"I don't really like repeating myself. As I said, I didn't do anything."

Within a cold metallic room, on opposing sides of a table, two figures could be seen.

One was a burly old man wearing an ancient military uniform. His head was bald, covered in tattoos, as were his arms, and his face bore a mighty and thick black beard.

Strangely enough, his pupils shone with a golden light, something rather atypical for humans but not impossible.

"Is that so?"

Sat facing him was a young man wearing a prisoner's uniform, his legs and arms bound by chains.

He seemed to be in his late teens, on the verge of becoming an adult, with a full head of black hair and simple blue eyes.

General Coldsaw licked his finger, then flipped over a page from his clipboard, his gaze narrowing as he read more about the boy before him.

"Here it says your father's body was found dismembered and upon his torso, strange writings resembling runes were found. Your prints were found all over him, and upon his teeth, bits of your flesh were found, which leads us to believe he attempted to free himself but evidently failed."

He looked at the young boy's bandaged arm.

"And, indeed, when we found you, your arm was covered in bite marks—infected ones. This could only be done by human saliva."

He caressed his beard.

"Despite all this, you still say it was not you? You still dare say we have no proof?"

Amon, the young man, sighed upon hearing this as he simultaneously shook his head in

annoyance.

"Just listen. You said it yourself, my prints were found all over his body and his teeth contained bits of my flesh. Why would I leave so many clues that'd incriminate me, yet be the one to call you?"

Amon then showed his arm.

"The bite marks on my arm aren't my father's, they're mine. As for the bits of flesh within his mouth? You've still yet to show me solid proof of you truly finding such a thing, so I will confidently call bullshit."

His fists tightened.

"Just think for a second. My father is the only person I have in my life, and with my disability, I quite literally cannot live without assistance. Why the hell would I kill my own father? Let alone dismember him?!"

His fury rose.

"Check the city cameras. I was out for the past two days. I was at Saint Mary's Hospital. You can even check their records. I didn't leave even once, and atop it all, as I went to the hospital, my father went on a camping trip with one of his buddies."

"Why the hell am I the one being interrogated and not him?!" he roared, his chains rattling as he stood up, his chest heaving under the might of his emotions.

General Coldsaw smiled and continued gently rubbing his beard as he leaned back into his chair.

"You do have quite a violent past, despite your so-called disability." Amon froze. "Let me see...hm..." He leaned forward once more and flipped the pages of his clipboard.

"At age seven, you were involved in the mysterious murder of a young boy your age who died under rather...strange circumstances. At age twelve, you were kicked out of all schools available in the city due to your repeated fights, so you had to become homeschooled."

The general chuckled.

"At age fifteen, you were once again involved in the murder of a young man at a dojo. You were suspected, but thanks to your father's and former master's efforts, you were quickly proven innocent, though many suspect your father simply paid off the judge. After all, he seemed to be quite influential."

Amon stumbled backward, tripping on his chains and falling flat on his butt as his mouth hung agape and he found himself at a loss for words.

Not because he found General Coldsaw's words and quotes to be incriminating but because he finally had an inkling as to what was going on here.

'I'm being framed. I need to get out of here!'

"You're often described as violent, rude, and antisocial, but most importantly—secretive.

They say you always have a gaze filled with suspicion and...guilt? Oh my, how fascinating."

General Coldsaw had totally lost the imposing air a military general should have, now seeming more like a spectator than a vessel of the law, and yet, it made him all the more terrifying as his eyes of gold dug into Amon and his face twisted into a sick grin.

He continued to speak, revealing more and more about Amon's seventeen years of life and his troubling past. The more the seconds trickled by, the more uneasy Amon became.

Bang!

"Help! Help! Help!"

Aware something was absolutely wrong with this supposed interrogation, Amon ran to the metallic door of the room and began to bang on it, screaming for help as General Coldsaw's chuckle was the only thing that filled his ears.

Realizing no one would come to help, Amon suddenly became as calm as a tranquil ocean.

His posture relaxed, his gaze sharpened, and his presence shifted as he turned around, his heart unwavering as he faced the General.

"Ah! Here he is! Here's the little murderer!" The General laughed out loud. "Though I will say, it is quite unfortunate you took this long to reveal yourself. We've wasted precious minutes."

Though Amon found himself confused by those words, his attention was soon grabbed by something else as the very earth began to shake and quake and explosions began to echo all around him.

The General stood up, a mantle of golden light suddenly erupting from his body to entirely coat him as a portal appeared behind him.

"We of the White Eclipse Cult like to do things in order, but alas, fate always has its way. How ironic, eh?"

He turned and walked into the portal.

"All I can say, little Amon, is that you must survive—if you wish to know the truth, of course."

As the portal closed and the last echoes of his laugh resounded, the world seemed to completely shatter.

[Planetary awakening...system formation...]

BOOM!