CHAPTER 95 – SCARO IN MAVARIA: AN UNCHARTED HUNT
The sun hung low over the jagged plains of Mavaria, casting long shadows across the rocks and sparse shrubs. The wind carried the distant cries of animals and the faint, metallic hum of faraway machinery. But in the middle of this seemingly peaceful valley, a storm was forming. Not a natural one, but a storm of intent, power, and deadly precision.
A vehicle tore across the horizon, cutting through the dusty wind. When it stopped, a tall figure stepped out. Grey hair, neatly combed back, sunglasses reflecting the sun's harsh glare, a white coat with the CD-9 insignia blazing on the back. Muscles rippled under his coat, every step commanding authority. His aura radiated cold calculation, the kind that could silence a city block with just presence.
He surveyed the landscape. And then he saw them.
Moro Kim Jama, Kaya, Kiro, Yaya, Steven, and Herbet.
Moro stood with calm precision, shoulders squared, aura faintly pulsing around him. He looked older than his seventeen years, a boy tempered by battle, loss, and the weight of responsibility. Kaya's water aura shimmered around her as she adjusted her stance, ever watchful. Kiro's hand rested near the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning the environment, calculating threats. Yaya's cheetah aura flickered in bursts, her body coiled for speed. Steven's icy gaze swept the horizon, ice particles forming faintly at his fingertips. Herbet adjusted the gadgets strapped to his arms, ready for any technology-based assault.
Scaro took a deep breath. The desert wind lifted his coat, and he smirked.
"Family, as usual," he said, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. His gaze landed on Kiro. "Look at you, Kiro. Abandoning the agency. Leaving behind what you were raised to serve… to follow this teenage anomaly." His eyes turned to Moro. "Moro Kim Jama. The one they fear. The one who survived the impossible."
Kiro tightened his grip on his sword, jaw tense. He didn't speak, but the tension in his body was enough.
Moro's gaze remained steady. "Scaro," he said. "I won't die today. Not to you. Not to anyone."
Scaro tilted his head, amused. "Bold. Very bold. Do you even know what you're up against, boy?"
He began counting, finger raised in slow, deliberate motion:
"Mavaria, the Highs, the Seven Noble Clans, the Imperiums…"
He let his finger fall slowly.
"Every one of them wants your head. Every one of them wants to erase your existence."
Kaya's eyes narrowed. "Moro, stay sharp. He's… not bluffing."
Moro simply nodded, his hands tightening into fists.
Then, the air shifted.
A sharp coldness swept through the valley. The temperature dropped several degrees in an instant, and the sand beneath their feet seemed to shrink under the weight of an unseen pressure. Two shadows emerged from the rocks, landing silently beside Scaro. Black cloaks, twin blades, emotionless faces—the infamous Asura Twins.
Kizen and Kazen.
Moro's eyes flickered with recognition. "It's them," he muttered. Kaya's aura flared instinctively, but Moro raised a hand. "No need. Not yet."
The twins regarded Moro with cold, practiced calculation. Kizen cracked his knuckles; Kazen adjusted the grip on his blade.
"Target: Moro Kim Jama," Kizen said.
"Mission: absolute elimination," Kazen echoed.
Scaro raised his hand lazily. "At ease. We're not starting yet. The Imperiums demand proper protocol."
Kaya's water aura shimmered defensively, Yaya flexed her claws for speed, and Kiro's sword gleamed in anticipation. Steven's frost started to crystallize faintly around his boots, and Herbet's gadgets hummed quietly, ready for activation.
Scaro's smirk returned. "Moro Kim Jama. Seventeen. Junkskye-born anomaly. Universal threat. Do you understand what it means to stand against someone like me?"
Moro didn't flinch. "I don't care who stands in my way."
"And that's exactly why I'm here," Scaro replied, taking a slow step forward. "To personally deal with you. To witness your limits."
Moro swallowed. He could feel the weight of Scaro's presence—not just his aura, but the authority that came with being one of the most dangerous commanders in the Imperium.
Kiro unsheathed his sword. "Not on my watch," he growled.
Scaro chuckled. "You still think you can fight me, Kiro? You, a boy who turned his back on the only system that could make him invincible? Pathetic."
Yaya's cheetah aura flashed. "Moro, I can take them!"
Moro shook his head. "Not yet. Not until we know what we're truly facing."
The Asura Twins remained silent, their expressions unreadable, yet the tension emanating from them was enough to make the air feel thick.
Scaro pointed east, to the distant Gorge of Sira. "You want to fight? Fine. But not here. This town is too populated. Innocents might die. The Imperiums don't tolerate unnecessary casualties."
Moro and his friends nodded silently, understanding. The desert stretched before them, barren and uninhabited, the perfect place for a proper battle.
Scaro glanced back. "Follow us. Let's see if you survive what comes next. If not…" His smirk widened. "…I will personally report your failure to the Imperiums."
Moro looked at his friends: Kaya's water aura pulsing softly, Yaya's eyes alert, Kiro's sword ready, Steven's frost forming, and Herbet's gadgets humming.
"We go together," Moro said.
They began walking toward the gorge, the desert wind picking up around them as if the land itself acknowledged the storm about to descend.
Scaro's voice carried faintly behind them: " Moro… the Gorge of Sira. That is where you either rise… or vanish."
The sun dipped lower, the shadows lengthened, and the entire valley seemed to hold its breath. The hunt had begun.
And the world of Mavaria would soon witness a clash unlike any other.