[Chapter 263. Secrets and Shards]

Searanox stood, his chair's wooden legs scraping against the stone floor. His armored form seemed to grow larger, casting a deeper shadow that enveloped the small space where Anax sat trembling.

"Is there something else you would like to tell me that I might find interesting?" The question was casual, but it carried the weight of an unspoken threat.

"No, that would be all I know. If I think of something else, I will inform you right away." Her voice cracked as she struggled to maintain composure. Her crimson skin paled in the dim light, her dark eyes wide with fear and resignation.

He gave her a curt nod before pushing the chair back against the table. With a flick of his wrist, he accessed the System shop, purchasing a full set of basic gear that materialized in a flash of blue light. The simple armor sat in contrast to her potential valuables.

"You may now hand over your gear. Anything you have on you belongs to me." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather rather than stripping her of her possessions.

The blanket slipped from her grasp, pooling around her waist as her fingers went limp with shock. "Like... everything?" The whisper trembled as the full implication of his words settled upon her.

"Yes, dear. Everything. But since you've been such a great help, you may keep one thing—provided I approve." His deceptive warmth made the violation feel even more profound. His eyes roamed over her body with clinical interest, noting how her muscles tensed.

She stood, letting the blanket fall completely to the floor. In a flash of soft blue light, a small book appeared in her hand, its cover worn and creased. She clutched it to her chest like a shield before removing her ring. "I would like to keep this... It's my diary." Her voice was firm, but her eyes pleaded.

"You may keep it," he said. As she reached to pull down her undergarments, her movements hesitant and mechanical, he stopped her. "You can keep your underwear as well, Anax. Would you like to take out your clothing from the ring before you hand it over?"

The undercurrent of impatience in his voice made her hasten. She nodded, sliding the ring back onto her trembling finger. A few flashes later, the bed was covered in clothing; some pieces appeared ordinary, while others looked valuable, their fabric shimmering in the dim room. A uniform bearing her faction's crest lay atop the pile.

"Anything enchanted among these? Or not qualifying as everyday clothing?" His eyes scanned the pile with the expertise of a merchant.

"No, sir. They are just clothes." Her fingers brushed over the uniform. A flicker of defiance in her eyes was quickly extinguished by fear. "Thank you for not taking them." Her gratitude was a bitter pill to swallow.

She placed the ring on the table, the metal clinking softly against the stone. Her fingers brushed against it one last time, a silent goodbye.

Searanox pocketed the ring, his gaze lingering on her figure before returning to her face. "Anax, how did you store your other rings and necklace without removing them first?"

The unexpected question caught her off guard. She moved to cover herself, but her arms fell back to her sides as she remembered her vulnerability. "It's a common enchantment for storage rings. It doesn't cost much to add, and it allows for seamlessly switching worn items with those inside its storage."

"You mean I could store my gauntlets without taking them off, or replace rings worn underneath them directly through the storage?" Searanox asked, his mind racing with the implications.

"Yes, that's exactly it." She nodded, her expression softening despite the tension.

He looked at the pile of clothes, then back to her bare crimson skin. Her muscles tensed under his scrutiny. "Then why haven't you clothed yourself? I told you that you could keep them."

Her crimson face took on a darker, almost purple shade. Her arms twitched at her sides. "Because... because you said my figure was pleasing." She swallowed hard. "And I thought... I thought that if I..." She turned her head away, covering her face in shame. "You would be nicer to me," she blurted out, the words muffled by trembling fingers.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hum of the energy conduits and her ragged breathing. Searanox stood unmoving, his expression unreadable in the dim light. The power imbalance was palpable.

Pausing at the door, his armored form silhouetted against the corridor's violet glow. "If only you were smaller." The words were almost a whisper, carrying the finality of a judgment before he closed the door, sealing her away with her shame.

He slipped the ring into a pouch inside his coat, the metal cool against the fabric, and moved down the hallway. Before opening the next door, he paused, preparing for the next interrogation. Inside sat Ulrum. His posture was rigid, and his ring was already lying on the small stone table beside the bed. A blanket covered his lower half, but his bare torso was visible, marked with faint scars of past battles.

"I knew you would come," Ulrum rasped, heavy with resignation. "My stuff is on the table. I haven't hidden anything."

Searanox pulled out a chair and sat. He tossed the storage ring toward Ulrum, who fumbled to catch it in his nervous grasp. "You may take your clothing out of the ring. I don't see any worth in taking it from you."

Over the next hour, he spoke with each of them in turn, moving from room to room with methodical precision. He hadn't learned anything new until he reached Quin. Since this was not Quin's first time on an integrated world, he possessed more knowledge than the rest. Much of it was arbitrary, but one detail stood out: the Empire planned to follow up their scouting runs with a full-scale occupation of the dungeons. Each entrance would become a small outpost with multiple squads camping outside. While one squad cleared the dungeon, the others would ensure no downtime and provide permanent protection against native interference.

He saved the final room for last. The door was locked—unlike those of Quin and Ulrum—a testament to her continued defiance. Before he even touched the handle, he heard the faint sounds of desperate movement. It wasn't the shifting of someone preparing for an interrogation, but something frantic.

With a gentle push of his authority over the tower, he opened the door and was greeted by a scream of pure panic that tore through the silence.

"Nooo! You said you wouldn't!"

The cry was raw, torn from a throat already ragged from sobbing. Kandora was huddled behind the bedframe, curled under a blanket that barely concealed her trembling form. Her hands gripped a small shard of glass, likely broken from a mundane item in the room. She held it to her own neck with a trembling steadiness that spoke of desperation outweighing fear. The glass glimmered in the dim light. Tears streamed down her face, dripping onto her crimson skin as she struggled to keep the trembling shard steady.

"I'm not here to take your dignity. I already have your word," Searanox said, stepping into the room. His armored boots made almost no sound. The contrast between his measured approach and her frantic desperation crackled in the air. "I just have a few questions for you before I let you be."

His voice was gentle, yet it carried an absolute authority that made her flinch, even as she maintained her grip on the glass.

She stayed silent, her arms trembling violently as she pressed the shard deeper. A small drop of blood welled up around the sharp edge, bright against her crimson skin. Her gaze locked on the floor near his feet; she refused to meet his eyes, as if his stare alone might shatter what little resolve she had left. The blanket had slipped from her shoulders, revealing her System armor beneath.

"I want to know what you told the other squad. I was informed you had a means of contacting them." He spoke calmly, betraying none of the urgency racing through him at the thought of another team operating unchecked in his territory.

"I-I can't. They will kill me if I betray the Empire." The shard shook violently in her hands, the tip cutting deeper as another drop of blood traced a slow path down her neck. "They will find out... They always do." Her voice cracked, revealing a terror not just of him, but of the consequences awaiting her back home.