CHAPTER 71: A PERFECT CIRCLE

Noah’s jaw tightened. "I don’t know."

"They say the person bore your name, and looked like you." The first investigator continued, almost conversationally. "That sounds like you to me."

"Then they’re wrong." Noah replied, voice harder now.

The second investigator’s eyes narrowed further. "Did you have a disagreement with Juniper recently?"

"No." The denial was immediate. "We’ve never fought. Not once."

The first investigator tapped his fingers against the table, as if ticking off points on an invisible list.

"Here are the facts, Mr. Noah. Multiple witnesses saw you with Juniper during the day. Later, they saw Juniper leaving her friends to meet you again. Then Juniper disappeared. This isn’t a puzzle with missing pieces. It’s a straight line from point A to point B."

The second investigator leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a tone that was both curious and accusing. "So, if not you... who? Who could have done it?"

Noah’s shoulders stiffened. "I have no idea."

The man’s voice turned cold. "You’re a summoned hero, aren’t you? One who woke up with low potential. Do you know how the story looks to us?"

"You’re brought to Camelot to fight for the kingdom, but you’re treated like an afterthought. Then you meet a young noblewoman, pretty, well-connected. Maybe you saw her as a way in. Maybe she rejected you. Maybe this was your way of getting revenge on Camelot, by taking her away."

The words were a noose, each one tightening around him.

"You should understand something." The first investigator added, his voice smooth now, almost pitying. "We’re doing you a favor by asking questions like this. If our superiors arrive, their methods won’t be so... polite. So, speak now, or... you’ll regret it later."

Noah met their stares without flinching. "I didn’t take Juniper. I don’t know where she is. I had nothing to do with her disappearance."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

"Well," the first investigator shrugged, a smile playing on his lips, "don’t say I didn’t warn you."

[][][][][]

Juniper sat slumped against the cold stone wall, the clink of her chains the only sound in the dim basement.

The metal cuffs around her wrists dug into her skin, leaving them raw and sore. She’d screamed until her voice was a rasp, tried pulling and twisting against the iron restraints until her arms trembled from the effort.

Nothing had worked. The chains were anchored deep into the wall, and her only company was the constant drip of water from somewhere in the darkness.

When the door at the top of the stairs creaked open, her head jerked up, eyes narrowing.

A hooded figure stepped into view, the dim light from above casting his face in shadow. He descended the wooden stairs slowly, each step a dull thud against the silence, until he stood before her.

He carried a tray. Steam curled from a bowl of thick stew, and there was a hunk of bread beside it. He crouched, setting it on the floor just within her reach before stepping back, hands clasped behind him.

Juniper’s gaze flicked from the food to him. "What do you want with me?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

The man was silent for a few seconds before he replied, his voice a rasp, like stone grinding on stone.

"You should rejoice." He said, the words dragging slowly from his throat. "You will be the herald of a new age. An age where demons and humans live... in harmony."

Her stomach twisted. "You’re a demon worshipper," she spat, pressing herself harder against the wall.

The hooded man tilted his head, a small, humorless chuckle escaping him. "No," he said. "I am not a worshipper. I simply have a... healthy appreciation for them."

She stared, unsure if he was mocking her or if he truly believed what he was saying.

"Humans and demons," he continued, taking a slow step forward, "are nothing more than two sides of the same coin. Opposed, yes... but shaped by the same hand. And I... I am close, so close, to making them one. No more coin. A perfect circle."

A wild gleam shone in the shadowed recess where his eyes should have been.

Then he laughed, low at first, then louder, building into a jagged, unhinged sound that filled the basement like a storm.

Juniper’s breath quickened. She pressed herself flat against the wall, chains rattling, her eyes wide.

The laughter faded as abruptly as it began. He straightened, stepping back toward the stairs.

"Eat," he said. "You’ll need the energy."

Without waiting for her answer, he turned and began climbing the steps, his chuckles following him until the door shut, plunging the room back into shadow.

Juniper stared at the tray, her heartbeat loud in her ears, knowing she was trapped in the company of a man who had long since abandoned reason.

[][][][][]

Noah woke with a sharp inhale, the cold biting into his skin.

His body swayed slightly, and it was only when he tried to move his arms that he felt the bite of iron around his wrists.

He groaned in pain, lifting his head to find heavy chains stretching from the cuffs to the ceiling above. His feet barely touched the ground, forcing all his weight onto his bound arms.

The iron bands dug deep, and with every small movement, the metal scraped against raw skin.

Grunting, Noah braced himself and pulled with all the strength he could muster. His muscles strained, the chains clinking softly under the tension, but they didn’t budge. They were too thick and solid, embedded in the stone of the ceiling like they’d been there for centuries.

Noah’s breathing quickened, his eyes darting around the dark room. It was barren save for him. But that wasn’t what made his stomach clench.

It was the realization.

He couldn’t feel it.

The familiar, constant hum in the back of his mind, the pool of energy that was his mana, was gone. Not suppressed, not restrained... gone.

His chest tightened as he reached for it instinctively, the way he had countless times before. Nothing answered.

Noah’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to form a spell, reaching for the patterns burned into his mind through repetition.

"Fireball," he muttered under his breath.

Silence. Not even the faint spark of a failed cast.

A cold wave of dread swept over him.

"Devour," he tried next, forcing the mental image, the darkness, the reaching hands... but there was nothing. Just empty thought.

Desperate now, he called upon his skill, Roar, pulling for whatever strength it might lend him. Nothing happened except for his own strained exhale.

His breathing grew more shallow and rapid.

"Status." He said aloud, the command feeling almost childish on his tongue. Still... nothing.

They’d taken it all from him. Somehow, the investigation authority had stripped him of his mana, his skills, and even his connection to the system itself.

He felt naked, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the cold or the chains.

The iron bit deeper into his wrists as his hands clenched. His mind raced, not just with the fear of what this meant for him, but with one question that burned hotter than the pain.

How?

And more importantly... why?