls huddled in the corner, tattered and shivering, their eyes filled with fear and bewilderment. Morin had two soldiers fetch blankets to cover them, then take them to an empty room to be comforted. He and Corporal Bowman began the interrogation.

How the tides had turned. Two days ago, he was the prisoner tied to a chair being interrogated; now, he was the one holding the power of life and death.

The officer, controlled by Morin, looked at the wretched state of his companions and felt the cold steel against his throat. He began to tremble violently, and a large wet patch quickly spread across his trousers.

"I ask, you answer," Morin said coldly in fluent Aragonese. "If you try any tricks, or if I am not satisfied, I will slit your throat instantly. Do you understand?"

Hearing this, the officer nodded frantically like a chicken pecking at grain, his eyes filled with the relief of a survivor.

"Name, rank, unit designation." Morin's voice was devoid of emotion; he looked at the officer as if he were already a corpse.

"Juan... Juan de Rivera..." The officer's voice was hoarse and trembling, thick with tears. "Kingdom Army, 24th Infantry Division, 48th Brigade, 126th Regiment, 1st Battalion... Lieutenant Colonel and Battalion Commander."

Morin and Corporal Bowman were both surprised by the answer. They had expected to take out a few ordinary officers, not hook such a big fish—a genuine lieutenant colonel. However, looking at the man before him—who was shaking with terror and lacked even a shred of military bearing—Morin grew suspicious.

"A lieutenant colonel? You?" Morin tapped the man's cheek with the blade of his bayonet, puzzled. "You don't look like one..."

Juan’s body jerked at the words, and he rushed to answer: "I bought it! Sir! This commission was bought with money!"

"..."

"I was originally just a nobleman from the north. I heard that the allies of the Holy Britannia Empire were coming to help, and I thought the war would be over soon! So I... I wanted to spend money to enter the army and gain some credentials for the future..."

This explanation made Morin understand the man's earlier performance. An opportunist who climbed through manipulation and wealth could hardly be expected to have a backbone.

"Very well, you are honest." Morin nodded and continued, "Has the entire 24th Infantry Division entered Seville?"

"Yes... yes! The whole division is here, stationed in the city and the surrounding defensive positions!"

"What is your mission in Seville?!"

Juan dared not withhold anything, spilling everything he knew like beans poured from a jar. "Our... our mission is to rely on the city and coordinate with the friendly forces of the Holy Britannia Empire to block your advance."

"What about the Britannians? Where are they?"

"They... they are here too! Their men are in the city! There seem to be two or three thousand of them, claiming to be an elite unit of the Northumberland Fusilier Regiment!" At this point, Juan seemed to remember something important. In his desperation to live, he eagerly added, "Sir! Sir! The Britannians have also sent more than a dozen robed mages!"

"Mages?" Morin's heart sank.

"Yes! I saw them once when I went to division headquarters to socialize with senior officers. It seems they are preparing to attach these mages to different units to assist in combat!"

"Do you know the specific battle plan?"

"Sir, I'm just a battalion commander; how could I possibly know the high command's battle plans..." The captured officer said with a bitter face, but upon seeing the cold glint of the bayonet reflected against his neck, he added, "I only know that our superiors ordered us not to launch any preemptive strikes, but to hold our ground here in Seville. I really don't know anything else..."

"Very well, thank you for your cooperation."

Morin stepped in front of the officer, smiling, and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're welcome, Officer. It is my honor to serve you..." The lieutenant colonel squeezed a hideous smile onto his face, but before he could catch his breath, he felt a chill in his chest.

He looked down to see a slender bayonet buried deep in his heart.