CHAPTER 92 — THE ARCH ARMIES OF MAVARIA
A full week passed in No Man's Land, and although the sky above the region still looked bruised and pale, the ground began to change. Streams that once smelled like rotting metal now shimmered faintly with life. Old tents that once sagged with hopelessness were replaced with improvised shelters Moro and the squad constructed. Children who once cried through the night now chased each other between the restored wells and cleaned roads.
Word spread faster than wildfire.
"The boy who defeated the Celtic Highs… the strange squad who came from the West… the outsiders who revived the river… the pillar of justice…"
Rumors multiplied until they traveled across Mavaria's enormous second continent. And upon those whispers, the ears of nobles, kings, merchants, and military strategists trembled.
Moro's name had reached the capital.
Not as a criminal anymore.
Not as a fugitive.
But as a force — a variable, unpredictable and dangerous.
The Calm Before the Storm
Moro sat beside a repaired water tank, watching villagers drink clean water for the first time in years. His shirt was dusty, hands still stained with dried mud from moving broken houses, but his eyes seemed lighter than they had been since San Juan.
Kiro leaned against a wooden pillar sharpening his Nin blade.
Steve froze a bucket of water into delicate sculptures for the children.
Herbet tweaked a floating orb that neutralized toxic fumes.
Kaya filled jars with purified water.
Yaya distributed bags of food and medicine to mothers and elders.
In one week, No Man's Land had shifted from despair to survival.
But the air felt suspiciously calm — too calm.
Even Carol, the giant fox, paced restlessly, her ears twitching at distant tremors.
Moro felt something. A presence moving toward them. And not a small one.
The Rumbling Arrival
Late in the afternoon, a hum rolled over the cracked plains. Birds fled into the sky. The ground vibrated. The villagers emerged from their huts, fear instantly returning to their faces.
A boy cried, clutching Moro's shirt.
Herbet lifted his scanner, eyes widening in horror.
"Moro… these readings… this is bad…"
The wind stiffened — and then the horizon darkened as if a storm was crawling across it.
It wasn't a storm.
It was an army.
Bronze chariots glimmered in the sun. Armored soldiers in crescent-shaped helmets marched in perfect square formations. Their boots crushed the earth like synchronized thunder.
Flags raised high bore the golden insignia of:
THE ARCH ARMIES OF MAVARIA
Elite soldiers.
Royal enforcers.
Commanders who served directly under the Imperial Monarchy.
They weren't here to negotiate.
They were here to capture — or kill.
Villagers screamed and fled inside. Moro stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
Kiro whispered, "This… this is bad, Moro. They didn't send scouts. They deployed a whole war division."
Kaya's breath trembled. "Meaning… Mavaria thinks you're a threat to the entire continent."
And she was right.
The Announcement
A tall figure rode ahead — Captain Surnas, bearer of the Crown Emblem. His armor was plated in obsidian, and his voice echoed with authority as he unfolded a long scroll.
"By decree of the Imperial Council of Alsia, the outsider known as MORO, along with his companions, is hereby ordered to surrender themselves immediately."
His gaze was sharp enough to cut through steel.
"Failure to comply will result in forced detainment. Any resistance will be met with full military engagement."
Steve stepped forward, frost collecting at his fingertips, but Moro gently stretched his arm across Steve's chest.
"Stand down… for now."
Yaya hissed, "Moro, they're planning to kill us. Their aura is murderous."
Kiro's grip on his sword tightened. He had felt the intent too — cold, calculated, sanctioned by the highest authority.
Scaro Moves in the Shadows
Meanwhile, deep within a hidden surveillance chamber in Mavaria, multiple purple screens flickered. A group of masked operatives hovered behind their monitors.
Shadow Monarchy — CD9's most secretive division.
Their leader whispered:
"Subject Moro has been found. Continue tracking. Scaro wants him delivered alive."
A light flickered above a tall silhouette leaning in the shadows, arms folded, gold eyes burning like furnaces.
Scaro.
Watching.
Expecting.
Waiting.
Back to No Man's Land
The Arch Army formed a full circle around the town, sealing every escape route. Their war constructs and iron beasts shifted into position.
Moro's squad exchanged frantic expressions.
Steve muttered, "They think you're some sort of destabilizing weapon."
Herbet added, "Moro… if we fight, civilians will die."
That was the deciding point.
Moro closed his eyes, exhaled, and walked toward the Captain.
"We'll come with you."
Gasps erupted from the crowd — both villagers and soldiers.
Kaya grabbed Moro's wrist. "Are you sure?!"
He smiled gently. "If we run, more people get hurt. This is the best way."
Kiro placed his sword back in its sheath, eyes clouded but trusting Moro.
Yaya sighed heavily. "Alright. We move together."
Steve crossed his arms. "I just joined this squad — I'm not abandoning you now."
Even Carol followed behind them, glaring at the soldiers protectively.
The Arrest
Though Moro and his squad willingly surrendered, the soldiers treated them harshly — shackles, aura suppressors, tight formation escort.
Villagers cried out, trying to defend them, but the Arch Army shoved them back.
Moro walked forward without resisting, shoulders heavy yet spirit unbroken.
His final words before stepping into the armored transport rang through the entire square:
"Don't worry. We'll come back."
For the first time in years, No Man's Land believed someone.
The Road to Alsia
As the transport vehicle rumbled toward the capital, Moro leaned against the cold metal wall of the cage, eyes focused, jaw clenched.
Kaya whispered, "We're wanted criminals now…"
Yaya added, "By an entire continent."
Herbet nodded slowly. "But we're together. That's enough."
Steve looked toward Moro — a spark of admiration flickering.
Kiro closed his eyes, imagining JJ standing beside Moro, smiling proudly.
And far behind them, unseen by the soldiers, a dark cloud tore open.
A faint silhouette watched the transport disappear into the horizon.
Scaro again.
Watching the boy whose destiny was tied to fate itself.
The chapter closes with Moro staring through the small barred window of the transport vehicle — not afraid, but ready.
Ready for the capital.
Ready for Mavaria.
Ready for whatever waited in Alsia.
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