Chapter 17: The Saint's Decree
The city of Shinya lay sprawled beneath the first light of dawn, an illusion of peace stretching across its streets. But Moro knew better. He had walked through Junksyke, escaped the clutches of the CD9 Agency, and felt the icy breath of those who hunted him. He had seen death before. Shinya, with all its gleaming towers and sprawling avenues, was no different. It watched, waiting.
Kaya walked beside him, silent but alert. The soft clatter of their boots on the cobblestones echoed through narrow alleys. Moro's gaze swept over the city walls, over the high crystal towers that pierced the sky, and the darkened silhouettes of the streets below. Every shadow seemed alive, every whisper of wind a warning.
"This city…" Moro murmured, almost to himself. "It's alive. Like it knows we're here."
Kaya's eyes narrowed. "Or it wants us to think it knows." Her voice was calm but carried the weight of experience. "We've survived worse, Moro. We can handle this."
He smirked. "Survived worse? Maybe. But curiosity… that's something else. I want to see the King. I want to see the man they call the Saint of Wisdom."
The mention of King Hanks stirred something in Kaya. "Do you really think we'll be allowed to meet him freely? After everything the city has seen, we're fugitives, Moro. People whisper your name. They fear you."
Moro's aura flickered faintly as his inner power hummed beneath his skin. The matrix, still resonant from the fight with the Asura Twins, pulsed with a gentle blue glow around him. "Then we go willingly," he said firmly. "Curiosity is a better shield than fear."
They had barely taken two steps into the main thoroughfare when the first wave of Royal Guards emerged. Dozens of them, moving with precise synchronicity. Their armor reflected the rising sun, shields held high, spears poised. The clatter of their boots reverberated like distant thunder, a warning to anyone who dared defy the King's law.
"You have heard the command," barked the lead commander, pointing directly at Moro. "By order of His Majesty, the King of Shinya, you and your companion are to be escorted to the palace. Resistance will be met with execution."
Moro raised a hand slowly. "We come willingly," he said, his voice calm but steady, a dangerous undertone hidden beneath the surface. Kaya followed suit, mirroring his composure. "Do what you must," she whispered, as if sharing a secret.
The Guards moved in, forming a protective wall around them. The march began. Down winding streets, past markets already stirring with the smell of baked bread and roasting meats. Citizens peeked from behind shutters, whispered prayers on their lips. Fear and curiosity rippled through the crowd like a tide: The boy who defied Hawks, the one who glows like the sky, the one the CD9 calls a threat.
Hours passed. The path through the city seemed endless, and yet Moro never lost focus. He observed the people, the subtle gestures of submission, the hurried steps of the commoners, the careful, cautious glance of nobles in the upper balconies. Every action, every reaction told a story. Shinya was alive, yes—but it was a city bound by invisible chains, invisible hands.
Finally, they reached the palace gates. Massive crystal doors towered over them, reflecting the sunlight like liquid silver. The doors slowly parted as if sensing the arrival of those destined to enter. Moro and Kaya were led inside, their guards flanking them at every turn.
The palace was a spectacle unlike anything Moro had seen. High ceilings carved with scenes of Shinya's history, depicting battles, festivals, and rulers long gone. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen stars, scattering rainbows across the polished marble floors. Statues of saints and warriors lined the corridors, each one a reminder of the city's opulent, yet haunted past.
Through winding hallways and echoing chambers, the guards finally brought them to the grand hall. And there he was: King Hanks.
The man exuded calm authority, a quiet power that commanded attention without raising his voice. His silver-streaked hair and piercing eyes reflected wisdom and experience. The robes he wore shimmered subtly, as if woven from the night sky itself, and the staff topped with a miniature colossum in his hand radiated an aura of quiet dominance.
"I am King Hanks," he said, his voice steady and resonant. "You have been brought here not as enemies… but as questions."
Moro's eyes narrowed, sizing him up. "Questions?" he repeated. "Are you not aware that I am considered a threat? That my very presence endangers your city?"
Hanks' gaze softened but did not waver. "Threats exist only in the minds of those who do not understand. I know of you, boy. I know what you are capable of. And I know why you are here."
Kaya stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we seek answers… guidance… perhaps even aid in understanding the forces at play in this city."
Hanks' eyes moved to the crystal spires visible through the windows. "Shinya is not what it appears. Every stone, every edict, every ritual has been shaped by unseen hands. The festival you see—the blessings from the Sanctuary—serves as a veil. The true power lies beneath the city, in the shadows of those who claim to protect it."
Moro's heart pounded. "The Celtic High Council?" he asked.
Hanks remained silent for a moment, studying Moro carefully. "They are part of it. But power in Shinya is layered. You see only what you are allowed to see. Some truths are hidden until the time is right."
The silence in the room was thick, charged with anticipation. Moro felt Kaya tense beside him. He could see the unspoken questions in her eyes, mirrored by his own curiosity.
"You seek answers," Hanks finally continued, "and perhaps even justice. But know this: knowledge is a double-edged sword. Once you uncover the truth, ignorance will be impossible to reclaim. Are you prepared for that?"
Moro's voice was firm. "I've never been afraid of the truth."
Hanks inclined his head slowly, a faint smile playing across his features. "Very well. But first, you will face the city itself. The streets you walked freely an hour ago will become a test. The walls you see, the people you pass—they will challenge your resolve. Consider this a trial. Only by enduring it will you reach the deeper truths of Shinya."
Moro exchanged a look with Kaya. She understood immediately. They had survived countless perils, faced the CD9 Agency, and clashed with the Asura Twins. This, too, would be a challenge—but different. The trial would not only test their strength but their judgment, their cunning, and their ability to navigate the unseen forces that governed the city.
Hanks' staff glowed faintly as he spoke again. "Do not mistake this for hostility. The trial is not to break you but to prepare you. For what comes next will require every ounce of courage and every shred of wisdom you possess."
The guards surrounding them shifted, forming a corridor that led back toward the city streets. Moro and Kaya were escorted, but the palace doors closed silently behind them, leaving the two of them in the open air once more.
Outside, Shinya seemed unchanged—yet different. The city no longer felt like a backdrop for survival but a labyrinth of trials. Every alley, every shadow, every whisper now held significance. Moro's matrix glowed faintly around him, a reassurance of his growing power.
As they walked, whispers spread through the city. Citizens spoke in hushed tones: The boy who glows like the sky has come. The one who defied the Asura Twins. The one who is taken to the palace. Fear, curiosity, and anticipation blended into a single, pervasive aura that hung heavy over every street.
And above it all, hidden from sight, the Celtic High Council observed. Silent, patient, calculating. They had underestimated Moro once. They would not make the same mistake twice.
The trial of Shinya had begun.
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