The doors of the tribunal hall slammed shut behind him, the heavy clank of iron locks ringing like a death knell for Ethan's fate.
He stood at the center, surrounded by circular tiers of seats where tribunal officers, faction representatives, and several senior agents watched. The dim torchlight flickered against cold, indifferent faces, shadows stretching long and low like silent hounds ready to pounce on prey.
Ethan was ordered to remove his weapons and badge, a symbolic stripping of his identity. His chest felt hollow, yet a faint, sardonic smile lingered at the corner of his lips.
"Ethan Veil," the tribunal officer's voice was low and gravelly, scraping like stone, "you are charged with unauthorized access to classified files, investigating the archives without approval, interacting with the source of nightmares, and attempting to conceal the truth. How do you plead?"
The hall suddenly grew heavier. Every gaze was fixed on him.
Ethan cleared his throat, his tone unnaturally casual:"Plead? I thought you'd just hand down the sentence. It's a rare delight to be given a chance to speak."
Soft murmurs spread across the room. Some snorted, others frowned.
The tribunal officer's gaze was icy:"This is your last chance at leniency. You'd better value it."
Ethan shrugged and tilted his head toward the firelight:"I merely did what you all dared not—pursue the truth. As for this so-called 'concealment,' I wonder… are you more afraid of what I might reveal than my own actions?"
The words landed like a stone cast into still water. Several faction representatives exchanged sharp glances, their expressions visibly shifting.
Karl stood at the back, fists clenched, but silent. His eyes betrayed a storm he was trying to contain.
The tribunal officer slammed the gavel heavily:"Enough! Unauthorized actions that violate regulations are grounds for expulsion from the Bureau!"
At the word "expulsion," Ethan's smile deepened, tinged with mockery:"Expelled? How convenient. Just kick me out, and you don't have to worry about me digging up old truths."
For a moment, the hall was silent—so silent that a pin drop could be heard.
Tension hung in the air like a taut wire.
—At that instant, a cold, cutting voice rang out from the far end of the dais.
"I object."
All eyes turned toward the source: the Director. His expression was as cold as ever, but his gaze overpowered everyone else, instantly shifting the hall's atmosphere.
"Ethan may have overstepped, but his investigation brought back undeniable evidence," the Director said, calm but edged with uncompromising authority. "Your desire to expel him stems not from regulation, but from fear—fear that he will uncover what you'd rather keep hidden."
The words hit like a hammer. Murmurs erupted; faction representatives' faces stiffened, frozen in place.
"Director—!" one representative shouted, only to be instantly silenced by the Director's piercing gaze.
Ethan looked up at him, emotions flickering across his eyes. He couldn't tell whether the Director was truly protecting him or merely using him as a pawn.
The Director rose slowly, his tone sharp as a blade:"The actions of Ethan Veil are classified as 'unauthorized investigation.' He receives a formal reprimand. However, he shall remain within the Bureau under close supervision."
The verdict fell like a chain hovering over Ethan's neck—temporarily loosened, but not removed.
Debate erupted throughout the hall. Factional tensions became clearer. Some were resentful, others sneered, and some harbored lethal intent in their eyes.
Ethan lowered his head, a strangely absurd sense of relief rising in him. He muttered softly:"Supervision? Excellent. At least it means you're not ready to let me die."
Karl heard it and almost laughed aloud—but forced it down.
When the iron doors reopened, Ethan was escorted out of the tribunal hall. Cold wind struck his face. He exhaled slowly, silently vowing:
This is not the end, but the beginning.
—The tribunal was a mere performance within the Bureau. The true judgment still lay hidden within that one file—the Shadow Archives.