Harun's voice trembled, not from fear—but from disbelief.
"Sir… listen," he said, forcing the words out slowly, carefully, like each one might explode if spoken wrong.
"I was just trying to protect a man who was about to die."
The court did not echo his voice.
It absorbed it.
"I didn't attack anyone. I didn't threaten anyone. It's not my fault," Harun continued, breath uneven now. "And still… your guards dragged me here."
The stone beneath his feet felt cold. Too cold.
Above him, Judge Rehman sat unmoving—hands folded, posture perfect, eyes unreadable. The Dravillian stone embedded into the court's core glowed faintly, like a watching eye that never blinked.
Rehman finally spoke.
"Why did you interfere?" he asked calmly.
"Why did you break the law?"
Harun clenched his fists.
"Because he would've died," he replied immediately. "He was bleeding. He couldn't stand. If I hadn't—"
Rehman interrupted him.
"Then you should have let him die."
The words fell flat.
Not cruel.
Not loud.
Just… final.
For a moment, Harun didn't understand what he'd heard.
"…What?" he whispered.
"You heard me," Rehman said. "Death is not illegal. Interference is."
Something snapped inside Harun.
Not slowly.
Not dramatically.
Instantly.
"You—" Harun's voice cracked as anger surged through him like fire. "How can you even call yourself a judge? I heard judges stand for justice. What you're doing—this isn't law."
He took a step forward.
"This is injustice."
The temperature of the hall dropped.
Harun didn't care.
He slid the brass knuckles onto his hand in one sharp motion. Light flared across the metal, radiant and alive, pulsing as he poured his energy into it.
His heart thundered.
He moved.
Cross.
The air shattered as his punch cut forward, light trailing behind his fist like a blade.
Jab.
Another strike, faster—rage fueling precision.
Hook.
A full-body twist, power screaming through his arm—
Rehman didn't move.
He didn't dodge.
He didn't flinch.
"All physical powers," Rehman said calmly,
"are denied."
The light vanished.
Harun's fist passed through empty space, his body suddenly feeling unbearably light—hollow. Strength drained from his limbs like something had unplugged him from reality itself.
He staggered back, gasping.
Kunal roared.
Metal screamed as Kunal's arm reshaped mid-air, chains snapping outward, spinning into a brutal chained arm disc. The weapon tore through the air toward Rehman with lethal momentum.
"All steel-based power," Rehman said,
"is nullified."
The chains froze.
Then collapsed—dropping lifelessly to the floor.
Mira didn't hesitate.
She vanished in a flash of electricity, body streaking forward in a lightning dash spear kick, faster than sound, faster than thought—
"All speed fails here."
She slammed into an invisible wall.
Hard.
Her body folded unnaturally before crashing to the ground, blood spraying from her mouth as she skidded across stone.
"Ishan—!" Harun shouted.
Ishan was already moving.
He twisted low, leg sweeping with terrabyte density, the floor groaning beneath the sheer mass of the strike—
Nothing.
His attack stopped as if reality itself had said no.
And then—
The floor vanished.
Not collapsed.
Pressed.
"Gravity," Rehman said, voice steady,
"will now be increased one hundredfold."
The world crushed downward.
Team A slammed into the ground like insects under glass. Harun screamed as his ribs felt like they were caving inward. Blood burst from Mira's lips. Kunal's mechanical limbs sparked violently. Ishan coughed, crimson splattering stone.
Harun's vision blurred.
Impossible.
His mind raced.
This man can't be beaten.
And then—
The Dravillian stone embedded in Harun's palm began to shine.
Light surged through him violently, erupting outward as LIGHT RAYS burst from his body, cutting through the pressure—
"All light fails here."
Darkness swallowed the glow instantly.
A whisper slipped into Harun's ears.
Break the court.
His head snapped up.
"What…?" he gasped. "Who said that?"
The voice came again—closer this time.
Break the court.
Harun shook his head violently.
"No—no—"
Kunal screamed and charged again, swinging a metallic bat with raw desperation.
Mira forced her body to move, dragging herself into a dash.
Ishan slammed the floor with everything he had left.
The court answered.
Three pillars shattered outward.
Kunal, Mira, and Ishan were thrown like broken dolls, their bodies slamming into stone walls with sickening force. Blood streamed down their foreheads as they collapsed, unmoving.
Harun's heart broke.
"STOP!" he screamed.
He crawled forward, tears streaming down his face. "Please—stop—this is my fault! I'm sorry! Punish me! Do whatever you want to me, just—please—don't hurt them!"
His hands shook violently as he slammed them into the floor.
"I'm begging you…"
For the first time—
Harun felt truly helpless.
Not weak.
Not scared.
Powerless.
Rehman opened his mouth to speak.
No sound came out.
Harun froze.
Rehman's lips moved again.
Nothing.
Footsteps echoed through the ruined hall.
A man walked forward casually, hands in his pockets.
"So," he said lazily, "I really didn't think I'd end up helping you."
He had curly hair falling to his shoulders. A black coat draped loosely over his frame. A muffler hung around his neck. Sunglasses hid his eyes.
Harun stared.
"Who… who are you?"
The man smirked.
"If you wanna live," he said, "you should leave. Like—right now."
He snapped his fingers.
"Adipal: Mouth Seal."
Rehman's lips sealed shut instantly.
Harun collapsed in relief.
"Thank you—thank you—thank you—"
The man smacked him on the back of the head.
"Move," he snapped. "Before he figures out another way to kill you."
They ran.
Outside, Harun gasped for air.
He turned to the man.
"Who are you?"
The man adjusted his muffler.
"My name's Omair."
Harun hesitated. "You… you saw me saving that man?"
Omair nodded. "Yeah. And no—you weren't wrong."
Harun's voice broke. "So helping him… wasn't a mistake?"
Omair smiled faintly. "In three years, you're the bravest idiot I've seen here."
Harun bowed his head. "You saved us. How do I repay you?"
"By helping me," Omair said.
"Destroy the Dragon Seal Organization."
Silence.
"Dragon?" Ishan whispered.
"Seal?" Kunal muttered.
"Organization?" Mira asked weakly.
Harun swallowed.
"What is that?"
Omair's smile faded.
"Three years ago," he said quietly, "I was sent here to destroy them."
He looked toward Boulderra.
"And I failed."
The city did not chase them.
That was the first thing Harun noticed as they ran.
No alarms.
No shouting guards.
No sudden collapse of buildings or waves of enforcers flooding the streets.
Boulderra simply watched.
They moved through alleys that twisted unnaturally, Omair leading without hesitation, turning corners before Harun even realized a turn existed. His pace never broke. Not hurried. Not cautious.
Certain.
Mira stumbled once. Omair caught her by the arm without slowing.
"Don't stop," he said. "Stopping gets you remembered."
Kunal's breathing was ragged, one mechanical arm hanging uselessly, sparks flickering beneath cracked plating. Ishan leaned heavily on Harun, every step leaving a faint smear of blood behind them.
Only when the sounds of the court finally vanished did Omair slow.
They crossed an invisible threshold.
Harun felt it immediately.
The pressure lifted—not fully, but enough to breathe.
They emerged into a district that felt… wrong in a different way. The buildings were older here, lower, stitched together with rope and steel braces instead of law. Lights were dimmer, warmer. People moved quickly, eyes alert, hands never empty.
No guards.
No symbols.
No court.
"This place," Omair said, finally stopping, "is outside his mouth."
Harun frowned. "His… mouth?"
Omair glanced back at the direction they'd come from. "Rehman doesn't just speak laws. He feeds Boulderra rules. This area doesn't listen."
Mira slid down against a wall, chest heaving. Blood streaked her temple, but her eyes were sharp. "You sealed his voice."
"For now," Omair replied. "Mouth seals don't last forever. Especially on men who think reality owes them obedience."
Kunal let out a harsh laugh. "Great. So we just pissed off a god-level judge."
Omair looked at him flatly. "No. You exposed him."
Harun's head was still ringing. His limbs felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. But one thing stayed sharp—the memory of Rehman's words.
Let him die.
"Why?" Harun asked suddenly.
Omair paused.
"Why what?"
"Why does he protect that system?" Harun pressed. "Why does Boulderra allow this?"
Omair's jaw tightened.
"Because someone taught them that survival is better than justice."
He walked again, this time slower, guiding them into a narrow building half-hidden behind hanging cloth and rusted beams. Inside, the space opened into a small underground hall lit by lanterns.
People turned when they entered.
Not with fear.
With recognition.
A woman hurried over with bandages. A man dragged a crate closer, motioning for Ishan to sit. No one asked questions.
They already knew.
Harun watched in silence as Mira's wound was wrapped, as Kunal's damaged arm was forced back into temporary alignment, as Ishan coughed blood into a cloth and was handed water without ceremony.
"This place…" Harun murmured.
"Isn't clean," Omair said. "But it's free."
Harun looked up. "Free from what?"
Omair met his gaze.
"From the Dragon Seal."
The room grew quiet.
"Three years ago," Omair continued, voice lower now, "a group rose inside Boulderra. Not fighters. Not politicians. Believers."
He removed his sunglasses.
Harun stiffened.
Omair's eyes were sharp—but tired. The kind of tired that didn't come from lack of sleep.
"The Dragon Seal Organization believes Boulderra doesn't need justice," Omair said. "It needs control. Absolute control. And they found the perfect god for it."
"Azaldera," Harun whispered, the name slipping out before he realized he knew it.
Omair's gaze snapped to him.
"…So you've heard it."
"Only fragments," Harun said. "Why does Gaut—" He stopped himself.
Omair's expression darkened slightly. "You already know too much for someone who arrived yesterday."
Kunal shifted. "You said mind control."
Omair nodded. "Not like puppets. Not spells. Conditioning. Pressure. Law. Faith. Rehman wasn't forced."
Mira looked up sharply. "He chose this?"
"He chose order over people," Omair replied. "That's how it always starts."
Harun's hands trembled.
"So everyone we saw… the guards… the people who watched—"
"Some are afraid," Omair said. "Some are convinced. Some don't even remember what resistance feels like."
Ishan spoke weakly. "And you?"
Omair smiled faintly. "I remember."
Silence settled again.
Harun looked down at his hands.
He remembered begging.
He remembered crying.
He remembered being unable to protect anyone.
"I heard a voice," Harun said suddenly. "In the court."
Omair's head tilted. "What kind of voice?"
"Not loud," Harun said. "Not clear. Just… telling me to break the court."
Omair didn't answer immediately.
Then: "You didn't imagine it."
Harun's breath caught. "Then who—"
"Later," Omair interrupted. "Some truths break people faster than laws."
He stood. "For now, you rest. You heal. And you decide."
"Decide what?" Harun asked.
Omair turned back, eyes steady.
"Whether you want to leave Boulderra alive," he said,
"or stay and make enemies that will hunt you forever."
Harun didn't hesitate.
"I'm staying."
Omair studied him for a long moment.
Then he smiled—not kindly, not cruelly.
"Good," he said. "Then welcome to the part of the city that still bleeds."
Outside, Boulderra shifted.
Somewhere far away, a sealed mouth struggled to speak.
And somewhere deeper still, something old and patient felt the court fall silent
and smiled.