Again and again, Zerath struck him. Each time Amon tried to curl up, Zerath forced him back up.

Each time he begged, Zerath laughed. Each time he denied knowing anything, Zerath punished him more.

The demon's voice was calm throughout it all. "So?" Zerath asked between strikes. "Anything new come to mind?"

Amon shook his head weakly, tears mixing with sweat.

"I don't know… please…"

Zerath sighed dramatically. "How disappointing."

He grabbed Amon by the collar and lifted him slightly off the ground. His blood made a trail across the carpet on the ground.

"You humans break too easily," he said. "But don't worry."

He leaned closer, whispering into Amon's ear, his voice cold and evil.

"We have plenty of time."

Zerath threw Amon back onto the metal surface inside the cage.

"I'll leave you here for now," he said. "Think carefully." He turned away, walking toward the tent exit.

"Next time," Zerath added over his shoulder, "I won't be this gentle. Hehehe~"

The tent flap closed.

Amon lay there, trembling, his body aching despite the healing. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. Not from pain, but from helplessness.

"Damn… I hate this… I fucking hate this… but I won't break," he told himself weakly.

His body was severely injured. Ribs and bones were broken. Blood was still streaming down. Some of the cuts were healed, but their marks were still visible on his skin.

Slowly, darkness crept back into his vision as his consciousness began to fade once more.

He was not going to give up. Not so fast.

---

Zerath stepped out of the tent.

The flap closed behind him with a dull sound, cutting off the faint noises from inside.

The cold night air brushed against his face, carrying the smell of blood, smoke, and damp earth.

Outside, the demon camp was alive.

Huge tents were lined side by side in organized rows, their dark fabric marked with crimson demonic symbols.

Lanterns hung from poles and tent entrances, their orange light flickering as the grey sky above slowly darkened further. Night was approaching, and the forest surrounding the camp felt even more oppressive.

It was the same forest. Dark, with black trunks, bark, and leaves.

Those black trees encircled the entire area like silent sentinels. Their twisted branches stretched toward the sky, blocking out what little light remained.

From within the forest came distant, unsettling sounds. Rustling leaves, unknown cries, and the low hum of mana flowing through the land.

Several demons were training nearby.

Some practiced sword forms, their blades clashing with sharp metallic sounds.

Others tested magic, sending bursts of dark energy into the air or striking reinforced targets. Their movements were precise, brutal, and disciplined.

This was not a disorganized army.

This was proper army. Small but good.

Zerath walked forward calmly, his boots crunching against the ground. His expression was relaxed, almost cheerful, as if he had just finished a pleasant task.

A few demons glanced at him as he passed. Some smirked knowingly.

Others didn't care.

To them, screaming inside a tent was nothing special. The man was known for interrogation. It wasn't limited to humans. Even demons who betrayed them or did something wrong were not spared.

Zerath ignored them all and continued walking toward the largest tent at the center of the camp.

The main command tent.

Two heavily armored demons stood guard at its entrance. Their horns were thicker, their presence heavier. The moment they saw Zerath approaching, they straightened.

Zerath stopped in front of them.

"I have business with the commanders," he said casually.

The guards exchanged a glance, then stepped aside, lifting the tent flap.

Zerath entered.

The inside of the tent was spacious and dimly lit by several mana lamps floating in the air. A large table stood at the center, covered with maps, markers, and glowing crystals showing troop movements.

Seated on opposite sides of the table were two demon commanders.

One was massive, with a broad frame and thick black horns curling backward. Long grey hair. Dark blue eyes. He was Vaelrix, the one who fought against Galahad.

His armor was heavy, layered, and marked with scars from countless battles. His wounds were healed.

The other was leaner but no less intimidating. His skin was dark ash-gray, his eyes glowing faint violet. He wore lighter armor engraved with runes and rested one clawed hand against his chin as he studied the map.

His name was Renard. The air inside the tent felt heavy. Zerath immediately straightened his posture.

He stepped forward and bowed respectfully, placing a hand over his chest.

"Commanders," he said formally. The larger commander looked up first.

"Report," he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

Zerath lifted his head.

"The human hostages have regained consciousness," Zerath said. "I personally interrogated those three."

The second commander finally looked away from the map, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"And?" he asked. "What did you extract?"

Zerath's smile faded just a little.

"…Nothing."

Silence filled the tent. The larger commander's brow twitched.

"Explain."

Zerath bowed his head slightly again, his tone respectful but calm.

"The first two were experienced ones. One woman in her late thirties, while the other man was in his mid thirties. So they had no intention of disclosing any information, no matter how much I tortured them."

The violet-eyed commander leaned back slightly.

"And the third one?"

Zerath let out a short breath through his nose. "He was the youngest. Maybe eighteen. He endured prolonged interrogation," Zerath replied. "Pain, fear, and exhaustion. His responses were not much different."

He paused, then added honestly, "If he is lying, his will is unusually strong for a person of his age. But my assessment is that he truly doesn't know anything useful."

The larger commander clicked his tongue.

"Tch. Useless."

"Not entirely," Zerath said smoothly. "He was present during the battle and survived a fight with Kalrik. His physical resilience and mana response are… amazing."

That caught their attention. The violet-eyed commander leaned forward.

"You're suggesting he has potential."

Zerath nodded. "At the very least, he could be used further. For testing. Or as leverage. We could brainwash him. Or just send him and others to slavery."

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