I Was Summoned as the Weakest Hero, But I Awakened a Military System

John let out a low, amused chuckle. He folded his arms across his chest, looking down at the raving priest as if he were watching an angry child throw a tantrum.

”If your empire is really that unstoppable, and if Kemji Sato and his little hero squad are truly as godlike as you claim... then you shouldn’t have any problem giving me directions,” John said smoothly.

Corvin blinked through the wet strands of hair plastered to his forehead, his sneer faltering. ”W-What?”

”You heard me,” John replied, an icy smirk playing on his lips. ”If my little metal toys are completely useless against divine magic, and if our doom is already guaranteed, why hide anything? Tell me where they are. Draw me a map.”

John glanced over his shoulder at his intelligence officer. ”Hayes, unstrap his right arm. Bring him a clipboard, grid paper, and a pen.”

”Right away, sir,” Hayes answered.

One of the specialists stepped forward and unbuckled the restraint on Corvin’s dominant arm, freeing his right hand, while Hayes placed a heavy metal clipboard and a ballpoint pen onto the priest’s lap.

”Go ahead, Father,” John commanded, tapping the edge of the clipboard with his knuckle. ”If your faith is so absolute and your armada is going to turn us to ash anyway, prove it. Draw the layout of the Eastern Continent. Mark the capital of Solaria, the imperial naval harbors, the staging bases, and the exact maritime routes your fleet uses to cross the Endless Azure Ocean.”

Corvin stared at the plastic ballpoint pen in his trembling, wet fingers, then up at John’s deadpan, completely unfazed expression.

”I want distances in nautical leagues, coastal strongholds, supply depots, and the primary deployment zones of the paladin orders,” John continued coldly. ”If you’re so confident that Kemji Sato is going to crush me like a bug, give me his exact coordinates. Save me the trouble of hunting him down.”

Corvin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. The sheer audacity of the demand—and the absolute lack of fear in John’s eyes—shook the priest to his core.

”You... you truly think you can stand against the heart of the empire?” Corvin rasped, his voice trembling as he pressed the pen against the paper.

”Stop stalling and start drawing,” John said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp tone. ”Every harbor, every fortress, and every defense fleet. If you miss a single major city, we bring the water back.”

Swallowing his panic, Corvin began frantically scribbling lines across the paper, desperate to avoid another round on the board. The pen scratched rapidly against the grid sheet, outlining the jagged coastline of the Eastern Continent, the grand naval hub of Port Solis, and the sprawling imperial capital nestled deep in the interior.

Hayes stood over him, filming every stroke of the pen with his tactical tablet while the intelligence database logged the rough geographic layout of the enemy empire in real time.

After ten agonizing minutes of frantic scratching, Corvin dropped the pen with a trembling hand, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon.

”There! It’s done!” the priest wheezed, his bloodshot eyes darting up pleadingly. ”The entire eastern coastline! Port Solis, the naval drydocks of Val-Doran, the imperial capital of Solaria, and the main ocean currents our galleons navigate! I marked every garrison and watch-citadel I know of! Every single one!”

Hayes carefully lifted the clipboard from the priest’s lap, took a high-resolution scan with his tablet, and handed the original paper to John.

John took the sheet, holding it up under the sterile fluorescent light. He studied the detailed, hand-drawn map with a quiet, impassive look, tracing the coastline and the marked military installations with his thumb.

After a few seconds of dead silence, John lowered the paper, looked down at Corvin, and shook his head with exaggerated disappointment.

”Yeah, nice try, Father,” John said casually, tossing the clipboard onto the metal side table with a clatter. ”I’m not buying this scribbled garbage. Looks like a bunch of made-up squiggles you pulled out of your ass just to stall for time.”

Corvin’s eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated shock. His face flushed bright red with sudden rage and panic.

”What?! Are you insane?!” Corvin yelled, straining against the heavy steel frame. ”That is the absolute truth, by the holy light of Goddess Viona! I gave you the sacred geography of the Eastern Continent! The exact navigational channels! Why would I lie when you asked for our strength?!”

”Because you’re a zealot,” John replied with a dry, mocking shrug. ”And zealots lie when they’re scared. Hayes, strap his arm back down. Bring the water back.”

”NO! WAIT! I SWORE AN OATH! YOU HERETIC—”

The MP specialists slammed Corvin’s right arm back into the nylon cuffs, buckling him down tightly before he could even finish his curse.

Before the priest could scream another word, the dark cloth was slapped firmly across his face, tilting his head back once more.

SPLASH!

A continuous, frigid torrent of water poured straight over the fabric.

Corvin’s body arched violently against the inclined board, his muffled shrieks instantly drowning in his throat. His fingers clawed desperately at the steel edges as the agonizing sensation of simulated suffocation ripped through his nervous system once again.

John stood calmly beside the gurney, watching the timer on Hayes’s tablet tick past fifteen seconds before giving a slight hand signal.

The stream abruptly stopped, and the cloth was yanked back.

”GAAAH! COUGH—HACK!”

Corvin violently convulsed, spewing water and bile across his orange jumpsuit, his eyes rolling back in terror as he gasped for air in desperate, ragged wheezes. Shivers racked his entire body, tears and cold water streaming down his pale cheeks.

John leaned over the board, his face just inches from the trembling priest, his voice quiet, cold, and razor-sharp.

”Let’s try this one more time, Father,” John said, tapping the map on the side table. ”Is this map real, or did you make it up?”

”IT’S REAL! I SWEAR UPON MY SOUL AND MY FAITH, IT’S COMPLETELY REAL!” Corvin sobbed hysterically, practically choking on his own spit as he shook his head against the padding. ”Check the Inquisitor! Compare it to Valerius! He knows the exact same routes! By the Goddess, please, no more water!”

John straightened up, sharing a brief, amused glance with Hayes. ”Good.”