Cold.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the sharp kind that cut through bone, but the kind that crept inward slowly, settling into muscle and breath until the body woke before the mind did.
My eyes opened.
Stone ceiling.
Iron bars.
Chains.
My arms were bound above my head, wrists locked into runes that pulsed faintly blue each time I tensed. The shackles weren't heavy—but they were absolute. I felt it immediately. Aura didn't answer. Will pushed once, instinctively—
The seal reacted.
Pressure crushed inward, not painful, but suffocating. Like trying to breathe underwater.
I froze.
My sword lay just outside the cell.
Placed carefully. Deliberately.
Close enough to see.
Far enough to mock me.
I turned my head.
Varein.
Kazen.
Chained the same way, each in their own section of the cell, shoulders slumped, heads lowered. Both alive. Bruised. Exhausted.
My chest loosened for a split second.
Then tightened worse.
I pulled.
Hard.
Chains rattled violently, magic flaring brighter as I strained against them. I dragged my feet against the stone, muscles screaming as I tried to force even a single inch of slack.
Nothing.
The runes burned colder.
I pulled again.
And again.
Time stopped meaning anything.
My breath grew ragged. Sweat soaked my back. The iron tasted of blood where my palms scraped.
Four minutes.
Exactly.
I didn't know how I knew—it just registered when my arms finally gave out and I sagged forward, forehead dropping to my chest as air tore in and out of my lungs.
I stopped.
Not because I wanted to.
Because the seal had made its point.
The atmosphere shifted.
Varein stirred first, lifting his head slowly.
Kazen followed moments later.
Neither spoke.
They just watched me.
That hurt more than the chains.
Varein's jaw clenched. His eyes wouldn't meet mine for long. I could see it written all over him—guilt, sharp and corrosive. Like this was something he'd dragged us into. Like he should've known better.
Kazen's expression was quieter.
He didn't blame.
That was worse.
I swallowed.
Deep down, I knew the truth.
This wasn't Varein's fault.
It wasn't Kazen's.
This was mine.
My beliefs.
My choices.
My refusal to bend.
The idea that life mattered too much to be weighed in convenient numbers.
This was the cost.
Chains weren't always iron.
Sometimes they were consequences.
Footsteps approached.
This time—measured.
A figure stopped outside the bars.
Face hidden. Presence controlled.
"Get up," the voice said evenly.
"It's time for your trial."
Trial?
The word didn't register at first.
My heartbeat stuttered.
"A… trial?" I said hoarsely.
Confusion flickered sharp and bright.
"You're not just executing me?"
Silence.
Then something clicked.
Cold realization slid into place like a blade being drawn slowly across the spine.
They didn't want me dead.
They wanted me broken publicly.
They wanted the Academy. The city. The kingdoms beyond Lionhearth to see me not as a knight who disobeyed—but as a symbol of what happened when someone believed too much.
They wanted my image destroyed.
My lip trembled.
I bit down hard.
Blood ran warm down my chin.
"No," I said.
Two figures stepped forward instantly.
They opened the cell.
Hands seized my arms.
Varein lurched forward instinctively.
"RAIN—!"
Kazen strained against his chains, teeth clenched.
I didn't fight.
Because fighting here would accomplish nothing.
They dragged me out anyway.
And my friends were forced to watch.
The doors opened.
Light poured in.
The Lionhearth Trial Court stood before me.
Massive didn't begin to describe it.
Stone rose in immense arcs, pillars carved with centuries of judgment. The ceiling vanished into shadow, glass panels framing the sky above like the gods themselves were expected to watch.
The stands were full.
At least a hundred people.
Probably more.
Nobles. Knights. Scholars. Officials.
Whispers rippled through the chamber as I was marched forward, chained, bleeding, exposed.
Far in the distance—
My class.
Class 2-S.
I recognized them instantly.
Theon frozen in place.
Seraphyne rigid, lips pressed thin.
Kai pale, fists clenched.
Others staring like they didn't recognize me anymore.
News had spread.
Not carefully.
Not truthfully.
From the Dratonian Forest.
From Newoaga's shores.
From every whisper distorted into accusation.
Disobedience.
Threat.
Danger.
Every eye in the room pressed into me at once.
I could feel it.
The weight.
I looked up through the glass ceiling into the open sky.
Blue. Endless.
And for a single quiet moment, I wondered—
Why me?
I was just a boy.
Born in Ignis.
Someone who liked climbing too high and asking too many questions.
Was this what the strong endured?
Or was this just what happened when you refused to learn how to look away?
I was brought to the center.
Raised platform.
Five figures seated in judgment.
The jury.
I knew them.
Sir Adranous.
Sir Zenite.
Sir Dragoneth.
Sir Veyren.
Madam Korrina.
Five Knight Captains.
Only five.
My stomach twisted.
This is going to go wrong, I thought. Isn't it.
Then the chamber shifted.
The judge arrived.
A tall figure stepped forward, staff striking stone once.
The sound echoed through the entire court.
"I am Grand Judicar Vereis."
The entire room bowed.
I didn't.
Not out of defiance.
Out of fear.
Out of sheer, paralyzing uncertainty.
I just stood there, chains heavy, breath shallow.
He looked at me.
Not coldly.
Carefully.
"We are gathered," Vereis said, "to hear the case of Rain of the Lionhearth Academy… and the Council of Elders of Lionhearth Academy."
My skin prickled.
Sweat gathered under my collar.
The trial began.
The council spoke first.
"This boy is a deterrent," one shouted.
"A danger," another snapped.
"A threat that must be neutralized or exiled!"
"He disobeys higher authority!"
"First in the Dratonian Forest!"
"And then in Newoaga!"
"He exposed hundreds of civilians to danger to save one!"
"He must be chained to doctrine!"
Their voices layered, sharp and frantic, like fear masquerading as certainty.
The staff struck stone again.
Boom.
Silence.
Vereis turned to me.
"Proceed."
My mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
A minute passed.
The room breathed.
Then I spoke.
Quietly.
"I believe… I act to do what is right."
Murmurs erupted.
"I believe," I continued, voice shaking but steadying, "that every life is sacred."
The council exploded.
"GRAND JUDICAR!"
"This is nonsense!"
"He speaks of righteousness while endangering kingdoms!"
"What is he—a hero?!"
"He admitted he will sacrifice many for one if that time comes!"
I felt the eyes again.
The royal viewing panel.
Glass above.
The royal family.
Watching.
Why were they always here when I fell?
Shame burned deep.
Then—
I stood.
Chains clinked.
"I admit it," I said louder now.
"I would risk the life of many for one."
The room stilled.
"But not once," I continued, stepping forward, posture straight, "will life be lost."
Shocks rippled.
"I will grow strong enough," I declared, voice ringing, "so that not one child is separated from their mother or father."
The Grand Judicar's eyebrow lifted.
"I will obey commands," I said, fists clenched, "but when obedience demands injustice—I will disobey."
"Because that," I finished, voice cracking but unyielding, "is what I believe is RIGHT."
The council screamed again.
"SEE?! HE REFUSES OBEDIENCE!"
Vereis turned.
"Do you bring the truth?"
They grinned.
"The Bearer of Honest Things."
"Jisshal."
A tall woman stepped forward.
Blue hair. Grey eyes. Calm.
From Jishu.
"And the relic?" Vereis asked quietly.
"The Balance of Verdict."
The relic floated.
My heart was pounding.
What if it reveals I'm lying?
What if this was all… ego?
Jisshal activated it.
Nothing happened.
Confusion rippled.
She tapped it.
Light exploded.
Glass shattered.
Sunlight poured in.
White.
Pure.
The Balance cracked open—not dark, not red—but white.
Gasps filled the room.
"All white…?" Jisshal whispered.
The Grand Judicar smiled.
Sir Zenite and Sir Adranous laughed softly.
The council went pale.
"A soul so naive," one whispered.
"So foolish," another spat.
I fell to my knees.
"I have nothing to hide," I shouted, tears blurring my vision. "Everything I've done—has been for others!"
Silence fell.
Vereis stood.
And the verdict loomed.