Telling the truth
Five and a half hours had passed since Orion had been confined to this small, dimly lit room. The chamber was sparse, the only furnishings a sturdy wooden chair and a narrow table that bore the scars of countless interrogations. The walls were cold stone, devoid of windows, creating an atmosphere of isolation and foreboding. A single, flickering torch cast long shadows that danced across the room, adding to the oppressive ambiance.
Orion sat in the chair, his posture remarkably unbothered. He had settled into a meditative state, his breathing slow and measured, his eyes closed. His sharp features were relaxed, betraying no sign of the tension that the guards undoubtedly felt. His hands, though cuffed, rested lightly on the table, and his aura exuded a calm that seemed incongruous with his surroundings. The cuffs around his wrists siphoned his mana, yet he made no move to resist or test their strength, appearing almost at peace with his confinement.