The device in the leader's hand hummed with power that made Ciel's teeth ache even before it touched him. Metallic, vaguely cylindrical, covered in runes that pulsed with sickly green light—the kind of enchantment work that suggested serious resources and equally serious intent.

  "This won't be pleasant," the leader said, almost apologetically. "But understanding requires... depth. Surface thoughts tell us nothing useful. We need to see what lies beneath."

  He gestured to two of the masked figures, who moved behind Ciel and forced his head forward, exposing the back of his neck. The collar there pulsed in response to the device's proximity, some kind of resonance between enchantments creating pressure that made breathing difficult.

  "Fifth Stage Mind Mage," the leader continued, as if that explained everything. "One of our most valued members. He'll ensure we understand exactly what the System has made you into."

  A new figure stepped forward from the shadows near the far wall. Unlike the others with their plain white masks, this one wore something more elaborate—carved wood painted with swirling patterns that seemed to move when looked at directly. His robes were dark purple, almost black in the harsh lighting, and the air around him carried a weight that Ciel's instincts recognized immediately.

  Genuine power. Not the organized competence of the other End Society members, but actual Fifth Stage capability that made even looking at him feel like pushing against a strong current.

  "Ciel Nova," the Mind Mage said, his voice soft and oddly musical. "You're younger than I expected. Sixteen, recently. Still a child by most standards, yet already carrying burdens that would crush awakeners twice your age."

  He moved closer, each step deliberate and unhurried. "I'm going to enter your mind now. Examine your thoughts, your memories, your fundamental nature. The process will feel... intrusive. Most people describe it as having their soul peeled apart layer by layer. But I promise to be as gentle as circumstances allow."

  Ciel's heart hammered against his ribs. Mind magic was rare—even among Fifth Stage awakeners, true mental manipulation required specific talent combinations most people never developed. And this man had apparently specialized in it, refined it to the point where the End Society considered him valuable enough to keep hidden in whatever extremist cell operated here.

  The Mind Mage raised both hands, his fingers moving through complex gestures that left trails of purple light in the air. "Try to relax. Fighting only makes it worse."

  The spell hit like a tidal wave crashing into his consciousness.

  Ciel felt pressure building inside his skull, as if something was trying to force its way through bone and tissue to reach his thoughts directly. His vision blurred, the warehouse spinning as reality itself seemed to lose coherence. The masked figures around him dissolved into abstract shapes, their edges bleeding together while colors inverted and shifted through impossible spectrums.

  Then the foreign presence touched his mind.

  It felt like ice water poured directly onto exposed nerves—shocking, violating, fundamentally wrong in ways that made his entire being want to recoil. The Mind Mage's consciousness pressed against his own, probing for weaknesses, looking for the cracks where mental defenses could be pried apart.

  Ciel tried to resist, tried to maintain some kind of barrier between himself and the intrusion. But the Fifth Stage awakener's skill vastly exceeded anything he could counter at Second Stage. The pressure increased, his mental walls crumbling like wet paper, and suddenly the Mind Mage was inside—

  And then stopped.

  The intrusion halted so abruptly that Ciel nearly gasped with relief. The pressure remained, the foreign presence still touching his consciousness, but the deeper violation he'd been bracing for simply... didn't happen.

  The Mind Mage made a confused sound. Through the haze of purple light and distorted reality, Ciel saw him gesture more forcefully, his spell structure intensifying. The pressure increased again, pushing harder against whatever was preventing full access.

  Still nothing. The invasion stopped at the same point, unable to progress beyond surface contact.

  "Interesting," the Mind Mage murmured, though his tone carried frustration rather than actual interest. "There's... something. A barrier I can't quite identify. Not a skill, not a conscious defense, just... resistance."

  The leader stepped closer. "Can you break through it?"

  "Given time, probably. But it would require more force than is strictly safe. His mind might fracture if I push too hard." The Mind Mage lowered his hands slightly, the purple light dimming. "Whatever this is, it's tied to his class somehow. The System appears to have granted him natural defenses against mental intrusion as part of his Unique classification."

  Ciel's thoughts raced even as he maintained his blank expression. He had no idea why the Mind Mage couldn't penetrate his consciousness—nothing in his class description mentioned mental defenses. But he wasn't about to question the gift.

  And more importantly, he realized what opportunity this created.

  The End Society members expected him to be vulnerable to mind control. They'd brought in a Fifth Stage specialist specifically to ensure compliance through mental manipulation. If Ciel could convince them the spell had worked despite its actual failure...

  He let his posture slacken, his eyes losing focus as if something fundamental had shifted in his awareness. His breathing evened out, tension bleeding from muscles that had been fighting the restraints. The transformation was subtle but noticeable—a prisoner becoming compliant.

  "There," the Mind Mage said with satisfaction. "Surface compliance at least. He won't resist basic commands even if deeper control remains impossible."

  "Is it permanent?" the leader asked.

  "Should hold for several days. Long enough for your initial tests." The Mind Mage stepped back, his purple robes swirling. "But I recommend caution. Whatever's protecting his deeper consciousness might interfere if you push him too far."

  The leader nodded slowly, apparently satisfied despite the partial success. He gestured to the figures holding Ciel, and they began working on his restraints.

  "We'll keep the collar," the leader said as rope fell away from Ciel's wrists. "His mana suppression stays active regardless of mental compliance. But the physical restraints can be removed now that he's... cooperative."

  Ciel let his arms drop to his sides naturally, showing no sign of the relief flooding through him. His wrists ached where the rope had dug in, circulation returning with painful tingles. But he maintained the blank expression, the empty compliance of someone whose will had been overridden.

  "Can you stand?" the leader asked.

  Ciel stood smoothly, his enhanced Endurance making the transition easy despite hours of being bound. He met the leader's gaze through the mask with eyes that showed awareness but no independent thought—a person receiving commands rather than making decisions.

  "Good. You'll be confined for tonight. Tomorrow we begin proper testing—physical assessments, capability measurements, understanding what makes a Realm Holder different from normal awakeners." The leader's tone had shifted now that he believed Ciel was under control. Less threatening, almost conversational. "Cooperate fully and the process will be painless. Resist and we'll need to involve our Mind Mage again."

  Ciel nodded obediently.

  Two masked figures moved to flank him, clearly designated guards despite his apparent compliance. They led him toward a door at the warehouse's far end, their hands near concealed weapons but not quite touching them. The mental control had made him seem safe, but training kept them cautious anyway.

  They emerged into a narrow corridor that confirmed Ciel's earlier assessment about location—this was definitely an old industrial facility repurposed for the End Society's use. Peeling paint on concrete walls, fluorescent lights that flickered erratically, the musty smell of a place that had been abandoned for years before recent occupation.

  Then they reached an exterior door, and Ciel got his first real look at where he'd been taken.

  The city beyond the facility made his breath catch despite his need to maintain the compliant facade.

  It was wrong. Not in the obvious ways—the buildings stood solid enough, the streets were paved, infrastructure seemed functional. But the people...

  Ciel had grown up in Amber City, where awakeners walked freely among the general population. Where you couldn't throw a rock without hitting someone who'd be at least at their First Awakening, where even the elderly shopkeepers and retired workers carried the enhanced physiques that came from System integration.

  Here, almost everyone looked baseline human.

  An elderly woman shuffled past using an actual cane rather than just enhanced Endurance. A middle-aged man loading cargo moved with the careful mechanics of someone whose strength hadn't been multiplied many times over.

  His guards led him through streets where perhaps one person in twenty showed signs of awakening. The ratio was completely backwards—in every city Ciel had ever visited, awakeners represented at least eighty percent of the population. Here they were a small minority, scattered individuals among masses who remained stubbornly baseline.

  And that was impossible.

  Article Three of the World Government's founding charter—written by Aster Vaelaris himself—declared awakening a universal human right. Every person who reached sixteen years of age was guaranteed System access, guaranteed the opportunity to transcend baseline limitations regardless of wealth, status, or origin.

  Enforcement was absolute. The Star Guilds maintained monitoring systems that tracked population demographics across every territory, intervening immediately when awakening rates dropped below acceptable thresholds. Cities that tried to restrict System access faced sanctions so severe that compliance became the only viable option.

  Yet here Ciel walked through a place where ninety-five percent of the population remained unawakened, where that fundamental right had been systematically denied, and apparently nobody in authority noticed or cared.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Which meant this wasn't just an End Society cell. This was an entire town that had somehow fallen outside the World Government's jurisdiction. Hidden away, isolated, maintaining the kind of population demographics that should have triggered immediate investigation.

  His mind raced through implications while his face remained carefully blank. How many people lived here? Thousands, probably—you couldn't maintain urban infrastructure with smaller populations. How long had this been hidden? Years at minimum, possibly decades. And most damning—how many other places like this existed, scattered across the continents in blind spots the guilds had never bothered checking?

  The guards led him to a small apartment building that looked marginally better maintained than the surrounding structures. They climbed three flights of stairs—no elevator, of course, because baseline humans needed physical fitness equipment—and stopped at a door marked with a simple "7."

  "Your room," one guard said, his voice carrying the flat affect of someone performing routine duty. "Bathroom's through the door on the left. Bed's already made. Someone will bring food in the morning before testing begins."

  He unlocked the door with a physical key rather than mana-activated enchantment. The room beyond was exactly as sparse as Ciel expected—a narrow bed, a small table with a single chair, a bathroom barely large enough to turn around in. A window looked out over the street below, though bars on the outside made any escape attempt through it impractical.

  "Stay put," the other guard added unnecessarily. "We'll be outside. Don't try anything stupid."

  Ciel stepped inside without comment, maintaining his compliant expression until the door closed and locked behind him. Then he allowed himself to breathe properly for the first time since the Mind Mage's spell had hit.

  He could hear the guards settling outside—quiet conversation about shift rotations, someone complaining about being stuck on watch duty. But their voices grew more distant as they moved down the hallway slightly, probably finding somewhere more comfortable to wait.

  Ciel moved to the window, looking out at the city that shouldn't exist. Streetlights were coming on as evening deepened into night, their illumination revealing more of the population that walked these streets without enhancement. An old man closing up his shop. A woman calling children inside for dinner. People living baseline lives in a world where that choice should have been impossible.

  They're not choosing this, Ciel realized with sudden clarity. The End Society is denying them awakening access. Keeping them weak, keeping them dependent, probably feeding them ideology about how the System is divine punishment that should be rejected.

  It was systematic oppression dressed up as religious conviction. Taking Aster's guarantee of universal opportunity and perverting it into controlled denial, creating a population that remained forever beneath the awakeners who ruled them.

  And the worst part? The World Government clearly had no idea this was happening.

  Ciel pulled away from the window, his mind shifting to more immediate concerns. The guards thought he was mentally compromised, compliant, no threat. The collar still suppressed his mana but not completely—he could feel his reserves, just couldn't access them efficiently for combat.

  But there was one thing he could still do. One capability that required mana but didn't need the kind of free-flowing access that combat skills demanded.

  He could place a Spatial Anchor.

  The skill had been unlocked when his World Tree reached Stage 3, allowing him to designate specific locations for permanent Realm access. He'd used one charge immediately, placing an anchor at the Nova household so he could return home from his Realm without needing to exit at his last entry point.

  Two charges remained. And right now, with guards outside who believed him incapacitated and a collar that made normal mana usage difficult, establishing an escape route seemed like the best possible investment.

  Ciel sat on the narrow bed, closing his eyes and reaching for his mana with careful precision. The collar fought him immediately, that pulsing enchantment trying to disrupt any deliberate circulation. But he'd spent weeks practicing fine control during his Realm training. He knew how to work around resistance.

  The mana moved sluggishly, like trying to pour honey uphill. What should have taken seconds stretched into minutes as he gathered enough energy for the skill activation. Sweat began forming on his forehead from the effort, concentration narrowing until nothing existed except the slow, painful accumulation of power.

  Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Ciel's reserves depleted faster than normal—the collar making every action inefficient, turning simple mana manipulation into grueling labor.

  But finally, finally, he had enough.

  Spatial Anchor.

  The skill activated with a sensation like reality clicking into place. The room's fundamental nature shifted slightly, becoming a designated point in space that his Realm would recognize as a permanent access location. Invisible to anyone without spatial manipulation skills, impossible to detect through normal means, but absolutely solid from Ciel's perspective.

  The anchor settled into place, and Ciel felt his mana reserves drop another significant chunk. Not empty—maybe forty percent remaining after the extended effort. But the anchor was down, permanent, ready to be used whenever he could access his Realm.

  Which meant he needed to get back to his pocket dimension. And the collar made that problematic.

  He stood slowly, moving to the small bathroom and closing the door. The guards outside wouldn't hear anything suspicious—just their compliant prisoner using the facilities like a normal person would.

  Then he reached for his Realm.

  The collar resisted immediately. Mana suppression flared as he tried to activate the dimensional access, that pulsing enchantment fighting against the skill's fundamental requirements. Pain lanced through his head, worse than the ache from being struck unconscious, as the collar's punishment protocols engaged.

  But Ciel had survived ninety-six deaths. He'd endured pain that made this feel like mild discomfort. He pushed through the collar's resistance with stubborn determination, forcing mana to circulate despite the suppression, compelling the Realm access to activate against active countermeasures.

  The world fractured around him.

  Not cleanly like normal transitions—this was rough, violent, reality tearing rather than folding. The bathroom dissolved into fragments, his consciousness spreading thin across dimensional barriers that weren't meant to be crossed under these conditions.

  Then the Realm snapped into focus, and Ciel collapsed onto familiar grass gasping for air.

  The World Tree's branches spread overhead, its bark pulsing with the gentle rhythm he'd come to associate with home. The grassland stretched in every direction, peaceful and alive in ways that made the End Society's hidden town feel like a nightmare by comparison.

  And most importantly—the collar's suppression had vanished.

  Whatever enchantment powered the device, it apparently didn't extend across dimensional barriers. In his Realm, Ciel's mana flowed freely again, reserves already beginning to regenerate at their normal accelerated rate.

  He lay in the grass for several minutes, just breathing and letting the accumulated stress drain away. Then he stood, checking his status to confirm the collar's effects had truly disappeared.

  Everything looked normal. Mana circulation unrestricted, stats at full power, skills available without resistance. The collar itself still physically existed around his neck—he could feel its weight—but the active suppression had gone dormant.

  Perfect.

  Ciel moved through his Realm toward the spot where his home anchor waited. The spatial marker pulsed with readiness, eager to be used. He'd placed it in his bedroom months ago, ensuring he could always return home regardless of where his Realm access originated.

  One deep breath to center himself. Then he activated the anchor.

  Reality folded again, but smoothly this time. The Realm dissolved around him, replaced by the familiar comfort of his childhood bedroom. Moonlight streamed through his window, painting everything in silver-blue light.

  And sitting on his bed, clutching a pillow and clearly trying not to cry, was Eren.

  His little brother looked up as Ciel materialized, eyes widening with shock that immediately transformed into desperate relief. "Ciel! You're—mom and dad said you were missing! The guild came looking and everything, they said someone took you and—"

  Eren launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Ciel with the kind of fierce hug that spoke to hours of worry compressed into sudden joy.

  Ciel returned the embrace automatically, his mind processing what Eren had said. The guild knew he was missing. Which meant Arthur and Eve knew. Which meant...

  How long have I been gone?

  He checked the time through his interface. Nearly a day since the invisible attack had hit him on the street. An entire day vanished while unconscious and bound in that warehouse, transported to a town that shouldn't exist, dealing with extremists who believed awakening itself was sin.

  "Where were you?" Eren asked, his voice muffled against Ciel's chest. "Dad's been going crazy trying to find you. Mom too, but she's trying to stay calm for my sake. They think—they were worried you were dead."

  "I'm not dead," Ciel said quietly, the words feeling inadequate. "Just... somewhere I shouldn't have been. But I'm back now."

  "Are you hurt? Should I get mom? She can heal you if—"

  "I'm fine." Ciel gently extracted himself from Eren's grip, moving to look out the window at Amber City's familiar lights. "Just tired. What time is it?"

  "Almost midnight. I couldn't sleep, kept thinking about..." Eren's voice wavered. "Kept thinking about what might be happening to you."

  Ciel felt something twist in his chest. Eren was nine years old—young enough that awakener violence remained mostly abstract, something that happened to other people rather than immediate family. Finding out his older brother had been kidnapped must have been terrifying.

  "I'm sorry," he said, turning back to face Eren properly. "I didn't mean to worry you. Things just... happened. But I'm back now, and I'm okay."

  Eren wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, clearly trying to compose himself despite the tears. "Should I wake mom and dad? They'd want to know you're safe."

  Ciel considered that question carefully. He needed to tell his parents what had happened—both the kidnapping and what he'd discovered about the End Society's hidden town. Arthur would know how to report this properly, ensure the guild moved against the extremists before they could relocate or destroy evidence.

  But waking them at midnight felt cruel when they'd probably been up all night already searching. And more practically, Ciel needed to think through exactly what to reveal and what to keep private.

  The collar still sat around his neck, inactive but present. His Spatial Anchors were now split between home and the End Society's facility. And he'd successfully deceived a Fifth Stage Mind Mage into thinking he was mentally compromised, which created opportunities if handled correctly.

  "Let them sleep," Ciel decided. "I'll talk to them in the morning. Right now I just want to..." He paused, searching for words. "Just want to be home for a bit. Process everything."

  Eren nodded slowly, though his expression suggested he didn't fully understand. "Okay. But you promise you're actually okay? Not just saying that?"

  "I promise." Ciel moved to sit on his bed, the familiar comfort making everything feel slightly more real. "It was scary, and I'm still figuring out what to do about it. But I'm not hurt, just tired."

  "Can I stay?" Eren asked quietly. "Just until you fall asleep? I don't want to be alone right now."

  The request made Ciel's throat tighten. His little brother, scared and worried, asking for the simple comfort of proximity. It was such a human need—so distant from the ideological horror he'd witnessed in that hidden town, from masked figures who believed the System had destroyed rather than elevated humanity.

  "Yeah," Ciel said softly. "You can stay."

  Eren climbed onto the bed, curling up at the foot like he used to do when he was even younger. Within minutes his breathing had evened out, exhaustion and relief combining to pull him into sleep.

  Ciel sat there in the darkness, one hand absently touching the collar that still circled his neck, his mind racing through everything that had happened and what needed to come next.

  The End Society thought they had him under control. They'd placed him in a room they believed was secure, scheduled testing for tomorrow that would probably involve examining his capabilities in detail. They had no idea he could access his Realm despite the collar, no idea he'd placed anchors that turned their prison into a doorway he could use whenever needed.

  Which meant he had options. Dangerous options, certainly, but possibilities nonetheless.

  He could go to the guild in the morning, report everything, let them handle the extremists with overwhelming force. Safe, sensible, the choice that protected him while ensuring the End Society faced consequences.

  Or he could go back.

  The thought made his stomach clench with something between fear and determination. Return to that hidden town, maintain the pretense of mental compromise, let them run their tests while he gathered intelligence about the full scope of their operation. How many towns like this existed? How many people had been denied their fundamental right to awakening? What other crimes had the End Society committed in pursuit of their twisted ideology?

  Information the guild might never discover if they just raided the facility and arrested whoever they found there. The leadership would escape, the organization would scatter, and the underlying problem would persist.

  But gathering that intelligence meant walking back into danger. Meant trusting that his deception would hold against people who'd already demonstrated frightening competence. Meant risking that the Mind Mage might try again, might break through whatever had protected him the first time.

  One step at a time, Ciel thought, his father's advice echoing in his mind. Don't plan the entire war before surviving the first battle.

  Right now, he was home. Safe. His family would know he was okay in the morning. And he had hours before the End Society expected him to wake up in that locked room, hours to decide whether to vanish permanently or return to their custody with eyes open and mind ready.

  The decision could wait until dawn.

  For now, in the silver-blue moonlight of his childhood bedroom with his little brother sleeping at the foot of his bed, Ciel let himself simply exist. Let the accumulated tension drain away, let the horror of what he'd witnessed settle into memory rather than immediate crisis.

  Tomorrow would bring choices. Tonight, he was just a sixteen-year-old who'd been through something terrible and made it home anyway.

  That was enough.