The next day, at the Imperial Capital's prisoner camp.
Under the professional interrogation of personnel dispatched from the Imperial Prison, those captives who were officials or had committed severe crimes were sentenced to execution by beheading. The rest, whose offenses were relatively minor, were assigned to various construction projects throughout the Capital.
Though among the over one hundred thousand southwestern captives there were many elderly and weak, more than seventy or eighty thousand were able-bodied workers. With their addition, the progress of numerous imperial engineering projects advanced at an astonishing pace.
(Don't question the demographics. Selene isn't a philanthropist. Those too weak to survive the march through the snow never made it this far anyway.)
As for the chieftain of the captured southwestern tribe, after Selene presented him as a prisoner to the Young Emperor, the boy ruler ordered his public execution—by lingchi, dismemberment by a thousand cuts—at the central execution grounds of the Capital, before the eyes of countless citizens, to demonstrate that the Empire's authority was absolute and unchallengeable.
Selene herself did not witness this gruesome spectacle. She was occupied overseeing the transfer of command for the Fourth Imperial Guard Legion. Still, she later heard that the execution had lasted an entire day and night.
"Hmm? Is that... Dr. Stylish?"
From her office window overlooking the prison camp, Selene noticed a figure in a white lab coat. Surrounded by guards in steel-gray uniforms, he stood out like a bright blot of color on a dull canvas.
Dr. Stylish—a flamboyant, eccentric genius scientist with a touch of reckless bravado and a notable inclination toward men.
As a scientist, he could have remained comfortably in the rear, directing his research. Yet instead, he insisted on personally leading his squad into battle—a true anomaly among intellectuals.
So, you've got a close-combat dream too, huh? Selene mused.
Even so, she couldn't deny his brilliance or his power. Few in the Empire could match him or his Team Stylish in combat effectiveness. The only reason he'd died so early at the hands of Night Raid in another timeline was his own arrogance—charging into the enemy base without caution.
His toxins could cripple opponents within moments. If not for Susanoo, Night Raid might not have had anyone capable of resisting him.
Save for those immune to his gases—like Run, Susanoo, or Kurome's puppets—he feared no one, except perhaps monsters like Great General Budo or Esdeath, whose mastery over their Teigu had reached levels beyond human comprehension.
As for his genius, Dr. Stylish had even managed to create the Judgement of the Ten Heavenly Kings—a weapon system rivaled only by true Teigu in destructive potential. It wasn't that he lacked the skill to forge a real Teigu; rather, the ancient techniques required to do so had been lost to time.
After all, Teigu were forged by the First Emperor using unimaginable wealth and authority—gathering the world's greatest craftsmen and materials, from legendary Danger Beast parts to rare metals like orichalcum, fused with now-forgotten secret arts.
To compare Dr. Stylish's lone efforts to the combined genius of the world's ancient masters was hardly fair.
In Selene's eyes, if her own Complete Book Of The World · Rongo Rongo ranked first in value, then Dr. Stylish—and his Glorious Hands of God · Perfector—would be second. The National Defense Machine God · Shikoutazer, the so-called strongest Teigu, came only third.
As for the rest? Mere playthings.
...
Knock, knock.
"Come in," a calm female voice called from within the office.
Dr. Stylish, somewhat puzzled, opened the door. Strange... wasn't Esdeath supposed to be in charge of the prison camp? Did they replace her?
Upon receiving permission, he stepped inside.
"Miss Esdeath, about the proposal I mentioned yesterday—you..." he began, only to stop mid-sentence.
The person seated at the desk wasn't Esdeath. She stood properly to the side, while another woman occupied the command chair.
White hair. Crimson diamond-shaped pupils. Silver and blue ensemble shimmering faintly with an otherworldly luster.
Even without an introduction, Dr. Stylish knew exactly who she was.
Selene smiled faintly, glancing up from her paperwork. "Dr. Stylish, from the Imperial Science Bureau, correct? I read your proposal. You're requesting a batch of southwestern captives for your research, yes?"
At once, the flamboyant scientist dropped his usual flippant demeanor. Barely twenty, yet already a prodigy, Dr. Stylish stood stiffly at attention, his voice formal.
"Y-yes, General Selene."
For all his arrogance and eccentricity, he knew when to restrain himself. Before a woman like Selene—a true military powerhouse and one of the Empire's ruling generals—only a fool would act out. One wrong word, and she could have him executed on the spot.
--
Chapter 148: The Imperial Capital's Prisoner Camp (2/2)
"I'm quite interested in your proposal... have you finished preparing the detailed plan?" Selene asked casually, her legs crossed as she leaned back in her chair, fingers interlaced.
"All prepared!"
At her words, Dr. Stylish hurried forward, approaching the desk with visible excitement. From his leather briefcase, he drew out a thick stack of documents and began spreading them across the desk.
"General, here are the plans and schematics for the new standardized artillery models! This section covers the human modification experiments! And this—these are the preliminary reports on the Danger Beast enhancement serums—"
"That's enough. Leave them there. I'll review them one by one," Selene interrupted smoothly, gesturing to an empty section of the desk before him.
Dr. Stylish obediently set down the documents where she indicated, then stepped back to stand respectfully opposite her. His expression was anxious—he wanted to ask something, but couldn't quite find the words.
Time stretched in silence. After nearly fifteen minutes, just as Dr. Stylish began to worry that his proposal would be rejected, Selene finally lifted her gaze.
"Dr. Stylish," she said, her voice calm but firm, "congratulations. Your plan is approved."
"R-really?!" The young scientist blinked in disbelief, momentarily stunned before cautiously adding, "Then... General, may I begin selecting test subjects right away...?"
He quickly realized how hasty that sounded and corrected himself with an awkward cough. "Forgive me, General. I'm just... a bit eager. The research requires immediate—"
"I understand," Selene replied evenly, setting down the pen with which she'd just signed the military authorization. A genius in research is always a bit of a madman, she thought.
"This is my signed order," she said, sliding the document across the desk. "Esdeath, take Dr. Stylish to the Imperial Prison. Tell the warden to halt the torture of the southwestern tribal leaders—they are now under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Science Bureau."
She added coolly, "From this point onward, any death row prisoners deemed guilty of heinous crimes will also be transferred to the Bureau for experimentation."
"Yes, General!" Esdeath responded crisply.
Dr. Stylish, meanwhile, was elated—his grin nearly splitting his face. To him, this decree was a dream come true. With an eager bow, he followed Esdeath toward the exit, already fantasizing about his next series of experiments.
But just as they were about to leave, Selene's voice stopped him cold.
"Dr. Stylish," she said lightly. "I'll be accompanying you. I'd like to observe your experiment firsthand."
"Ha—huh?"