[Millom - Coastal Jungle]
The leader of the "aboriginals" stood before them, his spear leveled at Klein's heart. His dark skin gleamed with sweat despite the arctic chill of the North Sea surrounding the island. His eyes were not wild, but frighteningly clear and disciplined.
"Intruders. State your crime."
It wasn't a question. It was a procedural demand.
Kim Dokja, rubbing his back from the impact of the fall, whispered, "Aboriginals speaking Feysac? That's new."
"They are not normal natives," Klein said, his [Spirit Vision] dissecting the aura of the man. "Their spirituality is... structured. Like a grid. They are living under absolute order."
He stepped forward, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "We are travelers. We encountered a storm and were blown off course. We mean no harm."
The native leader narrowed his eyes. "Travelers. Unauthorized entry into a Restricted Zone. Violation of airspace. Disruption of the natural order (the grafted land)."
He slammed the butt of his spear onto the ground. "Verdict: Guilty of Trespassing."
A wave of pressure descended from the dark cloud above. It wasn't just gravity this time. It was a shackle on the soul. Klein felt his spirituality stagnate. Dokja groaned as his Nephalem transformation was forcibly canceled, his wings dissolving into black smoke.
"Sentence: Detention until processing."
Dozens of natives emerged from the bushes, holding ropes made of glowing blue vines. They moved with military precision, surrounding the duo.
"Should we fight?" Dokja asked, his hand drifting to his sword hilt. "I can take them. They're only Sequence 6 or 7 at best."
"No," Klein stopped him. "Fighting resists the 'Law'. Under the Justiciar Uniqueness, resisting arrest escalates the crime. If we fight, we become 'Violent Criminals'. The punishment will upgrade from detention to execution."
He looked up at the dark cloud. "We play by the rules. For now."
They allowed themselves to be tied up. The vines hummed with a suppression field that dampened their Beyonder powers.
[The Village of Order]
They were marched through the tropical jungle. The island was a contradiction. The climate was humid and hot, defying the freezing ocean outside. The flora was lush, with giant ferns and vibrant orchids. But it was too perfect. The trees grew in straight lines. The leaves were symmetrical. Even the mud on the path seemed to be distributed evenly.
They reached the village. It wasn't a collection of huts. It was a grid. Square stone houses, identical in size and shape, arranged in perfect rows. The villagers—men, women, and children—moved like clockwork. They walked in straight lines, turning at 90-degree angles. No one spoke loudly. No one ran.
"It's like a totalitarian ant colony," Dokja muttered.
They were brought to the center of the village, where a large, brass-colored building stood. It looked like a courthouse mixed with a temple. Above the entrance, a symbol was carved into the stone: A balance scale, perfectly level.
Inside, they were thrown into a cell. The bars were made of the same brass metal.
"So," Dokja sat on the stone bench, rubbing his wrists. "This place... I think I know what we are dealing with."
Klein looked at him, surprised. "You do? Have you been here?"
"No," Dokja's eyes glowed faintly golden. [Skill: Character List]. He wasn't looking at the guards. He was looking at the environment itself, treating the island as an Item or a Scenario Area.
A blue system window floated in front of his eyes, invisible to Klein.
[Item Info]
[Name: Trunsoest Brass Book]
[Rank: ??? (Uniqueness)]
[Description: The manifestation of the Justiciar Pathway's Uniqueness. It has been corrupted by the Nation of Disorder. It possesses living characteristics and instinctively establishes a legal domain.]
[Current Status: Creating Rules.]
"The System calls it the Trunsoest Brass Book," Dokja read the window aloud. "It says it's the Uniqueness of the Justiciar Pathway. And it's... corrupted. I thought finding it would be more difficult."
"Trunsoest?" Klein frowned deeply. "The Night Emperor of the Fourth Epoch?..." He tapped his temple. 'Justiciar Uniqueness... That means it has the highest authority of Rules. It creates laws and enforces them. That explains the gravity and the natives.'
"It has a living characteristic," Dokja continued reading. "It creates rules... and it enforces them. We are currently in its 'Jurisdiction'."
Klein's eyes widened. "If it's a Uniqueness with living characteristics, it acts like a sealed artifact that hasn't been sealed properly. It will try to establish order, but without a user, that order will be rigid and chaotic."
Suddenly, the air in the cell shimmered. A piece of paper materialized in the air, floating down to them. It was a legal notice.
[Notice of Trial]
[Defendants: Klein Moretti, Kim Dokja]
[Charge: Trespassing, Illegal Flight, Reality Tampering]
[Trial Date: Tomorrow, 08:00 AM]
[Presiding Judge: The Brass Book]
"A dystopia," Dokja said.
"A utopia of rules," Klein countered. "No crime. No disorder. Just... obedience."
"We have a trial," Klein read. "Tomorrow."
"Great," Dokja sighed. "I need a lawyer."
"I am a Seer," Klein smiled. "But I can graft the concept of a Lawyer onto myself."
He tapped the wall. "But we can't wait for the trial. The Ancient Sun God said this Uniqueness is the only 'real' one here. We need to steal it."
"How? It's the judge, the jury, and the executioner."
He reached into his pocket (which the natives hadn't searched, presumably because 'Theft' was illegal here) and pulled out a small, silver mirror. Using a charcoal, he drew a mystical symbol.
He wiped the surface of the mirror. "Arrodes. My humble servant."
The reflection in the mirror rippled. Silver text oozed onto the surface, trembling with excitement.
"Great Master! You have summoned me! I am so happy! Is this a new play? Why are you in a cage?"
"I've been involved with a Justiciar Uniqueness."
"Be careful, Master!" Arrodes added, the text turning red. "The Book hates disorder. But it also hates 'Ugly Rules'. If the rules it creates contain contradictions or paradoxes, it will freeze and attempt to rewrite them. That is its flaw!"
"A paradox..." Dokja thought outloud. "Like 'This sentence is false'?"
"More complex," Arrodes corrected. "A crime must be committed that is also a lawful act. Or be innocent while being guilty."
"Thank you Arrodes," He hid the mirror and looked at Dokja. "You are a 'Reader'. Can you analyze the laws of this place?"
"I can try," Dokja's eyes glowed. [Skill: Reading Comprehension]. He looked at the notice, then at the brass bars, then at the guards outside. Information flooded his mind. The hidden rules of the island.
1.No flight.
2.No violence against citizens.
3.No theft.
4.All citizens must wear clothes.
5.Silence during the night (22:00 - 06:00).
6.Foreigners are guilty until proven innocent.
"It's a standard set," Dokja said. "But rule #6... that's the kicker. We are guilty by default."
"Good," Klein nodded. "Then we need to become citizens."
"How? Naturalization takes years."
"Not if we Graft it," Klein whispered.
He raised his hand. The vine ropes dampened his power, but they couldn't stop a King of Angels completely. He focused on the concept of [Citizenship]. He looked at the guard outside. He grafted the Identity of the guard onto himself and Dokja.
Shift.
For a split second, the world glitched. The cell door clicked open. The vines fell off.
The guard looked at them. He didn't see prisoners. He saw... his colleagues? No, he saw Citizens.
"Why are you in the cell?" the guard asked, confused. "Citizens are not allowed in the holding cells without a permit."
"We are inspecting the locks," Klein lied smoothly. "Carry on."
"Understood." The guard saluted and walked away.
"That worked?" Dokja was amazed.
[Fourth Wall says: 'Pick up your jaw. Don't be jealous']
Dokja wanted to advance to a demigod as soon as possible.
He was only a Sequence 8 Swindler and all the characteristics with supplementary ingredients were sealed and released by the 'Fourth Wall', so he had no choice but to slowly act and digest his potions.
"Temporarily," Klein rubbed his wrists. "The Book will notice the discrepancy. It will update the rules. 'Citizens cannot be foreigners'. 'Grafting is illegal'. We have maybe ten minutes before it patches the glitch."
They walked out of the prison block. It was night. The village was silent. Rule #5: Silence during the night.
They crept towards the central hall of the Brass Building. There, on a pedestal of pure brass, lay the book. It was large, bound in metal sheets. It radiated a cold, majestic aura of judgment. The Trunsoest Brass Book.
As they approached, the book flipped a page. New writing appeared.
[New Rule: Impersonating a Citizen is a Capital Offense.]
[New Rule: The concept of 'Grafting' is prohibited within 500 meters of the Book.]
Klein felt his disguise shatter. The guard's identity peeled off him. He was a foreigner again. And now, a capital offender.
"Run!" Klein shouted.
"SILENCE!" The Book boomed.
[Rule #5 Violation].
A shockwave of sound hit them. Klein and Dokja were blasted back against the wall. The guards woke up. The entire village woke up. "Intruders!" "Execute them!"
"Plan B!" Dokja yelled.
"What's Plan B?"
"Chaos!" Dokja grinned.
[Story 'Person Who is Loved by All' begins its storytelling!]
They stopped. They looked at Klein and Dokja. Their murderous intent vanished.
"Friend?" one guard asked, lowering his spear. "Friend!" another hugged Dokja.
The Brass Book flipped pages furiously.
[Rule Violation: Fraternizing with Criminals.]
[Rule Violation: Attacks must be carried out.]
[Conflict: Citizens cannot attack Friends.]
The Book vibrated. It was confused. Law says kill. Reality says friend. Paradox detected.
The Book began to write, erase, and rewrite.
[New Rule: Friendship is illegal.]
[Error: Friendship is a fundamental human right.]
[New Rule: Paradox resolution in progress...]
The pressure in the room vanished. The Book froze, stuck in a logic loop.
"Now!" Klein moved. He couldn't touch the book (Death Sentence). But he could move the space it occupied.
He opened his [Tower Inventory]. He didn't grab the book. He grabbed the coordinates of the book. [Grafting]. He grafted the space of the pedestal into his inventory.
ZWOOP.
The pedestal—and the book—vanished.
The village froze. Without the Book, the rules collapsed. The tropical heat vanished. The North Sea chill rushed in. The "order" in the natives' eyes faded, replaced by confusion and panic.
"We have it," Klein panted, checking his inventory. The Brass Book was there, still furiously writing rules that applied to the empty void of the inventory slot.
"Let's go before the natives realize their god is gone," Dokja said.
They ran to the shore. The dark cloud above began to disperse. Flight was possible again.
Klein grabbed Dokja.
They vanished from the island, leaving behind a bewildered tribe and a slowly freezing jungle.