The Law had noticed.
That which did not belong had reached inward.
The path was sealed.
A screen materialized before Jael's eyes—silent, colorless, written in symbols that crawled and rearranged themselves like living things.
The moment it appeared, his skull felt as though it were being crushed from the inside.
"What th—" Jael muttered, his voice breaking as the words began to force meaning into his mind rather than be read.
Not system prompts.
Not commands.
Judgment.
His breath hitched. Instinctively, his eyes shifted—slow, trembling—and he turned his head.
The wyvern was staring directly at him.
Two emerald eyes glowed unnaturally bright in the dim chamber, sharp with something far worse than cruelty.
Interest.
"So it's true," the wyvern said quietly, his tone cold with restrained excitement. "I can't access your mana."
Jael's heart slammed violently against his ribs.
The wyvern's hand tightened around his neck.
"That's… interesting."
Jael clawed weakly at the fingers crushing his throat. Air refused to enter his lungs. His vision blurred as black crept in from the edges.
"Whatever is inside you," the wyvern continued calmly, as if discussing a puzzle, "exists beyond me."
His grip tightened further.
Beyond a wyvern.
Beyond a partial dragon.
Jael's consciousness began to slip.
A faint, distant pressure stirred deep within him—something old, something sealed, something that did not sleep so much as wait.
The wyvern noticed.
His lips slowly curled into a twisted, delighted smile.
"Since I can't draw it out directly…" he murmured, voice lowering, "…I'll give it a reason to surface."
He leaned closer, his breath cold against Jael's ear.
"Surely it doesn't want its puppet to die."
The scales along the wyvern's face rippled, retracting smoothly back into human flesh. In seconds, he looked almost normal again—almost.
Then he released Jael.
Jael's body crashed to the stone floor, pain exploding through his ribs as he sucked in a desperate, ragged breath. His limbs barely responded. His mind reeled.
The wyvern stood over him, looking down with faint disappointment—as if Jael were an experiment that hadn't yet produced results.
"You're not stupid enough to speak of what you've seen," he said casually. "But I truly wish you would."
He smiled again.
"I would enjoy spending more time like this."
A sharp snap echoed through the chamber.
Two guards clad in dark knight armor entered immediately, their movements precise and emotionless. They grabbed Jael by the arms and began dragging him away.
Stone scraped against his back. His vision swam.
As his body was hauled toward the exit, something inside him twitched.
His eyes suddenly ignited with deep violet light.
Jael did not command it.
His pupils snapped toward the wyvern on their own.
For a single heartbeat, the pressure in the room spiked—an invisible weight pressing down on reality itself.
The wyvern stiffened.
Jael's eyes returned to dull lemon green.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
The guards froze.
The wyvern took a slow step back.
"…That presence," he muttered, his amusement gone, voice now tight and controlled. "That wasn't any god."
His hands trembled.
He clenched them violently at his sides, forcing them still.
"What are you?" he whispered to the empty room. "You're not divine… and you're not abyssal."
A pause.
"…Nether?"
He shook his head sharply.
"No human vessel can withstand divinity. And no nether entity would remain silent under suppression."
His jaw tightened.
"That thing inside him…" he muttered darkly, "…is dreadful."
The torches flickered.
Somewhere far away, something sealed shifted.
And the Law watched.