Back in Theron's room.
The room was quiet, but heavy with tension.
It hadn't been long since Garlan returned with the unconscious Yarik. By now, Yarik had regained consciousness.
Theron stood tall, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the kneeling Yarik.
Yarik knelt between Garlan and Brude, who stood a few inches behind him. His hands were bound, and he was forced to kneel.
The flickering orange light from the lamp cast cruel shadows on the stone walls, making the atmosphere feel even heavier.
Garlan's face was filled with fury. His jaw was clenched so tight that a vein pulsed visibly on his neck.
He hadn't stopped glaring since bringing Yarik in. His fingers kept twitching near the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment.
He wanted to kill him.
Brude, on the other hand, was still.
Too still.
His face looked calm, even cold, but his eyes... his eyes burned with quiet rage—a father's rage. His only son, and the last of his family since his wife died a few years ago, had been killed during a failed counterattack led by the Underwood village.
A failure Yarik's betrayal had likely made possible. The pain was buried deep, but it still burned in his eyes.
Theron, meanwhile, remained motionless. He wasn't consumed by rage like the others, but his feelings were conflicted.
On one hand, he stayed cold and distant from the anger they felt. But at the same time, something stirred inside him—a strange mix of bitterness and anger.
Maybe it wasn't even his own. The previous Theron, whose body he now lived in, had lost his father during the raids and had also died in the process. That rage, bottled up in this body, could be what he was feeling now.
But Theron didn't let it show. Not even a little.
Yarik, on the other hand, was drowning in a storm of emotions as he looked up at the men towering over him. Sweat rolled down his face.
The look in their eyes told him everything—he had been caught.
Still, he tried to act innocent. Maybe they didn't know everything yet.
"What's the meaning of this, Lord Theron?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Theron stared at him silently for a moment.
"You don't know?" he asked, voice calm but razor-sharp.
"I don't," Yarik said quickly.
"Is that so? You're not betraying the village? Not feeding information to the enemy?" Theron asked, his voice still calm—so calm it sent chills down Yarik's spine.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Yarik said, forcing a steady voice. "I've served this village all my life. I would never betray—"
But before he could finish, Theron stepped forward, cutting him off.
"Then explain why Garlan caught you walking alone on the path leading straight to the enemy's camp. At night."
Yarik opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His lips trembled.
Theron crouched, his eyes locking onto Yarik's. His green eyes were intense, unblinking—like a predator staring into the soul of its prey.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Yarik broke.
He knew it was over. No lies would save him now.
"They—they threatened me!" he stammered, beginning to beg. "I didn't want to do it. They said they'd kill me if I didn't! I had no choice! Please, Lord Theron—I've always been loyal!"
Theron let out a soft chuckle and slowly stood up, wincing from the pain in his still-healing body.
"Loyal, huh?"
"I'm not going to kill you," he said after a pause.
Garlan's hand twitched. Brude flinched. Yarik blinked in confusion and slight relief.
"I have a use for him," Theron added coldly.
Yarik flinched at his words.
'Why do I get the feeling what he wants is worse than death?' he thought, shivering.
'Maybe I'm just overthinking it…'
Theron turned toward the two men and gave them a small nod.
Brude turned and silently left the room.
Garlan, however, stepped forward and grabbed Yarik from behind, holding him tightly.
"W-what are you doing?!" Yarik shouted, panic rising as he struggled. "Let me go!"
But his words fell on de6af ears, and his struggle was useless.
Garlan was a mage—his strength far beyond Yarik's—so resisting was pointless.
Theron stepped forward, holding a small wooden bowl. Inside it, a shimmering liquid swirled with a faint magical glow. Yarik panicked and struggled harder.
"No! What is that?! Stop!"
But no one answered him. Garlan forced his mouth open without hesitation.
Theron calmly poured the liquid in.
Then he sealed Yarik's mouth and nose, leaving him no choice but to swallow it.
Yarik gulped it down, choking as the burning liquid slid down his throat. He collapsed onto the floor, screaming silently as his body convulsed. His face twisted in pain.
Right then, Brude returned, dragging a small black goat behind him.
Yarik groaned weakly, barely lifting his head. "W-what... what did you give me...?"
Theron gave a faint smile. "A special serum. Painful to drink, but harmless... until it's activated."
Yarik's eyes widened in shock. "Activated…?"
Theron turned to Brude and nodded. Garlan stepped forward and took the goat, which bleated and kicked, but couldn't escape his grip.
Theron held another bowl of the same glowing liquid.
He poured it into the goat's mouth.
"Now… watch closely."
He began to chant in a strange language—an old and unnatural tongue.
At first, nothing happened. Theron continued chanting softly.
Then the goat started thrashing wildly.
Blood poured from its eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
It screamed, writhed, and finally collapsed on the floor, twitching in a growing pool of blood.
Yarik froze in horror.
Even Garlan and Brude stepped back, disturbed by the sight.
Theron didn't flinch. "That's what happens when the serum is activated," he said quietly.
A deep chill ran down Yarik's spine.
"I'll do anything," he cried, falling forward. "Please! I'll do anything—just don't kill me!"
Theron smiled again.
"I'm not going to kill you. Like I said—I need you to finish what you started. Go to the enemy camp. Give them the information they want."
Both Garlan and Brude turned sharply, surprised.
"Wait, what?" Garlan muttered.
---
The room was quiet. Yarik had already left, sent into the night to deliver information to the enemy's camp.
Garlan and Brude stayed behind, silent. The weight of what they had just witnessed—and what Theron had just ordered—was heavy in the air.
At last, Brude spoke.
"Can we really trust him?" His voice was low, but steady. "He's a traitor."
"Maybe I should follow him, just to make sure he—" Garlan began, but Theron cut him off.
"No need for that," Theron said calmly. "I trust he'll do exactly as I told him."
Why was he so confident?
The answer was simple—Theron knew people like Yarik very well.
These were the kind of people who would do anything to survive.
Right now, Theron had the upper hand. Yarik's life was in his hands, and Yarik knew it. He would do whatever it took to stay alive.
Besides, Theron had no other choice.
The village's forces were currently much weaker than the enemy's. A direct battle would be suicide.
The only way to win was to lure the enemy into a trap—bring them to a place where they would be at their weakest—and strike.
And what better way to do that than by feeding them exactly what they wanted? Information.
Information that would guide their attack.
And what better way to deliver it than through the traitor himself—Yarik.
After all, what's the worst that could happen? He dies... again. Just like the many times he already had.
The room stayed silent for a moment.
"By the way, Lord Theron," Garlan said, "what was that serum? I've never seen anything like it before."
"It's… cruel," Brude added in agreement.
"So is betrayal," Theron replied, without giving them an answer.
Maybe because there was no real answer.
The "magical serum" was nothing but a mixture of poisonous herbs and a few glowing mosses to give it a magical look.
As for why the goat died and Yarik didn't—that was simple too.
The version given to Yarik was heavily diluted. It wasn't as strong as the one given to the goat.
At most, Yarik would feel some burning and maybe suffer explosive diarrhea—but nothing truly dangerous.
But no one had to know that.