After Razeal had been escorted out by the guards, silence blanketed the hall.

Celestia remained where she stood, her platinum hair cascading like liquid silver as her eyes lowered in quiet thought. She said nothing. Not to her mother or dukes, not even to herself for the first long stretch of minutes.

But inside her chest, questions gnawed at her.

Why did she do it? She knew he was only trying to save himself. It was wrong to do this?. Was she being kind to him? Showing favoritism? Letting him act as he wished?

Maybe it was because he was her friend after all… a friend she had wronged and hurt deeply without realizing. Maybe this was her way of giving him some small payback for the pain she had caused. Maybe it did mattered to her that everything had started because of her small selfishness. Maybe there had been a better way to handle it. Maybe if she had been more knowledgeable beforehand…

She wondered, then shook her head. It's all fine.

Am I angry at myself? At a past version of myself? For things I couldn't have known at the time? It's like being mad at yourself for not being able to walk when you were just born. A frustration that doesn't make sense, yet still gnaws at you.

She never realized the consequences of her choice would stretch so far, so wide. Perhaps it had been nothing more than imitation copying her mother's way of doing things without hesitation, without fear of what might follow. She had seen her mother act freely, without second-guessing, and thought she could do the same.

But when she tried… consequences did arrive. And she learned something sharper than regret: sometimes the price of your actions does not fall only on you. Which she was confident would never be harmful for her. Sometimes it falls on the one standing across from you.

The way she was raised, no one had ever taught her this. That wounding another could cut you in return not directly, but through the weight of what they carried away from you.

Her mother was too different. Perhaps instead of trying to mimic her, she should learn to shape herself into something else her own version, drawn from what she loved, what she believed.

Her mother had once said: True strength lies in being able to will yourself forward without worrying about consequences.

But maybe her thoughts should have been different from her mother's

She shook her head. No use dwelling. Why she had done it, what it meant, none of that mattered in this moment. He was innocent. This was what he wanted and she had only fullfiled his wish.

Bur

What weighed on her more was whether he could endure it: four days in that hell.

For now, she forced herself to ignore it.

When she lifted her eyes, she found the courtroom watching. Three dukes. Marcalla. All staring at her strangely.

Of course. To them, this reeked of favoritism. The irony stung for she had punished him despite his innocence, the opposite of favor. Yet no one spoke a word.

Then something happened that shattered the stillness.

Ranguard's body headless, sprawled in its own blood twitched. Violently.

And with that all eyes turned toward the corpse.

And then they all turned their gazes toward the throne.

Toward Nerissa.

The Empress sat lazily, her chin resting on her knuckles, her platinum hair shimmering under the ethereal glow that now radiated faintly from her body. A serene platinum aura pulsed around her, calm yet immeasurable, filling the chamber.

And before their eyes, Ranguard's body began to knit itself back together. Flesh bubbled, bones stretched, veins reformed. A new neck sprouted, and then a skull, smooth and gleaming with fresh marrow before skin sealed over it. Hair sprouted in strands of crimson.

A moment later, new eyes fluttered open.

Ranguard gasped violently, as though dragged up from the depths of drowning. His chest heaved, breath after desperate breath filling his new lungs. Horror filled his eyes as he stared at nothing, his body trembling as if aware that it had been dead.

"Here," Nerissa said softly, her voice light but carrying with it a weight that pressed against every heart in the room. "My regards to Duchess Arabella."

Her platinum eyes flicked lazily toward Arabella, who sat frozen, her face betraying for once genuine shock.

Arabella stared, speechless, her face drained of composure. Did she… bring him back to life? Even as Duchess of Dragonwevr, she had never witnessed such effortless defiance of natural law.

She rose from her seat, bowing her head slightly, crimson hair spilling forward. "Thank you for such consideration, Your Imperial Highness." Her voice trembled despite her effort to keep it steady.

"Oh, no. Don't worry about it." Nerissa chuckled lightly, brushing the moment off as though she had merely refilled a cup of tea. "I only saw you looking a little dissatisfied."

Arabella's lips tightened. She nodded, retreating into silence. Even for her, speaking directly to the Empress was like holding a blade against her own throat.

The other dukes said nothing, though their eyes narrowed. They were not surprised.. death had never been a consequence that bound Nerissa but they still could not help but envy it. To simply wave her will and return life to a corpse, leaving no scar, no mark, not even the faintest hint of damage. Ranguard looked as though he had never died, standing there trembling in horror but whole.

"Now, you may all leave," Nerissa said, her tone light, almost dismissive.

The command was clear.

Arabella rose, her crimson cloak swirling. She grabbed Ranguard roughly by his hair.. he whimpered, still shaken and vanished in a burst of fire, disappearing into motes of crimson light.

One by one, the others departed. Maximus, Seraphina, and Marcella bowed and withdrew, their footsteps echoing down the vast hall until the silence was whole again.

The courtroom was empty.

Empty, save for Nerissa, perched elegantly upon her throne, and Celestia, who still stood rooted in place.

The weight of what had just occurred still pressed heavily on her mind. Finally, she turned, lifting her gaze to her mother.

"How did I do, Mother?" Celestia asked softly, her voice betraying the slightest edge of uncertainty.

Nerissa's smile was enigmatic, her eyes glittering like platinum flames. "You were the judge," she said. "And once you make a judgment, you must have no doubts about it."

Her smile widened just slightly, a curve of lips that hinted at amusement she would never explain. "Ask yourself this instead."

Her tone was neither praise nor criticism. Just truth, heavy and unshakable.

Celestia lowered her gaze, falling into contemplation once more. Why does she look so amused today? Did I miss something?

But Nerissa said nothing more. She simply leaned back as kept smiling.

And so the courtroom remained.. silent, vast, echoing with the weight of choices and the shadow of consequences yet to comessed?

----

Inside Eternal Hold

"Woow… this is so eerie."

Razeal whistled under his breath, the sound bouncing off the walls only to vanish instantly, as though swallowed whole. He stood still for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings.

The room was square, each wall an identical, polished white. No shadows, no dust, no cracks, no imperfections just a uniform emptiness. The corners didn't even feel real, as though the space folded in on itself.

Floor, walls, ceiling… all the same.

It was so perfect that it felt like it was wrong.

The sterility gnawed at him. It wasn't the cleanliness of a palace hall or the clinical sterility of a hospital.. it was more than that. This was a void masquerading as a room. A place that denied the comfort of detail, of texture, of imperfection.

He let out a breath and watched the white fog of his exhalation freeze and dissipate. The air was cold, bitterly cold, yet the room itself was utterly still, without draft or breeze. There was no source of air, no window, no vent, no door that he could see.

"This is Eternal Hold, huh?" Razeal muttered, sinking down onto the frozen floor. He leaned back on his left hand, tilting his head toward the ceiling. It, too, was flat and white, so polished that it looked almost liquid.

He exhaled again. His breath crystallized in front of his nose, and he rubbed at it with the back of his hand, frowning at the irritation in his sinuses. His chest ached faintly with every inhale, as though the air was slightly wrong still he just ignored it.

"I wonder what makes this place worse than death." He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The cold was seeping into his obsidian bones not that it was anything to be worried about for him.

"System," he said at last, his voice echoing back before being devoured into silence. "Tell me again. The real description of this place. Why is it so bad?"

[Yes,] the System's calm voice responded within his mind. [There are many reasons. Some were never fully revealed in the original novel, but I've pieced them together through analysis everything. I will list them one by one.]

"Go ahead."

[First: The prisoners here are placed in a chamber they will never leave. It is life imprisonment in the most absolute sense. The certainty of 'never again' no hope, no release creates a psychological collapse stronger than physical torture. Death at least ends suffering. Here, the suffering has no end.]

Razeal's eyes flickered across the blank walls. "Yeah, I can feel that already."

[Second: The room itself. You've noticed it already. There is nothing but white. No objects, no windows, no horizon, no variation of color. At first it is tolerable. But after days, weeks, years… the human mind begins to crave stimulus. It grows desperate to see any color, any pattern. Eventually, prisoners tear open their own skin just to see the red of their blood. They create wounds to remind themselves they exist.]

Razeal raised his brows, lips twitching. "Lovely."

[Third: No food or water is ever provided. The chamber sustains life through a unique energy in the environment. It provides the exact nutrients needed to keep the body alive never enough to satisfy hunger or thirst, but enough to prevent death. Hunger to eat and taste something gnaws at the prisoner forever. Thirst parches the throat forever. Relief never comes.]

Razeal rubbed his throat instinctively. It felt scary that you won't even get anything to eat in here.

[Fourth: Aura and mana are completely sealed. The environment itself erases them. No matter how strong, no matter how skilled, one cannot summon power here. Even artifacts fail. It is, by design, unbreakable and inescapable.]

"Nice."

[That is not all. Three days of the week, the chamber releases toxic gases. They do not damage the body. Instead, they attack the nerves, creating pain a thousand times worse than flaying. Imagine every cell in your body screaming at once. the sensation of your skin being peeled, your bones ground, your flesh boiled.. all without a single wound. And it lasts for a full day.]

Razeal blinked slowly. "…Sounds like a fun exp farm for me."

[It continues indefinitely,] the System went on. [The memory heals, but the nerves remember. The pain compounds. In time, prisoners beg for death. Some claw their throats, their skulls, their eyes.. only to discover the chamber prevents suicide. Eternal Hold preserves life absolutely. Even tearing out your heart would not kill you.]

Razeal let out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head. "This place was definitely built by a sadistic psychopath."

[Correct.]

He sat there for a moment in silence, his gaze drifting upward toward the ceiling. He clapped his hand with thigh once creating the sharp sound echoing back and then vanishing. The air swallowed it whole.

"…And the silence," he muttered.

[Yes. The acoustics are designed to consume sound. Only your own breathing, heartbeat, and voice remain. In time, even those begin to sound distorted. The prisoner feels cut off, as if they exist outside the world, outside time. They begin to lose sense of self.]

Razeal tapped his fingers against the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound was thin, unnatural, like tapping inside a coffin. He stopped quickly.

"It's only been a minute, and I already feel irritated." He pinched the bridge of his nose, lips twisting. "I get it, System. Stop. I don't need the whole sadist's handbook."

The System fell silent even though list was still long to go.

"Alright whatever," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly. "This place is hell. Got it."

He opened his eyes again, gaze sharpening. "Anyways, not like am here to live. I just need to find that old man and yeah run off."

Yeah sure, he could break out of this chamber if he wanted. That wasn't the problem. The real problem was finding the man he came here for. This place wasn't just one chamber; it was an endless hive of them, each sealed and separated.

Even if Razeal escaped this one chamber, what then? Was he supposed to go door to door, tearing through thousands of cells until he stumbled on the right one? No. That would take days, maybe weeks, and he didn't have that luxury.

He rubbed his temples, already feeling the weight pressing down. Before morning, I have to be out. I don't get a second night here. If I fail. He didn't even need to finish the thought.

And that wasn't even accounting for guards.

He didn't know if Eternal Hold actually had wardens patrolling it. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. Either way, smashing through chamber after chamber was guaranteed to alert someone.

No. He had to be smarter than that. Faster.

His breath came out in a faint cloud, misting in front of him. The chill here was biting, cutting deeper the longer he sat still. His lungs itched with every inhale. There was no breeze, no circulation, and yet the air stung like frost.

His lips quirked upward in a humorless smile. This is going to fry my brain… but it's the only option left.

Slowly, his gaze lowered.

There, just beneath him, stretching thin against the white floor, was his own shadow. It shouldn't have even been there logically since there was no visible light source in this chamber. No torch, sun or even any glowing crystal. Just this strange, uniform brightness that somehow left a shadow anyway.

That detail was the key.

If his chamber had one… then every chamber had one.

Exactly as he had suspected and actually exactly what he needed.

"Alright…" He exhaled, steadying himself. "Let's begin."

His eyelids slid shut. His awareness dipped down into the patch of darkness beneath him, sinking into it as if it were water. The sensation was always strange like peeling away part of his consciousness and scattering it into the ground.

First, one shadow. Then another.

Dozens. Hundreds.

The connections spread outward like a web, thin threads linking his mind to every flicker of darkness in range. His mental field stretched further, further, past walls and floors and chambers, through the endless labyrinth of Eternal Hold.

The weight on his head grew heavier with each expansion.

A thousand. Ten thousand. His teeth gritted. Sweat slicked the back of his neck.

Twenty thousand.

Thirty.

Fifty.

By the time the number reached seventy-three thousand, his vision swam even though his eyes were closed. His temples throbbed as though nails were being driven into them.

Over seventy-three thousand shadows. Seventy-three thousand cells. Means atleast 40-40 thousands lives rotting away in this frozen hell after lets say cutting out.. other objects shadows if there were any.

"…Just as I feared." His voice was barely a whisper, stressed not with fear but with tiredness.

But then again seems like real training be coming to use now. That skill can come in use now.

Shadow Gaze.

The concept was deceptively simple. Any shadow his sense could reach, he could tether himself to. And once tethered, he could see through it, as though the shadow itself were an eye.

A network of invisible cameras scattered across the world.

But there were limits.

The first: he could only see from the shadow's natural angle. He couldn't move it, tilt it or couldn't force it. If it was blocked, then it was blocked.

The second: the toll.

The flood of perspectives wasn't something a human mind was meant to handle. Even with his original SS-ranked Mental stat, he had struggled to control thousand of views at once without collapsing. And now?

He scowled bitterly as he checked his stat again.

Mental: B

It had plummeted after he abandoned his Virelan bloodline.

"Fuck," he cursed.

If he tried to hold even a fraction of those seventy-three thousand perspectives at once, his brain would tear itself apart. His consciousness would shatter under the overload.

Which meant one thing.

He'd have to do it the slow way. One shadow at a time.

Razeal groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. "Seventy-three thousand of them. Seriously? Finding one person in this crowd…"

It wasn't just the number. Each shadow was unpredictable. Some were stretched thin, giving only warped glimpses of walls. Others were at odd angles, showing nothing useful. Shadows shifted constantly with movement, changing perspective with every twitch of their source.

It would be like combing through a mountain of fractured mirrors, searching for one reflection in the shards.

And yet.. he had no other choice.

"Fine." He clenched his fists, forcing focus into his mind. "I don't have time to complain or even have time for anything but this."

Then he closed his eyes again. Slowly, carefully, he locked onto the nearest tether.. the shadow directly beside his chamber.

The further the distance, the heavier the mana cost. Better to start small, nearby, and conserve strength.

A sharp pulse of darkness ran through him as the connection snapped into place.

And suddenly, the world shifted.

A new view bled into his vision, jagged and grainy like a memory half-formed. He was no longer staring at his white chamber but seeing out from a crooked angle at the base of another.

Stone-gray skin. Ragged breath. A a man sitting in corner. His shadow stretched long and thin across the floor, tethered to Razeal's senses.

The man looked broken. Hollow eyes, pale lips. But alive.

Not the one he was looking for.

Razeal cut the connection, inhaling sharply as his focus snapped back into his own body. His head slightly pounding already, the strain gnawing at the back of his skull.

"One down," he muttered grimly. "Seventy-two thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine to go."

He could almost laugh at the absurdity. Almost.

But instead, he leaned back against the wall again, steadying his breath. Then he closed his eyes and reached for the next shadow.

Continue...

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Hey guys, your lovely author here! First of all, a happy moment for us.. our book has been translated. its into German! I don't really know what the profit will be, but I'm just excited about the idea of gaining more recognition and reaching new readers.

Also, a big shoutout to @lululemon, one of our amazing readers, who helped me set up Google Drive for all the book work. Thanks to him, I didn't have to start from scratch and waste time figuring it out.

And of course, thank you to all of you for your constant support. Don't forget to drop those golden tickets and vote for WSA.. it really will helps a lot! ❤️

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