The courtroom was a humble building. Seven rows of wooden benches standing before an ample podium roughly a meter and a half tall. On the right lay two further rows of benches. Marking the space where a jury would be in any real trial. On the left were a collection of windows that let in soft rays of sunlight into the spacious chamber. The illumination serving to accentuate how immaculate the floors were.

I sat in one of the benches near the front, but not at the front. There was a table in front of me, but there were still more tables between me and the podium where the judge was sitting.

I had seen enough courtroom dramas to expect banter between the lawyers, opening statements and, on occasion, the Law and Order theme song playing in the background when someone said something stoic or dramatic.

This courtroom had none of that. Everyone appeared relaxed and at-ease. More interested in gossiping and exchanging documents and pictures than in sending accusatory glances my way.

There was also no jury.

The guy I first guessed was my lawyer had explained that it was because I wasn't being charged with anything.

Since this was an Inquiry relating to the nature of my Skill, and to its dangers, the whole thing would be decided step-by-step, over the course of a year or two, with experts weighing in and giving their respective opinions.

I was glad. Mostly because I was pretty sure I stood no chance of ever getting declared innocent in any real trial.

Yet, I was also nervous, because that meant I had no idea what the court could or would do.

I took the opportunity to look around one more time. Trying to make out the people around me.

The judge looked familiar. In that he had the features I had come to associate with the main Robertson line. Only, I didn't know him by name.

Old man Carlyle was the very picture of a doddering old grandpa, despite being as spry as any of my friends. His son James had a mix of British and Asian features, with the signature Robertson blue eyes, flowing silky black hair and a sharp handsome jawline. His own son, Charles Robertson, had lost most of his Asian features and gained the auburn hair I had come to associate with Elsie. Neither looked a day over twenty, despite the difference in age.

In contrast, the man in front of me looked as if he'd aged a bit. Not a lot, and probably nowhere near as much as he should have, but a bit. He looked to be around 31 or so. Maybe 32 or 33. With heavily tanned skin and oily black hair.

Yet, despite some of his hair turning grey, the man carried himself with an almost palpable energy. Giving easy smiles and light-hearted chuckles every time someone passed him a slip of paper.

Next to him was a man in a suit who I flat out didn't recognize and a young beauty in a business skirt that had to have been Casper's sister. Or daughter, it was hard to tell with these people.

I wasn't exactly sure what I'd been expecting when Elsie said she's take me over to the courthouse for an Inquiry. I guess the closest thing that came to mind was a very stern-looking gentleman holding a very long piece of paper with all my nefarious misdeeds written on it. And it would have had to be a long piece of paper indeed to fit everything Pool-Cecil had gotten up to for no better reason than because he wanted more personal power.

I myself could list several felonies off the top of my head and I wasn't even a legal expert.

Let's see here:

1. Aggravated Assault with deadly weapons. On multiple counts, depending on how many people managed to go down into my Dungeon.

2. Reckless endangerment. Again, on multiple counts based on all the traps Pool-Cecil decided to lay down.

3. Multiple counts of murder regarding Pool-Cecil's experiments. Though I didn't know if they'd count as human.

4. Multiple counts of... I don't even know. Torture? Regarding Pool-Cecil's experiments. In all honesty I didn't even know how to begin tackling that problem or even defining it.

5. I didn't know the specific definition of messing with a Vietnam vet either. Nor the word for purposely giving them PTSD. I was pretty sure it was at least a felony.

And that was before one even considered Pool-Cecil's innermost thoughts. Such as the fact that he hadn't cared for human life or the lives of his family in the slightest. Or the fact that he hadn't hesitated to use coach Russell's trauma for his own ends. The dude was a monster, in every sense of the word.

Which made the current state of affairs that much more surprising.

The atmosphere around the courtroom was relaxed. With people chatting excitedly and passing around pictures of the event. As well as pictures taken after the event.

Some detailed the units that I and Pool-Cecil had created and deployed throughout the Dungeon.

Other detailed the reports my fellow students had made, as well as their opinions on the matter.

"All right then. I have a report here from a Ramji Y. Stating, and I quote: 'That (Expletive) bastard Cecil tried to have me shanked by a (Expletive) bastard rosebush on steroids. He better (Expletive) hope that I never lay eyes on him again. Because if I do, I'll (Expletive) him up, tear his (Expletive) arms off and beat him to (Expletive) death with them.' Huh."

The man in the suit looked to the presiding judge.

"Very strong choice of words, for someone who once called himself your friend, Mr. Fowler."

I didn't say anything.

I didn't know what I should have been saying.

"That is just one of many accounts of that day. I have other reports here from your fellow students. Detailing the nightmares they've had since the event, as well as the trauma cause by your units. One of the more disturbing and commonplace recurring nightmares we've heard of so far is that of roaches crawling inside your fellow students' skin while they lay paralyzed in bed. Apparently quite a bit of your fellow students were struck by your Burrower Roaches, as your units used them as ammunition. This has left quite a collective scar among your peers."

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The man in the suit went over several pictures. Most of them showing roaches, alive and squirming, while half buried inside arms or legs or torsos. A few pictures showed one or more roaches fully submerged within the skin. Their outlines visible as they either died or went about the nasty business of digging deeper.

The faces attached to those bodies didn't seem overly thrilled, to say the least.

"In addition..."

'There's more?' I thought suddenly.

Then I immediately chastised myself for the stupidity. Of course there was more. On the list of things I'd done, this was perhaps one of the least offensive.

"There was another incident where several of your units fired parasitic worm-like monsters into the bodies of your fellow students. 27 were affected over the course of the event. They too have come forward describing the nightmares hey have had since returning from the event."

He and all the others gave me meaningful looks.

"Do you have anything to say to that?"

'I did nothing wrong. These meatbags are fools and weaklings and they shall soon know my power!' Pool-Cecil cut in.

'Quiet you!' I bit back.

Good thing he wasn't in charge of my mouth.

"I'd like to say I'm sorry." I told them. Fully meaning it.

"Aren't you going to explain why you did it?"

"No?" I rebutted. A bit confused. "How would I even go about explaining that? I was in charge of all the units until the 12th floor. You've read my mind more than once. Elsie said so herself. You know it's true and you also know there wasn't anything I could do about it. I can tell you why Pool-Cecil did it, if you'd like. He developed those Roaches and those Worms as much as he did so that he could rip and tear his way through monsters twice his level."

"But why would you, or Pool-Cecil as you call him, attack your fellow students?"

'Because they wanted to take what was ours! They encroached on our domain! They are the real roaches! Biting our toes and stealing our prey!'

"I think it was because he is secretly very insecure and he saw them as competition." I answered truthfully.

"And why would he think that?"

"Because they were his competition. Technically." I told them. "It's not exactly a secret that I'm new around these parts. And it's not exactly a secret that most of my peers are, or were, way above me in terms of stats and levels. As I understood things, I was part of one of the weakest teams in town, because coach Russell or Homer or whomever assigned the teams didn't want me feeling left out."

I took a deep breath to calm myself.

"Now, I thought I was doing pretty well until that point, training as I did and keeping up with my teammates as best I could while getting ahold of my magic. I descended to the 12th because I still felt helpless, but I'd never attack other people because of those feelings. I just wanted to test my limits and get a head start. The best guess I can make is that Pool-Cecil reacted to how I felt on some level. But even then, that doesn't explain all he did. I would have been more than happy reaching level 2 or coming close to it at that point. I wouldn't have attacked other people so that I had more monsters to myself. I especially wouldn't have gone down dozens of floors and risked my life for some extra stats. I was eager to improve, yes. But what Pool-Cecil did bordered on suicidal. Not to mention it was stupid of him to antagonize people for no good reason."

'Especially because he gave me back control right as the beating was coming, the prick.'

All the people in attendance nodded.

"So, you don't condone Pool-Cecil's actions?"

"No! Of course not!"

"And you had no control over when you became Pool-Cecil?"

"No. One moment, I was running out of magic and the next I was in the shiny room being beaten by coach Russell. I wasn't awake or aware through any of it."

"But you feel bad about it?"

"O course I feel bad about it! I'm not some sicko who goes around hurting people for their own fun! That's coach Russell's thing!"

Half the room burst out with laughter.

A bunch of them started making notes.

"Are you sure I shouldn't have a lawyer?" I asked again, suddenly nervous.

"This isn't a criminal matter." The judge told me bluntly. "You aren't being charged. Because as you said, we've had your mind read more than once. We're just trying to discern the way your other self, Pool-Cecil, as you've dubbed him, works. We're trying to discern the mechanisms by which the Skill works and what might trigger it in the future. How far his influence extends over the regular version of you, if it does at all and of course, whether the Skill constitutes a significant threat to yourself or others."

He went over some of his earlier notes.

"From what we've gathered, it seems to represent a threat to yourself more than to others, as it delved far beyond the usual ranges for your level. On the other hand, we've also seen that it was very calculating in the way it approached challenges on the lower floors. Even going so far as to avoid entering combat entirely, while it let its units do the hunting and killing. That is strange, based on the kind of behavior we are used to from Skills that affect one's personality."

"Okay." I said. "Um. I actually haven't heard much about that. Could you explain it in more detail?"

"Certainly." The woman began. "Skills like [Bloodlust] tend to make the wielder highly aggressive in a feral sort of way. Think of it like a fight or flight reflex. People who lose control in these cases usually revert to an animalistic frenzy. If they are on the losing side of a battle, they either run or fight until they have a chance to run. If they are winning, they usually get a sudden boost to all their stats until their opponents are dead. The reason why [Bloodlust], [Life Hunt], [Starvation] and other Skills like them are blacklisted, while Skills like [Rampage] from the [Barbarian] core are not, is that the former cannot distinguish between friends and foes once they enter their respective dissociative state."

"There are other reasons of course." The man in the suit continued. "Skills like [Cursed Reprisal], [Lasting Spite] and [Kill Emotion] are all similar to [Bloodlust] in the way they work. At least when it comes to their effect on the user's psyche. The crucial difference is that none of the former can be activated by accident, through stress or due to any other external circumstance. You have to want to use it. Meanwhile, [Bloodlust] can be activated anytime the user feels cornered or when their stress levels reach a certain point."

He flicked a piece of paper in front of him with thick, calloused fingers.

"That really is the crux of the issue. From what we've gathered, [Seeker-Mind] first activated when you began tampering with extra brains. Then it simply led you down to the Dungeon without causing anyone but your family too much trouble. We did not investigate this as perhaps we should have, due to the fact that Pool-Cecil designed creatures and had enough sense to keep them from attacking people. Even when they were attacked. If that had been the only incident, this would have been a short Inquiry indeed. However, an issue then arises because you then lost control again once your magical reserves had run out and you did not regain control until after being caught and defeated."

"In essence." The judge followed up. "This is an Inquiry that seeks to determine whether there is a chance of you activating the Skill on accident in the future. Besides that, we're meeting to discuss the possibility of you killing or otherwise permanently harming others while under the influence of the Skill. As well as the very real threat of you losing yourself to the Skill and never resurfacing."

He flipped over some more documents.

"Tell me, have you been cycling magic through the Skill all this time?"

"Yes. My uncle said it would help me control it."

"He's right." The woman cut in. "Again, you should not think that having a blacklisted Skill would be the end of the world or anything. Plenty of people have [Bloodlust] or their equivalents under control and it never becomes a problem. We do supervise them, yes. But most of what we do is make sure they're doing okay and encouraging them to take Yoga or other meditation lessons. For now, you should continue to cycle magic through it as often as you can. Start by putting in trickles of magic and then, if you feel that you can handle it without being overtaken, put in a little bit more. The key for this beginning stage will be to find your limits and to then find ways to increase those limits."

I nodded.

"I can do that."

"Wonderful." The judge replied with good humor. "In that case, I think we can agree to have you working more closely with coach Homer, as coach Russell is currently on hiatus."

'Yeah. I bet his hands hurt from the beating he gave me.'

"With that out of the way, let us discuss a more sensitive matter. The legal status of your children."

'Oh.' I thought with some surprise.

'Oh no.'