Chaos Empire: Heteromorph Revolution

Confrontation

What is the probability that a Luger P38, magazine loaded with eight rounds, fired at a distance of approximately two meters aimed at the forehead, will kill a person?

To put it another way: Your superior has just discovered you intentionally set a trap to harm him.

This superior bears the title "God of War," possesses a mechanical arm with a terrifying grip strength, and beneath his desk lies a modified Glock 17 designed for Heteromorphs, loaded with nineteen Xurila rounds capable of even killing a Heteromorph.

You are a physically weak Sapient, sitting directly across from him—so, what is your probability of survival?

No matter how many scenarios Walter Müller had envisioned, he never anticipated the General would be so direct—leaving no room for pretense or disguise.

Schwarz seemed unaware he had dropped a bombshell, maintaining his cool, detached demeanor, his inhuman eyes staring unblinkingly.

Yet, it was precisely this reaction that terrified Müller: no anger, no outburst, just suffocating calm—a demeanor that, if not for his nature, might even be accompanied by a genial smile.

It was the specialty of those in power and interrogation experts, hiding their thoughts behind a performance of normalcy. Many would let their guard down prematurely, only to become casualties of his g*n.

But Müller understood this man better than most. He knew his own face must be deathly pale.

The moment Schwarz summoned the Intelligence Head, he had sensed disaster. Watching the young man's responses during questioning, he had stared intently, unconsciously gripping the fabric of his trousers, wishing he could answer for him.

This Head was too young and too nervous. He had graduated from the military academy's Communications and Intelligence department only six or seven years prior. He had a good memory, was diligent, and thanks to his parents being war heroes and a few accomplishments of his own, he had risen quickly.

But his posting as head of this covert intelligence branch in St. Johannis was merely a year and a half ago. The previous head had died in a car accident, suspected assassination.

Others lacked experience or were unwilling to come. The branch was critically short-staffed, and after some maneuvering, he was pushed into the position—a move involving people Müller knew, who needed controllable individuals to serve their interests in various fields.

"Controllable" sometimes meant weak-willed, inexperienced, and prone to stress.

So, while the Head had no issues with memory, observation, intelligence gathering, analysis, or written expression, facing someone like Schwarz, being placed in the interrogated seat for counter-interrogation—

This was an experience not found in academy or routine work. Under great pressure, cracks were bound to show.

Indeed, the General was no professional interrogator. His techniques were simple:

First, his identity alone was immensely intimidating.

He deliberately claimed errors in the report without specifying them, forcing the subject to constantly recall and rethink, while using body language to increase psychological pressure.

Second, he intentionally scrambled the question order, intermittently inserting sensitive questions—

It was a clever method. He broke down what should have been a coherent line of questioning, making the subject expend effort on context and analysis.

This unpredictability induced subconscious tension. However, if you were quick enough to grasp his implication and recognize the trap, you would immediately rebut. But once you rebutted, you would over-explain.

For example, [Who is the highest-ranking officer here?] and [Are Sapiens more trustworthy than Heteromorphs?] appeared as separate questions—one about authority, the other a politically correct matter of Sapient-Heteromorph status, interspersed among others.

In reality, they implicitly accused the Intelligence Head of reporting critical information to Müller, a Sapient subordinate, instead of to him, a Heteromorph superior, as regulations demanded. This was, first, a dereliction of duty. More severely, it could be framed as a Sapient-Heteromorph opposition.

Given the importance of the arms import-export agreement, if proven, this would have grave consequences for the Head's career, even his life.

The young man clearly realized this, hence his instinct to defend himself when answering the politically correct question: he absolutely did not distrust the Heteromorph General.

But he then realized such a response strayed from the question itself. Moreover, his own motives were impure, making it impossible to provide adequate justification. For him, all explanation became excessive embellishment.

So, he immediately resorted to the official line on politically correct issues, sticking strictly to his role, avoiding further entanglement. But in Schwarz's eyes, speed of reaction was irrelevant. The first words out of his mouth sealed the conclusion; any subsequent correction was merely covering up.

Setting those questions aside, the truth was, Müller had already seen the report, scrutinizing it repeatedly. It had been altered under his direction, with multiple calculations and inferences making it logically sound. Of course, there were no actual "errors" or "omissions" as Schwarz claimed.

The real issue, however, was "time"—the only aspect of the report that had been modified.

The report listed the timing of each event, as specifically as possible, but it did not state time intervals, as that was unnecessary. Anyone reading the report could easily calculate them.

But during the rapid-fire questioning, Schwarz deliberately asked many questions about time intervals.

Most people need a brief mental calculation to answer these, slowing their response compared to recalling direct times or locations.

To rule out individuals with exceptionally fast calculation skills, he even randomly inserted arithmetic questions of similar difficulty and compared reaction times.

The facts indicated the Head had memorized these time intervals in advance, and very thoroughly at that. To answer as quickly as possible, he almost blurted them out the instant he recalled. In contrast, for times clearly stated in the report, he hesitated for half a second. This lack of hesitation for information not in the report was clearly unreasonable.

Now, regarding the core information in the intelligence—the fact of the secret St. Johannis-Cartier weapons deal, such as the location, who was questioned, methods used, their responses—was largely substantiated and logically sound.

The conclusion, therefore, was obvious, just as Schwarz had stated: the Intelligence Head had been bribed, intentionally withholding this intelligence discovered by agents for nearly a month, only reporting it after the agreement was signed.

The General's accurate identification of the prime "suspect" based on the circumstances was also correct, something Müller knew all too well.

Now, fear and hatred churned within him. Yes, he was the primary executor of the plan to conceal vital intelligence and then report over the General's head to the Leader, aiming to make Schwarz the scapegoat.

But anyone could see he lacked the audacity alone to provoke this particular deity. So, this affair was also pushed by those who couldn't be named.

Müller himself didn't agree with the plan: the risk was too great, the reward uncertain. But the other party was desperate, eager to embarrass Schwarz, so their faction could suppress him and win the Leader's favor.

But the one sitting before Schwarz was him! The one executing this foolish scheme, tasked with disrupting Schwarz and preventing the agreement's signing, was him!

He cursed those people inwardly but had to face reality: the General knew his role and had no intention of letting his renegotiation strategy be sabotaged, ultimately disappointing the Leader—he would surely act against Müller.

The exposed secret was a blade held to his throat; a misstep meant death. He had to muster all his wit and means to survive.

So his first reaction was to profess loyalty, then deny:

"As a member of the Empire, my loyalty lies solely with the Leader and the Empire. I am willing to dedicate everything to the Empire's interests. Since the intelligence is genuine, I will fully cooperate with you to accomplish the task assigned by the Leader, compelling St. Johannis to renegotiate and purchase these weapons at a more reasonable price.

As for your accusation, I must deny it—as a dedicated citizen, I have absolutely no reason to commit such an outrageous act and therefore reject your baseless allegation."

From a broader perspective, no matter how accurate Schwarz's judgments were, they could only remain at the level of suspicion. He couldn't find concrete proof:

Müller's actions, the Intelligence Head's odd reactions—plausible excuses could be found for both. For now, if Müller persisted in denial and swiftly cleaned up loose ends afterwards, he might still retain his position.

Just survive leaving this office...

However, Schwarz listened quietly until he finished, then merely shook his head slightly, showing little reaction. "No need for pretense here with me.

I know who's behind this. You're just a pawn. If not you, it would have been someone else. I'm not about to do anything to you."

He knows... He knows everything. Müller bit his lower lip until it turned white.

Wasn't it obvious, really? Those who couldn't be named...

Who among the New Granit officers was most secretly resentful? Who was originally assigned this task but declined citing sudden illness and recommended Schwarz instead?

"It's Ludwig Stuka, Commander of the Southern Army Group, and his lot. Amusing—second-rate in command ability, but first-rate in scheming."

He was once again stunned by the General's bluntness—first disbelief, then a surge of envy. This Heteromorph truly left no room, held no fear. Wasn't this the mark of arrogance and power?

In his eyes, even the Leader could err, so what was the Southern Army Group Commander?

"They're likely emboldened, betting I can't find proof of your collusion. The evidence is mostly destroyed.

Whether the intelligence was deliberately delayed can't be determined. The Leader won't believe baseless speculation, and I can't be bothered to investigate further. So, let it pass for now. We have more pressing issues to resolve."

"You were supposed to ensure I couldn't complete the task, correct? Now, you'd best not do anything superfluous. Manage yourself. I won't report this to the Leader. Let your agent 'Carnelian' live; he's useful. I won't seek him out either."

Schwarz delivered this matter-of-factly, even pausing considerately for Müller to digest the information.

His mind raced, finally calming his breath enough to force a bitter smile. "I understand, General. I will strive to cooperate with you to complete the task and ensure the Leader is not disappointed. I beg you, as long as you do not inform the Leader of this, I am at your disposal..."

"Unnecessary," Schwarz cut him off coldly, with a hint of inexplicable, faint anger. "I require no one's service. You may continue to seek Stuka's patronage. My letting this go is not concession, nor should it be mistaken for leniency.

Will you report to them afterwards? Then listen carefully to what follows, and relay it to them verbatim—"

"This is advice, and a threat: Your lives are your own. Never forget the foundation upon which you stand! If you ever again treat the Empire's vital interests as bargaining chips in your power plays, your luck will run out. Understand?"

"The Leader is no fool. His patience is limited. He knows who gets things done and who does not. He has poured his heart and soul into the Empire and will never allow pests to destroy this edifice."

"New Granit was built by the great Leader Gilbert, consolidated drop by drop with the blood and sweat of our Heteromorph brethren. Pioneers and martyrs fell on the path of struggle, died on battlefields, not for you to instigate internal strife! What we need now are talents willing to devote themselves to the Empire, not sycophants and deceitful drones!"

"As for me: I can endure today's humiliation and suppress my hatred for the sake of national interest.

But if you err again, I will personally volunteer to be the executioner who severs your heads. Do not doubt my resolve!—Tell them that."

Müller's mind trembled. Finally, he couldn't help but nod, assuring he would deliver the message and would absolutely uphold his duties and devote himself to the nation.

Afterwards, they discussed the next steps. Schwarz instructed him to first inform others of the need for repricing—citing only the Leader's dissatisfaction—then draft the new pricing agreement. An internal discussion would be held tomorrow afternoon, followed by efforts to void the original agreement and restart negotiations.

With the actionable items settled, Müller had much left to do. He promptly took his leave, saluted swiftly, and almost fled the room.

"How pitiful."

Schwarz gazed at the closed door, uttering a faint sigh. Then, he summoned his secretary again.

"Call the Leader. Use the unlisted private line."

"I am well, My Leader... Yes, I believe Stuka has colluded with the St. Johannis royal family. He has betrayed you for personal gain. His primary goal wasn't merely to target me by withholding intelligence; the true aim of this plan was to benefit another one of his patrons..."

"No, the Security Council Chairman was largely unaware. His involvement isn't deep, and he lacks the nerve. He was merely a pawn... He can't touch me. He's just a Sapient, you understand..."

"If the situation is confirmed, am I still to carry out the final execution?... Good. I won't abandon this task either. I will exert maximum effort to make them renegotiate. I already have a plan I believe is worth trying..."

"Rest assured, my great Leader. For the Empire's interests, everything will proceed as you wish."