Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

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Fortunately, only snoring could be heard behind the door, and no one seemed to notice the unusual noise.

Winters was acting alone tonight, not seeking help from anyone. Although he was certain that Bard would have helped him without hesitation, and Andre might have too. But he didn't ask for help, nor did he tell anyone his plan.

Benvenuto was a good friend of Winters's and had saved his life. However, since Bard and Andre didn't know him, Winters didn't want to involve others.

From elementary school to officer's academy, ten years of military education had forged Winters Montagne into a "keeper of order".

He could have gone to the sheriff, but he knew what would happen if he did: the Montan would get a tip-off in advance, slit Benwei's throat and bury him in a pit outside the city; he could ask for Antonio's help and have the gendarmerie search the place, but that would expose Kosa and Elizabeth, putting them in danger.

So Winters decided to take matters into his own hands.

Using a method Colonel Field had taught him, Winters slid the thin blade of his dagger into the gap in the door and unlatched it.

Over the past two days, Winters had carefully scouted the house and kept watch for a long time. The house was not as simple as it seemed; Benwei's younger brother had said about a dozen men had kidnapped Benwei, but in reality, Winters had counted at least twenty-two different faces entering the house without leaving.

One house certainly couldn't house that many people; the only explanation was that the adjacent house also belonged to these Montan. They had broken through the walls, turning two houses into one. And perhaps it was more than two houses.

He had two plans: if the enemy moved Benwei, he would intercept them en route; if Benwei hadn't been taken away, he would execute his original plan, which is what he was doing now.

Using the Luminosity Spell to emit a dim glow, Winters counted three men lying on the floor, asleep.

He silently approached one of them, identified his vital spots, and without hesitation, plunged his dagger into the man's neck. As he thrust into the neck, Winters pressed his knee into the man's chest and covered his mouth and nose with his left hand.

The Montan woke up from the intense pain of his dream, but with his throat severely injured and his mouth and nose covered, he couldn't make a sound, only flailing his arms about.

But Winters was unmoved, continuing to slash forcefully, feeling a strange resistance as he cut through tendons, the windpipe, and blood vessels, leaving a gruesome gash on the man's neck. The Montan quickly lost his strength and stopped moving altogether.

As the man struggled, Winters inexplicably remembered Major Moritz's words. He thought, according to the major, even if I am hanged one day for this, it has nothing to do with you. You won't feel the satisfaction of revenge; your existence will be entirely obliterated.

Killing an enemy on the battlefield was different from executing a citizen without trial. Vineta was not a place outside the law; Vineta had order and law, the state had monopolized the right to take life. No matter how the law was actually enforced, murder was a first-degree felony without question.

But Winters's purpose tonight was not to rescue Benwei; he was there to thoroughly resolve Benwei's problem. Destroying the body might not solve the problem entirely, but it would take care of most of it.

Winters could use the Arrow Flying Spell to drive a steel spike into the forehead of his opponents, sparing them pain, making a clean kill without blood.

But he didn't possess the advanced knowledge of Kinetic Magic that Moritz had. If it were Major Moritz, he could have brazenly walked through the front door and nailed everyone inside one by one, only worrying about anyone escaping. Winters didn't have that ability; he had to conserve his magic for the enemies to come.

He continued in the same manner, dealing with the other two men in the room.

"Three," Winters counted silently in his mind, "at least nineteen more to go."

——Slash——

In a room on the first floor of the adjacent house, Benvenuto was jerked awake from unconsciousness by a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

His left eye was throbbing with piercing pain, sealed shut by clotted blood. Ever since he had been brought here, he had been tightly tied to a chair and brutally beaten.

Benvenuto laboriously lifted his head and, by the dim light of the oil lamp, he made out the person in front of him.

He licked his dry lips and said weakly, "I stand by what I said; I have nothing to do with Big Scar's death. If I had killed him, I would never deny it. But it wasn't me, and you won't force me to confess."

"Actually, it doesn't matter. If you confess, you live a few more days before being hanged. If you don't, you'll be beaten to death right here." The man beside Benwei answered, bringing a cup to Benwei's lips, "Here, have some water."

The man was skinny and pale, with sparse brown hair, giving the impression he was not accustomed to physical labor, not a dockworker.

But Benwei refused to drink, turning his head away to ask, "Then why don't you just kill me outright?"

"Because they dare not. They can accidently beat a man to death in a group, but they lack the courage to execute you while looking into your eyes. You won't admit to killing Bal [Big Scar], so they don't know what to do with you; they just keep you locked up waiting for you to die." The effeminate man explained, taking a big gulp from the cup, "Are you afraid the water is poisoned? It's just water, see, I'm drinking it too."

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