I Killed The Main Characters

Chapter 107: Bad Ending NO.1 [3]

The courtroom was heavy with the suffocating tension of judgment.

Noah's mind was a whirlwind of rage, confusion, and betrayal as the young female Vanguard member stood up, taking a deep breath before addressing the court.

She was no older than him—third year, if he remembered correctly.

Her uniform was pristine, her posture rigid, a picture of conviction in stark contrast to Noah's disheveled state.

She held a notepad in her hand, eyes narrowing as she began to read.

"On the day of Noah Ashbourne's arrest, which was today, it was noted that despite his mana reserves being blocked by the [Mercurial Seal], he was able to tap into another energy source."

She said firmly, her voice ringing with an authority she clearly believed in.

"Our investigation confirmed that this energy did not originate from his natural reserves.

The tattoos visible on his back, which glowed red during the confrontation, strongly suggest the use of demonic magic.

This was further supported by residual traces of corrupted mana in the air at the scene."

There was a low murmur from the gallery as she continued.

Her gaze darted towards the judge, who gave a slight nod, signaling another attendant to step forward.

In his hands was a sleek, black device—a cylindrical object with glowing blue runes.

He moved toward Noah, who instinctively took a step back, but the manacles around his wrists tightened, forcing him in place.

"Bring it here," the judge ordered, his voice cold and final.

The device was held up to Noah's chest, and a light whirring sound filled the room.

The crystal at its core began to glow a deep, malevolent red—signaling demonic energy.

The courtroom gasped. It was irrefutable proof, undeniable to anyone present.

Noah's eyes narrowed, his mind racing.

He felt the weight of the device's implications, a confirmation that struck him like a physical blow. Find more to read at m_v l|-NovelBin.net

It wasn't his mana, it wasn't his power—it was something else, something tied to those damnable runes.

"Demonic energy detected," the attendant announced grimly, holding the device high for all to see.

Noah's chest tightened. He felt like he was being crushed from the inside, the room suddenly closing in around him.

The judge motioned for silence, his gavel tapping lightly against the wooden stand.

"This only adds to the severity of the charges," he said.

His tone was even, detached, as if the situation were a mere formality—a process that had already run its course long before Noah set foot in the room.

One by one, witnesses were called to testify.

The judge began to read their statements, each report a blade that cut deeper into Noah's defense.

"First, we have a statement from Alina Greaves, a second-year student who saw Noah speaking with known cult members on several occasions," the judge said, his voice echoing through the chamber.

A holographic screen flickered to life beside him.

"She testifies that she witnessed several exchanges of artifacts in darkened corners of the academy, exchanges that seemed secretive and suspicious."

Noah's heart sank. That was true; he remembered each encounter vividly.

But those meetings were part of his investigation, trying to uncover the cult's influence from the inside.

Alina didn't have the full picture, and now her testimony was a nail in his coffin.

"Next," the judge continued, "a report from Tarwin Elst, a member of the Academy's Rune Study Group.

He claims that he witnessed Noah tampering with the academy's barrier enchantments, causing disruptions that allowed unregistered individuals to slip through security.

These enchantments are sacred and tampering with them is a direct violation of the academy's rules."

The screen shifted.

He had been following a lead that night, searching for the weak points the cult had exploited, trying to strengthen them.

But now, it was being twisted to fit a narrative he couldn't fight.

Each statement made his hands clench tighter, fury and helplessness growing inside him.

He was drowning in a flood of accusations that all bore the weight of truth, but each was stripped of the context that could have exonerated him.

"Third," the judge read, "we have a report from Lorna Vex, a first-year student who testifies that Noah manipulated other students into acquiring rare and illegal artifacts for him, using his influence as a Vanguard member to coerce them."

The screen flashed again, this time showing transaction records linked directly to his account.

There it was—every interaction he had made, the purchase of rare magical items, the acquisition of forbidden texts.

They were all for his research, his desperate attempts to find out who was manipulating the academy from within.

Now, the documents had been altered, the dates changed, the context erased to paint a damning picture.

"Fourth," the judge said, "from Master Fabian Croll, a senior professor in the Magic Engineering Department.

He discovered that Noah had manipulated his access to restricted files in the department's archive, stealing sensitive blueprints for magical devices."

Again, the screen flashed

This time, the documents were unmistakable—blueprints for devices Noah had indeed looked at, but only in the hope of understanding the cult's hidden machinations.

How had they known?

How had they known which files to plant, which records to alter?

The thought made his skin crawl.

"And finally," the judge concluded, "a statement from Garth Hollister, an academy groundskeeper, who caught Noah in the restricted section of the woods surrounding the academy grounds.

Hollister reports seeing Noah near a summoning circle, attempting to activate it with a dark artifact in his hand."

The screen then flickered yet again showing the portrait photos of the individuals who had testified against him.

He remembered that night clearly—the desperate search for answers, the ritual he had found half-completed, trying to dismantle it before it could be used.

But the guard might have caught the moment when his hand hovered over the glowing sigils, the incriminating angle that spoke of intention rather than investigation.

The judge's voice was solemn, unyielding.

"With these five statements, the charges against Noah Ashbourne are clear. Let them be read for the record."