Reborn In A Perverse Monster World! My System Adapts To Everything!

Chapter 138: Jason’s Trial? [FIXED!][12/07!]

Jason stood before the council, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm and unreadable. The chamber was vast, its ceiling lost in shadow, its walls lined with tapestries depicting the history of the world. At the center, a long table of polished obsidian dominated the space, surrounded by ten ornate chairs. Only six were occupied, but the empty chairs loomed like silent judges as it showed not all were present for soemthing this important but Jason wasn’t surprised as he had just met one before even coming here.

He had expected them to grant him an audience. He had expected to speak his piece, to lay out the truth about the collapsing realms, to convince them of the impending danger. He had expected resistance, skepticism, even hostility. But he had not expected to be restrained the moment he entered the room.

The moment he stepped within reach of the table, the floor beneath him glowed with intricate runes. Chains of shimmering light shot up from the stone, wrapping around his wrists, his ankles, his throat. They materialized into solid, cold metal—handcuffs that hummed with a faint, oppressive energy.

The chains were etched with symbols that seemed to writhe and shift, ancient bindings designed to hold even the most powerful beings. They were masterpieces of craftsmanship, forged by the finest enchanters the world had ever produced.

Jason felt it immediately. The cuffs had repressing properties. They were designed to forcefully subdue mana, to cut off the flow of magical energy from the wearer. Whoever had crafted them knew exactly what they were doing. He could feel his power being suppressed, pushed down into the depths of his being, locked away behind layers of enchanted metal. It was an uncomfortable sensation, like being wrapped in a blanket that was too tight, but it did not frighten him. He had faced far worse.

Besides, he had a system that adapted to everything, not that he needed to adapt in this scenario.

"Interesting..." Jason muttered, looking down at the cuffs with something approaching curiosity rather than fear. He tugged at them experimentally. They held firm, but he could feel the enchantments straining against his will. If he wanted to, he could break them. But that would defeat the purpose of coming here.

The orcish council member rose from his seat. He was massive, his green skin scarred from countless battles, his tusks filed to sharp points.

His eyes burned with barely contained fury. He had been waiting for this moment, the chance to confront the criminal who had been terrorizing the world.

His hands were clenched into fists, and his muscles bulged with barely restrained violence.

"Did you think you could come here and demand anything from us?" the orc barked, slamming his fist on the obsidian table. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the chamber, rattling the tapestries on the walls. "You are a wanted criminal. A dark guild leader. You should be slaughtered on sight!"

Jason glanced at the other council members. They remained seated, their expressions neutral, their eyes watchful. None of them moved to intervene. They were testing him. Or perhaps they were simply waiting to see what he would do, measuring his reactions, gauging his threat level. The elven council member sat with her hands folded, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders. The dwarven runecaster stroked his beard thoughtfully. The lizardkin shaman’s scales shimmered with protective glyphs. And the towering orc warlock simply watched, his presence warping the air around him.

"Interesting," Jason said again, turning his gaze back to the orc. "Am I being sentenced to death without a chance to defend myself?"

The orc’s jaw tightened. "You have no rights here, criminal."

"I believe the laws of this council allow for trial by combat," Jason said, his voice calm and measured. "Or am I mistaken?"

The elven council member spoke for the first time, her voice cool and precise. She was ancient, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes gleaming with millennia of wisdom. "You are not mistaken. Trial by combat is an option."

Jason nodded slowly. "Good to know."

The orc’s eyes blazed. "You think you can fight your way out of this? You think your dark magic will save you?"

Jason raised his hands slightly, the cuffs clinking. "I don’t mind being in these cuffs if that would make you feel safer."

The orc snarled and lunged.

His fist connected with Jason’s jaw with the force of a battering ram. The impact was thunderous, the sound echoing through the chamber like a crack of lightning. Jason flew backward, his body crashing into one of the massive stone pillars that lined the chamber. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing across the stone, and dust billowed outward in a thick cloud. Chunks of debris rained down around him.

The other council members rose from their seats, their expressions shifting to alarm. The elven council member raised her hand, a spell already forming at her fingertips. The dwarven runecaster reached for his hammer. The lizardkin shaman’s glyphs flared with protective light.

"That is enough!" the elven council member commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "This is not how we do things. Killing him this way is not our way."

The orc stood over the dust cloud, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched. "He deserves worse than a quick death."

The dust began to settle.

Jason stood at the base of the pillar, completely unfazed. There was not a single scratch on his body. His clothes were slightly dusty, but otherwise, he looked as if he had simply leaned against the pillar for a moment. He cracked his neck and straightened his collar, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"You should listen to them, buddy," Jason said, his voice dry and casual. "I don’t have a change of clothes here."

The orc’s eyes widened. "He doesn’t even have a scratch..."

Jason shrugged. "Hey, I got a strong hide." He smiled—a faint, almost amused smile. "So, about the execution... how do we do it? Or do you people want to hear what I have to say?"

The council members exchanged glances. The tension in the room was palpable. They had expected to intimidate him, to break his resolve. Instead, he stood before them, unshaken, unafraid, almost bored. The orc’s fury flickered, replaced by something else—uncertainty. He had never encountered anyone who could withstand his full strength without flinching.

"Because if we do go to trial by combat," Jason added, his voice dropping slightly, "I will take your life."

The words hung in the air like a blade. They were not a threat. They were a statement of fact. The orc’s fury flickered, replaced by something else—uncertainty. He had never encountered anyone who could withstand his full strength without flinching, especially with the mana suppressing cuffs.

The elven council member studied Jason for a long moment. "You are not here to fight," she said slowly. "You are here to speak."

Jason nodded. "I am."

"Then you will wait," she said. "All ten council members must be present. We will vote on what to do with you."

Jason glanced at the empty chairs. Four remained unoccupied. "How long will that take?"

"As long as it takes."

Jason sighed, settling into a relaxed stance. "I’ve got time."

-

Thalion stepped through the portal, and the world vanished.

His men followed close behind, their boots landing on something that was not solid ground. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air changed—thick, humid, heavy with salt and something metallic. The landscape stretched before them, endless and empty. Just water. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing else. No land. No sky. Just a vast, churning sea with waves that rose and fell with aggressive, unnatural force.

"It’s an ocean..." one of his men muttered, his voice trembling.

Thalion’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of land, any indication of where they had emerged. There was nothing. The portal that had brought them here was gone, swallowed by the emptiness behind them.

"Stay close," Thalion commanded, his voice steady. "Do not let go of each other."

His men formed a tight circle, gripping each other’s arms and shoulders. But the waves were relentless, crashing against them with growing fury. The water was cold, biting, and it seemed to pull at their legs, trying to drag them under.

"We can’t swim forever!" one of them shouted, his voice cracking with fear.

Thalion ignored him. He searched for the exit, for any trace of the portal they had entered through. He could not see it. He could not sense it. It was as if the dungeon had swallowed them whole.

Then, the screaming began.

One of his men was pulled under without warning. His hand slipped from his comrade’s grip, and he vanished beneath the surface. Blood bloomed in the water, spreading like a crimson flower.

"Something is down there!" another man screamed, his eyes wild.

Thalion’s jaw tightened. "Form a tighter circle! Do not let go—"

Another man was yanked beneath the waves. Then another. The water around them turned red, thick with blood.

Thalion knew this was not a normal dungeon. It was a realm, a world of its own. And something was hunting his men.