Chapter 3 – Judgment

Klaeton hit the ground with a heavy thud, just outside the mouth of his hidden training cave.

He opened his eyes to pale morning light filtering through twisted trees.

Same forest. Same cave.That… wasn't a dream.

He sat up slowly. No blood. His arm was back. No hole in his chest.

What the hell just happened...?

No gate. No giants. No message box.

But the emptiness in his core said it all.

My mana is gone.

He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. His body was stiff. His throat dry. The sky looked… different, like time had moved without him.

I need to go back.I have to face this.

Return to the Village

The village was quieter than usual. No shouting from the sparring fields. No patrols walking the borders.

Only one person stood in the courtyard—Magnus Vire, the retired tank whose presence still radiated authority. He was sharpening a blade at the edge of the stone terrace, pausing when he noticed Klaeton.

"You're alive," Magnus muttered. "Didn't expect that."

Klaeton approached. "Where is everyone?"

"Out searching for you. You've been gone longer than a day. Amira said the wind's been off."

Klaeton gave a short nod. "Yeah. Something… happened."

He turned to head toward his house.

Then Magnus called out behind him.

"…Why don't I feel any mana from you?"

Klaeton stopped mid-step.

"I'll explain when the others return."

Summoning the Council

A short time later, Magnus approached the forest ridge, where his sister Amira Elden sat meditating. The wind stirred restlessly around her fingertips.

"Klaeton's back," Magnus said.

Amira opened her eyes. "He's alive?"

"Apparently. But his mana's gone."

Without hesitation, she lifted her hand and whispered to the wind:

"Klaeton Whitley has returned. All elders—assemble in the Great Hall."

The Elders' Council

Lantern crystals glowed cold blue as the elders gathered in the island's great stone chamber:

Lucian Whitley – Patriarch of the Whitley bloodline

Dorian Whitley – Klaeton's father

Magnus Vire – Stern, respected warrior

Amira Elden – Wind caller and island messenger

Caspian Thorne – Ice mage and strategist

Klaeton stepped in, his footsteps soft but sure. No mana clung to him now—only silence.

Lucian didn't waste time. "Speak."

Klaeton nodded once. "Let me finish before you say anything."

A brief pause. Then Lucian gestured for him to continue.

"This morning… or maybe earlier… a gate appeared near my training grounds. I entered it. Alone."

Gasps rippled across the table.

"I know the law. I broke it."

Dorian's jaw tensed. His disappointment was clear.

"There were goblins. I defeated them. Then I found a hidden chamber. Inside were three giants. Two attacked. The third… drained my mana. All of it."

He paused.

"I blacked out. When I woke up, I was outside. My body was fine. But the gate was gone. And so was my power."

He said nothing of the voice. Or the message.

Lucian's expression darkened. "Leave the room. The council will speak."

Klaeton turned and walked out.

Cousins' Reaction

Waiting just outside the chamber were his cousins:

Garrick Vire, sharp-eyed and furious

Isla Thorne, arms folded and silent

Renna Vire, already scowling

Lillian Whitley, his sister, anxious and pale

Leif Elden, tall and quiet, the wind warrior with a calculating gaze

"Where the hell have you been?" Renna snapped.

"You disappeared for days," Garrick added.

"You went into a gate alone?" Isla said coldly.

Klaeton nodded, tired. "Yeah. I thought I could handle it."

"You lost your magic?" Leif asked, stepping forward.

"Yeah."

"You're lucky you're not dead," Lillian whispered.

"You could've died and left a gap in our defense," Isla said.

"I didn't want to risk anyone else," Klaeton muttered.

Before more questions could come, a wind passed through the stone corridor.

"Klaeton Whitley," Amira's voice echoed. "Return. Your judgment is ready."

Inside the Council Chamber (Private Discussion)

While Klaeton was outside, the elders debated behind closed doors.

"He should be dead," Dorian said flatly.

"Three giants?" Caspian muttered. "And no injuries? No scars?"

"He's hiding something," Amira said. "There was more in that gate than he's admitting."

Lucian's voice was colder than stone. "It doesn't matter. He broke our only law. He lost our gift."

Magnus folded his arms. "So what now?"

Lucian didn't hesitate.

"He's no longer one of us. We banish him until he turns nineteen."

Caspian raised an eyebrow. "And if he dies before then?"

Lucian's eyes didn't waver. "So be it."

Final Judgment

Klaeton stepped back into the room.

Lucian rose to deliver the verdict.

"Klaeton Whitley. You defied the law. You lost the light of your bloodline. For your recklessness, the council has made its judgment."

"You are hereby banished to the Southern Desolation. You are not allowed to return to the village until your nineteenth birthday."

His voice turned colder.

"In those five years, what becomes of you is not our concern. We do not care if you live. We do not care if you die."

"You are alone now."

Klaeton stood tall. Didn't protest. Didn't ask for mercy.

"…Understood," he said.

Then he turned his back on them—

—and walked toward exile.