The Return Undeserved

Six hours later, they were ushered through the main doors of the Tribunal's highest chamber.

The Hall of Concordance was cavernous—twelve stories high, crowned by a dome of milky crystal that funneled daylight in a pale beam onto the central dais.

It was said the light was proof of the Tribunal's impartiality.

That it burned the shadows from all testimony.

Jin Mu had never believed in such stories.

Yet today, as he stepped into that hush, he felt the prickle of unseen gazes and the weight of the Primordial Thread humming low in his spine.

The three of them—Jin Mu, Shen Yan, and Su Lin—stood before the half-circle of stone thrones.

Seven Tribunal Judges sat in silence, faces hidden by mirrored masks.

Each mask reflected a distorted image of the accused—fractured, disjointed, inhuman.

And from behind those silver faces came a single, resonant voice:

"Jin Mu. Shen Yan. Su Lin."

No title. No courtesy.

Only the flat statement of their names.

"You are charged with seditious conspiracy against the Concord, the theft of human property, and the unsanctioned deployment of higher-sequence abilities within Concord territory."

The final charge was the most damning.

Any use of power above the third derivement required explicit sanction.

Jin Mu had violated it half a dozen times since regressing.

He lifted his chin.

"Under Concord Edict 17-Black, the Tribunal cannot pass final sentence without full accounting of circumstances," he said evenly. "You will hear testimony."

For a moment, the chamber was so silent that the beam of light itself felt oppressive.

Finally, one masked figure leaned forward.

"We will hear it," came the echoing voice.

One by one, witnesses were brought forth.

Merchants Jin had threatened into giving up slaves.

Concord tax collectors whose caravans he had intercepted.

Agents who had found entire slave camps destroyed, their guards slaughtered.

Su Lin's shoulders trembled as she listened.

Shen Yan's eyes never left the masked judges.

Jin Mu said nothing.

Every word spoken only confirmed what he already knew:

There would be no absolution.

No recognition that their rebellion was justice.

Finally, when the last witness was dismissed, the presiding judge rose.

"Does the accused wish to present mitigation?"

Jin Mu stepped forward.

"Only the truth."

He placed his palm over his heart.

Felt the locus respond.

Felt the Iron Vein and the Primordial Thread align in perfect resonance.

"These crimes were committed because your Concord profits from the ruin of children," he said quietly. "Because your nobles gorge themselves on suffering. Because you have turned bondage into commerce."

A ripple passed through the court.

Some of the attending scribes dared to lift their heads.

"And if you choose to execute me for opposing it," Jin Mu continued, "so be it."

The silence returned—thicker this time.

Then the presiding judge inclined her masked face.

"Your conviction is not in question," she said. "Only your fate."

Just as she spoke, the door at the rear of the chamber swung open.

And an old man stepped inside.

He was thin as a scarecrow, clad in layered robes the color of drying blood. His hair was snow-white, and his eyes—clear, iron-grey—fixed instantly on Jin Mu.

In that gaze, something in Jin's chest turned to ice.

It was him.

The First Warden of the Concord's Shadow Legates.

The hidden hand who had overseen the slave economy for three generations.

In his previous life, Jin Mu had never once laid eyes on this man.

He had only seen the destruction he wrought.

The First Warden's voice, when he spoke, was like a knife drawn across silk.

"You will not execute him," he said.

Even the judges shifted in their thrones.

"Warden," the presiding judge began, "this Tribunal is—"

He lifted one pale hand.

"Enough."

He walked to the dais, slow and unhurried.

"The Tribunal may deliberate sentence," he said, "but it is the Concord that decides how to…leverage…unorthodox assets."

His gaze fixed on Jin Mu's.

"You," he murmured, "are an asset."

Jin's pulse thundered in his ears.

"You possess an anomaly I have long searched for," the Warden continued. "A thread that precedes all derivements. All splinters. All Paths."

Jin Mu went still.

He knows.

He knows.

The Primordial Thread—he had believed it was hidden, even from the Concord's scholars.

Yet here was proof that his regression had not erased every trace of the past.

The Warden smiled thinly, as though reading his thoughts.

"Did you imagine your rebirth went unnoticed?"

Shen Yan took a half step forward, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Stay your hand," the Warden said, his gaze flicking to Shen without heat. "You are inconsequential."

Su Lin pressed closer to Jin, eyes wide with fear.

The Warden's eyes returned to Jin's face.

"You will come with me," he said simply. "You will be given provisional reprieve. In exchange, you will surrender your research into derivements, splinters, and your…anomaly…to the Concord's archives."

Jin Mu did not answer.

The chamber seemed to constrict around him.

"And if I refuse?" he asked quietly.

The Warden's smile never wavered.

"Then your companions will be made an example," he said. "And you will still be dissected. Slowly."

There it was.

The choice.

The cost of every hidden truth he had reclaimed.

He thought of Su Lin, of Shen Yan, of the boy he had failed to save in the slavers' camp.

He thought of the life he had forfeited and the one he had clawed back.

He did not look away from the Warden's gaze.

Slowly, Jin Mu turned to Su Lin and Shen Yan.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Before either could react, he stepped forward, crossing the final span to the dais.

"I will go," he said.

The Warden's smile widened fractionally.

"Wise."

And with a flick of his fingers, the mirrored masks of the Tribunal dimmed.

As the Warden gestured, two silent figures in red took hold of Jin Mu's arms.

Su Lin made a broken sound, lunging forward—but Shen Yan caught her around the waist, pinning her back.

"Don't," he hissed, voice shaking.

Jin Mu met Shen's eyes across the distance.

A thousand unspoken promises passed between them.

Then he was led through the side door, the cold echo of the chamber fading behind him.

This is not the end, he told himself as darkness swallowed him.

I will not let this be the end.