[AFYC] Chapter 67

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

In truth, calling them wounds didn’t quite capture the extent of the damage. If a more fitting word were needed, perhaps ‘mutilation’ would be closer. 

Despite claiming he felt sick, the man with the snake tattoo roughly grabbed the head of the person whose scalp had been completely peeled away, growling as he did so. 

“Say something, you bastard.” 

The man’s one remaining eye rolled back, white and lifeless. 

“How many of you dogs are working under Oscar von Reinhardt? Where are they hiding? Huh?” 

Only a grating sound, like metal scraping against metal, escaped from the ruined throat that had been scalded with boiling water. 

The snake-tattooed man clicked his tongue in disgust at the sight. He tapped the limp head with his fingers, as if mocking it, before turning his gaze to the other wolf, who was slumped over in the chair. 

While it was pointless to compare the extent of their injuries, if one had to judge, this other man was in worse condition. He was barely conscious, trembling intermittently, as if death was only moments away. 

One of the torturers nodded at the snake-tattooed man, signalling that the second captive was close to death. 

The man with the snake tattoo licked his lips, then beckoned with a finger. When the man who had opened the door approached and bowed, the snake-tattooed man patted his head in a mockingly affectionate way as he gave an order. 

“Bring the dogs.” 

“You mean the hunting dogs?” 

“Yeah. Those things have gotten a taste for human flesh and refuse to eat anything else.” 

“Should I release them immediately, or... Ah!” 

The man’s words were cut off as the snake-tattooed man tightened his grip on his hair. Leaning close to his subordinate’s face, he whispered menacingly. 

“You need to get the Chairman’s approval first. If you feed them without permission and something goes wrong, are you going to take responsibility?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Let’s be smart about this, huh?” 

Shaking his head, the snake-tattooed man left the torture chamber. 

Outside the chamber, an opulently decorated corridor stretched endlessly. Marble floors, once the sole privilege of nobility, now lined the halls, with walls adorned with famous mythological scenes. Overhead, chandeliers made of natural crystal hung, while porcelain vases from the East lined the corridor. 

The snake-tattooed man, who was the deputy commander of the Beta Mercenaries, referred to his superior, the leader of the mercenaries, as “the Chairman.” 

“Where’s the Chairman?” 

“He’s been in his office since entering, and he hasn’t come out yet.” 

Smiling, the man leisurely made his way down the corridor. 

He always liked the feel of marble under his feet. There was a reason why the nobles were so fond of it. 

The world was changing. 

It was a time when a commoner with money was better off than a penniless noble. The day when wealth could surpass status had finally arrived. 

This particular job had been ordered by none other than the King of Luxen himself. If they could pull this off and earn the King’s trust, then who cared about noble titles? The plan was to discard the vulgar name “Beta Mercenaries” next month and launch the “Beta Group” instead. 

But for that to happen, they had to succeed in this mission. 

Killing Reinhardt’s men was a bit unsettling, but according to the mercenaries’ intelligence team, the total number of combatants within the Marquisate’s forces didn’t exceed three hundred. 

It was surprising that a mere noble family, not even royalty, had a private army of that size. But in the world of mercenaries, three hundred was barely enough to call a company. 

“Chairman!” 

As he opened the heavy wooden door, a lavish and chaotic room, decorated in a mishmash of styles, came into view. The Chairman was seated on a sofa facing the window. From the high back of the chair, only his legs were visible. 

“Damn, these guys are tough. They’re both practically crippled, but they still won’t talk.” 

“....” 

“The dogs are starving. Should we feed them?” 

The Chairman remained silent. 

“Apologies, Chairman. But what else can we do if they won’t talk? And besides, didn’t you say it was fine if they died?” 

“....” 

“...Chairman?” 

“....” 

The quiet had turned ominous. 

The previously calm and confident man’s expression turned icy in an instant. He rushed forward, practically leaping towards the Chairman. 

“...!” 

But there was no need to call out to him. A gleaming knife was embedded in the centre of the Chairman’s forehead. 

A cold shiver ran down his spine, spreading to his toes. 

The Chairman had been brutally slaughtered. Although the amount of blood around him was surprisingly small given the extent of the injuries, that wasn’t the most pressing issue.