Online Game: I Returned From Death With An Unbeatable Summon Class!

Marcus sat in the cold interrogation room, wrists chained to a metal table that had seen better days. Rust crept along its edges like dried blood. The stone walls pressed in from all sides, barely wide enough for the table and two chairs. A single oil lamp flickered overhead, casting shadows that danced across the face of the man sitting across from him.

Chief Interrogator Hadwin. Mid-forties, graying at the temples, with the kind of eyes that had seen too many lies to believe anything anymore.

"Let’s start simple," Hadwin said, leaning back in his chair. The wood creaked under his weight. "What ties do you have with the man?"

Marcus met his gaze without flinching. "I don’t even know him."

"You don’t know him." Hadwin’s tone was flat, unimpressed. "Yet you were seen with him just hours before—"

"I was near him," Marcus interrupted. "There’s a difference."

Hadwin drummed his fingers on the table. One, two, three, four. A methodical rhythm that filled the silence between them. "He seemed like someone you know."

Marcus almost laughed. "Because I looked at him? I look at a lot of people. Doesn’t mean I’m planning crimes with them."

"Why would I lie?" Marcus added, spreading his chained hands as much as the restraints allowed. "What would I gain?"

"You’re in prison." Hadwin leaned forward suddenly, the chair legs scraping against stone. "Everyone lies in prison. Some lie to save their necks. Some lie because they’ve lied so long they don’t remember the truth anymore. Which one are you?"

"Neither." Marcus kept his voice level. "I’m the one telling you I don’t know the man. You want me to make up a story instead? Would that make you feel better about your job?"

Hadwin’s jaw tightened. He glanced at the guard standing by the door, then back at Marcus. "You have quite the mouth for someone in your position."

"My position?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one where I’m innocent and you’re wasting both our time?"

The interrogation dragged on. Question after question, the same information wrapped in different words, like Hadwin thought he could trip Marcus up through sheer repetition. Where were you? What were you doing? Who did you talk to? Why should we believe you?

Marcus answered each one with the same steady patience he’d learned on the battlefield. When you’re surrounded by enemies, panic gets you killed. Staying calm keeps you breathing.

An hour passed. Maybe two. Time moved differently in rooms without windows.

Finally, Hadwin stood up, his chair scraping back with enough force to make the guard flinch. "Seems we have to go the wild way." His voice had dropped to something quieter, more dangerous. "We’ll have to resort to torture if you keep resisting."

The threat hung in the air between them.

Marcus looked at him with a stiff face, his pupils shifting into something cold and sharp. The kind of look that had watched friends die and enemies burn. "If it resorts to that," he said quietly, "I think there’ll be no need for me to be nice."

Hadwin blinked. "What do you mean by nice?"

Before Marcus could answer, the door burst open. A guard stumbled in, slightly out of breath, carrying a folded piece of parchment. "Chief, this just came in."

Hadwin snatched it from his hand, eyes scanning the document. His expression shifted from irritation to surprise to something that might have been disappointment. "A release clause." He looked up at Marcus. "A woman named Liz brought it here."

Marcus allowed himself the smallest smile. Corvin, my man.

Hadwin crumpled the parchment in his fist. "Take this man back to his cell. He’ll be released tomorrow morning."

As the guard unlocked Marcus’s chains, Hadwin leaned in close enough that Marcus could smell the tobacco on his breath. "You’re lucky," he said, voice low. "You wouldn’t last here with your bad character."

Marcus rubbed his wrists where the metal had left red marks. "Guess we’ll never find out."

The cell was empty when they threw him back in. No old man muttering about the past. No nervous kid asking questions Marcus didn’t want to answer. Just cold stone and silence.

"Why’d everyone go?". He muttered in surprise.

Marcus sat on the thin cot and leaned back against the wall. His body ached from sitting in that cramped interrogation room, but his mind was already somewhere else.

He pulled up his status window with a thought.

[SYSTEM]

[STATS]

Name: Marcus Vael

Level: Unclassified

Class: Summoner

Subclass: Sovereign Tier — Unclassified / Weapon Mastery

Race: Human

STR 23 / 100

DEX 5 / 100

SPD 31 / 100

CON 3 / 100

INT 12 / 100

HP 67 / 100

MP 100 / 100

He clenched his fist, watching his knuckles turn white. "Next time won’t be like this."

Next time, he wouldn’t be the one in chains.

****

Morning came with the sound of boots on stone. Marcus was already awake, already standing by the cell door when the guard arrived.

"You’re free to go," the guard said, unlocking the door with a heavy iron key. "Try to stay out of trouble this time."

Marcus stepped into the corridor without answering. The prison smelled like mold and human misery, and he was done breathing it in.

Liz was waiting at the entrance, sunlight streaming in behind her like she was some kind of saint come to save him. The moment she saw him, her face lit up. She rushed forward and wrapped him in a hug that was warm enough to chase away the prison cold.

"You’re okay," she said into his shoulder.

"I’m fine." Marcus returned the hug briefly, then pulled back. "Where’s Corvin?"

Liz’s smile faltered slightly. "After he helped me get the release clause, he said he was going to come meet you today. But I haven’t seen him."

Marcus frowned. "Fair enough. He’s a busy man."

Liz studied his face for a moment, her expression softening. "When you were in there, I worked up quite a worry. Let me treat you for a bit. Get some proper food in you."

Marcus smiled despite himself. "Show me the way, Mrs. Guide."