Trinatha asked, his voice edged with nervous curiosity,
> "Former council member of the Empire?... and by Liberator—you mean like a rebellion?"
Logan's grin returned, relaxed yet sharp.
> "That's not exactly what we are, but that's the gist of it,"
he said with a shrug, then added,
"We don't want to topple the system… just change the way it's rotting from the inside."
Logan continued, his tone calm but edged with frustration.
> "See, Trinatha… the current Emperor, Bhairava, is too arbitrary when it comes to new people. As a ruler, he's unfit to deal with the unknown. And as for his council—half of them are puppeteers. Whatever they whisper into his ears, he believes without a shred of doubt."
He gave a faint, almost pitying smirk.
> "I think you can understand that now, based on what happened in the palace… yeah?"
Trinatha's breath caught. The memory of Bhairava lunging at him—the gleam of golden claws, the split-second pain, the sensation of his body tearing apart—flashed through his mind. His chest tightened, and he shuddered, realizing how close he had come to death… and how broken his power still felt within him.
The nurse, noticing Trinatha's unease, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"You're not in danger anymore, kid," she said softly, then shot Logan a brief look and sighed. "He may be... like this, but you're safe around him."
"Hey! What do you mean 'like this'?" Logan protested from behind.
Aira ignored him completely and turned back to Trinatha.
"How about this? We'll go to your friend in the prison, get him out, help you settle down. And tomorrow, this buffoon"—she gestured at Logan—"will answer your questions. Sound good?"
Trinatha let out a small, relieved breath and nodded.
"Thank you… Miss Aira."
She smiled warmly.
"Good boy. Don't mention it."
Then, turning to Logan with mock politeness:
"So, 'Leader', shall we take him to his friend?"
Logan sighed.
"The way you said Leader felt weird. Care to explain that?"
Aira smirked.
"Whatever you mean by that, Leader. I was just calling you Leader, Leader."
"Oi, stop emphasizing it! You're making me uncomfortable!" Logan grumbled, turning away. "Fine, come on, Trinatha. Let's go see your friend."
The corridor hummed with the faint buzz of overhead lights as Trinatha followed Logan, with Nurse Aira trailing close behind. The air smelled faintly of metal and sterilizer — a constant reminder they were still underground.
Logan glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow.
> "Why are you following us, Nurse Aira?"
Aira crossed her arms, walking with practiced calm.
> "To keep your brutish ways in check, and to look after Trinatha. He's still my patient, after all."
Her tone was sharp, but there was something under it — something quieter, heavier — that caught Logan's eye. His pace slowed a little as he spoke, half teasing, half cautious.
> "Is it because of how I stormed off to the Empire? You want to nag me about that, don't you—"
> "Enough!"
Her sudden snap cut through the hall like a whip. Trinatha flinched, almost tripping on his step. Aira's voice softened right after, but her words trembled as she added,
> "I don't want to talk about your reckless action... after all, who am I to—right?"
Logan said nothing. His silence was weightier than words. For a long minute, the only sounds were their footsteps echoing against the metal floor until they reached the elevator.
The doors slid open with a soft chime, and they stepped inside. The hum of descent filled the awkward quiet until Trinatha, desperate to break it, gave an uneasy chuckle.
> "S-so... you guys know each other since a long time, huh? Ahaha..."
Aira sighed and smiled faintly at him.
> "Sorry for the awkwardness, kid. It's all thanks to this brute."
Logan could feel her glare burning into the back of his head.
I can feel knives and daggers being thrown at me right now... he thought with a shiver.
Without turning around, he muttered under his breath,
> "I won't do it again."
Her eyes narrowed.
> "Just focus on the kid for now. I'll make sure that's not the extent of your apology later."
Logan said nothing. Trinatha thought of stepping in, but the tension was too thick, too charged with history he didn't understand. So he stayed quiet.
Then Logan turned, his tone light — maybe too light.
> "So, Trinatha… what did you want to become when you entered the Empire?"
The question startled him.
> "Me? I… I wanted to become a medic. In the Empire's army."
Logan's expression changed — the faintest ghost of a smile, tinged with something wistful.
> "A noble ambition," he said quietly. "Savior of brothers. Pillar of sanity among the gritty soldiers… A medic."
For a moment, his eyes weren't on Trinatha or even the steel walls around them — but somewhere far away, in a place where screams and sirens might once have echoed.
The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.
No one spoke as they stepped out.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a long corridor swallowed in shadow. The air was cooler here, faintly metallic, and the only light came from a few flickering fluorescent tubes that hummed like tired bees overhead. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, each step echoing off the cold metal walls.
Before the darkness of the cells began, there stood a narrow checkpoint — a counter with half a dozen guards stationed around it. The moment they saw who had arrived, all six shot to their feet in alarm, the scrape of chairs breaking the silence.
It wasn't every day their leader himself appeared at the prison gate.
They straightened and bowed in unison. For a moment, no one dared speak — until a young guard, barely into his twenties, stepped forward. His light brown hair caught what little light there was, and he offered a bright, almost nervous smile.
>"Welcome to the prison, Leader," the young man said, voice earnest. "We would've prepared a proper reception if you had announced your arrival. Still, we— we're honored to have you here."
Logan chuckled lightly, eyes narrowing with amused recognition.
> "You the new recruit?" he asked, pointing a gloved finger. "You look far too lively compared to the geezers standing beside you."
A few of the older guards stiffened, uncertain whether to laugh. Logan tilted his head toward them and said casually,
> "Lift your heads up already. I didn't come here for ceremony."
The guards straightened, relieved yet still uneasy under his gaze.
Behind him, Trinatha and Aira watched in silence — the boy studying every detail of this place he'd never imagined visiting, and the nurse's sharp eyes never leaving Logan's back.
>"Take us to the new prisoner," Logan ordered.
The young guard straightened immediately, nodding. The older men beside him followed suit, falling into step without a word.
>"And where's the jailer?" Logan added, glancing around.
"Sir," the young man replied, a little sheepish, "the jailer has taken a week off for his… you know—health."
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled.
>"Again? Fever?" He waved it off. "Fine. Just lead the way."
He turned slightly, catching Aira's eye, then nodded for her and Trinatha to follow.
They moved deeper into the corridor. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, uneven shadows that stretched and collapsed with every step. The air grew heavier the farther they walked—cold, stale, and faintly antiseptic.
Logan slowed his pace just enough to glance back at Trinatha. The boy's shoulders were tense, his steps quick, betraying both nerves and anticipation.
>"You care about that guy…" Logan said casually, "Lakshman. Why?"
Trinatha blinked, caught off guard.
>"Huh? Yeah… I do. He's been my friend since my childhood—"
>"That's in your universe," Logan cut in, his voice calm but firm. "What about this Lakshman? Why do you trust him?"
Trinatha frowned, genuinely confused.
>"I… I don't get it. He is my friend. That's why."
He hesitated, then added, more earnestly,
>"When he came as the intern, he saved me. My friends. My father. So… I trust him."
Logan hummed softly, eyes forward.
"Hm. He might've had ulterior motives, you know."
Trinatha stiffened.
>"I'm not saying he's your enemy," Logan continued, his tone measured now.
>"I'm saying—don't confuse the man you grew up with… and the man in this prison. Vigilance keeps you alive in the multiverse. Familiarity gets you killed."
The corridor swallowed their footsteps as they walked on.
Trinatha didn't respond. But his jaw tightened, and his eyes stayed fixed ahead—toward the place where his friend was waiting.
"You see," Logan said, his voice lowering as they walked,
>"there are countless universes out there. Each one has its own Lakshmans… its own Trinathas. Sometimes their lives mirror each other. Sometimes they diverge so completely that only the name remains."
He glanced back at Trinatha, his gaze steady.
>"Just like a universe's law—change is the only constant—it applies to the multiverse as well. That's why I'm asking you this."
A brief pause.
>"Are you sure about him?"
Trinatha didn't need long. Only a heartbeat passed before he answered, his voice firm, unwavering.
>"He's still the same Lakshman I know," he said. "Just… a bit older now."
Logan studied him for a moment, then let out a slow sigh.
>"If you're that certain, then I'll accept it." He gave a small nod. "I won't probe further. Unnecessary doubt is one of the most destructive things in any healthy relationship—especially in ours."
From behind, Nurse Aira gently patted Trinatha's back.
>"Your friend's goal may still be a mystery," she said softly, "but one thing is clear—he's hell-bent on protecting you. For now… that's enough."
Trinatha turned to her and smiled, warmth easing the tension in his chest.
>"Thank you, Miss Aira."
She returned the smile, just as the corridor ahead darkened—signaling they were close.
As they approached the deeper section of the prison block, the corridor grew darker and quieter. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights above echoed through the long concrete passage.
Then—
THUD!
A loud slam reverberated through the hallway, followed by a strained grunt.
Another metallic crash rang out, like something heavy striking iron bars.
Logan's eyebrow lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth curling with amusement.
"Oh?" he murmured. "Still lively? Quite the tough fellow… your friend, I mean."
Trinatha immediately quickened his pace, his heart beginning to pound.
"Are we there now?" he asked anxiously. "Was that Lakshman? What's happening in there?"
Logan didn't stop walking.
Instead, he simply glanced ahead toward the end of the corridor where a dim light flickered outside a reinforced cell.
"You'll see."
The young guard slowed as they reached the final turn, the sounds growing louder now—grunts, metal rattling violently, something striking the floor.
Trinatha swallowed.
Whatever was happening inside that cell… Lakshman clearly wasn't sitting quietly.
And Logan looked almost entertained by it.
A thick metallic wall stood before them, far heavier than the other cells they had passed. Even without touching it, one could tell the sheer width of the reinforced plating. This wasn't a normal prison cell.
This was containment.
The young guard stepped forward nervously and typed a code into the keypad beside the door.
Beep.
A second later, the heavy door released with a long mechanical hiss as pressure locks disengaged.
The metal slid open.
What they saw inside made the guards stiffen.
Lakshman stood in the center of the cell, his head lowered slightly as he caught his breath. His chest rose and fell slowly, controlled but heavy.
His wrists were restrained by thick cuffs, connected to chains that emitted a faint glow. The chains hummed with a low mechanical resonance, like something actively suppressing power.
Behind him…
The wall looked like it had been struck by a meteor.
A massive crater spread across the reinforced plating, cracks spiderwebbing outward from the center of impact.
Chunks of metal had bent inward like softened clay.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Logan tilted his head slightly, examining the damage with clear interest.
"Well…" he said calmly.
"What happened here?"
Lakshman remained standing in the center of the cell, his head lowered, breathing heavily. The faint glow from the chains around his wrists pulsed slowly, accompanied by a low mechanical hum.
Logan studied him for a moment, then a grin slowly spread across his face.
"So…" he said casually.
"You tried to force your way out of the restraints, huh? Lion's cub."
He placed a hand gently on Trinatha's shoulder.
"You see," Logan continued, almost like a teacher explaining something to a curious student, "that chain is normally used to restrain Wyvern-class entities."
Trinatha's eyes widened slightly.
"It's made from a special physical material called Urdin," Logan went on. "It can stretch to incredible lengths while remaining nearly indestructible."
He gestured toward the faintly glowing chain connecting Lakshman to the floor anchor.
"This particular restraint allows movement only within thirty-five percent of the room. Go any further, and it pulls you back."
Logan's smile sharpened.
"And if someone tries to stretch it halfway toward the door…" he said lightly, "…the recoil becomes increasingly violent. The harder you force it, the harsher it snaps back."
Then Logan turned his head toward the damaged wall behind Lakshman.
The crater was unmistakable.
Metal plating several layers thick had caved inward like clay struck by a cannonball.
Logan chuckled softly.
"Well… judging by that crater behind your friend," he said, "I'd say he's at least Wyvern-level in physical strength."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances.
Trinatha, however, wasn't looking at the wall.
His eyes were fixed entirely on Lakshman.
Trinatha's eyes lingered on the chains, the faint glow, the strain in Lakshman's posture.
His fists clenched.
He turned to Logan.
"Please… release him," he said, his voice tight. "He's hurting."
Logan let out a slow sigh, as if the request was expected—but tiresome.
"You don't seem to understand the situation here," he replied calmly. "He is a member of the Empire's elite warrior troupe—the Moon Unit."
His gaze shifted briefly toward Lakshman, then back to Trinatha.
"He is our organization's natural enemy. An asset we refuse to let go easily."
Then Logan's expression stilled completely—flat, unreadable.
"He is an information bank for us," he said. "And we will get the information we want."
The meaning hit instantly.
Trinatha's eyes sharpened, his jaw tightening as he stepped forward.
"I know what 'getting' information from an asset means," he said, his voice low but firm. "And I don't think I'd like that very much."
Logan scoffed lightly, almost amused.
"And what exactly do you think you can do about it?"
THUD.
A sharp cry escaped Logan.
His body jerked slightly as he clutched the right side of his abdomen, turning toward the source of the hit.
"What are you doing, Aira?" he snapped.
Nurse Aira stood there, her expression calm—but her eyes carried a quiet warning.
"Stop having fun with the kid," she said evenly. "He'll get the wrong impression of you."
Nurse Aira stepped forward, placing herself slightly between Logan and Trinatha.
She turned to Trinatha, her expression softening just a little.
"He's just testing your reactions to situations," she said, her voice calm and steady. "Don't take everything he says at face value."
Her gaze flickered briefly toward Lakshman before returning to Trinatha.
"We are already aware that your friend is just an intern for the… infamous Moon Unit," she added, with the faintest hint of dry emphasis. "The kind of information he holds isn't something we wouldn't already know."
There was reassurance in her words—but also control. A quiet attempt to stabilize the situation before it escalated further.
Behind her, Logan exhaled through his nose, the earlier tension in his posture easing just slightly, though the faint trace of amusement still lingered in his eyes.
Trinatha hesitated.
His gaze drifted back to Lakshman—the chains, the strain, the silence between them.
The relief of seeing him alive still lingered… but now it was tangled with something else.
Uncertainty.
Trinatha's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of everything finally catching up to him.
"I'm… already exhausted with all the things that have happened," he said quietly.
Then, before anyone could respond—
He brought his hands together.
Lowered his head.
Closed his eyes.
"Please…" he said, his voice soft but steady. "Let my friend go."
The gesture was simple.
But in that moment, it carried more weight than any threat he could have made.
The room fell silent.
Even the faint hum of the Urdin chains seemed louder now.
Lakshman's eyes widened slightly, something shifting in his expression—something between disbelief and irritation.
"…Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to it.
From the side, Logan watched the scene unfold, his gaze unreadable.
Everything that had happened until now surged through Trinatha all at once.
The violence before entering the Empire.
The sacrifices made along the way.
Dreams that had once burned bright—now shattered.
Hopes crushed beneath reality.
Promises… that would never be fulfilled.
He had endured it all.
He had walked into the Empire carrying that pain, still holding onto one fragile goal—
—to become a medic. To save lives.
And yet, just days ago…
The very Emperor whose army he wished to join had cut him down without hesitation.
His body torn apart.
His purpose… mocked.
And now—
His friend stood before him, chained like a beast, treated as nothing more than an asset… something to be broken for information.
And this man—
This blonde man—
Had the audacity to toy with him.
To test him.
To treat all of this as if it were some trivial exchange.
Something inside Trinatha snapped.
Anger rose first.
Then it twisted—
Into something deeper.
Rage.
Raw. Violent. Consuming.
It clashed against the helplessness clawing at his chest… against the exhaustion that had been building with every step he had taken until now.
For a moment, it felt like he might explode.
Like he might scream.
Fight.
Break.
But in the end—
The exhaustion won.
It drowned everything.
The anger.
The rage.
The pain.
All of it collapsed inward, leaving behind only one thing.
A quiet, desperate plea.
And so…
He lowered his head.
Joined his hands.
Closed his eyes.
Not in submission—
But because he had nothing left to fight with.
"…Please," he said.
Not as a demand.
Not as a threat.
But as someone who simply wanted this… to stop. He realised he was vulnerable, far too vulnerable here.
Logan watched Trinatha for a long moment.
Then—
He snapped his fingers.
A sharp, clean sound echoed through the cell.
The humming chains around Lakshman's wrists flickered—
—and shattered.
Not with a loud explosion, but as if they had simply lost the right to exist.
They broke apart into a million faint fragments, dissolving into nothingness mid-air.
The weight was gone.
Lakshman flexed his wrists instinctively, rubbing the skin where the restraints had been, his eyes still locked onto Logan—wary, alert.
But he didn't stay there.
He moved.
Straight toward Trinatha.
Trinatha still stood with his head bowed, hands joined, eyes shut—frozen in that quiet plea.
Without a word—
Smack!
Lakshman bumped his forehead against Trinatha's.
"Stop bowing… idiot."
Trinatha's eyes snapped open.
For a second, he didn't move.
Then he saw it.
Lakshman—free.
Standing right in front of him.
Then a hug to show Trinatha that he was right there.
Lakshman who saw how Trinatha was about to break down said.
"Never again."
His voice was low, but unwavering.
"You will never go through something like this again."
A pause.
"Not while I'm breathing… even if it's my last breath, brother."
The words didn't echo.
They didn't need to.
They settled into the room with a weight far heavier than the chains that had just been broken.
Lakshman shifted slightly, his expression tightening as he looked down at Trinatha.
"Alright… now get off me," he said, pushing him back just a little. "I don't want your snot all over my body."
The words were sharp—
…but the tone wasn't.
Trinatha blinked, then let out a breathy laugh as he pulled away, hastily wiping his face.
"Yeah… sorry," he said, scratching the back of his head.
For a moment, the heaviness in the room eased.
Just a little.
From the side, Logan exhaled, watching the two with a faint, almost satisfied look before turning to Aira.
"Well," he said, stretching his shoulders lightly, "I think they've had enough for one day."
He glanced back at the two boys, then added,
"How about we get them a proper meal? Shall we take them to the cafeteria, Miss Aira?"
Aira didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she fixed Logan with a long, unimpressed stare.
"…That's the least you could do," she said flatly. "After putting them through all this."
Logan winced faintly under her gaze, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright," he muttered.
Then, turning back toward Trinatha and Lakshman, he gestured toward the exit.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get you two something to eat."
The tension lingered in the air—
But for the first time since entering the prison…
It no longer felt suffocating.