Grand Ascension-Chapter 74: interrogation

"Johnson, bring the detainees to my office."

A crackle of static, then a voice responded.

"Copy that, sir. En route."

The button served as a communication device between the main offices and the dungeon. As such, Johnson, who stood guard over Zorak and Zuri, was contacted by Jorg.

Five minutes later, the doors to Jorg’s office opened.

Johnson entered first.

He was a Tier 3 Warrior, broad-shouldered, his expression neutral but alert. His hand rested casually near his waist, where a suppression charm hung from his belt. Behind him walked Zorak and Zuri, neither bound but clearly under guard.

Zorak moved with deliberate slowness, his heavy frame making each step measured. His golden brass knuckles were gone, confiscated. His hands hung loose at his sides, but his eyes swept the room, taking in each figure. He saw Jorg and the three VEB agents standing behind him. He had seen them before, and except for Jorg, who was a threat, no one else could do anything to him.

Then he took in the three MIO agents seated at the round table. His eyes narrowed.

Orel. It felt like he could narrate Zorak’s entire life as if he had been there to witness every moment. That was the particularity of a Scholar. He surely wouldn’t win in a fistfight, but he could plan your destruction.

As for Amelia, he could not read her. If he wasn’t looking directly at her, she might as well not exist.

Then his gaze lingered on Yime.

He could not help but shiver. She could finish him in a fraction of a moment.

Zuri walked beside him, her posture rigid, her arms crossed. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. She looked smaller than she had two days ago, diminished, like someone who had been caught in a storm and barely survived.

She had difficulty standing in the room under the pressure emitted by all these experts. She had done some readings the day before and had figured out they were going to be brought here for questioning.

Johnson gestured toward two empty chairs that had been placed across from the round table.

"Sit," he said quietly.

Zorak sat first, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Yime. She was intimidating.

Zuri hesitated, then sat as well, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

Johnson stepped back, positioning himself near the door. His hand remained near the suppression charm.

Silence filled the room.

Yime’s dark eyes, visible above her veil, studied them both.

Orel leaned back in his chair, adjusting his orange-tinted glasses, a faint smile on his face. With these two in front of him, their reactions, their looks, their demeanor, his idea of what might have happened and why it happened deepened.

Amelia remained still, her presence barely noticeable, but her gaze tracked every movement Zorak and Zuri made.

Finally, Yime spoke.

"State your names and affiliations."

Her voice was calm, soft, but it carried absolute authority, as if she had woven her Ashe into her speech.

Zorak’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jorg, then back at Yime. He looked at the table and saw the documents.

From that, he knew she already had an idea of who he was. If that was the case, why was she making things complex for him?

Despite these thoughts, Zorak knew he had to answer whatever question she asked.

"Zorak," he said. "Third-grade Adept Warrior. Independent practitioner."

Yime’s eyes shifted to Zuri.

Zuri swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Zuri. Second-grade Apprentice. Seer route. I... I live at apartment 3B."

Orel tilted his head.

"Lived," he corrected. "Past tense. You’re not going back there anytime soon. I mean, you can, but you just might die." He said it with a tone of amusement, as if her dying was good news.

Zuri flinched.

Yime raised a hand slightly, and Orel fell silent. He knew now was not the time for his questions.

She was just going to finish the basic introduction before he got to work.

"Two and a half days ago," Yime said, "VEB agents detected residual Ashe at your apartment, Zuri. The spiritual residue was from Adept-level warriors. They also detected the use of phase distortion charms. We imagine you used them for protection while the fight was going on. If you are here today, that means you survived. However, you and your opponents left behind structural damage. And you almost exposed the inhabitants of Naija City to the reality of the mystic world."

She paused.

"First, who fought in your apartment?"

"I don’t know who they are," Zuri answered. "I just know who they were looking for."

If she knew who they were, she would have answered the first time Jorg asked the question. She had already said she didn’t know. Why were they pestering her?

She looked at Yime, uncomfortable under her dark eyes. And from that alone, she continued, no one telling her to.

"Friday morning, a man I didn’t know named Makun came to me. He booked an online meeting and asked for readings. I did the readings and saw something terrible. I chased him away, scared of my implication." She paused, her hands trembling.

"Later that day, he came back, but he was already awakened. He pleaded for information, begged me because he had nowhere to go. I gave him what I could. But I knew I had fucked up because I got involved with him."

She took a shaky breath.

"After my readings, I got bad predictions. On Sunday, I called for Zorak because I saw him in some of my readings being helpful. And not long after he entered, we were attacked."

Zuri rambled on, only stopping when her mouth dried. She did not even realize she had spoken so much. Well, that was to be expected when under the gaze of an Elite practitioner.

Yime’s eyes opened slightly, just slightly. She had known of Zuri. Well, she had seen her before. In Makun’s memory after performing the resonant recall.

She did not know he had gone back there after the awakening, but she knew he had been there, and because of her chasing him away, he had attempted suicide. She also was aware of the chains, as she had seen them pull on Makun during his drift to the deeper levels of the Deep. However, that was not something to be mentioned here. It was confidential.

On the side, Orel, who had been listening quietly, intervened, his provocative demeanor still present.

"Cool story," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Describe the two you fought."

Zuri blinked, her mind struggling to shift gears. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the moment.

"The man was tall. Blonde and handsome. He wore formal attire. Pressed shirts, tailored pants. His posture was upright, almost military. He questioned me first, calm but cold. No emotion. Just... calculation."

She proceeded to describe Bol and Cheryl in detail. Their exact appearances, mannerisms, and some of their behavioral patterns.

Orel nodded, his fingers steepled in front of him.

"And their abilities?" he prompted.

Zuri swallowed.

"He didn’t fight directly. Not at first. He questioned me and just... watched. But when Zorak moved, he moved too. Fast. Faster than Zorak expected. I cannot say what route he followed. I did not notice Ashe usage or anything."

Orel’s eyebrows raised slightly. "No Ashe usage? Interesting."

He glanced at Yime, who remained silent, listening.

"And the woman?" Orel prompted.

Zuri’s breath hitched.

"She... I don’t know how to describe it. She just..."

"A puppeteer," Zorak cut in.

He remembered Cheryl pulling his hair in a way he had never experienced before. It had hurt like hell. Then she had proceeded to control him, making him kneel and punch himself.

Cheryl’s control was absolute.

"They were both third-grade Adepts," Zorak continued. "The man was a warrior. Very strong. But the danger came from his companion."

"Stop." Orel raised a hand, then turned to face Yime. "I have the gist of it. We do not need anything more from them."

Everything they said had already been written in the report. Orel knew what they would say before they spoke. He was interested in how they said it.

"Yime, we do not have time to waste here," Orel said, his tone stripped of theatrics. "We have serious matters awaiting us."

Yime knew that when Orel spoke like this, then he was serious. He surely already had a plan in mind and wanted to get back to serious business as soon as they finished with what he clearly considered child’s play.

They had been on a case for months now, one where Orel had been outsmarted more than once, and that had led to the deaths of multiple people. He, who put on the exterior of a provoker who never cared about consequences, had been affected.

Not only by the lives lost, but mostly by the fact that someone else, a scholar of a similar tier, a similar grade, could outsmart him. That failure gnawed at him in ways he would never admit aloud. For someone whose entire identity was built on being the smartest person in the room, being outmaneuvered was more than a setback. It was a wound.

"How do we proceed?" Yime asked.