Though none of them knew why Mr. Drake had allowed Arthur to live alone in that courtyard, they’d already investigated during the banquet—when Falls had taken Arthur aside. Arthur and Mr. Drake had no connection at all. They hadn’t even known each other before that day. So when it came down to choosing sides, they were certain Drake would know what the right choice was. But after all their grand accusations and pleas, Drake didn’t show the anger they had expected. He merely listened, his expression calm and unreadable. That calmness unsettled them more than any fury would have. Their voices slowly weakened. Then, Drake glanced toward someone who had remained silent the entire time—Solivair. Solivair’s gaze was unfocused, his mind still reeling from what he’d seen. He was no stranger to violence—he had killed, even tortured—but watching Arthur straddling President Holland and beating him senseless had left him shaken. It had been brutal. Savage. In all their past clashes, Arthur had always struck Solivair as calculating and composed. But now, this terrifying side—this cold, wild rage—was something else entirely. The flying teeth. The bloodied, mangled mouth. Teeth embedded in skin. It was nightmarish. A new understanding of Arthur took root in Solivair’s mind. That was a Prime Minister. And Arthur had still gone that far. His thoughts drifted back to the day he’d held a knife to Ashley’s face. If he hadn’t had all those guards with him then, he might’ve ended up like President Holland himself. The idea sent a cold sweat down his back. From now on, he needed to be far more careful when dealing with Arthur. Just as that thought passed, Drake called out. "Solivair. Tell me what really happened." The cold, detached voice jolted Solivair like a slap. He stiffened.Drake’s gaze was direct. Solivair quickly steadied himself. Behind him, President Holland and his supporters turned to stare at him, their eyes filled with silent threat. Solivair glanced over at Arthur. Arthur had remained silent the whole time, never once offering a defense. After a brief pause, Solivair finally spoke. "Mr. Drake, the situation was as they described." "Though Arthur is the one I brought to the island, he showed no respect to his elders and lashed out violently. I am willing to hand him over to the Governor’s judgment." He paused, then added, "That said, Arthur is still young and impulsive. I hope the Governor might show some leniency and spare his life." The words sounded righteous, even noble—like he was making some tragic sacrifice for justice. But Arthur knew better. Solivair wasn’t pleading for his life out of compassion. He just needed Arthur to find Lynn. If it weren’t for that, Solivair would love nothing more than to see him crushed. Even now, with something to gain from keeping him alive, he couldn’t help twisting the knife. Arthur could already see what was coming next. Once Drake delivered his punishment, Solivair would corner him, acting gracious—offering protection, as long as Arthur cooperated. He wanted both sides. He wanted to keep favor with the other power players, while still using Arthur to get what he wanted. Greedy. Manipulative. Shameless. Arthur saw right through it, but he said nothing. He knew what he had done. President Holland wasn’t just a man—he represented an entire nation. Striking him had serious consequences, and Arthur understood that.But even if he could go back, he wouldn’t have done anything differently. He could accept humiliation. But not Ashley. If someone dared insult her, then no matter the price, he would defend her. He knew there were no surveillance devices near the courtyard. His only path now was to endure, delay, and do whatever it took to pass the entrance assessment—to become a member of Heaven’s Cult. Only by growing stronger could he protect Ashley and himself. Arthur’s mind raced. What could he do to convince Mr. Drake to still let him take part in the trial? But before he could speak, Drake suddenly looked straight at him.