REBORN HERO: THE ULTIMATE SYSTEM

CHAPTER 002: COURT OF LIES

The corridor stretched out endlessly, its metallic walls gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights. Valor's boots shuffled heavily against the polished floor, his wrists bound by reinforced chains that glowed faintly with runes designed to suppress power. Flanked by masked special unit operatives armed with antilife lasguns, he kept his head high, though his gaze lingered on the lead operative ahead. In the man's hand was a small, ornate box.

The box that was the keeper of his son's soul. 

Heavier, even, than the weight of his chains.

He tried to concentrate on the regular rhythm of the steps, but his mind played traitor. He replayed in his head the events of the past year: his son's anger, the destruction in the name of justice, the hierarchy he once protected reduced to ashes. And now, here he was, bound and accused, unsure if he was walking towards judgment or execution.

"Funny how the mighty fall, isn't it?" one of the soldiers behind him said with disdain.

Valor didn't turn to face him; this much nonsense he had expected.

"You were a hero once," the soldier continued. "The hero. I used to tell my kid stories about you, about how you saved the world. And now? Look at you. Dragged through these halls like a common criminal."

Another soldier snorted. "More like a hungry hero. Always desperate for glory. Couldn't even keep his own family in check, and now the world's paying the price for it."

The words stung. They weren't wrong.

“Tell me, Valor," the first soldier pressed, stepping closer. "Why'd you let your son run rampant? You could've stopped him. Hell, you should've stopped him. Or were you too busy basking in your own legend to notice the monster you were raising?"

"Enough," the lead operative snapped without turning. "Focus on the mission.

But he wasn't finished. His voice dropped, venomous. "I bet you enjoyed it, didn't you? Watching him tear the world apart, thinking it made you look stronger. The great Beacon of Justice, letting his son destroy everything he claimed to protect. Pathetic."

Valor came to a stop. Slowly, he turned his head, his gaze locking onto the soldier. "Say that again," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

The soldier wavered backward.

"That's enough!" the lead operative yelled, his cold, gray eyes turning through the tension. "Jenkins, another word out of you, and I'll have you reassigned to the frontlines. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Jenkins muttered, though he gave a glare in Valor's direction before shutting up.

They continued on with their march, tension still thick in the air.

"You know," another soldier said after a while, the mockery in his tone softer now. "You aren't even a threat anymore. No more Beacon. No more light. Just a washed-up old man who wouldn't even make the qualifications of a D-class."

Valor's fists closed, and the chains bit into his skin.

"Oh, you didn't think we knew?" the soldier continued, grinning. "Yeah, we've been briefed. No more Class 0. No incalculable power. Just shadow travel. A glorified parlor trick for running away. Pretty ironic, don't you think? The world's greatest hero, reduced to… whatever this is."

Valor's lips twitched into a faint, bitter smile. "I still have enough left to deal with you."

The soldier’s grin faltered, but the lead operative raised a hand, silencing any further remarks. “That’s enough,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

The silence stretched as they approached the towering double doors at the end of the corridor. The ornate carvings on the metal depicted the history of the Warlords and Warriors, each etching a reminder of the sacrifices made to preserve the fragile balance of power.

The lead operative broke the silence. "You had it all once, more power than any of us could dream of. You could've protected the world, shaped it, done something good with it. But you let your misplaced priorities ruin you." The man shook his head. Valor didn't say a word.

"Do you even know what people call you now?" he said, persisting. "The Fallen Beacon. A symbol of everything wrong with the Warlords. Arrogant. Blind. Corrupt."

Valor's voice was soft, but firm. "Not all Warlords are corrupt."

"No," he agreed. "But enough are. And you? You're the proof." 

Valor looked up at him weirdly. He didn't understand how he was proof of a corrupt hero. He did everything in his power to save the world from the hands of Dusk. Of course, he was his son, but he never meant for any of this to happen. He was retired, in fact, and he had to come out of retirement to save the world. Which he did. What were these soldiers fussing about, anyway?

They came to a stop in front of the doors, looming like a last judgment. The lead operative turned, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "This is the end of the line, Valor. Whatever happens in there… you brought it on yourself."

Groaning doors showed beyond the entrance of a circular courtroom. The council sat, very high above them, indistinguishable in the shadow, though judgment weighed in every glance that went up and down. It was dead quiet, save for the hum of energy from the cold walls.

Valor stepped inside. Chains rattled at each movement of his body. The heavy booms shut with a thud behind him.

The silence in the courtroom was oppressive, gnawing at the edges of a man's composure. Valor stood shackled at the center of the chamber, his broad shoulders squared, head held high. The chains binding his wrists glinted under the harsh white lights, a stark contrast to the darkened expressions of the council seated before him. He refused to bow. Not to them, not to their lies.

The semi-circular chamber was packed with spectators, their faces a mix of disdain, curiosity, and muted satisfaction. Behind the podium sat the council-seven members draped in ceremonial robes, their faces impassive masks of judgment. Among them, Valor spotted eyes he knew, former allies, people who once fought beside him, bled beside him, and now sat as vultures atop his trial, cloaked in neutrality, their knives hidden.

"Valor," the voice of the High Arbiter boomed, cold and merciless. "You are accused of aiding and abetting the rogue Dusk in his campaign to dismantle the hierarchy and endanger the world. Your actions, or lack thereof, have brought about untold destruction and loss of life. How do you plead?"

Valor frowned, still somewhat perplexed. "What the hell is going on?" He muttered under his breath?

“Not guilty,” he said in a voice without wavering, cutting through the silent air like cold steel. “I have served this world for fifteen years, bled for it, sacrificed my family for it. My son. Dusk. was led astray by grief and rage. I met with him not to conspire, but to save him. And I did not kill him because he is my son.”

Gasps rippled through the audience, whispers erupting like a tide. The High Arbiter raised a hand, silencing the room.

"So you admit to meeting with the rogue?" one of the council members pressed, her tone laced with accusation.

"I do," Valor said shortly. "I met with him because he was my responsibility. Because none of you—" his gaze swept over the council, defiance etched on his face, "—none of you would lift a finger to understand why he did what he did. You judged him, just as you now judge me, without seeking the truth."

“Enough!" the High Arbiter barked, his gavel striking the podium. "You speak of truth, yet you shielded a man who sought to tear the world apart. You claim loyalty to the hierarchy, yet you refuse to eliminate the greatest threat we have ever faced.”

"Because it wasn't him!" Valor's voice thundered, sending the room silent. His chains clanked as he moved forward. "Dusk wanted to bring down the order, I will give you that. But he wasn't the disease. You were. All of you. You condemned his mother to death for a crime she did not commit. You made the monster you now employ to rationalize your betrayal."

"Betrayal?" Another council member sneered, leaning forward. "You are the betrayer, Valor. You exploited your reputation, your power, to gain glory and sympathy while your son waged war on us. The people see you for what you are—a fraud."

Anger seethed in Valor's chest, but he so willed himself to be collected. "Twist my story into whatever you have to," he said with a grim smile. "I'll be here, standing unbroken, while your pretty lies will never wipe away the truth.”

"Unbroken?" The High Arbiter leaned forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "You have already been broken, Valor. Your power-your status as a Class-0 warrior-is gone. You stand here as nothing more than a shadow of what you once were. Barely a D-class. A man who can only shadow travel-an ability fit for cowards and escape artists."

The words cut, yet Valor refused to show the wound. He stared back with an equal glare for that of the High Arbiter. "And yet, here I stand," he said, low and firm, never wavering. "While you hide behind your robes and your lies."

The air in the room was heavy with tension.

The High Arbiter straightened, his voice as cold as the shadows that filled the chamber. "The evidence is undeniable. You met with Dusk, knowing the threat he posed to our world. You allowed him to continue his rampage, prioritizing your personal ties over your sworn duty. And even now, you stand before this council, unrepentant, defiant, and blind to the destruction you have wrought."

The gavel struck the podium, the sound echoing like a death knell through the silent courtroom. "The council finds you guilty of treason against the hierarchy. For your crimes, Valor, the sentence is death."

Gasps rippled through the audience, but the High Arbiter’s voice rose above the murmurs like the tolling of a final bell. "You shall be executed today, at dusk. Furthermore, the soul of your son, Dusk, contained within the artifact you once sought to protect, will be destroyed alongside you. Both of you shall be erased from existence, your legacies as warnings to those who would dare defy the order.”