The transition from the solitary cell to the interrogation room was a study in calculated psychological warfare. Daemon was held for three days, not in a dungeon, but in a meticulously warded solitary cell deep within the Academy's administrative wing. The windowless space was perfectly insulated against all external stimuli and Aetheric fluctuation. The silence was absolute, the confinement designed to break down his mental defenses not through physical cruelty, but through sensory and nutritional deprivation—he was provided sufficient water, but deliberately starved of food. The goal was to weaken the fierce mental focus he would need to resist the coming blend of magical and conventional interrogation.
Daemon, however, utilized the forced isolation as a profound opportunity. He did not succumb to despair or exhaustion. Instead, he dedicated the seventy-two hours entirely to his mind, meticulously reviewing the advanced Aetheric stabilization principles he had recently memorized from the restricted archives. His focus became a singular, disciplined furnace of concentration, ensuring that when the interrogation came, his mental walls would be thicker, his command over his inner Aether more absolute, and his ability to conceal his true thoughts far more effective.
While Daemon fortified his mind, the Academy guards were executing the Chancellor's meticulous directive: a search of his personal apartment to find the source of the technical anomalies. The search team—comprised of four elite, wary guards—spent hours dismantling the residence, eventually locating the series of cunningly hidden, magically sealed strongboxes.
As they cataloged the extraordinary finds, their curiosity gave way to shock. One box contained the second Mythril-Tungsten Chokuto, a cold, perfectly crafted twin to the one Daemon had surrendered, confirming his ability to replicate the unique weapon. Another contained a single, heavy Mythril-Tungsten alloy bar, a testament to priceless, non-standard metallurgical achievement. The final box held the most incriminating evidence of the Insbruck explosions: a collection of the copper explosive canisters, carefully padded and sealed, alongside schematics filled with chemical formulas and notations for base elemental pressure.
A small group of guards, drawn by the activity and eager to complete the sweep, then attempted to breach the only remaining secured area: the heavy door leading to Daemon's customized lab/study. The lead guard inserted the skeleton key, and the moment the tumbler clicked, the sophisticated defensive rune Daemon had inscribed on the handle instantly activated. This was no simple ward; it was a circuit engineered to ignite the trap precisely upon physical breach.
The leather poison bag, suspended just above the doorframe, was subjected to intense, concentrated thermal energy. The liquid poison cocktail it contained—a potent mix of raw, toxic components that had been fermenting in the heat of the closed apartment for at least a month—reacted violently. The internal pressure became catastrophic. The bag instantly ruptured, and the liquid vaporized, exploding outward in a dense, virulent yellow-green mist.
The blast radius proved far more potent and extensive than Daemon had initially calculated. The concentrated mist immediately bathed the three guards standing directly in front of the door. The venom, now highly volatile and aerosolized, spread rapidly and fiercely, leaking out into the apartment's complex corridor. Panic instantly erupted among the commoner students housed in the surrounding residences as they realized the danger was neither fire nor conventional magic, but an insidious, suffocating cloud. Students scrambled from their rooms, shouting and coughing, attempting to flee to the nearest emergency-warded area or open window.
When the chaos finally subsided and the specialized anti-contaminant teams were called in—their arrival delayed by the confusion over the non-Aetheric nature of the threat—the toll was grim: three Academy Guards were dead—their skin blackened and their lungs seized by the potent neurotoxins—and one commoner student from an adjacent apartment was left critically injured, having suffered severe respiratory damage from the lingering mist. The search had yielded invaluable evidence, but at a disastrous cost in Imperial lives.
The Chancellor's Cold Assessment
Chancellor Altdorf was in his private, expansive laboratory, a space dedicated to the meticulous study of fundamental Aetheric principles, when the news reached him. He was currently using specialized metal prongs to carefully manipulate the first Chokuto Daemon had surrendered, observing it under the cold light of a runic testing array.
Altdorf had been personally obsessed with the blade since its arrival. He had spent two days attempting to study the weapon directly, but the strength of the magical rejection from Daemon's ownership rune was overwhelming. Each attempt to unsheathe the blade brought on an intense wave of vertigo and crippling nausea, the effect growing stronger and stronger with every failed assertion of external will. He had since abandoned direct contact.
A breathless aide rushed in, followed by a second, cautious guard carrying the reinforced crate containing the second blade, the alloy bar, and the evidence boxes.
"Chancellor, the second blade has been recovered, sir! And the alloy bar! But there's been a catastrophic incident at the commoners' residence!"
Altdorf didn't look up immediately, his eyes fixed on the rune table. "Report the incident first. Precisely."
"The door to his study was warded, Chancellor. When the search team attempted entry, there was a violent explosion. A dense, virulent mist. We have three fatalities among the guards and a student critically injured. It was a chemical agent, sir. Pure, volatile poison. It was fast, highly volatile, and it spread rapidly, infecting the corridor."
Altdorf finally looked away from the blade, his expression hardening into a mask of cold, controlled fury. "A chemical agent? The anti-magic counter-wards were not triggered?"
"No, sir. This was a non-magical poison trap. It appears to be an application of extreme, non-Aetheric heat to highly concentrated toxic agents."
Altdorf's meticulous, strategic mind processed the dual intelligence simultaneously: the indestructible blade and the terroristic poison.
He returned his gaze to the Chokuto, using the prongs to gently flip the blade. It is mythril-tungsten, precisely as the initial forensic mages reported. But the stability! The blade that killed seventy men shows zero structural degradation. There is no residual heat damage, no warping from the extreme temperatures the Telepath reported. The structural rigidity is flawless. The temperature retention is not a function of simple Fire magic; it is a structural constant of the alloy itself, bound by the Aetheric rune.
If this commoner can create a metallurgy that resists thermal warping at these extremes, that is a secret worth far more than any tactical spell. The vertigo is an elegant, vicious psychological ward ensuring only he can utilize this priceless technology. The second blade confirms he possesses the method for perfect replication. This is not a commoner; this is a forge master who understands Aether, structure, and chemistry on a level we haven't seen since the First Empire.
Altdorf's attention then snapped to the newly delivered boxes: the sight of the copper canisters—the source of the non-magical destruction—and the casualty report from the apartment settled his strategic priorities. The poison trap proves Daemon is not just a mage or a metallurgist. He is a chemist and a saboteur capable of mass-casualty terrorism. The explosives and the poison are two sides of the same technological coin: raw, uncontrolled, non-Aetheric destruction. Steiner wants the bombs; I want the structural secrets of the blade. We must cooperate, but I must control the knowledge.
The Chancellor stood up, his tall figure emanating absolute, terrifying authority. Daemon was a critical danger and a priceless, volatile resource whose control was paramount.
Altdorf pointed a thin, steady finger at his aide, indicating the solitary cell. "The psychological testing is complete. He knows the weight of our power now. The situation has changed dramatically. I will not have my assets compromised further by reckless search teams or external politics."
His voice was cold, his resolve absolute. "Bring Daemon to me now. He will tell us how he achieved that temperature, how he forged that alloy, and how he created that venom. The interrogation begins."