"You're the bad guys!"
The man's words struck Talulah like a thunderclap. She couldn't understand why he would cling so fiercely to those who had harmed him, while spitting venom at those who offered him salvation.
"There's no chance of getting through to him," Jeanne said with a sigh, looking at the Stockholm syndrome sufferer. "We'll just have to wait for those guys to talk."
"They won't crack that easily, will they?" Talulah voiced her doubts. After all, they were Ursus soldiers—even if they were part of the universally disliked Inspection Team, they were still nominally military personnel.
"Don't worry, these guys are absolute cowards! Their actions so far show they're not the type who fear death. If I hadn't closed the door earlier, they would have spilled everything already."
As expected, fifteen minutes later, when Jeanne reopened the door, the men frantically begged to be let in, promising to answer truthfully if allowed inside.
Seeing the three frozen stiff figures, desperate enough to forcibly tear open their frostbitten lips to speak, Jeanne watched blood trickle down their faces as if they felt nothing at all.
After dragging them inside, the warmth of the fire enveloped them once more. They felt a flicker of relief, some even considering opening another bottle of vodka to chase away the lingering chill.
"Speak!" Jeanne ordered. "Tell us everything you know! Otherwise, my friend here might turn you into charcoal."
Jeanne smiled, her words carrying a subtle threat. Beside her, Talulah wore a suitably fierce expression, flames crackling around them, scorching them.
The group, witnessing this scene, finally stammered out the full truth, recounting every detail of the events that had led to this moment.
It all began with a private mine owner. His Originium Mine's recent yields had been poor, barely covering the workers' wages and leaving him operating at a loss.
Unlike the Ursus state-owned mines, which had a steady stream of Infected laborers, he had turned his sights on the remote villages in the region.
He contacted his friend, a Squadron Leader, and struck a deal with him and his team. The mine owner possessed an Infected with Originium Arts capable of lowering people's guard. Combined with his own acting skills, he could easily gain acceptance from villages willing to help Infected.
The Infected had fled to his mine, and they had reached an agreement. As long as the Infected cooperated, he wouldn't force him to work in the mine and would even grant him certain privileges.
First, release the Infected to hide in a village. After some time had passed, five squads—approximately twenty men—would raid the village under the pretense of searching for Infected, ultimately capturing everyone.
They'd take him straight to the Mining Camp, where he'd be exchanged for cash, cigarettes, premium vodka, and meat—treasures rarely seen on this snowfield!
Meanwhile, the Captain would alter the village's records to falsely claim they had harbored an Infected, provoked a riot during the search, and were ultimately executed by the Inspection Team.
This entrapment scheme had been perfected through years of practice. Four villages had already fallen into their clutches, and they were currently en route to their fifth when a blizzard blocked their path.
"What are the Mining Camp's defenses? How many guards are there? How is their manpower distributed? Tell me now!"
Talulah barely restrained her rage, fighting the urge to incinerate them all. She hadn't imagined these men could sink to such depths, sacrificing others' happiness for their own gain.
The Infected man had also revealed another side to their kind. The Infected she had encountered in the city, those she had tried to help, were all struggling to survive, but none had stooped to exploiting others' sympathy like this one.
What had become of Ursus? Why did it treat its own people so cruelly? Even ordinary, kind-hearted individuals, barely clinging to life, surviving was a miracle in itself.
However, the immediate priority was rescuing the innocent villagers. If things continued like this, Talulah shuddered to think how many villagers might perish in the mines. After all, the Boss clearly didn't see the villagers as human beings.
"There aren't many guards or weapons," the man explained. "Like I told you before, that guy's a real cheapskate. He refused to buy proper weapons. All they have are two heavy crossbows our camp discarded, and even those only come with ten arrows. Plus, the crossbows have plenty of problems..."
"As for the management inside, they're just local thugs and hooligans from nearby towns. Their boss sent some enforcers to curry favor with our Squadron Leader. Those guys can only bully the villagers—there are very few elites, and they're no match for you..."
Talulah listened intently to the man's description of the mining camp, completely unaware that the Infected behind her had regained consciousness. He had already unlocked his chains and was now staring at Alina, who stood with her back to him.
In truth, he had always possessed the key. The guards had once forgotten to lock his chains after a night of heavy drinking, only to find him still dutifully waiting when they sobered up.
After that, they gave him a key, allowing him to use the latrine without waking them. But he was forbidden from unlocking the chains unless absolutely necessary, and he had always obediently complied.
Just as he quietly picked up the military knife they had discarded on the ground, intending to kidnap Alina and use her as leverage against the two women, a whip-like kick slammed into his abdomen, knocking him to the ground where he writhed in pain, vomiting uncontrollably.
Hearing the commotion, Talulah turned to see the man clutching his abdomen on the ground, the knife still in his hand. She immediately understood his intentions.
For the first time, she felt this man was beyond redemption. He had the means to escape, the chance to return to a normal life, yet he willingly chose to remain their lapdog.
As Talulah swung her sword to strike him down, Jeanne intercepted her. A flicker of triumph flashed through the Infected's eyes. These fools are still naive, he thought. This will be easier than I thought.
But in the next instant, Jeanne systematically dislocated all his joints. With his limbs wrenched from their sockets, he collapsed, utterly immobilized.
"What are you doing, Jeanne?! He nearly attacked Alina! Why are you stopping me?" Talulah demanded, her anger clouding her judgment. Deep down, she knew her true fury was directed at herself for not noticing the danger behind her.
"Enough, Talulah. Don't let anger and hatred cloud your judgment! Jeanne must have her reasons for acting this way. Calm down and listen to what she has to say."
Alina wrapped her arms around Talulah, trying to soothe her. Talulah was on the verge of losing control after Alina had been put in danger.
Of course, Alina knew Talulah wanted to reduce the man who had harmed her to ashes, but she believed it wasn't time for punishment yet. After all, now was definitely not the moment.