CHAPTER 153: LESS THAN AN HOUR...

’I haven’t even gotten the chance to check all the changes that happened to me after becoming a grandmaster,’ Baines thought to himself, as he knelt in the dim, oppressive air of the 5th Division’s underground cells, his hand resting lightly on the groin of the battered Storm criminal. The man’s body was a canvas of bruises and scars, yet his eyes burned with defiance, unyielding despite the torture he’d endured.

The 5th Division members watched closely, their curiosity tinged with skepticism. What was Baines planning? Stripping the prisoner? Castration? The Storm criminal, unfazed, sneered through bloodied lips. "Kill me. I’ll say nothing."

Baines ignored the taunt as he channeled his soul energy. He probed the criminal’s energy streams, and with a faint twang echo in the cell, it was followed by a scream that tore through the silence like a blade through cloth.

"GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The sound was unearthly, a raw, guttural cry that jolted every prisoner in the underground complex. The surrounding criminals pressed against their bars, eyes wide, searching for the source. They were no strangers to screams.

As people who were trained to endure torture and had endured it for a long time, they understood when a scream was of fear, pain, agony, or even faked. But this time, they couldn’t discern this scream. It was primal, unrecognizable, a sound that defied their training to endure.

The Storm criminal thrashed wildly, his defiance crumbling. "NO... NO... NOOOO!" he screamed, his voice breaking. "I’LL TALK. I’LL FUCKING SPEAK!"

Baines paused, his expression unreadable. ’The last one lasted five pulses,’ he thought, recalling the Iron Brotherhood’s resilience. But this one broke after one. He finally understood why the Iron Brotherhood was always said to be so tough to break.

The cell fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone—division members, fellow Storm prisoners, and even those in distant cells who’d heard the scream.

In this place, all they had ever heard was defiance. It was either those who were able to withstand torture or those who died in the process. However, a new one had come that they couldn’t withstand.

What method of torture was this?

Baines had even asked himself that question once.

How mad did the blood clan have to be to have developed such a method, and unlike him, who had Eye, they had no way to dull the pain.

Yale Blure, 1st Chair of the 5th Division, seized the opportunity. "Speak," she commanded, stepping forward, her voice sharp and expectant.

The criminal’s chest heaved, his eyes darting between Baines’ hand and Yale’s imposing figure. "W-we got in with the help of-" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"SHUT UP, TRAITOR!" another Storm prisoner roared, lunging against his bars. Yale’s sword flashed, and the man’s head hit the floor with a dull thud, silencing him forever.

"Continue," Yale said, her gaze fiendish, unyielding.

The criminal swallowed hard, his dead comrade’s accusation echoing in his mind. But the memory of that unbearable pain spurred him on. "A-Astra. They teleported us in."

The surviving storm criminals looked wide-eyed as their comrade ratted out the information.

Yale wasn’t surprised at the answer.

"So, where are your supply routes?"

"W-we, don’t have any supply routes."

"What do you mean?" Yale pressed.

"They send supplies the same way."

Yale’s face remained impassive, though her mind raced. The Astra’s involvement wasn’t surprising—it only confirmed the suspicions—but the method was audacious. Teleporting their troops and supplies? It was a logistical nightmare for the empire to counter.

"What’s the scale of the Storm army?" Yale pressed.

The criminal hesitated, his defiance flickering until Baines’ hand twitched slightly. "Seven posts," he blurted. "Each with thirty to forty thousand troops."

"Where are they?" Yale demanded.

He rattled off a list of clans—most ranked as One Sun or no Sun—across the empire. Some had been infiltrated, their leadership quietly usurped by Storm operatives, while others were impassive.

The revelation hung heavy in the air, a chilling realization of how deeply the enemy had burrowed.

"But I don’t understand," Baines broke the silence, his voice calm but probing. "Even with forty thousand per post, that’s not enough to take the empire." His eyes narrowed, violet flecks glinting as he studied the criminal, then his eyes shone.

’Shit,’ The prisoner cursed inwardly. ’He knows.’ Baines’ gaze was one of realization, as if he’d already unraveled the truth.

"What did you notice?" Yale asked, turning to Baines.

"The Ironflame Family. Who are they?" he asked.

"A vassal under the Ironborns," Yale replied, her brow furrowing, wondering where he was arriving at.

"The Tidebreaker Clan?"

"They lay south, just beyond the palace, near the territorial waters."

"Then the Scorchclaw Family?"

"A vassal under the Darka—" Yale stopped, her eyes widening as the pieces fell into place.

The seven posts weren’t random; they were strategically positioned near the empire’s key power centers. When war broke out, the Storms would strike from every direction, sowing chaos.

Baines nodded, his suspicion confirmed. "I was wondering why the Iron Brotherhood suddenly took on that strategy to control the blightroot family." Baines stared at the spy and finished it, "So you are in an alliance with the Iron Brotherhood."

The prisoner trembled, his mind screaming, ’Shit, shit, shit.’ He’d hoped to withhold the deeper truth, but Baines had seen through it.

"I wouldn’t be surprised if the Black Sun’s recent activity is part of this," Baines mused aloud, his voice carrying a quiet respect for the scale of their plan. It was bold, intricate, and nearly flawless.

The Iron Brotherhood, the black sun, and the storms. The empire took each of them as different problems, whereas it was just one single problem: the storms.

Baines stood up, having finished questioning, leaving the 5th division in their thoughts.

The cell was silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in.

For months—nearly a year—the 5th Division had chased fragments of answers, but it had yielded nothing. Yet Baines, in less than an hour, had unraveled the core of the empire’s crisis and gotten all the information they needed.

Relief and dread warred within the soldiers. It was a relief to have someone like that as their ally and a dreadful thought as the enemy.

Yale straightened, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her mind. "Stay here," she ordered her men. "I need to write a report." She turned to Baines as she passed him. "Thank you. Your contribution will be noted in the reports."

Baines gave a curt nod and left.

As he walked back through the underground cells, the other prisoners shrank back, their defiance replaced by fear. None wanted to be the next to face his method. Hell, they were even thinking of spilling it before he inflicted that pain on them.

On his way back to the 7th division, he glanced through the information from the Orion assembly being displayed by Eye.