ARC II — ENTOMBMENT
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Specimen
The chamber smelled of antiseptic smoke and old blood.
Four thrones remained where seven had once stood, their dim light flickering across a floor still scarred from the battle that had ended everything.
No one spoke of victory.
Because nothing about this felt like one.
The Old Man of Time sat hunched in the first throne, fingers trembling faintly against the armrest. Not weakness , recoil.
As if his body had yet to accept that it had survived something it should not have.
Beside him, the Lady in Black ,
Morvayne sat perfectly still, posture rigid enough to pass for strength. Only the faint tremor in her clasped hands betrayed the truth.
The burn along her jaw glistened beneath the chamber light, the skin there too damaged to hide behind dignity.
The Lightning King leaned forward in the third throne, staring at the floor as if it might open and swallow him next.
Weak arcs of electricity crawled across his armor, flickering out before they could become power.
Across from them, the Crimson King remained untouched.
Untouched.
Unburned.
He had not fought ,because he had not needed to.
Near the wall, half-veiled by shadow, stood the Principal of Mirth Academy, recording slate held against his chest.
He did not belong among rulers. He was there to remember what the world would later deny.
Silence stretched.
Then
"The bindings are stable," the Old Man of Time rasped.
No relief followed.
Morvayne's voice came next, calm in the way surgeons Spoke before cutting.
"Begin extraction."
Far below the chamber, beyond light and memory, Leylin hung suspended in chains forged from living law.
They pierced through flesh and aura alike, anchoring him not to a place, but to reality itself.
His head hung forward.
Black hair veiled his eyes.
He might have looked dead
if not for the glow in his chest.
A slow, steady pulse of crimson-gold.
Pride.
It did not flare.
Did not resist.
It simply existed, immovable as a mountain.
Beneath it, something deeper stirred.
Gluttony.Silent.Aware.Listening.
Leylin opened his eyes.
Just a fraction.No rage.No desperation.Only observation.
He tested nothing.
Struggled against nothing.
Because even now,he was measuring.
The extraction chamber activated with a low mechanical hum.
A translucent cage descended, its walls etched with thousands of rotating sigils that rearranged themselves endlessly, adapting to the energy they contained.
Leylin was lowered into it slowly.
Carefully.
Like something volatile.
Like something alive that should not be.
The moment his body crossed the threshold, the cage ignited.Runes flared.
Energy siphons stabbed inward, drawing power from him in thin, luminous threads.
The air warped.Reality bent.
Somewhere above, alarms screamed before being forcibly silenced.
Morvayne watched through the observation barrier, face unreadable.
"Output?"
"Stabilizing," the Principal replied, stylus moving rapidly. "Resistance minimal."
Minimal.
As if that were the disturbing part.
Inside the cage, Leylin did not move.
Did not react.
He simply looked at the walls.
Tracing.Counting.Learning.
A specimen studying the laboratory that believed it owned him.
Morvayne stepped closer to the barrier.
"Leylin," she said, voice carrying through the resonance field. "Yield the Sin Cores. Pride. Gluttony."
No response.
"
You cannot escape this," she continued. "Give them willingly, and your end will be merciful."
Leylin's gaze shifted slightly.
Not to her.
To the seams of the cage behind her.
He was mapping it.
Even now.
Morvayne felt something cold slide down her spine.
"Continue extraction," she ordered quietly.
Hours passed.Then days.
Leylin never screamed.
Never begged.Never spoke.
Technicians rotated shifts, unable to withstand prolonged exposure to the pressure radiating from the cage.
Some fainted.
Some bled from the nose.
One collapsed without waking again.
Inside, Leylin remained perfectly still.
Watching.
Memorizing.Waiting.
When the Old Man of Time finally descended to see the prisoner himself, he stopped several meters from the cage.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then..
"…What are you?"
Leylin met his gaze fully for the first time.
And in that instant, the ancient ruler understood something that would haunt him for the rest of his existence.
The thing inside the cage was not enduring imprisonment.
It was enduring time.
The same way mountains endured wind.
The same way the abyss endured light.
Patient.Certain.Inevitable.
The Old Man stepped back.
"Keep him contained," he whispered.
Not as an order.
As a plea.
Inside the cage, Pride pulsed once.
Slow.
Heavy.
Like a heartbeat that did not belong to any living thing.
Leylin closed his eyes again.
Not in surrender.
But in calculation.
He had already begun.