Modern Weapons Cheat in Fantasy World
Chapter 152: Guard’s Answer
Kareth learned the word prisoner before he learned the word guest.
Marcus had chosen that deliberately.
The Dominion guard sat across from him inside one of the secured interview rooms beneath the administration building, his injured leg stretched awkwardly beneath the table while a loose restraint connected one wrist to the steel ring fixed into the tabletop. The chain itself had been lengthened two days earlier after Atlas decided he was more interested in asking questions than throwing punches, but nobody had suggested removing it entirely.
Trust still had to be earned.
The guard looked healthier than he had during the quarry rescue.
His fur had been cleaned.
The bandages around his leg had been changed twice that morning.
The fever that worried the doctors during the first night had disappeared entirely.
More importantly, he no longer reacted to every opening door as if an execution squad had arrived.
Suspicious was an improvement over terrified.
On the table between them sat the tools that had slowly become their shared language.
A cup of water.
A piece of bread.
Several rough sketches prepared by Elaina.
A carved wooden token recovered from the guard’s equipment pouch.
And a photograph printed from Predator surveillance footage.
That photograph held Kareth’s attention immediately.
Marcus noticed the change in posture the moment he placed it on the table.
The Dominion guard leaned forward slightly.
His eyes narrowed.
His breathing slowed.
Photographs had required surprisingly long explanations.
During the first attempt, Kareth had treated them almost like magical objects, turning them over repeatedly and touching the surface as if expecting movement beneath the paper. Only after several demonstrations had he accepted that the images represented real places captured at specific moments in time.
Once he understood that, everything changed.
He studied photographs the same way experienced trackers studied footprints.
Carefully.
Methodically.
Looking for details other people missed.
Marcus tapped the image.
"Harvak."
Kareth looked up.
Marcus pointed toward the prisoners visible inside the eastern holding pens.
"Harvak?"
The hesitation lasted less than two seconds.
It was enough.
People hesitated when translating ideas that didn’t perfectly match.
Elaina was already writing before the answer arrived.
Eventually Kareth pointed toward the image himself.
"Harvak."
Marcus nodded slowly.
Interesting.
He pointed toward himself.
"Marcus."
Then toward Elaina.
"Elaina."
Finally he pointed toward the guard.
"Kareth."
The Dominion soldier gave an impatient nod, clearly annoyed that they had returned to information already established during previous sessions.
Apparently irritation translated across species remarkably well.
Marcus slid another sketch across the table.
This one showed a simple drawing of a man standing beside a house with several smaller figures nearby.
A family.
He tapped the standing figure.
"Human."
Kareth stared at the drawing.
Marcus repeated the word.
"Human."
The guard frowned before immediately pointing back toward the photograph of the holding pens.
"Harvak."
Marcus remained silent.
Rolf shifted slightly beside the door.
"That’s probably bad."
Nobody disagreed.
Marcus tapped the family drawing again.
"Human."
Then the photograph.
"Harvak."
Kareth’s expression changed immediately.
Not confusion.
Disagreement.
He pointed between the images while speaking slowly in Dominion tongue, his tone carrying the universal frustration of someone trying to explain something painfully obvious to particularly stubborn children.
He tapped the photograph.
Then pointed west.
Toward the forests.
Toward somewhere beyond Atlas territory.
Elaina scribbled notes rapidly.
"He may be distinguishing origin."
Marcus nodded.
"Or status."
He reached for another sheet of paper and drew quickly.
One figure holding a spear.
Another kneeling with bound hands.
He pointed toward the standing figure.
"Kareth."
The guard nodded immediately.
Marcus pointed toward the kneeling figure.
"Harvak."
Another nod.
Faster this time.
The answer settled heavily over the room.
Harvak didn’t mean human.
It meant captive.
Slave.
Prisoner.
Property.
The exact translation no longer mattered very much.
Kareth noticed the atmosphere changing immediately.
His eyes moved between Marcus, Tomas, and Rolf with the instinctive awareness soldiers developed regardless of language or culture. He couldn’t understand the words they weren’t saying, but he understood expressions well enough.
Marcus leaned back in his chair.
This was exactly why they had chosen conversation over coercion.
Information gathered through fear often reflected what prisoners believed their captors wanted to hear.
People explaining their own worldview usually told the truth.
Even when the truth was unpleasant.
Elaina pushed another drawing toward the center of the table.
This one showed a prisoner carrying stone.
Then receiving food.
Then standing behind walls.
Kareth studied the images carefully before reaching awkwardly for the pencil.
Watching him hold it was strangely distracting.
His fingers looked built for weapons and tools rather than writing instruments, and yet he worked with obvious care.
He added several larger figures.
Then walls.
Then fields.
Then houses.
Finally he tapped the prisoner and spoke a word they hadn’t heard before.
"Drevak."
Elaina immediately wrote it down.
Marcus repeated it.
"Drevak."
Kareth nodded.
Then he mimed lifting.
Digging.
Carrying.
Cutting.
Working.
Elaina looked up from her notebook.
"Labor maybe."
"Worker," Marcus said.
"Assigned labor?"
Tomas folded his arms.
"Forced labor."
Kareth watched their expressions carefully.
For the first time since entering the room, his own expression changed noticeably.
He didn’t look defensive.
He looked irritated.
He pointed toward the fields in the drawing.
Then the walls.
Then himself.
He spoke rapidly for nearly thirty seconds, gesturing repeatedly toward the settlement sketch while his voice grew firmer.
Marcus recognized the tone immediately.
Justification.
Not for them.
For himself.
For Kareth, this wasn’t cruelty.
It wasn’t oppression.
It wasn’t even punishment.
It was simply how civilization worked.
That realization unsettled Marcus more than he expected.
Hatred was easier to understand.
Hatred made enemies simpler.
Systems were harder.
Systems convinced ordinary people they were doing ordinary things.
Marcus drew another sketch.
A caravan.
Trees.
An ambush.
Bound prisoners.
Kareth studied it for a long time.
Marcus pointed toward the caravan.
"Human."
Then toward the captives.
"Harvak."
The guard nodded.
Marcus pointed toward the attack.
Then spread his hands.
"Why?"
Kareth frowned.
The word itself meant nothing to him.
Marcus tried again.
Food.
Tools.
Fields.
Workers.
Kareth watched carefully.
Then understanding appeared.
He pointed toward the settlement walls.
"Drevak."
Then the caravan.
"Harvak."
Finally he drew a line connecting the two.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Kareth wasn’t embarrassed.
That was the disturbing part.
In his mind, caravans beyond the forest represented labor pools.
Captives became workers.
Workers supported settlements.
Settlements fed warriors.
Warriors protected settlements.
The system reinforced itself.
This wasn’t random cruelty.
It was infrastructure.
Marcus stood and walked toward the observation window overlooking the outer corridor.
He needed a moment.
Behind him, Rolf spoke quietly.
"He doesn’t think he did anything wrong."
Marcus kept looking through the glass.
"No."
"That makes this worse somehow."
"Yes."
Tomas still hadn’t moved from the wall.
"If that’s their economy, then one rescue operation changes nothing."
Marcus turned back toward the room.
"No."
It didn’t.
Elaina closed her notebook halfway.
"But now we know what we’re fighting."
That was true too.
The session continued for another hour.
By the end, the language board contained almost thirty confirmed words.
Harvak referred to captives but carried legal meaning beyond simple imprisonment.
Drevak appeared connected to labor or assigned work.
Kareth used another term, something resembling Tharun, whenever referring to members of his own people.
Vorak emerged whenever warriors entered the discussion.
The most important discovery arrived near the end.
Marcus placed a photograph of Gorthak on the table.
Kareth reacted instantly.
He straightened slightly.
Lowered his head.
Not fear.
Respect.
Marcus tapped the image.
"Name?"
Kareth looked genuinely surprised they didn’t already know.
"Gorthak."
Elaina wrote quickly.
Marcus repeated it.
"Gorthak."
Kareth nodded before placing a fist against his chest.
"Rakh."
He pointed toward Gorthak.
Then drew walls around the image.
"Rakh."
"Chief," Elaina said quietly.
Marcus nodded.
"Probably."
Then Kareth pointed toward another photograph.
The capital.
The great hall.
This time he hesitated.
When he finally spoke, even his tone sounded different.
"Durok."
Elaina looked up immediately.
Kareth pointed toward the hall.
Then raised his hand higher than his head.
Above Gorthak.
Above chiefs.
Above settlements.
Marcus understood immediately.
Durok wasn’t another local leader.
He was something higher.
A ruler.
A high chieftain.
A king by another name.
Marcus looked toward the forest map hanging beyond the observation window.
Red markers covered large sections of terrain Atlas still barely understood.
Now some of those unknowns had names attached to them.
Gorthak.
Durok.
Black Fang.
The Verdant Dominion.
The enemy became more human every day.
Strangely, that made future decisions harder rather than easier.
When the session finally ended, the medic returned to inspect Kareth’s leg.
The guard watched Marcus carefully as he stood.
The suspicion remained.
But curiosity had joined it.
Confusion too.
Atlas had captured him.
Fed him.
Healed him.
Spent hours trying to speak to him instead of breaking him.
None of that fit the world Kareth understood.
Marcus stopped beside the door.
He pointed toward the bandage.
Then toward Kareth.
"Live."
The guard stared at him.
Marcus repeated it.
"Live."
Kareth looked down at the wound.
Then back at Marcus.
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Outside the room, the corridor felt quieter than before.
Elaina held her notebook against her chest.
Rolf closed the door more gently than usual.
"So now we know they have chiefs, laws, labor systems, and a ruler named Durok."
Marcus nodded.
"And slavery."
"Yes."
Rolf exhaled slowly.
"I liked monsters better."
Marcus understood exactly what he meant.
Monsters were easier.
Monsters didn’t build roads.
Monsters didn’t organize labor.
Monsters didn’t have governments.
The command center waited for them upstairs.
Elaina immediately began reorganizing the language board into categories while analysts compared Kareth’s answers against drone footage and testimony from rescued prisoners.
Names.
Places.
Ranks.
Occupations.
Unknown terms.
The board already looked less like guesses and more like intelligence work.
Marcus stood in front of it for a long time.
The Dominion had farmers.
Warriors.
Chiefs.
Settlements.
Laws.
Traditions.
It also had slaves.
That distinction mattered.
Not because it made the captives less captive.
Not because it made rescue less necessary.
Because destroying slavery meant attacking the foundations of Dominion society itself.
If forced labor supported their settlements, then every rescue operation Atlas conducted wasn’t merely theft in Dominion eyes.
It was economic warfare.
Elaina stopped beside him.
"This is getting bigger."
Marcus looked at the map.
"Yes."
"Can diplomacy solve it?"
He considered the question longer than she expected.
"I don’t know."
For once, that answer felt honest.
Outside the windows, Atlas Base continued its evening routine.
Helicopters sat beneath maintenance lights.
Infantry squads trained on the ranges.
The medical wing glowed quietly where rescued prisoners slept without fences around them for the first time in months.
Marcus looked toward the secured wing where Kareth remained under guard.
The first real conversation between Atlas and the Dominion had ended.
Instead of making the future simpler, it had made it more complicated.
Because now Marcus understood something he hadn’t before.
The Dominion didn’t believe it was stealing people.
It believed it was collecting labor.
And sooner or later, Atlas was going to have to decide exactly how far it was willing to go to prove them wrong.