Devon leaned into Soren. "It's time for my secret weapon."

"Devon Lamington," the council head pointed a shaky finger at him. "Do you know what would happen if you can't back this claim?

All the Waterfells are dead. No one has seen any of their family members since the 4th generation war."

"Yes, I agree." Devon began, stepping out and circling his table.

Then he stopped right behind Soren, who stared at him in confusion.

"Your honor, the last known Waterfell was seen some... what? Sixteen years ago?" He patted Soren's shoulders.

"Which coincidentally was around the time my client was born."

The council head gave a light chuckle. "That does not mean anything. Just because he was born around the same time the last one was seen does not mean he is a Waterfell.

According to your deductions then, do you know how many children would be nobles?"

"Ahhh, but he is. If you don't mind. I'd like to call to the stand someone to back up my claim."

"Go ahead." The council head frowned, looking at Devon like he was trying to figure him out.

"I call to the stand Major Boyed of the Judicators of the Glass."

The crowd gasped silently.

Boyed stood up, adjusted the buttons on his blue tunic, and stepped forward.

His steps were measured, confident, and filled with arrogance. But no one thought it was too much.

After all, he was an exemplary mecha pilot with achievements under his belt.

This much, he deserved.

Boyed took to the stand, eyes looking towards Soren but only for a bit.

"Major Boyed," Devon began, "you were one of the examining officers of Cadet Soren during the Touching Glass ceremony."

Boyed nodded, "Yes, I was."

"Can you tell this court certain things you observed about Cadet Soren during that time?" Devon asked.

"Apart from the abnormality of the bonding process with his Shade, he was mostly referred to as Dungie." Boyed replied.

Devon nodded as he turned to the courtroom. "I think we all know what a Dungie is—one that abandons their Soul Mecha. A very rare and dishonorable thing to do, if I might add. So dishonorable that the tag is passed unto the children of such disgusting traitors.

But the real question is this. Why would a commoner child be tagged a Dungie?" Devon turned back to the head council member.

However, this time around, it was the prosecutor that stood up to respond.

She had been holding back all this while. The decision for Soren to meet the edge of a blade was already made, as she was tasked by her family to do it.

But now, this new evidence of Soren's status was interfering with the decision that should have been a sealed deal.

"Objection. Your honor. The defendant is producing baseless evidence that does not matter to the relevance of this case. I demand that..."

"But I do have evidence." Devon interrupted, pushing a button on his table. "I just sent all gathered evidence of the confirmation of Cadet Soren's identity."

The prosecutor checked her table, looking at the documents that had been sent.

The council was the same thing.

"While during the recently concluded 5th-generation war, we had a lot of Dungies, the fourth-generation war was different.

According to the records, there was only one sighting of an abandoned Soul Mecha. While it was recovered because of its great significance and importance—entirely empty of aether—the whereabouts of the pilot was never known.

Coincidentally, the league of towns just so happens to be within two kilometers in its general vicinity—almost like it was its intended destination.

Now, tell me. Is that not a fond coincidence?"

Devon waited a bit, enjoying the attention on himself.

"Of course, you all know who this Dungie was. A waterfell.

There is further evidence, including birth and migration records of the general location, and one very important thing to note. I did leave it at the end. I am sure you can confirm it."

By now, the council head was speechless, fingers shaking as he went through the documents on his table.

But he was not the only one. One council member had beads of sweat on his forehead. No matter how he wiped, it was not enough.

The jury was no different.

"Devon Lamington, are you sure about these findings?" The head council member asked, voice a bit shaky.

"Ahh... I see you have read the last line." He turned to the rest of the courtroom.

"There are many rumors accompanying the Waterfells. All Waterfells, including loyal servants, must be buried in the ancestral grave.

Only days ago, it was reported that the body of my client's only known guardian, who passed away during the Eldritch attack on his town, turned up missing."

Devon stopped here.

The whispers became louder. Many people were turning towards Soren with a particular look in their eyes—mostly predatory.

On the other hand, Soren could not help but watch—tongue-tied.

The earliest memory he had of his life was trying to find shelter during a rainstorm and Machos taking him in.

Maybe any memory before that was just too terrible to remember, and therefore his mind flushed it away.

He never knew his father and hated that people called him a Dungie. He hated that he had to suffer so much shame for a man he never knew.

A man that never cared for him.

A man that left him in this uncaring world to die.

And now this.

Soren had a thousand questions. But more than that, he felt so much rage. His fingers dug into his hair, pulling so hard, the pain it caused served as the only anchor holding him back from blowing up.

If not that he was F-ranked and more focus was needed for soul energy to be used, Soren could have exploded in it.

All the pain. The humiliation he had to suffer, and now this?

Devon gave Soren a glance. He sighed in his heart. He could tell the boy was more hurt than shocked.

But there was nothing he could do about it. 'Life is not fair, boy. You have to get used to it.'

"If you all still have doubts about my client's identity, then might I remind you of this? It has only been about three weeks since Cadet Soren became a Soulbound warrior.

And in these three weeks, he has;

*Piloted a Soul Mecha. A feat that should not be possible until one has at least achieved 4th Form—according to the third-generation standards.

*defeated an Eldritch soul that led to the saving of hundreds of lives.

*Killed a saboteur of the academy and saved this year's first-year cadets.

But that is not all. His possibilities shine even in prison.

*Saving the life of a Soul Mecha pilot—

—and most recently, only two days ago, achieved a feat in the glass that this prison has never seen.

It is rumored that a Waterfell's greatness comes from their bloodline. If any one of these was achieved by another noble child, we would have had noble families talking about it for days.

Are we all too blind to see this?"

Silence.

Devon paused here. He had been talking so much his jaw was starting to hurt.

Then again, he did not regret it. This had to hit big on their heads.

After all, if this did not work, then Soren's fate was as good as sealed.

Then again, wouldn't it?

Devon turned to the jury. From their expressions, he knew that he had done well.

Every single one of them expressed it clearly.

FEAR.

The council head slapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, in search of both saliva and the will to talk.

He eventually did.

"The Waterfells have been silent for long, not even taking part in the 5th generation war. We don't even know if they still exist. If this development is wrong..."

"But if it's correct," Devon interrupted, "...and you end up killing a waterfell," he turned around, gaze gliding across all faces, "...everyone in this courtroom will be in serious trouble.

I am sure, in all the rumors of the Waterfells, you all know the one that stands out the most.

Empires may rise because of armies.

But they fall because of Waterfell."

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