Vale, realising who had just entered the courtroom, snapped the mana-suppressing cuffs apart with a single motion. As the shackles shattered, his prisoner robes dissolved into his armour, and a weapon materialised in his hand with a spark of light.
"Need a hand, old friend?" Dain called out with a wide grin. He now wore a set of black steel gauntlets, his once-severed arm fully restored, just as Vale had expected after their return from the second trial.
Ayla's hair had grown long, now tied neatly at the back. In her hand, she carried a dagger the colour of obsidian, its slender blade shimmering faintly with violet light. The cross-guard curled like twisted thorns, and at its center glowed a blood-red gem, casting a soft, eerie radiance. The weapon's design was both elegant and lethal, made for swift, silent kills.
