Chapter 243: Controler’s Mind

Freya, who had been quietly following behind him, suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Controller?" she asked in a low voice. "Who is that? Another infected person?"

Gideon stopped for a moment.

Of course she didn’t know.

She had spent more than a week trapped in her own conflict with Delilah, completely unaware of everything happening outside the house.

She had no idea that while she mourned the image of her father while Gideon, Jade, and everyone else had been struggling to stop something that could destroy Climber Rift itself.

Part of him wanted to explain. To let her see just how fragile the peace inside Cinders of Dusk really was. That her sulking and anger was merely childish.

But this wasn’t the right time and Freya would punch him or worse cry and spiral.

A small smile appeared on his face. "You’ll understand once you meet him."

Freya frowned but didn’t press the matter.

Gideon shifted his attention to Patrick instead. "I don’t think we’ll get many answers from him. If he’s intelligent enough, he’ll know exactly what information to hide."

Patrick nodded in agreement.

"Most likely." He adjusted his glasses as they walked. "But interrogation isn’t simply about receiving answers, Chief. Sometimes the most valuable information isn’t found in what the subject says, but in what he avoids saying."

"The way his eyes move. His hesitation before answering. Which questions make him uncomfortable, which ones make him angry, and which topics he tries to change."

Patrick glanced at Gideon briefly. "Body language often reveals far more than words ever will."

He smiled faintly. "Our job is to observe everything, speak only when necessary, and listen far more than we talk."

"And if he manages to push one of our emotional buttons..." Patrick’s expression became noticeably more serious. "...The first person who loses control loses the interrogation."

His gaze shifted toward the smaller military tent waiting ahead.

"Though..." he added after a brief pause, "I honestly don’t think he’s intelligent enough to manipulate us."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "You already have a theory?"

"Several." Patrick chuckled softly. "But they’re only theories. Without evidence, they’re nothing more than assumptions."

After another few steps, he looked back at Gideon.

"If you don’t mind, I want you to play a different role."

"What role?"

"The one that makes him angry."

Gideon blinked.

"...Angry?"

"Preferably." The professor’s smile widened slightly.

"Strong emotions cloud judgment. When people become angry, frightened, or desperate, they stop carefully choosing their words. They contradict themselves, reveal things they intended to hide, or react instinctively before their reason catches up."

He folded his hands behind his back. "According to Aaron, the Controller seems unusually interested in you."

Patrick glanced sideways at Gideon. "If we can use that... he may tell us far more than he intends."

The conversation continued as they resumed walking.

Behind them, Freya looked back and forth between the two men, her brows knitted together in complete confusion.

The discussion had drifted so far beyond her understanding that she wasn’t even sure what they were planning anymore.

Before she could ask another question, Gideon reached back and grabbed her hand again.

She looked down at their joined hands before letting out a long, defeated sigh.

This time, she didn’t bother resisting and simply let him lead her toward whatever awaited them inside the tent.

***

The interrogation tent was surprisingly narrow.

There wasn’t much inside besides a single wooden table, three chairs, and a thick support pole driven into the frozen ground.

The last chair was already occupied.

The Controller sat motionless, heavy chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles before being secured tightly to both the chair and the central pole. A thick rope still gagged his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

The first thing Gideon noticed wasn’t the restraints.

It was the change in his body.

The dark veins spreading across his temples had turned crimson, pulsing beneath his skin like living roots. His eyes, once clouded in white, now glowed with a deep blood-red hue as they slowly followed everyone entering the tent.

They stopped on Gideon. The corners of his mouth curled upward beneath the rope.

He was smiling.

Gideon quietly took a seat beside Patrick while Freya remained behind him. He felt her cold hand rest lightly against his shoulder, trembling ever so slightly.

He understood why. Even chained, the man looked as though he wanted nothing more than to tear them apart.

"Isaac."

Patrick calmly called his name before standing up. He drew a knife from the sheath hanging at his waist, something Gideon hadn’t even noticed until now.

With one clean motion, he sliced through the rope gagging Isaac’s mouth.

The Controller slowly rolled his jaw before speaking.

His eyes never left Gideon.

"You separated me from my colony." His voice was hoarse, almost inhuman. "You thought it would weaken me?"

"Hasn’t it already?" Gideon scoffed. "Look at you. You’re chained to a chair while your colony is slowly recovering without you."

Isaac’s expression twisted. "Impossible."

The chains rattled violently as he struggled against them, trying to lean forward.

"They can’t heal." His breathing became heavier. "We heal them."

A strange smile spread across his face. "Our grace allows us to know knowledge we’ve never learned... to witness places we’ve never seen... to taste memories and emotions that never belonged to us."

He spoke with almost religious devotion, his eyes filled with ecstatic admiration.

Patrick briefly exchanged glances with Gideon.

Neither of them spoke. The man wasn’t answering questions. He was preaching.

"But..." Isaac chuckled quietly. "You’ll never understand."

He tilted his head unnaturally. "You refused to become part of the colony. But that’s alright. That man already said you’d eventually walk the path he prepared for you."

The smile vanished from Gideon’s face.

"That man?" He kept his voice perfectly calm despite the unease creeping into his chest. "Are you talking about the Prophet?"

Isaac’s grin widened once again.

"Oh..." He laughed softly. "So you really are smart. Then answer your own question."

Freya’s grip on his shoulder tightened sharply.

"What the hell is wrong with him, Gideon?" she whispered.

Gideon didn’t answer. He simply placed his hand over hers and gave a light, steady pressure, enough to tell her he was fine. Then he turned his full attention back to Isaac.

"I see," he said. "So that was the Prophet’s message. How thoughtful of him to send a delivery boy." He smirked. "Tell him to start packing. When I come for him, I’m going to tear down everything he built until the only thing left for him to do is kneel."

Isaac’s eyes narrowed, but Gideon kept going before the man could interrupt.

"Assuming you can even pass the message along. Which I doubt. Your colony can’t reach him from here, can it? You’re all stuck inside that little cage called Climber Rift, praying the parasite’s plan still works."

The chains clinked harder as Isaac yanked against them. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles along his neck stood out.

"No! We are better than him!" he snarled. "We will not stop at Climber Rift. We will spread our minds and our wisdom to your territory and then the entire world!"

He laughed, loud and cracked. Gideon laughed harder. The sound was sharp enough that Isaac’s laughter died in his throat, replaced by pure spite.

"Oh, I didn’t think you had it in you," Gideon said, still smiling. "I thought you were just another stuttering puppet. But look at you. The moment you’re far from Climber Rift, you grow teeth."

He leaned in a fraction closer.

"Your head is clearer now, isn’t it? The hive mind can’t reach you properly from this distance."

Isaac’s body went rigid. Across the table, the corner of Patrick’s mouth lifted. The reaction alone was confirmation enough.

Gideon leaned even closer. Freya’s hand suddenly shot down and grabbed his wrist, fingers digging in as if she was afraid something would lunge through the chains.

"It’s the fourth person, isn’t it?" Gideon asked quietly. "The one actually holding the hive mind."

The pen in Patrick’s fingers slipped and hit the table with a sharp clack. In the sudden silence, Isaac’s breathing turned ragged.

His pupils blew wide. For a second his entire body tensed like a cornered animal. Then he threw his head back and laughed, the sound wild and forced.

"You’re bluffing! You’ll never find it! Climber Rift is mine! Half the population is already infected—there will be nothing left for you!"

Gideon didn’t bother answering. He simply looked at Patrick. The older man gave a small nod. Both of them stood at the same time.

"This conversation is over, Isaac," Gideon said. "We’ll meet again. Probably after your precious colony is gone."

They turned and walked out. Behind them, Isaac’s screams and the frantic rattling of chains filled the tent, but neither man looked back.

They already had what they needed, proof that the hive mind was still inside Climber Rift, and a very clear idea of who was carrying it.