The heavy doors of the courtroom groaned open. All eyes turned.

  A tall man stepped inside, his boots echoing on the marble floor. Broad shoulders, navy coat trimmed in silver, presence like a storm that refused to bow to anyone. Beside him walked a girl in a pristine white gown lined with violet silk—Clarisse Aloutte Sylvestry. Her chin was high, her gaze scanning the room until it landed on Seri and Princess Arienne. Both lit up instantly—Seri's hands flew to her mouth in relief, and Arienne's eyes shimmered with joy.

  Edric:

  "I hope I'm not late for the party."

  The High Judge frowned, but Caerus Velmire was already moving forward, his glare sharp.

  Caerus:

  "Duke Edric Sylvestry. You were neither summoned nor invited. This is the highest court of the kingdom, not a place for you to waltz in unannounced. Your entrance is an insult to the Crown."

  Edric:

  "On the contrary, Lord Caerus. I was supposed to be the defense for the accused. I am... admittedly late, but still here. Surely you wouldn't suggest this trial proceed without proper defense?"

  His eyes flicked briefly to Ren, then back to Caerus—measured, deliberate.

  From her seat, Rica froze for half a second. The Duke? Defending Ren? But she caught herself quickly, straightening up and adjusting her tone to match his play.

  Caerus's jaw tightened. The tension between the two men was instant—an old rivalry sparking back to life in front of the entire court.

  Edric: "Now, if you'll excuse me, Lord Caerus, I'd like a moment to speak with my colleague."

  Caerus clicks his tongue: "Colleague... very well. Make it quick."

  Edric turned on his heel, boots tapping steadily against the polished floor as he crossed to the defense's table. Rica stood to meet him, her brows furrowed, confusion and suspicion mixing in her eyes.

  Rica: "Why are you—"

  Edric cuts her off, voice low but firm: "I'll ask the questions. I want to know the current situation—how bad it is."

  Rica hesitated, her mind still buzzing with questions, but the Duke's piercing stare left no room for argument. She set her doubts aside and began explaining, her words quick and clipped.

  Rica: "They've painted him into a corner. Caerus brought witnesses from Lunthale and the throne room—both claimed he lost control, endangered even his own allies. They hushed Stray Dawn when we tried to explain. Then... he called Elly. She admitted the wounds on her arms and face came from him—"

  Edric quietly: "And the court believes it."

  Rica: "Worse... she tried to justify it by saying Kristie died during that moment. But Kristie's here. Caerus accused her of lying, and—"

  Edric grim: "And now the verdict's ready to drop."

  Rica nodded, the weight of it all written plainly on her face. The Duke's gaze sharpened, not in panic—but in calculation.

  The courtroom had grown restless after Caerus' last blow, a suffocating air of inevitability hanging over Ren's fate. Then came the Duke's request—calm, steady, and wholly unshaken.

  Edric straightens, hands clasped behind his back: "Your Honor... I request permission to conduct one final defense for the accused."

  The High Judge's eyes narrowed, scanning Edric for any sign of theatrics. The man's presence alone carried weight, his voice slicing through the murmurs like a drawn blade.

  High Judge: "...Proceed, Duke Sylvestry. But make it brief."

  Edric stepped forward, boots echoing softly on the polished marble floor. His gaze slid past Caerus without acknowledgment, settling instead on the first witness—the guild girl from Lunthale, her hands fidgeting in her lap. He stopped in front of her, just close enough for her to feel the weight of his attention.

  Edric: "Miss... you testified earlier that during the Cult's attack on Lunthale, the accused—Ren—lost control of himself. You painted a vivid picture of his... frightening demeanor. My question to you, however, is far simpler... During this so-called berserk state... were there any casualties? Any innocents who lost their lives at his hands?"

  The girl stiffened. Her mouth opened, but no words came immediately. Her eyes darted briefly to Caerus, then back to Edric, as if caught between fear and truth.

  Guild Girl hesitant: "...No. There were none. He was only fighting the Aequinox."

  The Duke's lips curved faintly, though it was far from a smile—it was the expression of a predator who'd scented blood in the water.

  Edric: "None at all?"

  Guild Girl: "...None."

  He let her answer linger in the silence before turning, cloak brushing the floor, and walking toward the second witness—the noble who had been present in the throne room when Ren froze the air to glass.

  Edric: "You, my lord... During that day in the Audience Hall, you claimed the accused's actions plunged the chamber into fear. That he was dangerous... cold... unapproachable. All of this I do not dispute. But tell me—were there any deaths? Any innocents harmed beyond the fright they suffered?"

  The noble's jaw tightened. He shifted in his seat, every eye in the courtroom fixed on him.

  Throne Witness: "...No. There were none. But..."

  Edric stopped dead in the center of the floor. His hand rose to his chin, tapping thoughtfully. The pause stretched, almost unbearably, and then—like a sudden change in weather—his tone shifted. The calm became deliberate mockery.

  Edric: "Hmmm... so... let me think. You're saying... the accused didn't kill anyone... or haven't killed anyone during his rage... am I correct?"

  The witnesses shared a nervous glance. Both nodded reluctantly.

  Edric slowly turns toward Caerus, his voice silk over steel

  Edric:

  "So... am I right to assume... that my client here has undergone this entire trial for the mere reason that you are afraid of his power... am I correct, Lord Caerus?"

  The room went still. You could hear the faint creak of the wooden benches as nobles leaned forward, waiting for Caerus' answer. The prosecutor's jaw clenched, his gloved hand tightening around the edge of the table. That single, unflinching stare from Edric was a gauntlet thrown at his feet.

  The silence swelled until it pressed against the ears like a drumbeat. Outside, the distant caw of a crow cut through the heavy air. Inside, all eyes were on Caerus Velmire—whose face, despite his best efforts, betrayed the faintest twitch at the corner of his eye.

  Edric's cross-examination had cracked the surface of the prosecution's argument, but Caerus Velmire was not a man to let his control slip without a fight. A flicker of irritation passed over his face—quick, but not quick enough to hide from the Duke's watchful gaze. Then, with a slow inhale, Caerus straightened, drawing himself up to his full height, the gold trim of his robes glinting under the shafts of light from the stained-glass windows.

  Caerus measured, voice carrying to every corner of the hall:

  "The accused was unable to inflict casualties in Lunthale... only because Naeva, the Royal Vahlcrest herself, intervened—putting him out of commission before he could kill anyone. Let us not rewrite the truth to suit our narrative, Lord Edric."

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  His eyes swept the court, finding every noble, every soldier, every scribe who had been in that chamber when Ren's rage had boiled over. His tone hardened, each word deliberate.

  Caerus:

  "And in the throne room, the pattern repeated. The members of Stray Dawn—his own allies—were forced to combine their strength to subdue him... to drag him back from the brink of slaughter."

  He let that sink in. Then, with a subtle shift of his weight, he dealt his final blow.

  Caerus:

  "And let us not forget... the accused is also guilty of spitting on the very Crown he was meant to serve, and of insulting countless nobles within this very hall. These crimes are not hearsay. They are witnessed. They are undeniable."

  The words were a match thrown into dry tinder. The great hall erupted.

  Noble #1 slamming a gloved hand on the railing:

  "A monster! That's what he is—nothing more!"

  Noble #2:

  "He should be cut down before his strength turns against us all!"

  Noble #3:

  "Uncontrollable! Dangerous! He has no respect for the order that holds this kingdom together!"

  The venom in their words was sharp enough to draw blood from air itself. But it didn't stop there—dozens joined in, their voices rolling together into a cacophony of condemnation. The sound was less like argument and more like the ocean during a storm—violent, relentless, swallowing every softer voice.

  Supporter Noble rising to his feet, shouting over the din:

  "And yet he's saved more lives than you could even count!"

  Another Supporter pointing toward Ren:

  "You condemn him out of fear, not justice!"

  The clash of voices was chaos incarnate. Faces flushed, fists clenched—nobles were on the verge of turning on one another. Above it all, Ren did not move. He stand like stone, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ornate carvings of the vaulted ceiling as though the chaos below was a distant dream. The insults slid off him, not because they didn't cut, but because he had long since stopped trying to catch them.

  The storm churned. Words became shouts. Shouts became roars. Some nobles looked ready to draw steel. And then—

  BANG.

  The gavel's crack sliced through the noise, once, twice, thrice, until the air itself seemed to hold its breath.

  High Judge stern, voice echoing against marble:

  "Order in the court."

  One by one, voices fell silent. The sea of faces turned forward, though the tension still thrummed beneath the surface like an unstruck chord. Edric had not moved from his position since Caerus began, his hands folded neatly behind his back. But now, with the hall hushed and every gaze pointed toward the judge, he stepped forward.

  Edric calm, but carrying the weight of a blade being unsheathed:

  "Your Honour... may I call on one last witness?"

  The words were spoken without hurry, but they landed like a challenge. The nobles shifted in their seats. The prosecutors stiffened. Even Caerus's eyes narrowed, the faintest tic betraying his irritation.

  In that instant, the trial's air changed. The court knew—this was no ordinary witness Edric was about to summon. And Ren, for the first time in what felt like hours, lowered his gaze from the ceiling, his eyes settling quietly on the Duke. The gavel rested still. The High Judge's silence stretched, hanging in the balance like the moment before a duel's first strike.

  Heads turned. The tension shifted, taut and curious. The High Judge inclined his head slowly.

  High Judge: "Proceed."

  Edric let the moment linger, his eyes sweeping over the assembled nobles, soldiers, and onlookers.

  The chamber felt tight with anticipation — the kind that coils in the gut before an unseen blow.

  Then, he spoke.

  Edric: "I call upon... Her Majesty, Queen Seraphine."

  The words detonated like a spark in dry tinder.

  The chamber erupted instantly. Gasps flared into murmurs, murmurs into exclamations, and exclamations into outright shouting.

  Noble #4, half-rising from his seat: "This is an insult!"

  Noble #5, voice sharp with outrage: "You dare summon the Queen into this spectacle?!"

  Even Caerus, who until now had been a bastion of cold composure, faltered. His brow creased, his voice edged with disbelief.

  Caerus: "This is unreasonable. Your Honour, I—"

  A single, soft sound sliced through the chaos.

  Queen Seraphine: "Enough."

  It was not loud — but it carried the weight of a blade laid against the neck. The uproar died at once, leaving the air heavy and still.

  All eyes turned toward her.

  The Queen rose from her throne, unhurried. Each movement was precise, measured, deliberate — the kind that commanded attention without demanding it. Her gown's silken train whispered against the polished marble, echoing faintly in the vast chamber.

  Queen Seraphine: "I will allow it."

  Gasps stirred again, but no one dared speak.

  She descended the steps of the dais, her gaze steady, her chin lifted. The distance between her and the rest of the court seemed to shrink with every step, until she stood before them all — not as a distant sovereign, but as a witness ready to face the truth.

  Edric bowed slightly, his expression unreadable. When he raised his voice, it carried clearly to the farthest corner.

  Edric: "Your Majesty... as one who stood within the throne room when the accused lost control... tell this court, what was the cause?"

  The Queen met his eyes without flinching. Her voice was calm, unshaken — the voice of one who knew the weight of her own words.

  Queen Seraphine: "It was I who provoked him. I told him I was willing to sacrifice a young girl... Seri... for the greater cause, and for the future of this kingdom."

  The chamber shifted as though the ground itself had tilted. Gasps broke the silence; some nobles stiffened, others turned their eyes downward, unwilling to meet the gaze of their sovereign. A few exchanged uneasy glances, the truth settling like frost across their faces.

  Edric let the silence hold, the Queen's confession hanging heavy in the air like a banner no one dared touch.

  When he spoke again, his tone was sharp — but not accusatory.

  Edric: "Then, Your Majesty... would you say that his rage was not one of malice... but of protection?"

  The Queen inclined her head, the motion slow, deliberate.

  Queen Seraphine: "Yes. Every time he has succumbed to such a state, it has been to shield and to save. Not to destroy."

  A low murmur swept the chamber, softer this time — not outrage, but something closer to realization.

  Edric turned, facing the court, his voice ringing with conviction.

  Edric: "Then let it be understood — my client's so-called 'crimes' are the acts of a man who, when pushed to his limits, fights not for himself... but for others."

  The chamber was still reverberating with the Queen's words when the High Judge finally spoke, his tone slow and measured — but carrying a weight that drew every gaze.

  High Judge: "Duke Edric... what you have presented changes much... but not enough. Even if the accused did not act from malice, but from the instinct to protect... it does not erase the truth that his power is uncontrollable. Even from himself."

  He leaned forward, his ancient eyes narrowing.

  High Judge: "We have proof — he nearly killed his own allies in the process."

  A cold murmur slithered through the gallery. Edric did not flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, voice steady, almost defiant.

  Edric: "Then allow me to make this court an offer... a proposal bold enough to match the stakes we face."

  He straightened to his full height, his gaze sweeping across the rows of nobles and officials.

  Edric: "I will take him — under my own wing. He will train in my lands, under my command, until he learns to wield his power with precision, not chaos. I will bear the risk, the responsibility, and the consequences."

  A ripple of disbelief spread through the room.

  Edric: "Do not forget... the cult still festers in the shadows. And while we sit in judgment here, our borders burn under the threat of war with the neighboring kingdom. We cannot afford to waste a weapon already forged by battle. Ren is not the problem..."

  —his voice hardened—

  "...he is the solution."

  A sharp, humorless laugh broke the air.

  Caerus smirking, leaning back in his seat: "Solution? Is that what you call it?"

  He finally dropped his long-maintained mask of restraint, his voice dripping with venom.

  Caerus: "No, Edric... what you propose is madness. A farce. You speak of him as though he were some misunderstood savior, but all I see is a walking calamity. To spare him would be to invite ruin... shame... and eventual destruction upon this kingdom."

  He gestured sharply toward Ren without even looking at him.

  Caerus: "The man is a danger simply by breathing."

  A voice colder than Caerus's rose from the other side of the chamber.

  Caerus: "In fact... I will go further. Every member of Stray Dawn should be executed alongside him. They are all tainted."

  The words landed like a blade to the heart of the chamber. Even the murmurs halted.

  The chamber seemed to freeze for a breath — then the crack in the stillness came.

  From her seat, Rica's head lifted slowly, eyes locking onto Caerus with a stare that could have carved through stone. Her lips didn't move, but the tension in her jaw spoke volumes.

  Josh, sat up straight with an audible scoff. He leaned forward on his knees, shoulders squared, as if daring Caerus to repeat himself.

  Near the left side of the gallery, Kristie let out a sharp, incredulous laugh — the kind that wasn't born of amusement but disbelief.

  Kristie:

  "Tainted?"

  she muttered under her breath, her gaze narrowing into something far more dangerous.

  And Rej, who was usually quick with a joke, leaned back in her chair, expression darkening. She folded her arms, eyes flicking to Caerus with the slow, deliberate glare of someone deciding whether the man before him was worth the trouble of remembering.

  A low ripple of murmurs spread across the hall, the onlookers shifting uneasily. What had just been a trial for one man was now a threat to an entire unit — a unit with friends, allies, and defenders seated in plain sight.

  The tension hung heavy, pressing on the chest like a weight. Then, from the center of the court, a sound broke through — quiet at first, then louder.

  And that's when it happened.

  A low, solitary chuckle.

  It came from the center of the court.

  Ren — who had been silent, unmoving, for the entirety of the hearing — was laughing. Not loud. Not unhinged. But enough to shatter the tension into something far sharper.

  All eyes turned to him.

  The sound faded, and he lifted his head. His gaze locked onto Caerus, and in that instant, the air felt heavier.

  Ren: "Hey..."

  He lifted his gaze, his eyes locking onto Caerus with a cold, razor-sharp smile

  Ren:

  "...I'm the one on trial here, remember? Don't involve anyone else."

  The chamber froze. No one dared to speak.

  The stillness stretched, oppressive and cold, as Ren's words lingered like a warning neither the court — nor Caerus — could ignore.