Bellion and Leon had just finished speaking.
Leon debriefed him of everything that happened inside the tower.
From the facts and information that was exchanged, it was clear to them that everything had been an elaborate scheme to lure Blood Crescent Moon guild inside the tower.
The two hoped every member survived, but from the way Leon explained how the fighting went down, chances seemed to be slim.
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However, the two firmly believed at least five or six people would survive the encounter.
Nevertheless, it was guaranteed Yi Jihyeon would survive.
Hopefully, after her return, they could uncover these two figures' identities.
But the facts presented, and from every dilemma that had happened thus far, Bellion was aware of the origins.
"Milis."
He muttered.
"Tsk."
And clenched his fist.
So far, this was the most major event to this day.
But that aside, there was something else that troubled Bellion more.
The spies he had sent over two months ago had stopped reporting back.
Did something happen?
A sudden chill ran down his spine as he pondered on these thoughts.
Then, his thoughts drifted somewhere else.
Brandon Locke.
He had seen it in the monitor himself—Brandon Locke—heading straight first to the treant's gaping maw.
The streaming stopped there, as if it were mocking them, creating an air of mystery regarding his survival.
In all honesty, he was furious with Leon for his decision in not checking the higher floor.
But still, he couldn't blame him.
He had heard of the stories of the 32nd floor. Furthermore, he had seen it himself.
The moment this information was disclosed, Leon was horrified.
In any case, it was without a doubt, that this marked the end of Blood Crescent Moon.
A guild that had reigned the top for a year.
Just how many losses were they going to suffer during this cold war?
'How long will this cold war last?'
Problems after problems probed his mind one after another.
So much so, that Bellion didn't even have the luxury for the events to actually register in his head.
He realized the graveness in the situation, but his mind, exhausted, seemingly about to break, couldn't comprehend anything anymore.
But still, standing firm, focusing on the task at hand, Bellion and Leon headed directly to the interrogation room.
Iron Fist guild had denied all allegations, but Bellion couldn't trust them.
They were the only suspect, and for what reason, Bellion couldn't even begin to think.
But one thing was certain.
They were traitors.
They had most probably sold themselves out in guarantee for survival.
This meant they had no trust that Holy Britannia would even win this war, regardless of the positive results that happened in the past year.
They had concluded this continent had lost before the war had even officially begun.
Bibibiiip—
A beeping sound echoed as Bellion unlocked the interrogation room's passcode.
"...."
"...."
As soon as they entered the room, the two stood still, staring at the window separating the room, horrified.
By now, the entire academy had been closed. Any cadet that was still within perimeters were instructed not to leave until further notice.
"Haaa.... Fuck, make sure nothing happens to the othe—"
Just as he was about to finish his next set of instructions....
It was then.
"Uekh...!"
"Akh!"
"Kh...!"
"Haak!"
Groans echoed one after another—coming from the cells around him.
Bellion looked around in horror and rushed, grabbing the iron bar, gripping tightly.
"Oy! What's wrong!?"
He asked, his tone panicked.
The other officers in the room did the same, grabbing onto the iron bars, asking the same question as Bellion.
"Akhh...!"
"Speak, damn it!"
An Iron Fist—Guild member staggered inside the cell, clenching onto his face as if it was about to burst.
"Oy!"
Blood seeped from his nose, mouth, and then....
"Oy!"
....His eyes.
Spurt—!
Blood spattered, gushing out from the man's chest as if his flesh had exploded, staining the cell room.
Thud!
The man collapsed, his hands weakly hitting the ground.
His mouth hung wide open, blood trickling down, eyes pure white and lifeless—his face drained of color.
As his gaze lowered, he could see roots emerging from the man's chest.
It was the same as what happened to Alan Ross.
And shortly after....
Squench.
Cherry blossoms.
Small pink petals began to germinate gradually from the roots.
"...."
Bellion stood motionless, staring into the cell, struggling to comprehend the sight before him.
The silence of the room seemed to press in on him, a chill running down his spine.
"...."
The man inside the cell lay crumpled, his lifeless body twisted unnaturally, blood pooled beneath him.
But that wasn't all.
His gaze swept the room.and the truth sank in, heavy and cold.
They were all dead.
Every Iron-Fist guild member, each body scattered like discarded dolls.
Lifeless eyes, pale faces, and grotesque roots sprouting from some of their chests. Pink petals growing from the roots.
"Hukk...!"
Bellion's breath caught in his throat.
This was no ordinary death—it was something far worse.
Something twisted and unnatural.
....The entire cell was a scene from a nightmare.