Translator: CinderTL
As the smoke cleared from the drill ground, Derson turned to Derrick. "Colonel, I need several dwarf prisoners."
Derrick frowned. "We have some in the dungeon. We've been trying to get detailed tunnel maps out of them, but those stubborn stoneheads are as obstinate as ever. We've tried everything—torture, starvation—even our most seasoned interrogators have hit a wall."
"Perhaps a different approach is needed," Derson said calmly. "I require a completely sealed room—dark, airtight, with a thick door. No one is to approach during the interrogation, including you."
Derrick stared at him, his eyes flickering slightly. He studied the seemingly refined intelligence officer, already guessing his methods. A "special projects officer" from Alden Town wouldn't rely on ordinary whips and branding irons.
"You're going to use torture?" he asked in a low voice.
Derson didn't deny it, merely stating, "For efficiency's sake, extraordinary measures are sometimes necessary. Rest assured, as long as they live, there won't be any visible injuries."
Derrick remained silent for a moment before finally nodding. "There's a stone chamber beneath the west tower, originally intended for holding high-value prisoners. The walls are three feet thick. I'll give you the key, but don't kill anyone. I need them to trade for Viscount Helsen."
"Understood," Derson replied, accepting the key. He immediately summoned two attendants, who stood with their heads bowed, clad in plain gray robes that revealed nothing distinctive.
Soon after, four dwarf prisoners, bound in iron chains, were escorted into the west tower's underground chamber. The heavy stone gate clanged shut, and two armed guards took up positions outside.
At first, the chamber remained silent. About half an hour later, a hoarse roar suddenly erupted, as if forced from the depths of someone's throat, followed by intermittent groans and whispers, their voices distorted with pain. After another interval, screams began to echo through the chamber, rising and falling in pitch, as if someone were enduring unspeakable torture.
The guards exchanged pale glances. One muttered under his breath, "These intelligence operatives... they're ruthless."
Nearly another hour passed before the stone gate finally creaked open. Derson emerged first, his face showing a hint of fatigue, but his eyes remained clear and his breathing steady. Two attendants followed, their movements slightly sluggish, as if they had just endured extreme physical exertion.
Inside the room, the four dwarves lay collapsed on the floor, foaming at the mouth, their eyes rolled back, their bodies convulsing violently. They had completely lost consciousness. Scratches marred the stone walls, as if they had desperately clawed at the rock with their fingernails.
The soldiers dared not linger. Derson calmly instructed, "Take them away and keep a close watch. Don't let them die."
Those outside knew the screams they had heard weren't from physical torture, but from the tearing of souls. Derson and his team had used "Memory Regression," forcibly piercing the dwarves' formidable mental barriers to extract intelligence about the tunnel network, troop deployments, and other information (limited to what the prisoners knew). As for Viscount Solan Helsen, the captives had no knowledge of him.
For now, Derson's methods remained confidential.
In the War Room of Mountain Throat Fortress, a meticulously detailed topographical map covered the entire long table. Contour lines, geological strata, and the sources of streams were all clearly marked.
Combining the information Derson had "extracted" from prisoners, several secret underground passages were marked on the map in red ink. One main passage led directly to Anvil Hall, a crucial stronghold of the Stonemason Clan.
Derrick stood before the table, tracing his finger along the red line. A smirk played on his lips as he addressed the officers: "After all this waiting, we can finally make our move."
At dawn the following day, he personally led two hundred elite infantrymen and a Combat Engineer detachment out. The column included three specially modified light pack wagons, each loaded with sealed crates of explosives and guarded by dedicated handlers.
They advanced along the safe routes marked on the survey map, deep into the canyons of the eastern Rocky Mountains. Muskets were loaded, and artillery observers carried portable rangefinders to constantly calibrate the terrain.
Around noon, the column reached a narrow mountain pass flanked by steep cliffs. Suddenly, arrows rained down from above. The soldiers immediately raised their muskets to locate the targets. Dozens of dwarf warriors, armed with short axes and heavy hammers, surged from behind the rocks, charging down the slope with guttural roars.
Gunfire erupted. After three volleys, the dwarf formation shattered, leaving several bodies strewn across the slope. The survivors let out a piercing whistle, turned, and vanished into the rocky crevices, retreating swiftly.
This was a scene the garrison troops of Mountain Throat Fortress had witnessed countless times.
But today would be different.
"Pursue them!" Derrick ordered without hesitation.
The squad advanced along the dwarves' retreat route, soon discovering a low tunnel entrance concealed beneath a vine-covered rock face, barely wide enough for a person to pass through while crouching.
Derrick crouched down, consulted his map to confirm their location, and nodded. They lit torches and filed into the tunnel single file. The interior was damp and cold, the stone walls etched with ancient runes, the air thick with the scent of iron rust and subterranean moss. As the soldiers held their torches aloft, flickering shadows danced across the rock walls, their footsteps echoing through the narrow passage.
After less than half an hour of slow progress, the squad began to sense something was amiss.
The compass needles started to swing erratically before freezing in place. This could be due to magnetic ore within the mountain, or perhaps the dwarves had tampered with the tunnel's magnetic field.
The rock walls surrounding them were nearly identical in texture, and forks in the tunnel appeared frequently. Some passages were barely wide enough to squeeze through sideways, while others sloped downward into bottomless darkness. The Engineer Captain pulled out the crude map provided by Derson for comparison, only to find that the actual tunnel system was far more chaotic than the sketch suggested.
"We can't go any further," Derrick said, stopping and lowering his voice. "This place is a labyrinth. If we go deeper, we might never find our way out."
He surveyed their surroundings, estimating they had ventured nearly five hundred paces into the tunnel. The rock overhead was thick and heavy, the walls solid and unyielding. This section of the passage served as the critical choke point connecting the outer and inner networks—collapsing it would sever the entire route.
"Plant the explosives here," he ordered. "Seal off all side passages from the entrance to our current position. Place at least three charges along the main tunnel to ensure a complete collapse."
The Combat Engineers moved swiftly, dividing the explosives into pre-drilled rock holes, securing them with wooden wedges, and connecting the fuses to a remote ignition device. Each charge was precisely positioned to maximize the shockwave's destructive force against the rock strata.
Derrick cast one last glance into the dark depths of the tunnel—the realm of the dwarves, a place of darkness, complexity, and unknown dangers.
But now, they no longer needed to venture inside.
"They love digging tunnels, don't they?" Derrick sneered. "Then let them spend ten, a hundred years, digging this whole thing all over again."
(End of the Chapter)
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