Seed of Titan-Chapter 224: What Took Root

The high-security ward at the Crimson Operations Facility was usually vacant, but today two soldiers could be seen standing guard in front of one of the cells. Their postures weren’t perfect and they had been feeling bored for a while since their shift was nearing its end.

Still, the ward’s security cameras were always on regardless of the number of detainees, so the soldiers didn’t dare leave their post or neglect their guard duties in any other way, their only source of entertainment being the occasional brief exchange between themselves.

"Shouldn’t Reece and Nick be here already?" the blonde one suddenly questioned.

"Don’t get your hopes up—punctuality isn’t their strong suit. I don’t know why no one ever mentioned this to you, but during the first year after our transfer, that idiot pair used to get penalized at least twice a week for being late for morning PT."

Hearing this, the blonde sighed as his hope for an immediate respite dissipated. With slumped shoulders, he glanced at the metal door between them that was completely shut.

"Well, at least this one has been really quiet," he murmured.

"Thankfully so. The second to last soldier we guarded kept shouting for hours. It was too much—I can even recall his words to this day."

"Me too, especially the ’I swear I’m not a fucking druggie,’ part. I actually thought it was pretty funny at first. It got annoying pretty fast though. And do you remember the one before that, the burly guy who just got transferred here from General Soltine’s base?"

The black-haired soldier chortled. "No way I’d forget him. He basically went batshit, pounding the door to no end. Man, they should’ve just put him to sleep from the start. That was definitely one of my top 5 worst guard duties. But I don’t think anyone will ever topple the first place."

"Which one is that?"

"You hadn’t been partnered with me at that time, but it was a smelly old fart who shat just behind the door. The smell was so bad that my partner and I kept gagging for the whole shift."

Perhaps because their shift had gone overtime, the two guards kept chatting, mostly reminiscing about past detainees.

If it were any other day, Drai would gladly eavesdrop them to stave off boredom. But today, the muffled chatter only served as white noise, unable to move him from his meditating posture on the cold hard cell floor.

Despite his rather serene look, Drai’s mind wasn’t empty at all. Instead, the events back in the smugglers’ den kept repeating in his head, forcing Drai to relive that particular moment right before he was consumed by rage.

The door slammed open, revealing a crowd. Bloody figures were strewn on the floor—among them was a familiar face, the little angel kind enough to give a stranger her prettiest ribbon. Her lifeless eyes and bloody gash on her neck were enough proof that a promise had been unfulfilled.

Before the morbid scene could settle in, a man from the crowd noticed the stare and picked up her body. With a slash, the neck was severed. A kick followed, and the head rolled nearby. Most of the crowd laughed and jeered as it was lifted and caressed like some treasure.

The head vanished and the surroundings instantly blurred. Laughter turned into screams, bodies into mush. A notification popped up but was never read. Right hand bashing, left hand draining. The screams abated at the same rate as the hall was being painted red.

Eventually, silence.

The severed head reappeared, gently placed. The gift was then returned, for it had been undeserved.

Alas, the slaughter failed to soothe. Amid a forest of grief, a sapling yearning for retribution sprouted quietly.

Snapping out of the memory, Drai finally opened his eyes. He immediately made a pulling gesture toward the air, but nothing appeared. This didn’t surprise him, as his storage bracelet had been replaced by a thick metal device similar to the one currently on his neck.

Drai was now regretting ever returning to the capital. He even felt bad for awakening and longed for the days when he was still an ignorant bumpkin whose only concern was crude training.

Amid his thoughts, the faces of his parents resurfaced. Drai let out a wry smile; for the first time in his life, he missed their company.

Just then, the guards went quiet, and shortly after, his cell door opened.

Alancho’s imposing figure and scolding look seemingly meant nothing to Drai, as he simply greeted, "Hi."

Seeing the boy’s odd calmness, Alancho was taken aback. Still, he managed to keep his face straight and proceeded to grab Drai’s arm, pulling him up from the floor.

"Go sit on your bed, Drai. I have some questions for you."

Drai obeyed the general without a word. Before Alancho even mentioned it, he had suspected that he was about to go through another interrogation since Ailem was also there. But unlike in his previous detention, he didn’t feel wronged by being questioned or detained. He was aware that he had disobeyed his direct superior’s orders and reaped a lot of lives by impulse. Although Frost had allowed them to kill, Drai had practically squandered the opportunity for the army to gain meaningful intel.

While Drai took his seat, Ailem was inwardly sighing. She sensed a heavy taste that was often emanated by soldiers who just lost their comrade in a mission, the flavor of grief. It wasn’t unpleasant per se, but knowing what it signified, Ailem found it hard to bear. What she didn’t realize was that Drai’s grief was masking his subtle bloodthirst which would’ve been easily noticeable otherwise.

After Drai was settled, Alancho took out a VPad from his own dimensional storage and handed it to him.

"What’s this?" Drai asked.

"It’s your mission and personal report submitted by your squad leader. Go read it, and tell me if there’s any discrepancies with what you actually did or experienced."

"Okay."

As he read the VPad’s contents, Drai noticed that Frost was highly objective in his recollection, mostly describing the events in detail without imbuing his personal thoughts. It was only at the end of the report did Frost question his own decisions and mention that Drai could use some time off along with counseling sessions.

"I don’t think I need any counseling, but I agree with the rest of the report, aside from one detail," Drai eventually said as he handed back the VPad.

"Which one?"

"The part that mentioned withered bodies. It’s written there that the cause is unknown, but actually, I was also responsible for that."

After reading the part Drai mentioned, Alancho remarked, "So you have this kind of skill too, huh?"

"Yes."

"Alright, thanks for telling me. I’ll have this revised later."

As Alancho put away the device, Drai asked, "Aren’t you curious about the details?"

"Ehh, not really. Gimmicky skills don’t normally catch my interest."

"Huh? Gimmicky?"

"Yes. Why kill in such a manner when you can just snap their necks?"

"Oh—yeah, you’re absolutely right, Uncle. Snapping necks is definitely way faster than withering a whole body," Drai said, trying his best not to glance at Ailem. Although he had mustered his resolve to reveal Bio Drain, he wasn’t that foolish to insist on doing it when Alancho was letting the matter go this easily.

Drai couldn’t help but recall one of the reasons he wanted to avoid revealing his skill, the possibility of losing access to its source. Even now, Drai still wished to give some siprootberries to his friends, hoping that they’d end up with the same skill or a similar one so they could catch up to his level a bit. After all, Drai didn’t want to always go on adventures with only old guys like Max, which he worried would be the case based on his current leveling rate.

"Actually, I’m more curious about how you managed to remain unscathed. Weren’t you ganged up by at least thirty people?" Alancho said.

"Not quite. Unlike our troops, they’re a mess. Their roles are unclear, and they had no formation whatsoever. I think they also couldn’t really go all out in fear of accidentally hurting their own guys. If they had been regularly training rather than busying themselves with illegal goods, they might’ve put up a better fight."

"Hm, that’s actually a somewhat detailed assessment. I thought you had completely lost your mind when you decided to slaughter them all," Alancho mentioned while rubbing his chin. "For your information, the guys from the Intelligence Corps are dismayed by your actions. They were really looking forward to interrogating the smugglers after we received a preliminary report and reinforcement request from Sergeant Harr."

"So there were no survivors, huh?" Drai loudly mused.

"There are, but most of them had long fled the site when your backup arrived, except for one person, their leader."

"Oh? She’s really alive?" Drai asked. He was in a daze after his killing spree, but he still noticed the woman being carried away. When he recalled that sight later, he guessed she was either alive or taken back for dissecting or research in case she had also been planted with a bomb.

"She is, though I can’t disclose what we’re doing to her. Anyway, are you sure you really don’t need any counseling? I can also give you a week off if you want. You can go hang out with your friends or go on a date with Auri or Natalia—whoever you prefer."