She was an anomaly—the only saint in the history of the Bryne family who had never lost her holy power.
This fact alone explained her extraordinary status. For centuries, the title of saint had passed from one generation to the next; as a new gift awakened, the previous one withered.
Eli Bryne broke that rule. Even after her niece ascended, Eli's power remained. Her influence only grew, and her authority became absolute.
Now I understand why they're so obsessed with me, Aren thought. If a saint names me the killer, who would dare question her?
Aren suppressed a sigh.
His silence ended the interrogation. Guards hauled him back to his cell; the following sessions then became mere formalities—empty rituals that changed nothing. His mind drifted instead to his meeting with Ryan Eckart, the court-appointed lawyer.
They had sat in a dimly lit room beneath a single, flickering lamp. Ryan wore a black suit that screamed luxury. His dark hair, slicked back, accentuated the sharp, distant lines of his face.
"Mr. Rayne, your situation is grimmer than expected," Ryan said, his voice flat. "The evidence, the witness, the public outcry… I can't overturn this. Your only rational move is to confess."
"And if I do, will I walk free?" Aren asked, his tone laced with mockery.
Ryan didn't flinch. He had dealt with Aren's type before. "No. But a confession might reduce your sentence. Even in IMFA, I can ensure you receive… better treatment."
Aren watched him with indifferent eyes. He hadn't hired this man; the court had forced the appointment. When he searched his memories of the novel, he found no mention of a 'Ryan Eckart.'
One thing was clear after only a few words: this man had no intention of saving him. Ryan carried the weary impatience of someone performing a chore, eager to discard his client as quickly as possible.
"Evidence. Witness. Public pressure…"
Aren repeated the words slowly. He met Ryan's gaze with a lazy stare. "As far as I know, there is only one witness."
"True," Ryan replied. "Her position makes her beyond reproach, however."
Aren leaned back, exhaling quietly. "She wasn't even conscious when the massacre happened. How can she be so certain I'm the killer?"
Ryan leaned forward, his expression unchanged. "The court will not question her credibility. Her word carries more weight than your denial."
Ryan looked at him with a chilling expression, as if forcing the cruel reality into Aren's mind.
Aren measured his words, a slow smile forming on his lips. "Interesting. My lawyer declared me guilty during our very first meeting."
Ryan didn't flinch. "With the evidence laid out, is there any point in pretending otherwise?"
"You mean the evidence that only points to me indirectly?"
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "If you're innocent, why did you attack the Avalon and Aegis soldiers?"
The air tightened; the tension between them was almost audible. Aren leaned forward, mirroring Ryan's posture. Their eyes locked, neither willing to yield. This silent battle of nerves grew sharper with every passing second.
"You mean the idiots who opened fire the moment that crazy woman pointed at me?" His voice was low and mocking, dripping with contempt.
Silence fell. Ryan exhaled, and he tilted his head to the side, the irritation showing. "You truly have a talent for making things difficult."
Now, Aren was certain. After the relentless interrogation and his lawyer's constant pressure to confess, he understood their true objective.
They wanted him in IMFA.
Initially, he had hoped that escaping that night would allow him to hide and regroup. The authorities now sealed that exit, as they had captured him.
Since waking up in this body, he had lived like a prisoner. He hadn't even seen daylight, and his future remained a blur of uncertainty.
The only option left was the worst one, but it was worth a try.
Still, the determination to send him there felt off. There was another possibility: Bone City. Society often exiled its rejects there, and it was a common destination for criminals.
They could have sent him there just as easily, yet their goal had been IMFA from the start.
The suspicion gnawed at him. Well… I'll have to figure it out.
***
Some time later, the cell door opened with a metallic crash. Aren slowly opened his eyes. The guard gestured for him to step out. Aren stood, loosening his stiff muscles as he moved.
Cold tanium cuffs snapped around his wrists, instantly sealing the flow of ether in his body once more.
In this world, ether was as essential as oxygen—the source of every special ability. Those who could command it awakened as Nyx, their rank determining their place in the hierarchy.
Only a rare metal known as tanium could restrict such power. It was the sole reason he hadn't escaped; restraints forged from it severed the flow of ether, rendering a Nyx's abilities utterly dormant. Without ether, they were powerless. Completely sealed.
"Move."
A shove from behind jolted him forward. Flanked by guards, Aren marched through oppressive, shadowed corridors.
From behind rusted bars, prisoners watched with a mix of malice, pity, and twisted satisfaction. Mocking jeers melded with the rhythm of their footsteps as they reached a massive circular platform.
A guard tapped the controls on a central pillar, and the platform began its ascent.
As they rose, Aren observed the levels of the prison, each floor housing criminals categorized by the severity of their sins.
"Shouldn't the kid go straight to IMFA?" one guard asked, his voice thick with boredom.
"The trial isn't over. Prisoners stay in the temporary facility until the verdict. That's the rule."
"What a joke! These bastards commit the worst crimes imaginable, yet they still have rights? We should slit their throats the moment they're caught." A guard's gaze, sharp with disgust, stabbed into the back of Aren's head.
Another guard shrugged. "Even trash has human rights."
"Human rights? For a monster who slaughtered his father and his guests? Ridiculous!"
"That's not our call," another guard said. "Besides… Madam Beryl ordered that the investigation be fair."
Aren's eyebrow twitched.
My mother?
He searched his memory of the novel. To his knowledge, Beryl displayed no interest in Aren. This was an outlier—a detail he didn't remember.
Why is she—
"Once the trial ends today, he's bound for IMFA anyway," the guard continued. "His guilt is a foregone conclusion. This is all just a formality."