CHAPTER 004 From Thief to Outlaw 1
Two Days Later
Skycloud Central Detention Facility — 07:14 a.m.
A chill hung in the early morning air, not from the wind, but from the silence that wrapped around the facility like iron bands. The towering gray walls of Skycloud Central Detention cast long shadows, unbroken and solemn as the day began.
Neo stood with his wrists bound—not in chains, but with regulation-grade kinetic cuffs, humming faintly with stored pressure. He'd stopped asking questions hours ago. No one here answered them.
Two law enforcement officers flanked him. Their uniforms bore the distinct Skycloud municipal insignia: a winged tower sitting over a white cloud, stitched in dull gold over dark navy. Not Martial Sky Guards. These were local enforcers—official, ordinary, and all the more unsettling in their calm detachment.
"You'll be transported to the Judiciary Sector for your formal appearance," one of them said, not unkindly, just mechanically. "All speaking rights reserved for court."
Neo nodded faintly. He didn't ask where his friends were. He didn't ask who ordered the acceleration.
The doors hissed open.
Outside, a matte-black vehicle waited—a Skycloud Enforcement Car, blocky and reinforced, its windshield shaded like the eyes of a man who knew too much. Neo ducked as he was guided into the back. No restraints to the seat, no slaps, no barking.
Just procedure. That was worse.
The car pulled away, smooth as silence, leaving the gates behind and the watching guards still and motionless. In that moment, the city seemed to hold its breath—not in anticipation, but in avoidance. As though no one wanted to admit what was happening was real.
Inside the car, Neo leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He didn't know it yet. But the trial would not be the next battle.
Only the first curtain.
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SkyCloud Central Court — Judiciary Sector
08:29 a.m.
The court's atrium was vast—white stone floors gleaming under light filtered through high crystalline arches. Pillars of glass and steel stretched to the ceiling, inscribed with the Creed of Justice in looping, archaic calligraphy.
Two groups approached from opposite ends of the hall, their footsteps echoing like declarations before any words were exchanged.
From the eastern passage came the Sunblade delegation. Damian led the way, radiant in a high-collared coat brushed with gold, hair too perfect, stride too casual. Behind him trailed a pair of attendants—silent, uniformed—and his ever-present butler, Lorne, whose every step seemed measured to perfection.
From the western side came SkyCloud Academy's response. Principal Velren, tall and severe in his slate-gray robes, walked at the center, his expression unreadable. On his flanks, Ayna and Kael followed—eyes sharp, jaws set, matching each other in silent defiance.
Their paths crossed in the atrium's center.
Damian smiled first. "Well now. I wasn't expecting the Principal of SkyCloud himself. A pleasant surprise."
Velren's gaze didn't waver. "This case affects the Academy's honor. I find my presence... necessary."
"Of course, of course," Damian said with a wave of his hand. "Though one wonders—if the Academy had tighter eyes on its prodigies, we might not be standing here at all."
Kael stepped forward, tone flat. "Strange how a lost relic reappears only after the accusation's been made. Convenient."
Damian tilted his head. "Convenience is a poor shield, young man. Facts remain facts."
"Manipulated facts," Ayna snapped. "You seem too informed for someone merely reporting a theft."
The butler Lorne stepped forward. "Please. Civility. The court will decide. Not young tempers."
Ayna gave him a look like frost over stone.
Principal Velren raised a hand—not to scold, but to steady. His voice came like a final note after an orchestra's warm-up. "Let's not waste our sharp tongues before the judgment's even begun."
Damian chuckled, placing a hand theatrically over his chest. "I agree, Principal. We wouldn't want to turn this into... theater."
"Then take your stage," Velren said, nodding toward the doors.
The great double doors of the inner court opened, creaking on their polished hinges.
Neither side moved first.
But neither would be last.
As the parties stepped inside, the shadows of the hall swallowed their footsteps—and with them, the first breath of battle not fought with fists or flame, but words wrapped in knives.
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SkyCloud Central Court – Grand Tribunal Hall
09:00 a.m.
The Tribunal Hall was a structure born of solemnity and spectacle.
Columns of blackstone ringed the oval chamber, each veined with golden lines that pulsed faintly with the timekeeping rhythm of the city. The ceiling arched high above, painted with a fresco depicting the founding of SkyCloud's law: a thousand arms outstretched toward balance, none holding sword or flame.
At the heart stood a circular dais of white onyx, upon which rested a low podium for the judge and his assistants—three gray-robed figures seated already, eyes closed in ritual stillness.
Two rows of advocators sat on either side of the chamber. Robed in deep navy, the prosecution wore a silver brooch depicting a sword coiled by flame—Sunblade's emblem, gleaming. The defense, clad in dusky green with the insignia of the Academy—three stars beneath a rising cloud—sat poised and grim.
A soft bell rang.
Exactly on time, the central seat on the dais lit with soft blue.
And the Judge entered.
A tall man, face worn by decades of judgment, beard cut square and white, eyes sharp like wind through steel. He walked with purpose, robes trailing like the quiet hush of falling snow.
Judge Malkor Veyren.
The hall stood—not in respect, but in acknowledgment.
Veyren sat. "The case of the Sunblade Lineage versus one Neo of SkyCloud Academy shall now commence."
A pause.
Silence.
The clerk spoke, voice clear. "The accused shall be presented to the court."
Another pause.
Still—no doors opened.
Principal Velren narrowed his gaze.
Kael frowned. Where is he? Neo wouldn't run. That's not like him.
Ayna's eyes flicked to the side. Something's wrong. Why would the enforcers be late? Everything has been too... efficient until now.
Damian, by contrast, leaned back in his chair with the languid elegance of someone watching a play enter its second act.
Good. Let the silence stretch. Let the unease bloom. Everything flows now. One domino at a time.
His butler remained unmoved, though his gaze wandered slightly to the Judge—watching the reaction. Measuring it.
The silence grew colder.
At 09:32, the leftmost door burst open.
A man stumbled in—an officer of SkyCloud Enforcement. His uniform torn, blood streaked across his face and chest. His eyes were wild, unfocused, and he clutched the side of the doorframe as if it were the last solid thing in the world.
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
"Officer Karrin?" one of the clerks whispered, rising instinctively.
The man's voice came broken, but loud enough to slice the quiet.
"He—he's gone."
No one breathed.
The Judge didn't move.
"He—Neo—he was taken. We were ambushed—hijacked—on the way to the court. The transport's wrecked. Two of my squad are dead. The rest—scattered. We tried to hold them back—"
Ayna stood.
Kael clenched the edge of his table.
Principal Velren's gaze became utterly still.
Damian?
He merely blinked once—slow, deliberate.
Ahh. And now we tilt the board.
His smile, faint, almost sorrowful, was aimed at no one. Or everyone.
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