Natasha watched Ren kneel beneath the king's crushing aura, his body broken but his eyes clear. That look—a confusing mix of innocence and guilt—struck her deeply. Was this justice? Punishing a man who couldn't remember his crimes felt like condemning a stranger.
*Yes, Ren had done horrible things,* she reminded herself, her hand clenching into a fist at her side. Things far worse than theft, all buried through influence and fear. But this time, he'd targeted another royal—someone with enough power to make the scandal public. Now he faced true consequences.
"No, he deserves it," she whispered, burying the unwelcome pity under years of resentment.
***
"Present your case, Jerald," the king commanded, his gaze still pinning Ren to the floor.
Jerald rose, a tall man in an immaculate white royal suit, confidence radiating from him. "Your Highness, this unruly boy stole those very chains from my research institute, as seen in the security footage. They were delivered anonymously. They are a legendary-grade artifact, unbreakable, allowing the user to control any beast, no matter its level."
The king's eyes lifted from the evidence. The claim was a stirrer. A legendary artifact? Beast control? In the Fourth Kingdom, a shadow qi cultivator's domain, such a power could shift the balance between nations. It was a prize worth kingdoms warring over.
Murmurs erupted. Clerks called for order.
"Are you sure of what you speak, Jerald?" the king asked, his voice deceptively calm. "That is a bold claim."
Jerald didn't flinch. "Yes, Your Highness. The note delivered along with the chains stated its nature. We've confirmed they're indestructible. We simply haven't... activated the beast-control function. The chains seem sentient; they choose their user."
Ren, fighting through the pain, processed this.
*What is this fool spewing? The chains copy weapons, they don't control beasts. The Soul Devourer fed him a lie. But why? If the goal was to get the chains to me, why this convoluted route?*
Something bigger was at play, a game board he couldn't yet see.
*"You're in luck, boy,"* the Soul Devourer's voice purred in his mind. *"Pin the blame on him. Say he's lying. Say you were stealing back what was yours. Show them the chains' true nature."*
The target was Jerald. A trap. If Ren played along, Jerald would be executed for lying to the king. It was a clean, brutal way out. But why?
He couldn't bring himself to. Not an innocent man.
After a moment's debate, Ren came up with something.
"He's wrong, Your Highness!" Ren declared, the words tearing from his raw throat. Blood sprayed from his lips as he spoke.
The king's gaze shifted. "Explain yourself, Ren."
"Your Highness... I'm not saying Lord Jerald is lying," Ren gasped, forcing himself to stand despite the agony. The king, seeing his struggle, lessened the aura's pressure a fraction. "I took the chains. But there's a misunderstanding."
He turned, his eyes finding Natasha's in the crowd.
*Now. The seeds of pity need to bear fruit.*
He swept his gaze across the scornful court, lingering on the worried faces of his new parents.
"Your Highness, my sister, Princess Natasha, is a skilled weaponsmith and rune master. These chains are her work. But they are a failed attempt."
Jerald smiled calmly, but his fists were white-knuckled at his sides. He could see where this was going.
Murmurs rose again. Ren continued, his voice gaining strength. "They are indestructible, yes. But they do not command beasts." He gestured, and the chains shot from his forearms with a metallic rattle, embedding in the marble floor before retracting smoothly. "They extend and copy weapons. They are a failure because they have a terrible toll—they drain the user's cultivation. Test me. You'll find my level has fallen several levels."
A guard brought a tablet, obeying the hand gesture the king made. Ren placed his palm on it. The result flashed: cultivation level, null. A prince, reduced to a commoner.
The court gasped. Some laughed.
"After my sister gave them to me," Ren pressed on, "someone stole them. If Jerald's story is true..." He locked eyes with Jerald, the unspoken threat clear: *Play along or you're cooked.* "...then that same person delivered them to him with lies. I only sought to retrieve what was mine. I accept my punishment for trespassing."
He bowed his head, the picture of remorse.
*And the Oscar goes to Ren Vaelthorn!* A hidden smile touched his lips.
"Natasha," the king called.
She stood. "Does he speak the truth? Did you make the chains?"
*You better say yes, woman. Or I'll haunt you forever as a ghost.*
"Yes, Your Highness," she replied, her voice curt.
The king nodded. "Jerald?"
Jerald tensed. "I find the prince's claims... reasonable. I retract my accusation." He sat, a smile plastered on his face, but his jaw ticked with barely suppressed fury.
"Here is my decree."
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs. This was it.
"The Prince is guilty of trespassing. He has already paid for his crime by losing all his cultivation progress. Court is adjourned."
The trial was over as soon as it had began. The king's whole attitude during the trial suggested he had just wanted to get over with it and go do something else, but no one could call him out for it.
The pressure vanished. Ren slumped in relief, but the court's cold stares followed him. He was left alone with his family—Martin, Charlotte, young Liz, and a storm-eyed Natasha.
*Wow, God gave me a beautiful new family.*
But then Natasha was striding toward him, that familiar fury in her eyes.
*Oh no. Not again.*
He tried to step back, but she vanished, reappearing instantly to grip his bloodied tie and hoist him into the air.
"The last time I checked," she hissed, "you didn't have your memories. How did you know how the chains *really* work? Speak!"
"I promise I will speak," he choked out, eyes glistening with genuine pain. "But not here. Let's go home first. Please?"
He felt a strange warmth at the unfamiliar, if violent, sibling dynamic.
*But heck, seriously, when will I be able to grab someone like this?!*
"Natasha, let go of your brother," Martin commanded, fastening his cufflinks.
"The walls have ears," Charlotte added, shepherding Liz toward the exit. "We'll discuss this at home."
Natasha's eyes narrowed to slits. She reluctantly released him, letting him drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes, then strode after her mother.
Ren hit the ground, his broken ribs stabbing into his organs. He swallowed the pain, silent. The courtroom battle was won, but the war at home had just begun. And before that he had to pass through the flashing cameras, pressing journalists and angry crowd. He swallowed.