The soldiers shifted impatiently. "Enough. Let's move. We're already late—the Inspector must be waiting for us ."

Michael gave one last look at his friends.

The fire in their eyes warmed him, even as chains of suspicion wrapped tighter around his shoulders.

He smiled, softer this time.

" Everyone, don't worry.We'll meet again in the evening, I have something to tell you guys."

'Ehh'. 'Seem Like should tell them about Alex and what is happening in the Academy '

And together, they answered, strong and unified:

"Yes! We'll meet in the evening!"

With that, Michael turned back and walked onward, the soldiers at his side.

The whispers of the Academy still followed him, but his steps never faltered.

______

After passing several buildings of Academy like Library, Teaching Hall, Training Ground etc we finally arrival at the entrance of Law Enforcement Hall

It takes us about fifteen minutes to reach here.

The Law Enforcement Hall stood like a fortress within Arcadia Academy's sprawling campus. Its walls were built of dark stone, reinforced by mana runes etched into the very foundation. Where other halls of the Academy gleamed with scholarly pride, this one exuded silence, discipline, and the weight of judgment.

Students rarely set foot here. For most, it was nothing more than a looming threat, a whispered reminder of what awaited those who crossed lines too far.

Michael entered through its heavy doors, flanked by soldiers. The air inside was cool and sterile, thick with mana suppression fields. Even breathing here felt heavier, as though the building itself sought to press down on one's spirit.

After passing through several guarded checkpoints, he was led to a small, windowless room.

A single wooden table stood at its center. Two chairs faced each other across it. A single bottle of water rested on the polished surface, untouched, its label peeling at the corner.

The soldiers gestured. "Wait here."

Then they left, the door shutting behind them with a hollow thud.

Michael glanced around. Bare walls, no mana lamps except the faint glow from the ceiling. He could feel the layered enchantments humming faintly—designed to detect lies, to suppress mana surges, to ensure no one walked out unless permitted.

"…Well." He leaned back into the chair. "It certainly has the décor of an interrogation room."

Ten minutes crawled by. The silence thickened. Michael drummed his fingers on the table, his thoughts churning lazily.

If they want to break me with boredom, they'll have to try harder. I've endured longer nights with worse company.

At last, the doorknob clicked.

Creak—

The door opened, and a man stepped inside.

He looked middle-aged, perhaps in his forties, but the air about him betrayed far more. His posture was rigid, his presence sharp. His hair was cropped close, streaked with iron-gray, and his eyes—deep, commanding—seemed to strip flesh from bone.

In his hand was a folder, thin but sealed with the insignia of Law Enforcement.

Michael's gaze sharpened. He didn't know this man. Not from the game, not from memory. That in itself was concerning. Unknown pieces on the board were always the most dangerous.

The man set the folder on the table, then sat opposite him. Their eyes locked.

Michael expected scrutiny, suspicion, perhaps hostility. But instead, the corners of the man's mouth tugged upward, just barely.

This kid… doesn't flinch? Gileard Zacron thought, studying him. No fear. No panic. Most would be sweating buckets by now. This one… this one has steel in him.

He felt the corner of his lip twitch into something like approval.

A good seedling. With this kind of spine, the Royal Knights would fight each other just for the chance to recruit him. If he survives the Academy's politics, he might become a pillar of the Alliance itself.

The silence stretched between them like drawn wire, before the man finally spoke. His voice was deep, deliberate, commanding.

"My name is Gileard Zacron," he said. "You may address me as Inspector Gileard."

Michael's expression didn't shift. "Michael Wilson."

"I know," Gileard replied, flipping open the folder. "That is why you are here."

His eyes scanned the contents briefly, though he knew them by heart. Then, he spoke aloud, his voice cutting through the air with practiced weight.

"A formal complaint has been submitted against you. It states that you have been collecting protection fees from students under the guise of your authority as Chief of the Disciplinary Committee."

The words hung between them.

Michael sat in silence, his face unreadable. His heart didn't quicken so much as quicken.

Gileard narrowed his eyes slightly. No change. No defensiveness, no nervous twitch. Either this boy is innocent, or he is damn well trained.

"They also submitted evidence against you," Gileard continued, sliding a copy of the report across the table.

Michael glanced down but didn't reach for it. "So…" His voice was casual, bored even. "…?"

That single syllable—so dismissive, so unimpressed—made Gileard's lips twitch again.

"…You're either very confident in your innocence," he said slowly, "or very arrogant."

Michael met his gaze, his tone still level. "If the complaint had merit, I wouldn't be sitting here with a water bottle. I'd already be in chains."

The inspector gave a small grunt of amusement.

But then—he changed gears.

Without warning, Gileard's aura surged.

A crushing weight descended on the room. The air itself grew heavy, thick enough to choke. The wooden chair beneath Michael groaned under the sudden pressure, its legs straining against the mana suffusion.

Michael's body stiffened involuntarily. His instincts screamed at him to rise, to fight, to resist.

Damn it—this old man isn't just a bureaucrat. He's a full-fledged S-rank.

Gileard's eyes burned with intensity as he spoke.

"Let us change the question, Michael Wilson." His voice thundered like a rolling stone. "One month ago before entering the Academy your strength was recorded at G- at Hunter Association, where you went to check your strength. Barely above civilian standards and now…"

He leaned forward, aura pressing sharper.

"…Now you stand at E+, it is impossible to leap in such a short span to achieve even your genius. Explain yourself—."

"— even at the Entrance Examination it record that you have reached Rank E-, So explain what is this sudden Awakening "

The pressure was suffocating. Michael felt the chair beneath him creak, the water bottle on the table rattling with vibrations.

Inspector voice rang again in his mind as he could hear the inspector saying.

"Also don't give me a silly answer"

Inside his mind, panic warred with calculation.

Shit. He's dug deeper than I thought. How the hell am I supposed to explain that I'm not the same Michael Wilson? That I'm someone else entirely, wearing this body like borrowed clothes?

He clenched his jaw. He couldn't reveal that truth. Not here. Not to him.

His thoughts ran like lightning. Do I feign talent? Claim secret training? Make up a sponsor?

But before he could decide—

Gileard's eyes narrowed. He didn't wait for Michael's answer.

Instead, his aura intensified, and his words struck like a blade.

"Are you a demon worshiper?"

Michael's heart skipped.

"Or a contractor?" Gileard pressed, his voice harsh, cutting. "Don't you dare lie to me, boy. I can feel it. A trace of darkness clings to you. It leaks from your core like rot."

The accusation slammed into the silence.

Michael's fingers curled against the chair's armrest. His pulse spiked, but his face—he forced it to remain calm, unreadable.

Inside, though—his mind was a storm.

'Demon worshiper…? Contractor…? Damn it. Of course they'd leap to that. My power spike, the aura I can't completely mask—it all looks like I am hidden mole in the Academy that is placed by Demon to execute a hidden agenda of this Demon for them, this how the inspector view me now'

'Damn, If I didn't give a satisfactory answer I am doom in this world' ' This is why I didn't want attention in first place but this damn system has make me blind by it reward and that why I progress faster'

' If Leon was in my position he would have been escape from this suspicious because of his Lionheart Bloodline, yeah ,it is like a hidden protection given to Leon as he progress with the help of his system all is rising strength credit goes to his bloodline and I don't have any background like that'

Gileard's gaze bored into him, merciless and sharp. His aura pressed like the weight of a mountain.

"…Speak," he demanded. "Or I will treat your silence as confession."

' I should I have known about this type of situation is coming '

The room vibrated with tension. The walls seemed to close in, the air itself charged with invisible lightning.

Michael's lips parted

' There is only one way to escape from this situation, is to give a reasonable answer and to find a reasonable answer I must think hard , as to think hard I have one skill that I can used '

' Activated Quantum Analysis Mind'

But what words would come?

(To be Continue)

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