Technically, I wasn't under arrest. That would imply the System had any jurisdiction over me that I acknowledged, which I most certainly did not. No, I was being—how did they phrase it again?—"cordially requisitioned for metaphysical evaluation pending divine tribunal sanctions and/or extradimensional un-summoning."
In simpler terms: they were trying to put me on trial. For being me.
Again.
"I don't suppose I can skip this one?" I muttered to the floating parchment that had manifested above my soup bowl.
The parchment glowed ominously. "SYSTEM RESPONSE: NO."
"Well, that settles that." I sighed, setting down my spoon. The soup—pumpkin and existential dread—stared back at me in accusatory silence. "You could at least pretend to be surprised, Spoon."
"I am many things," Spoon replied solemnly, emerging from the broth like a gleaming oracle. "Surprised by your legal woes is not one of them."
Belladonna, who had been levitating three inches off the monastery floor ever since the last soup cult sermon, rolled her eyes mid-air. "Do you ever stop antagonizing celestial bureaucracy?"
"I tried once," I said. "I got summoned to a realm made of unpaid taxes and bad genre pacing. Never again."
"Kael," Seraphina said gently, setting a hand on my shoulder, "this tribunal… it might not be optional. They're invoking Mask Protocols."
My spoon paused mid-air. "Wait. The Mask Protocols?"
"The same," Aureline confirmed, sliding a translucent scroll across the table. "They've convened a full Reincarnation Tribunal panel. Mask of Echo, Sovereign Class, Glitch Category... You've escalated beyond mortal jurisdiction. Even divine jurisdiction's getting nervous."
Mirielle poked her head in, her hair in disarray and her cloak slightly on fire. "I've prepared your defense case, by the way."
"Oh no."
"I argued you're a necessary soup-based anomaly in an otherwise collapsing metaphysical framework."
"…That might actually work."
Fluffernox leapt onto the table, knocking over a bowl of consecrated croutons. "Mew."
"See? He agrees," Mirielle added.
"Right," I muttered, finishing my soup with the resignation of a man going to court in a world where soup was legally sacred.
The tribunal chamber was exactly as intimidating as you'd expect from a celestial bureaucracy that had canonized four different kinds of fire and one ironic metaphor.
It was all obsidian pillars, floating scripts, and masked figures looming on thrones made of memory. The air buzzed with the weight of decisions already made and the slight smell of burnt noodles.
I stood on a floating platform in the center, dressed in ceremonial robes that looked suspiciously like my school uniform but with added guilt embroidery. Spoon rested solemnly at my hip.
"State your designation," the central figure intoned.
I cleared my throat.
"Kael. Just Kael."
"Full designation."
I sighed. "Unauthorized Reincarnate. Glitch-Class. Echo Sovereign in training. Reluctant Harem Participant. Bearer of the Spoon."
A ripple ran through the tribunal. One masked figure hissed something about the 'Prophecy of the Sliced Turnip.'
"We are convened," the lead voice boomed, "to determine the status of the entity known as Kael, whose continued existence defies protocol, balance, and several minor culinary laws."
"Objection," Spoon said, floating into the air.
"…You can't object yet."
"I'm preemptively objecting. Because you're going to screw this up and I want it on record that I knew."
"Objection noted," the judge sighed.
Witness One: The Mask
The Mask of Echo floated to the stand—or, rather, floated of its own accord and emitted a low hum that translated into words via the System's UI.
"THIS ONE SAW HIM CHOOSE TO REMAIN HUMAN."
The tribunal murmured.
"HE HAS WORN ME. HE DID NOT BREAK. HE REFUSED ASCENSION."
"Is that… good?" I asked.
"Depends," Belladonna whispered from the gallery. "On whether you're being judged for humility or incompetence."
"Excellent," I said dryly.
Witness Two: The Soup Cult
Fluffernox was carried in on a throne made of soup cans.
"MEW," he declared.
The tribunal recoiled as if slapped.
"He… he invoked the sacred clause," one whispered.
"Which clause?"
"Clause 3.14: Should any being meow three times during Soup Solstice, their status as Avatar of Culinary Chaos is legally binding."
"Oh, that one," I muttered. "I thought that was just something Mirielle made up while high on sacramental broth."
"She might've. But apparently the System logged it."
Final Arguments
Spoon floated to the center.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and sentient abstract ideals," he began, "I present to you not a threat to order, but a glorious disaster, handcrafted by the collapsing logic of your own System. You made Kael. Not intentionally, no—but consequentially.
You created a world of rules so rigid it cracked.
A prophecy so convoluted it rejected its own protagonist.
A harem so forced, even the protagonist said no.
And what did Kael do?"
Spoon spun dramatically. "He survived. He laughed. He glitched. And he chose kindness. Even when it hurt. Even when the masks cracked. Even when the soup burned."
He pointed at me. "So if you're here to erase him? Then you're not judging a glitch—you're judging hope."
There was stunned silence. Then a slow clap from Fluffernox.
"Mew."
The tribunal recessed.
Verdict
When they returned, their masks were heavier.
"We cannot undo what has been broken," the head judge said. "We can only choose what it becomes."
"Final verdict?" I asked.
"You are to remain. As Echo Sovereign. Glitch-Class. With System oversight."
"That sounds like a parole hearing."
"It is."
"Oh good."
"One final clause," the judge added. "You are now officially under… Soup Arrest."
"…What."
"You are confined to the Echo Monastery, with travel permitted only during sanctioned cultic soup missions."
"You're kidding."
"Mew," Fluffernox intoned. Solemnly.
"Oh, we're so doomed," I muttered.
Next Time on Kaelverse:
Kael attempts to appeal his Soup Arrest, accidentally triggers a chili-based rebellion, and kisses someone he shouldn't during a dumpling duel.
Stay tuned for Chapter 94: "Hot Soup, Hotter Confessions, and the Spice Tribunal Intervenes."