After Neva's words, Ilterish tilted his head slightly. Then a mocking smile appeared on his face.
"Foolish and tight-lipped, are you..." he murmured with a small chuckle. Then his voice grew serious again, never looking away from Neva.
"I like loyal men. I was thinking of killing you... but I've decided to have you thrown into the dungeons instead. And as for getting the information I need. Well, I don't actually need you to talk."
With those words, Ilterish slowly raised his hand. His fingers, unwavering, extended toward Neva's forehead. The instant his finger touched Neva's skin, the air in the room shifted. An unseen pressure began to rise. Even the stone walls seemed to let out a breath. At that moment, a blue light flared on Ilterish's forehead. It pulsed gently at first, then beat like a heartbeat.
Neva's eyes widened—then a scream tore through the room.
"Aaaaaaaahhh!"
After the scream, words tumbled from his lips, muddled and incoherent. It was as if some force beyond his will was clawing through the deepest chambers of his mind.
"Nabi… stones… world domination…"
His voice cracked. His eyes twitched. He was collapsing. Every word from his mouth seemed to unlock a door to some ancient secret. Ilterish's face remained coldly calm. He didn't care about Neva's pain—only the words mattered. Slowly, Ilterish turned his head. His gaze fixed on Neva's limp form on the ground. His expression had hardened, and there was a trace of disappointment in his voice.
"I thought you were loyal… And yet, you eavesdrop behind doors?"
Neva gave no response. His body lay crumpled; eyes half-open, staring into nothing. His breath had slowed, his face had turned pale as chalk. He looked as if he'd been turned to stone.
Ilterish rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and muttered to himself.
"Ah, right… I always forget about the side effects."
He paused for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. The fragments he had ripped from Neva's mind still echoed within his thoughts. Ilterish walked over to the letter that had been left in the corner of the room. With a smooth motion, he picked it up from the table, broke the seal with his fingers, and unfolded it carefully. His eyes scanned the thick parchment with sharp focus. With each line, his expression shifted, becoming more distinct. A quiet smile crept across his lips—a sign of silent, genuine satisfaction.
"So… they've begun to move," he murmured to himself.
Then he turned his gaze to the old man lying unconscious on the stretcher. The man hadn't stirred; his body motionless, face frozen in a blank expression. It was as if his mind had long since drifted to another realm. Ilterish stepped up beside him, looming at his head. He leaned in and gently touched the man's forehead with his fingers.
In that instant, the old man's body convulsed. He suddenly let out a muffled, pain-filled scream, as if it had come from the depths of his soul. His eyes flew open, pure white, and his body stiffened. Then faint, slurred words began to spill from his mouth—like a spirit trapped between a dream and wakefulness.
"Lampro… leader Astermo… stones… wrath of God…"
Ilterish straightened up after the final word. A hint of disappointment crossed his face. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes narrowed. The man's breath slowed once more. His body relaxed. It was clear he had nothing more to offer.
"Other than their leader's name, not much use," Ilterish said, voice calm but laced with faint disgust.
His eyes swept over the man on the stretcher one last time. He tilted his head slightly.
"A wall of secrets, even among the members… Seems the old man is unaware of most things. A low-tier disciple—merely directed."
He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he turned his head toward the door and called out loudly:
"Guard!"
The door opened immediately, and two guards entered. Their steps were disciplined, military, as they came to a halt before Ilterish.
Ilterish turned to them and gave his order with icy calm.
"Throw both of them into the dungeon. Also, inform Khagan Balamir that I wish to speak with him. Deliver the message at once."
Without hesitation, the guards bowed. Then they moved toward Neva and the old man. Ilterish, meanwhile, turned his back and walked slowly toward the large window in the room. Outside, beneath the rooftops of the imperial capital, a new storm was about to break.