[756] The Doctrine of Evil (3)
* * *
"Get in, now! Do you want to die?!"
In the heart of the 48th Military Facility in North Eimond, a squad of soldiers had drawn their blades and were forcing laborers forward.
"I-I only came yesterday! Please, have mercy!"
"If you drew it in the lot, that's it! Are you refusing a Republic order now?!"
Only after a knife was pressed to his throat did the man give up and bow his head, clutching the heavy sack.
If he resisted he would die, but if he went into that warehouse there was a chance he might survive.
If ten went in, eight came back alive — a fairly high probability.
The problem was the fate of the other two; their end didn't simply mean death.
"Next. Who drew the X?"
"I did."
Vasetto, Verdi's father, stepped forward, showing the X carved on the stick.
"Go in."
He knew resistance was pointless, so he dragged the remaining sack and headed for the warehouse.
"Hey—hey, Vasetto. Who goes first? Huh? Me first? Or you?"
One terrified comrade, twitchy from the same ordeal, complained irritably, though he'd gone numb to it by now.
"Do as you like."
The man rolled his eyes and gave a sheepish smile.
"Th-then you go first. Okay?"
Eight out of ten survived, but of the thirty-nine who had died so far, thirty had gone first.
"...Alright."
From the moment the warehouse door opened, an irresistible, impulsive stench assaulted them.
It was so nauseating that even burying your face in a corpse would be better than this.
"Grrr."
Inside the iron cages set up in the warehouse, silhouettes of monsters larger than men passed by.
Their shapes, temperaments, and habits varied, but the soldiers referred to them collectively as the garas.
"Stay calm. Just put the sack down and get out."
When the cage door opened and they entered, the beasts turned their heads in unison and slowly stepped back.
"Krk. Krk. Krk."
Hearing the chuckle-like groans, Vasetto held his breath and dragged the sack.
Don't provoke them. Don't make a sound.
Dragging the sack with everything he had until his arms threatened to come out of their sockets was the only skill he'd learned in that place.
"Kiiiiii!"
When something needle-sharp pricked his side, Vasetto flinched.
'Damn it! Was that me?'
It wasn't time to give up yet.
...
His hyper-sensitive senses registered that the garas were retreating without his having to turn his head.
'You bloody bastards! Mocking me?'
The reason the garas didn't tear out of their cages was that the 48th Military Facility provided them the best feed.
'Do you think you're an emperor or something?'
Igor had been prepared to pay any price to satisfy the garas' libido, which was a hundred thousand times that of a human's.
'To make the strongest army.'
Whether they could truly control the garas was unknown, but merely reaching a compromise that kept them in cages was an achievement.
'I'll go back to my family.'
The beasts in that warehouse were well-fed; unless specially provoked, they wouldn't even glance at you.
'Okay!'
Vasetto set the sack down. In the rush, some who had run ahead were seized by garas.
'Slow. Slower.'
He repeated over and over that if you act like you want to die, you'll survive — and finally, after he stepped out of the cage, the garas offered what passed for congratulations.
"Kuk! Kuk! Kuk!"
Everything felt blissful simply because he had lived, and the man whose turn was next went pale.
"C-congrats. That's... really something."
There was no answer.
"Y-you can do it. I'm counting on you. Please—take mine instead…."
Vasetto's eyes hardened; he glared as if ready to kill. The man meekly lowered his head.
"Well... nobody wants to die, I suppose."
For a moment Vasetto's resolve softened, but he steeled himself and flattened against the warehouse wall.
Creak — aggravatingly, the lock that had held so far made a sound as it opened, and the man's reason snapped.
"Hah. Hah."
Vasetto grimaced at the ragged breathing but could not make a sound.
Calm down. If you act like usual nothing will happen.
"Waaaaaah."
At the sound of sobbing, a garas from the corner showed interest and licked out its tongue.
The wet thing wound around the man's neck like a hand, squeezing until his grip loosened.
"Please, save me."
Vasetto's eyes widened.
'You idiot! Don't move! Don't say anything!'
"Please, save me. I'm begging you. I came in yesterday. I can't die like this… aaah!"
The tongue yanked him fast, and Vasetto pushed off the ground and bolted for the exit.
"S-saave me! Aaaah!"
Without even glancing back, he pounded on the warehouse door.
"Open! Open the door, you bastards!"
A slit in the wall that showed only eyes cracked open, and cold stares swept the interior.
"Open it! We completed the mission!"
"The cages opened. Close them."
"Goddamn it…!"
Swearing came automatically, but in the face of the will to live, his anger cooled.
He shoved with both hands and ran for the iron cage, where a man pinned under a huge garas reached a hand out.
"Please! Help me—aaah!"
Seeing the man's eyes roll back, Vasetto shut the cage and slammed the lock.
"Kiyaaaah!"
An excited garas shoved a tar-black shadow through and he nearly fainted.
Before he realized how he'd retreated, he found himself slammed against the warehouse wall. Outside the warped iron bars, snake-like things writhed.
"Kruuuuh!"
He gritted his teeth and bolted sideways; the warehouse door opened and his vision filled with light.
The light of life.
"Aaaah!"
Afraid they might close the door, he pushed off the ground with all his strength and tumbled out onto the earth.
'Please, please somebody save me! Dear God, Verdi!'
Hearing the terrible screams of his comrades inside, Vasetto pressed his hands to his ears and sobbed.
"Huh... huh...!"
Another victim had been taken.
* * *
Major Jacy, who had escaped the 48th Military Facility, reached the depths of the Galchen Mountains that ring the capital Fasia of North Eimond.
'Still not here? Five minutes until the rendezvous.'
Though serving as an officer of North Eimond, she had actually been a spy who infiltrated from South Eimond six years earlier.
'I held on just for today.'
The mission would have been impossible without an unregistered, third-rank archmage specialized in espionage.
"Jacy!"
Three soldiers emerged from the bushes.
Their commander was Jacy's husband.
"Why're you so late?"
"Sorry. It took longer than I thought to break through the border. I'm lucky I made it across."
After a quick kiss, Jacy patted her pocket.
"There's no time. Two days ago, for the first time in the north they succeeded in controlling the garas. If we don't come up with countermeasures quickly—"
"Those bastards! They actually succeeded?"
"Fortunately, it's not yet to the point of training higher lifeforms. But the fact they succeeded is what matters."
Technology inevitably advances with time.
"Deliver this file to the royal palace. It's all the information I collected on the garas. I'll cross back in three days."
If she deserted now, an alarm would go out across the country and her husband would likely be seized.
"You'll be taken to the torture chambers."
North Eimond soldiers parted the bushes and approached, and Jacy's eyes trembled with shock.
"How—"
She had thought she'd hidden everything thoroughly.
"The world's changed. You should know there are eyes in places you don't even look."
The Otherworld.
No, impossible. The Otherworld's people would never bargain with humans, she thought.
"Don't think you'll be dragged away quietly. I'm in a foul mood right now."
As the military police commander drew his saber and stepped forward, Jacy cast invisibility and shouted.
"Scatter! Get out!"
She vanished, and when she struck an electric bolt from an unexpected angle the military police dove for cover.
So she's no amateur.
Invisibility is a high-tier illusion spell; pairing it with an electric bolt made it clear she wasn't some amateur.
"...This is getting interesting."
As the spies fled, the commander barked an order.
"Bring the Hound Corps."
A signal flare shot up, and three minutes later twenty soldiers led two-meter-tall dogs.
Grrrrrrrr!
Full-bodied dogs armored in plate-like fur, dogs riddled with hundreds of holes, dogs whose teeth dripped virulent poison...
These beasts, engineered from garas, moved in perfect formation at the commander's signal.
Mutant venom hounds.
'Really an impressive outcome.'
North Eimond's biologists had used canine genetics to control the garas.
Though still in early stages, if they could be trained the Republic would soon field a terrifying force.
"Do they really obey? If we rely only on dogs and lose track of the enemy, our own necks won't be safe."
The captain of the Hound Corps said confidently.
"Do not worry. These are Republic dogs. They faithfully perform dangerous tasks."
"How's their performance?"
"They're excellent beyond words. You should see it. Just give the orders."
The military police commander glared into the forest.
"Find and capture every piece of southern trash."
Twenty minutes later.
From the mountainside came pitiful screams.
"Noooo!"
The mutant venom hounds found the spies by scent in no time, and Jacy's husband was beheaded by the commander's saber.
"You bastards! Die! I'll die too, damn you!"
Hit by a hound whose toxin relaxes the major muscles, Jacy missed her chance to take her own life.
"How tiresome. To be called a villain by a thief who stole another country's secrets."
"Shut up! There are human rights even in war! Do you even know what you're doing?"
"Of course I do. We're at war."
The commander stamped on Jacy's face.
"Kugh!"
Even with his boot pressing her cheek, she bared her eyes ferociously in a way that displeased him.
"You know how the Republic interrogates criminals, don't you? Start talking about how far you're involved."
"Kill me."
That determination was what had kept her alive for six years behind enemy lines.
"How conveniently you stomp on human rights yourself."
The commander turned, and a black-furred mutant hound approached drooling.
"For the next ten minutes you'll experience hell. Then we'll talk again. If you want to stop this, now's your last chance."
"...Kill me."
A Hound Corps researcher opened a file.
"Experiment data 38-7. Test subject: Vestak Jacy. Age 36. Begin recording."
"Aaaargh!"
As Jacy squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, the commander sensed a presence and spun around.
Even with his sensory schema he hadn't noticed the person until she was nearly upon them.
"...Who are you?"
It was a young girl wearing a wide-brimmed, pointed hat, gripping a broom in one hand.
"Human, human."
At the grown woman's voice that shattered the scene, the military police finally recognized and stepped back.
Was that a dream?
As if the child's form had been an illusion, it vanished and a seductive, mature face struck their eyes.
"Why do you keep killing and yet there's never an end?"
One of the Ivory Tower's Five Great Saints.
Head of Human Security Enforcement, Mirak Minerva.