# The Great Rooftop Trial: Between Anger and Compassion
Picture the scene: you're on a rainy rooftop, surrounded by a cabal of more muscle than sense, where the line between justice and brutality is more blurred than the ordeal that led Elton to this moment between delirium and revelation. Poor Fornam is nothing more than a cornered rat, and Elton's sentence echoes with the force of thunder — "My judgment is death."
### Fornam's Response: The Useless Cry
What you imagined to be a scene worthy of a philosophical drama turns into a spectacle of tragic comedy. **Fornam**, who before seemed like a confused prosecutor, now transforms into a true son of God trying to escape the clutches of the leviathan. He thrashes like a fish out of water, screaming and kicking, more desperate than a hipster without coffee. Hobland and Roscoe, with a "we've done worse" expression, hold him steady, like two security guards preventing a customer from leaving without paying for those gourmet fries.
### The Voices of Reason: Humanity at Stake
As if in a video game running on a dark mood, your convictions appear:
- **"I beg you to let him go, Elton. In the name of mercy and humanity."** - You feel like a B-movie priest trying to exorcise the demon of brute force. Your heart beats faster than a customer's expectation of his espresso.
- **"This is brutal and barbaric, Elton. Please show mercy and wisdom."** - As if you were a candle in a storm, trying to light the way with logic and reason. But reality is as harsh as a day without coffee.
However, you realize that your rhetoric is echoing in the void. Elton's muscles are more determined than any rational argument. The hurt he carries is like a cup of overcooked coffee: bitter and powerful.
### The Final Decision: The Silence of Wisdom
Deep down, you know this is where you belong: **"I have said my piece and my elder has made his decision. I will forgo rhetoric and keep my tongue tied."** Because let's face it, if there's one thing you learned in barista training, it's that choosing to fight a wounded Ahroun is like deciding to challenge lightning—you may be a man of conviction, but the result will be electrifying, and the coffee won't be the only thing burning.
Or maybe you think: **"This little worm isn't worth fighting with Elton."** With the prudence that baristas develop while dealing with demanding customers, you sit back and watch, as Elton's world unravels in a fatality that reveals the brutal nature of this universe.
### The Tragedy on the Roof
And so, as the sky weeps and the tension continues to mount, you realize that, like a poorly brewed coffee, this trial and Elton's decision are mirrors of real life: with anger mixed with benevolence, and the pain often served in larger doses than expected. It becomes a reminder that sometimes life doesn't give you a second chance, and the only way out is that door that leads to the next food court in the mall, where, with luck, they'll have a decent coffee.
The nature of the trial here is a reflection of the human condition itself: you can be either a barista offering coffee or an empathetic being faced with a moral dilemma on the cold, rainy rooftop. **And there goes your cup of coffee and the question that comes with it — how far would you go to protect what you consider "just"?**