Still smiling, the old man continued, his expression relaxed, almost playful, though the sharpness in his eyes never dulled. "You are strong enough to hide your Ki completely, yet dumb enough to return a stolen alpha card without being asked. That is not courage, and it is not stupidity either. It is something stranger. So tell me," he said, tilting his head, "who are you, really?"
"My name is Obero."
The old man's smile widened at once, stretching the deep lines carved into his weathered face. The name seemed to amuse him, or perhaps awaken something long buried. His shoulders eased, and for a moment he looked less like a prisoner and more like a retired soldier listening to a familiar tune.
Obero shifted his weight, boots scraping lightly against the stone floor. "Then tell me this," he said. "Who are you? And why do you call the general by his name, like he is an old friend?"
The smile faded, not sharply, but like a candle burning down to its wick. "My name is Hercules," the man replied. "Long ago, I used to be the general here." He glanced at the iron bars, the chains resting against his wrists, and gave a quiet, humorless breath. "And now, as you can see, I am a criminal completing my sentence."
Obero stared. His breath caught in his throat. The weight of the name settled heavily in his chest. Awe filled his eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper. "You… you are the great Hercules Beetle, aren't you?"
Hercules nodded once, slow and deliberate, as though affirming a truth he no longer felt the need to defend.
Obero's lips curled into a grin, wonder and disbelief mixing freely. "How amusing the world is. Once, you stood outside these bars beating prisoners without mercy, and now you are the one being beaten inside them."
Hercules raised his eyebrows, the faintest flicker of irritation surfacing before disappearing just as quickly, like a spark swallowed by ash.
Obero immediately lowered his head. "Sorry. I did not mean to insult you."
Seeing the genuine remorse, Hercules chuckled softly. "No. You are right. It is amusing, just as you said. Funny how a man can fall from the peak to the bottom in a single day." Even after the words ended, his smile lingered, thin and conflicted, as if it did not quite know whether to stay or leave.
"You do not seem like a bad person," Obero said after a moment. "What crime did you commit?"
"I killed two beasts," Hercules answered without hesitation. "But the king's court decided the beasts I killed were humans."
Obero stiffened. "Your eyes glowed just now."
Hercules lifted a brow, curiosity replacing surprise.
"When you said it," Obero continued, studying him closely, "your eyes glittered. Not with hatred. They looked… happy."
Hercules leaned back against the wall, chains shifting faintly. "I believe I did what needed to be done. Perhaps that is why saying those words brings me satisfaction." He leaned forward again, voice lowering. "Tell me, then. What else do you see in my eyes?"
Obero took his time, as if reading a complex script etched into invisible air. "Not much. But from what my wife taught me, I can tell you are not angry with the court, nor the king, nor those who arrested you. Your eyes look dead, like they forgot the difference between night and day. Yet somewhere deep inside, there is still wisdom, old and quiet."
Hercules smiled, this time with genuine warmth. "You pretend to be dumb, do you not?"
"Yes," Obero said confidently.
"You are stronger than me," Hercules said, "and clever enough to read a man's soul through his gaze. Are you a king from another land pretending to be a criminal?"
Obero burst out laughing, the sound echoing down the corridor. "I am just a man from the forest learning how civilized people live. I learned to read eyes from my wife, and I learned to fight from the wild. If that is enough to make me a king, then perhaps I will try becoming one someday."
Hercules laughed as well, a deep, honest sound he had not made in years. "Your words feel believable. No, it is more that I should believe them, otherwise I might…"
Obero tilted his head slightly. "You might what?"
"You know."
Obero smirked. It was subtle, barely a twitch, yet the air shifted. The torches along the hallway flickered, their flames bending as if in reverence. Hercules felt it instantly. His skin prickled, every instinct screaming before the sensation vanished like mist under sunlight.
The corridor returned to stillness.
"Enough about me," Obero said. "Tell me about yourself. Even I want to hear the story of the great General Hercules Beetle."
"There is not much worth telling," Hercules replied. "And I doubt it would amuse you."
Obero smiled softly. "Looking at your gray hair, I would say you are in your early fifties. Criminal or not, in your prime you were the strongest man in the Sun Kingdom. No such life is empty of stories."
Hercules exhaled, long and heavy. "My father used to tell me this. If you meet someone stronger than you, train until you surpass him. If you meet someone smarter than you, use your strength to defeat him. But if you meet someone both stronger and smarter, then do whatever he tells you."
Obero chuckled. "Should I take that as permission to listen?"
"For now," Hercules said, "I will be my father's son."
He rested his head against the cold stone, sighing as though the breath came from decades past. Silence settled in the corridor, broken only by distant wind brushing the prison walls like waves against rock.
"Where should I begin?" he murmured.
"From the beginning," Obero replied. "Tell me everything you remember."
A small, knowing smile touched Hercules's lips. He straightened his back, folded his arms loosely across his chest, and began his tale as the sun drifted toward evening, long shadows stretching across the prison floor, as if the past itself had leaned closer to listen.