Seated in solitary confinement, Sol's eyes were bound by a white piece of cloth, on which strange letters were inscribed in blood. His hands were restrained beneath the black straitjacket he wore, further bound to chains rooted into the ground around him. He was forced to maintain a seiza sitting position.
The ground was rough, and the room was dark except for a flickering light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Apart from the cell bars and a small window through which thin rays of light snuck in, there was no proper form of ventilation, making the room stuffy and hot at all times.
While he wasn't sure where he was, the sound of footsteps he constantly heard from beyond the cell window led him to believe he was in an underground prison.
Sol wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the last thing he saw before being blindfolded and shoved into a military van was a crowd gathered outside his home, all wearing judgmental expressions.
Within the crowd were his neighbors and distant relatives, people who were well aware of the abuse he had endured all his life and never spoke up even once. Yet on that very day, they stared at him as though he were a monster.
Even classmates and teachers from school were present. Everyone wanted to see the face of the weird kid who had finally done something crazy, just like everyone had always suspected.
They cheered as he was blindfolded and even threw rotten eggs and tomatoes at him.
When he was brought to this facility, he was placed in this position and left to rot.
Since that day, Sol had never received solid food. All this time, nutritional substances were injected directly into his body, keeping him alive but weak. Only water was given freely, and even that was scarce.
With no concept of time and forced to maintain a single position for God knew how long, Sol was in agony like never before. Memories of Wang Yan's exploits and training were fresh in his mind, as vivid as if those lives had been his own, yet they were nothing compared to the pain he endured here.
He was eventually approached by a man who claimed to be his public defender, assigned by the state. The man sounded dull and irritated, not even bothering to offer his name before going straight into the details of the case.
According to him, Linda Luthor was pushing for capital punishment, and it seemed very likely due to the massive public support behind her. The clip of Sol admitting to the crime and showing no remorse had been caught on camera for all to see, making a trial unnecessary.
To make matters worse, several people were willing to testify against him: neighbors, family friends, relatives, classmates, and even teachers.
Even if the defense tried to argue that Sol was mentally unstable, it changed nothing. He was an ascendant with a spirit patron. How could they allow a madman with such dangerous abilities to roam free? No matter which direction the case took, only death awaited him.
"Everyone wants you dead. Even the government can't keep you alive. All I can do is prolong the case, but your death sentence is certain."
Those were his exact words.
More time passed, and Sol slowly grew accustomed to life here. He plunged himself deep into Wang Yan's memories, using them to shield himself from the ugly reality of his own life.
Sol never complained.
He never begged.
He never tried to bargain.
He simply accepted his fate in silence.
That was until he felt a change in the air.
Footsteps became hurried. Voices rose. Even the atmosphere itself felt wrong.
Bam!
Sol heard the door to his cell yank open, but on the other side, there was only silence. Silent contemplation.
"Aurelius Sol…"
The voice was deep and neutral, lacking the judgment that had saturated every other voice he had heard since his arrest.
"Let me guess. Shit happened?" Sol chuckled before coughing several times.
His voice was weak, his throat dry, but the confidence behind his words remained, revealed through a mischievous grin.
He received no verbal response. Instead, action followed. One by one, the chains binding his straitjacket loosened until a great burden seemed to lift from his body. Then the straitjacket was removed, followed by the blindfold.
For the first time, Sol saw his cell.
He wasn't surprised. It looked as bad as it smelled.
Ignoring his surroundings, his gaze skimmed past everyone present until it settled on the figure blocking the entrance.
It was an elderly man, clearly in his mid-fifties, wearing a tired expression. He wore a striped blue shirt that hugged his protruding belly, matching his overgrown gray beard and pants. Apart from a Jolex watch and a pair of glasses, his clothing was simple.
Yet Sol recognized him instantly.
A veteran in the realm of ascendants, and the only successfully retired ascendant in the history of Earth 5580. The wielder of the Seer Origin Core, nicknamed humanity's greatest patriot.
Donald Hill.
Donald stared at Sol with heavy, pitiful eyes. He had watched the news the day the boy was taken into custody and decided to investigate personally. After over thirty years on the field, he had come to understand one truth: monsters were not born, they were made.
Using his abilities, he witnessed the horrors of Sol's life firsthand. He understood how the boy had become what he was, but that was not the truth the world wanted.
Even now, Sol wore a mischievous smile in a body that was only a shadow of what it had been a month ago.
After being deliberately starved and weakened out of fear he might break free, he had lost a significant amount of weight. His body was emaciated, his knees bruised purple, and his bony legs looked fragile. Donald doubted Sol could walk anytime soon.
Yet even after all that, he could still joke and smile as though nothing had happened.
"Poor thing," Donald sighed heavily.
For the first time, Sol's smile vanished.
For a brief moment, his eyes turned cold and calculating, revealing a glimpse of the rage and hatred boiling within him. Then, just as quickly, the smile returned.
"Since I'm getting out, can I get my hanfu?" Sol asked.
Donald was stunned by the strange request. All he could do was sigh and turn to the soldiers.
"Bring him out when you're done, and be gentle. That boy is worth more than you can afford."
With that, he left, listening to Sol taunt the soldiers, claiming that even on his deathbed he could still kill all four of them with a single dagger.
Most would dismiss it as ranting.
Donald did not.
An hour later, Sol was wheeled into a room, dressed in a hospital gown. The room was spacious yet mostly empty, divided by a long bend that separated the space.
On one side sat Sol, accompanied by a few cameramen stationed in the corner. On the other side were several dignitaries Sol didn't recognize, though he could tell they were important based on the quality of their suits and the size of their bellies.
He spotted Donald among them, as well as Linda.
She looked irritated to be there.
Sol paid her little attention.
"Aurelius Sol…"
The bald, obese man built like three men combined exhaled his name, prompting several faces to twist in disgust. His breathing was loud and labored, yet he hadn't bothered to loosen the top button of his shirt. Sweat poured down his face despite the air conditioning, making him look like a man suffocating in his own body.
Sol wanted nothing more than to make a fat joke, but he knew that might earn him a firing squad, so he stayed silent.
"I am Larry Smith, President of the Ascendant Oversight Council. After review by the Survival Council, the Ascendant Oversight Authority, and the Continental Defense Command, this body has reached a unified decision regarding your crimes and your continued existence."
Everyone expected a reaction from Sol.
He gave none.
He stared directly into Larry's eyes with a blank expression. A brief pause stretched between them before Larry continued.
"You stand guilty of the unlawful killing of Mr. and Mrs. Aurelius, and of engaging in forbidden mystic practices without authorization."
"Under ordinary circumstances, these crimes would warrant permanent incarceration or execution. However, this is not an ordinary time. Humanity stands on the brink of extinction. Resources are limited. Power is scarce. Survival takes precedence over retribution."
Bam!
Linda slammed her hand against the desk, teeth clenched in barely restrained rage. She glared at Sol with pure hatred, as though she wanted nothing more than to see him dead.
"Therefore, this council sentences you not to death, but to service," Larry continued moments later.
"You are hereby conscripted into frontline ascendant operations along the Texas border zones, one of the most volatile and high-casualty regions under human control."
"You will serve humanity for a period of ten years. Your sentence is one of atonement through combat. You will fight where others cannot. You will stand where failure means annihilation."
"Prior to deployment, you will spend two months under the supervision of Donald Hill. During this period, you will undergo intensive physical recovery, origin core training, mysticism training, and combat conditioning. Afterward, you will be sent to the frontlines. Do you understand?"
Larry waited.
Sol said nothing.
He simply stared at him with empty eyes.
The silence grew awkward.
Slowly, Sol parted his cracked lips and spoke for the first time since arriving.
"Why?"