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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
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Chapter 184: Ghosts (7)
Oscar, who had trapped Neil Brion in a double-layered subspace, checked his watch.
‘This time, let’s make it a light 10 minutes.’
He hadn’t explored magic like this in a while, and the strange sense of excitement made his heart race.
Seeing this, Commander Grace frowned slightly as she watched him.
“You look… strangely happy.”
“Yes, I enjoy magic research the most.”
“Hmm.”
As Grace pondered whether this was truly magic research or just plain torture, she soon nodded in understanding.
“Well, you’ve always been a weirdo.”
“?”
Oscar blinked at her with a puzzled expression, but Grace continued.
“Still, I didn’t expect you to be capable of spatial magic.”
“There’s no benefit in spreading the word about it.”
Hearing that, Grace envisioned a battle against Oscar in her mind and smirked faintly.
“Indeed. Facing you without any prior knowledge would be nothing short of a disaster.”
On top of his already formidable wind magic, he had added spatial manipulation.
She couldn’t even begin to figure out which part to target in order to defeat him.
‘…No, I don’t need to worry about that.’
After all, she would never have to fight Oscar.
The fact that they were both part of White Tower gave her a sense of relief.
It was hard to believe that just a few months ago, Oscar had been considered one of the most troublesome figures in the tower.
Grace spoke up.
“But you won’t be able to keep it hidden forever. The moon doesn’t disappear just because it’s covered by clouds.”
“True.”
Of course, at this point, it didn’t really matter whether the ability became public knowledge or not.
‘It’d be nice if I could keep it hidden, but if not, oh well.’
Being revealed as someone capable of handling space didn’t particularly concern him anymore.
A Level 6 mage capable of world liberation.
Even among the continent’s most renowned warriors, he wouldn’t be easily outclassed.
“Speaking of which, it’s already been 10 minutes. Time to let him out.”
“…You talk like you’re taking food out of a boiling pot.”
As Oscar opened the double-layered subspace, it expelled Neil Brion once again.
Boom!
Slamming into the ground, Neil hastily scanned his surroundings, trying to grasp the situation.
The moment he spotted Oscar, his eyes burned with fury.
“Oscar Crucian!!!”
Neil roared, but since he was shackled with Oblivium cuffs, he couldn’t use any magic.
Overcome with rage, he charged at Oscar, only for Oscar to lazily flick two fingers to the side.
Whoosh!
Boom!
A powerful gust of wind sent Neil crashing into the wall.
He slid to the floor, groaning in pain.
Ignoring him, Oscar picked up the watch from the ground.
His eyes gleamed with excitement.
“Oh! 1,000 minutes?”
Even though only 10 minutes had passed in reality, 1,000 minutes had elapsed inside the subspace.
In other words, layering subspace allowed him to control the time ratio.
‘One layer accelerates time by 10, two layers by 100.’
If this pattern held, a triple-layered subspace would make time flow 1,000 times faster inside.
As Oscar’s smile widened with anticipation for the next experiment, Neil Brion struggled to his feet.
“Gah… khh…!”
Clutching his side in pain—his ribs probably broken—Neil gasped and forced out a trembling voice.
“...Empire Criminal Law, Article 47, Section 3: Illegal Human Experimentation. And Article 52, Section 1: Kidnapping and Unlawful Detention.”
“?”
“I am to stand trial before the imperial court for these crimes. Hand me over.”
“Oh? During the Cadena Plague, you didn’t know the law at all, but now you’re suddenly an expert?”
Seeing through Neil’s obvious ploy, Oscar sneered.
“You want to face the imperial court’s judgment, hoping to avoid worse treatment here?”
“...Even criminals have the right to extradition. You should know that unlawfully detaining and kidnapping me is also a crime, right?”
“Wow, for someone so well-versed in the law, you sure committed plenty of illegal acts yourself.”
Scoffing, Oscar glanced at Grace and asked casually.
“Commander, how many members of the Black Finger faction were found in Sirin the other day?”
“Hmm? Oh, just two…”
Grace trailed off, then grinned slyly.
“No, wait. Just one. Dirje. And he was executed on the spot.”
“Right?”
“Y-You bastards…”
Neil Brion’s voice began to tremble.
He realized they had no intention of turning him over to the imperial court.
Which meant that this miserable cell was going to be his grave.
“Next up is a triple-layered subspace.”
Clack.
Oscar gagged the dazed Neil and handed him the watch once more.
“Still not willing to talk about the Black Finger faction or your master, huh?”
“……”
The moment he heard the question, Neil instinctively tried to slam his head against the wall.
“I’ll take that as your answer.”
But before his skull could collide with the cold stone surface,
a gaping void opened up and swallowed him whole.
* * *
Neil Brion glanced around.
For the third time, he was back in the subspace.
“Oscar Crucian, you bastard…”
Gritting his teeth, he spat out curses.
It wasn’t that he was particularly afraid of this place.
Wherever he looked, he saw only pure white nothingness.
A perfect, void-like space where not even his shadow was cast.
‘I can’t even tell how I’m standing.’
There was no floor, no walls.
He had no way of determining whether he was standing or floating.
The utter lack of sound initially brought a strange sense of calm, but only for a moment.
The overwhelming silence soon began to gnaw at his mind, filling him with creeping dread.
‘How long will I have to endure it this time?’
The last time, he had been in here for 1,000 minutes—
just under 17 hours.
That was tolerable.
‘But compared to the first time, the duration had increased tenfold.’
Considering that pattern, if it increased tenfold again this time...
The moment he finished the calculation in his head, a chill ran down his spine.
‘10,000 minutes. That’s about a week, isn’t it?’
A week.
A long time or a short one, depending on how you looked at it.
Neil Brion swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
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‘My loyalty will not waver.’
It was his master who had extended a hand of salvation when he was at his lowest.
Spending time in a void of nothingness was nothing compared to that.
As long as he kept his loyalty to his master in mind, he could endure.
‘I can withstand it.’
His loyalty was not so flimsy that it would wither after a mere week.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when suddenly, he felt his body being hurled onto the ground.
“Ugh... Hah... Hah...”
“Exactly one week, huh.”
All Neil Brion could do was glare at Oscar, who was staring down at him.
After spending a week without any physical activity, even moving was a struggle.
Grrrgle!
His stomach let out a loud growl, echoing through the prison cell.
Hearing the sound, Oscar calmly nodded and jotted something down in his notebook.
“I see. So, bodily functions still continue in the subspace.”
“...Kill me.”
His voice, muffled by the gag in his mouth, was cracked and broken, even to his own ears.
But Oscar simply flashed a bright smile.
“Begging for death? Oh no, we still have so many more experiments to run.”
“...”
Neil Brion remained silent.
He knew that even if Oscar did nothing, he would eventually starve to death.
Then, with a casual motion, Oscar tossed a backpack in front of him.
“A gift. The next round is a fourfold-layered subspace.”
Fourfold?
That meant... 10,000 minutes again.
At moments like this, he cursed his sharp mind.
The moment he thought of the number, he instantly calculated the duration.
‘1,666 hours and 40 minutes. Roughly 70 days, huh.’
A wave of despair and relief washed over him simultaneously.
Despair at having to endure the void once more.
Relief at the certainty that he would die this time.
‘If I starve for 70 days, I’ll definitely die.’
As that bittersweet relief settled in, the space swallowed him four consecutive times.
Arriving in the void once again, he closed his eyes as he always did.
“...”
He was thirsty.
He was hungry.
The primal urges pierced him like daggers.
Neil Brion forced himself to ignore them and tried to sleep.
He didn’t know how much time had passed.
But eventually, his survival instincts overwhelmed his willpower.
“...”
Grrrrgle, grrrgle.
Sleep was no longer an option.
His body wouldn’t allow it.
That was when he learned something new:
When a person was starving, their intestines twisted with such pain that it felt as though they were being stabbed from the inside.
And then, after enduring that agony for a while, a brief moment of peace came.
Only for the hunger to return, even more ferociously.
‘It’s fine. I can die here.’
He had never imagined that he would die of starvation.
But that was fine.
In the midst of that agony, he felt a sense of nobility.
To die of starvation rather than betray his loyalty to his master.
If his master knew of his suffering, surely he would weep with pride.
‘First Finger, please fulfill the grand cause.’
His vision spun, despite his eyes being closed, due to the extreme dehydration and starvation.
His frayed nerves began producing phantom noises in the silent void.
‘Soon... I’ll die.’
As Neil Brion braced himself for death, something slipped from his mouth with a soft thud.
He realized it was the gag that had been in his mouth.
‘Why now, of all times?’
His lips, so parched that they were stuck together, tore slightly as the gag fell, causing blood to seep from the cracks.
The extreme dehydration left him without even a drop of saliva.
And then he saw it.
‘...The bag?’
The backpack that Oscar had mockingly called a gift.
A sudden surge of curiosity struck him at the brink of death, compelling him to open the bag.
And the moment he did, he regretted it.
“...!”
Inside the bag were bread and water.
Cheap, stale bread—the kind he wouldn’t have spared a glance at under normal circumstances.
But now, he couldn’t take his eyes off it.
And that was when the battle began—between his reason and his primal desire.
‘No... I can’t. I have to die here.’
To betray his master’s cause by indulging in mere food was unthinkable.
He knew that in his head.
But why, then, couldn’t he tear his eyes away from the bread?
After staring at it for what felt like an eternity, Neil Brion eventually made a compromise with himself.
‘...Just a sip of water.’
Just one sip to quench the fire in his throat.
He would still die.
He just wanted to soothe his parched throat before the end.
He convinced himself, opened the bottle, and took a single sip.
But the moment the cool water flowed down his throat, he lost all control.
By the time he regained awareness, he was choking and shoving both bread and water into his mouth.
“...!”
Crumbs clung to his hands.
The empty bottle rolled across the ground.
But he had no memory of it.
He didn’t know when he reached out or when he started eating.
All he knew was that his thirst was gone, and he was full for the first time in weeks.
And the most terrifying thing was the certainty that dawned upon him.
He was sure of it now—he could no longer choose death.
Craaaaack!
At that moment, the subspace, which shouldn’t have opened yet, suddenly tore open.
The instant Neil Brion saw the rift, he felt a wave of guilt.
It was the same feeling as being caught doing something shameful.
“You ate well, huh?”
Oscar’s eyes flicked to the empty bottle and bread crumbs before he smirked.
As always, he checked his watch and nodded.
“Mmm, as expected. Time flows a thousand times faster inside. I completely forgot—there was no need to use the full duration to test the time ratio.”
“...”
Lies.
There was no way a genius like him would overlook such a basic factor.
‘That means... from the very start, he knew I would succumb to such a petty temptation...?’
And just as he feared, his prediction was proven right by his own actions.
As Neil Brion felt his world shatter with shame, Oscar leaned in and whispered a sweet offer.
“I won’t ask about your master. Just a few pieces of information about the Black Fingers. How about it?”
“...”
His will to die had crumbled like a withered flower.
But his loyalty to his master remained unyielding.
Caught between those conflicting forces, Neil Brion, without even realizing it, nodded.
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HELHEIM SCANS
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