The Innocent Criminal

Note: this chapter was lost due to some technical issues on my device, this error literally made me almost destroy my device. By the way the chapter might look short due to my health issues. Chapters might be shorter or the text from next chapter might be showed here, please ignore it.

A cold wind howled through the burning ruins of Valsheim. Reio Amagrante stood motionless, his once-proud armor stained with the ashes of a kingdom he had sworn to protect. His trembling hands held The UnReal, the object that Richard Filver had begged him to surrender—the only thing that could "end this nightmare."

Richard stepped closer, his gaze locked onto the shimmering artifact. His expression was one of sorrow, understanding, and something Reio failed to notice—anticipation.

"This… this is the only way, right?" Reio's voice was hollow. Empty.

Richard nodded. "You did the right thing, Reio. You've always been a hero."

With those words, Reio's hands finally let go. The UnReal slipped into Richard's grasp.

The moment it touched his fingers, Richard's entire demeanor shifted. The warmth in his eyes flickered out like a dying ember. His lips curled into a slow, malicious smirk.

Reio's breath hitched. Something's wrong…

Before he could react, Richard's body was engulfed in swirling black energy, and in the blink of an eye—he vanished.

---

The Void Between Realities

Richard opened his eyes. He stood in an endless abyss, a void untouched by time, space, or reason. A suffocating silence pressed down on him, interrupted only by the soft footsteps approaching from the darkness.

A man in a sharp black suit emerged, his face unreadable, his presence overwhelming. His voice was calm, yet filled with authority.

"You've done well, Richard Filver. Now, hand over The UnReal."

Richard chuckled, twirling the artifact between his fingers. "Oh, you want this?"

The suited man extended his hand. "It does not belong in your world."

Richard's smirk deepened. In a flash, he lunged forward, grabbing the man's shoulder.

"Then let's take it back to where it belongs."

A pulse of energy exploded from Richard's palm, and before the man could resist—they were both teleported back.

---

Back in Valsheim

Reio was still on his knees, sobbing into his hands. The weight of his actions—destroying his own kingdom, losing everything he held dear—was too much to bear.

Then, out of nowhere—Richard reappeared.

Reio gasped. "Richard?! But how—?"

Before he could finish, Richard raised The UnReal high into the air… and crushed it in his grip.

A blinding white light erupted, consuming everything. The fabric of reality trembled. Space twisted, distorted, and then—unwound itself.

---

Everything Was… Normal Again.

Reio blinked. The sky was clear. The streets of Valsheim were intact. People bustled about, laughing, talking—alive.

The kingdom he had destroyed… was never destroyed.

The blood, the screams, the burning buildings—gone.

It was as if none of it had ever happened.

Reio's heart pounded. He stared at his own hands, shaking violently. What… what is this?

He turned to Richard, his voice breaking. "I… I don't understand…"

Richard simply smiled. A cold, knowing smile.

"Sometimes, Reio, the best way to win… is to make you think you've lost."

And with that, he walked away, leaving Reio to drown in the confusion of his own shattered mind.

The UnReal pulsed in Richard's grasp, its energy shifting and twisting like a living thing. Reio stood frozen, his mind shattered, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then, Richard smirked. His lips curled into something cold, something calm.

"Haha, loser. I manipulated you into believing I wanted The UnReal… but instead, I wanted you."

The voice wasn't directed at Reio. It was meant for someone else.

A ripple tore through reality. The very air cracked open like shattered glass, and from within the void, a man in a sharp black suit emerged. His face was blank, emotionless, but his presence alone made the world feel heavier.

The man extended a hand. "You have done well. Now, hand over The UnReal."

Richard's smirk deepened. His fingers curled around the artifact.

"Oh, you want this?"

The suited man took a step forward. "It does not belong in this world."

Richard tilted his head. "Neither do you."

Before the man could react, Richard lunged. His hand clamped onto the man's shoulder, and in an instant—reality twisted.

A surge of dark energy consumed them both, and before anyone could process what was happening—they were gone.

---

Inside the Void

The black-suited man barely had time to react before he found himself trapped. The void around them pulsed, the weight of existence itself pressing down like an iron grip.

Richard stood before him, completely unfazed.

"You thought I was your pawn?" he asked, voice eerily casual. "You thought I would just hand it over?"

The man's expression remained unreadable. "You cannot stop this."

Richard's smirk widened. "Oh, I already have."

Without hesitation, he raised The UnReal high—and crushed it in his grip.

A blinding white light exploded outward, consuming everything.

---

Back in Valsheim

Reio remained on his knees, his body shaking, his mind spiraling into darkness. The kingdom had fallen. He had failed. He had—

Wait.

A gentle breeze brushed against his skin. The scent of burning buildings and blood was… gone.

He gasped.

The streets of Valsheim were whole again. The people—alive, untouched. The sky was clear. The city stood as if the nightmare had never happened.

Everything… was back to normal.

Reio staggered to his feet, his hands trembling. What… what is this?

Then, Richard reappeared.

Calm. Unshaken. Smirking, as if everything had gone exactly as planned.

Reio's voice cracked. "I… I don't understand…"

Richard simply chuckled. "Sometimes, Reio, the best way to win… is to make them think they've already won."

Reio barely had time to process those words before a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Arrest them both!"

Elsa.

She stood at the steps of the royal palace, her eyes blazing with fury. The knights surged forward, weapons drawn.

Reio turned to her, panic rising in his chest. "Elsa, wait! You don't understand—"

But Elsa didn't care.

Richard let out a soft sigh. "Ah, well… some things never change."

Dark energy coiled around his body, lifting him into the air like a phantom. With one last glance at Reio, he grinned.

"See you soon, my dear knight."

And in a single pulse of darkness—he vanished.

The grand hall of Valsheim's palace was silent, save for the murmurs of its most powerful figures. Lady Elsa sat at the head of the long, polished table, her golden eyes scanning the room as authority members debated their next move.

At the far end of the chamber, Reio Amagrante stood motionless.

His face betrayed nothing, but his thoughts were consumed by a single name.

Richard.

The boy who had manipulated him, broken him, and yet… saved everyone.

Now, Richard was nothing more than a prisoner. Stripped of his powers. Sealed away.

And yet, even knowing this, Reio felt no victory.

Across the table, one of the commanders spoke sharply. "He's too dangerous to be kept alive."

Another voice, softer but firm, countered, "No. We need to understand what he is. How he did what he did."

Lady Elsa remained silent. Her fingers tapped lightly against the table as she listened, her expression unreadable.

Then, a sharp chime echoed through the room.

A messenger stepped forward, bowing quickly. "Apologies, Lady Elsa, but we have a technical failure in the prison chambers. We require immediate assistance."

Elsa gave a brief nod. "Reio, go handle it."

Reio hesitated for a moment, but he could not refuse. "Understood."

He turned on his heel and walked out, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each step.

---

The Prison Room

The cold air inside the prison chamber sent a shiver down Reio's spine. The torches flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

And there, behind layers of enchanted chains and divine seals, sat Richard Filver.

He wasn't shackled. He wasn't bound.

Yet, somehow, he looked more trapped than ever.

His once-smirking lips were still. His golden eyes, usually sharp with amusement, were dull, half-lidded as if he were somewhere far away.

Reio stepped inside.

For a brief second, Richard's gaze flickered toward him—but Reio ignored him.

He walked past him like he was nothing. Like he was air.

Like he had never mattered.

But just as he reached the far end of the chamber, a whisper cut through the silence.

A voice—low, hoarse, and far too calm.

"Tell me, Reio… did they silence me? Or did they silence you?"

Reio's hands clenched into fists.

He did not turn around.

He did not answer.

He only walked forward, leaving behind the boy who had once rewritten fate itself.

The iron chains rattled.

Richard Filver, once a manipulator, once a mastermind who twisted fate itself, was now nothing more than a prisoner marching toward death.

His golden eyes remained blank, his smirk absent.

Guards flanked him on either side, their grips firm, their expressions unreadable. The grand halls of Valsheim's palace echoed with each step, each dragging moment bringing him closer to the execution chamber.

Among the crowd, standing in the shadows, was Reio Amagrante.

He didn't speak. He didn't move. But his heart pounded against his ribs, his hands trembling at his sides.

The chains clinked again.

Richard walked forward.

Reio swallowed hard, his chest tightening with something he couldn't name. Why… why does this feel wrong?

For a brief second, Richard's gaze flickered toward him.

No words. No smirk. Just an empty stare.

Reio's breath hitched.

His fingers twitched.

For the first time in his life, a tear nearly fell.

But he refused. He turned sharply on his heel and walked out of the mansion, his steps quick, desperate.

---

The Silent Beach

The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, the salty breeze brushing against Reio's skin.

He fell to his knees in the soft sand, his hands clutching his face.

And then—

He cried.

Not in wails, not in screams, but in silent, shattering sobs.

Tears slipped down his cheeks, falling onto his armor, onto his shaking hands.

Why does it hurt?

He was the villain. He tricked me. He deserved this… right?

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself—

His heart told him otherwise.

The wind howled, the sea stretched endlessly before him.

And somewhere behind the palace walls—Richard Filver walked toward his end.

The waves crashed softly against the shore, their rhythm steady, uncaring. Reio sat motionless in the sand, his mind drowning in conflict.

His fingers dug into the earth as he whispered to himself. "He was a villain. He tricked me. He—"

A voice interrupted him.

"He's not the villain. The Darklord is."

Reio's head snapped up.

A man stood before him, dressed in a merchant's robe, the fabric slightly worn from travel. His face was calm, but his eyes held something unreadable.

Reio rose to his feet, tension gripping his body. "Who… are you?"

The merchant gave a small smile. "I'm Raiden Orwellson. And you're Reio Amagrante, right?"

Reio's eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

Raiden took a step closer. "Because Richard saved me. He saved all of us."

Reio froze.

His heartbeat thundered in his chest. "What do you mean?"

Raiden sighed, his expression darkening. "You think Richard was the enemy? You think he played with lives for his own gain? No… he knew what was coming. He saw the real threat, and he acted before anyone else did."

Reio clenched his fists. "Then why didn't he say anything? Why did he make himself look like the villain?"

Raiden chuckled softly. "Because sometimes, a hero has to be hated to win."

Reio's breath caught in his throat.

"So… how do we have him?" he asked hesitantly.

Raiden's smirk grew wider.

"We already do. I rescued him before they could lay a finger on him."

Reio's eyes widened. "What?!"

Raiden nodded. "He's safe. But he's not coming back—not yet. He has unfinished business."

A gust of wind blew across the shore, carrying the scent of salt and destiny.

Reio's chest tightened. He didn't know whether to feel relief, anger, or something else entirely.

Richard Filver was alive.

And that meant… this wasn't over.