CHAPTER 100 – THE HIGH NOBLES OF MAVARIA
The night swallowed the borders of Gorge Sira as Moro and his squad withdrew into the wilderness. What remained behind them was not just shattered land, but the echo of power that had forced Scaro, the special commander of CD 9, to pause—even if only briefly. That alone spoke volumes.
Moro was barely conscious.
Every step forward felt like walking against crushing gravity. Ultra Fusion 3 had torn through him like a storm using a fragile vessel. His veins burned, his muscles trembled uncontrollably, and his aura—once blazing—now flickered like a candle threatened by the wind.
Kiro held Moro firmly, refusing to let him fall again. His grip was steady, but his heart was anything but.
"This is my fault," Kiro muttered again, voice low and bitter. "I knew how dangerous Scaro was. I should've pushed harder."
Moro barely had the strength to respond. "You stood your ground," he whispered. "That's what matters."
Kaya walked close, her water forming thin, controlled streams that cooled Moro's internal damage and slowed the bleeding beneath his skin. Even with precise control, she could feel how fragile his condition was. Moro wasn't just wounded—his core was strained, pushed past what the world expected from someone his age.
Steven remained unusually quiet. His sharp yellow eyes constantly scanned the horizon, watching for aerial scouts, aura traces, or distortions in the air. He'd joined up not long ago, but he already understood one thing clearly:
Moro Kim Jama was no longer just a fighter.
He was a problem the world wanted solved.
Herbet worked silently, deploying compact devices that scrambled energy readings and bent light around them. "If CD 9 or the nobles are tracking us," he said calmly, "we're buying ourselves time—but not much."
Yaya, walking at the rear, looked back only once. Her cheetah aura pulsed faintly, restrained. "They'll come," she said. "People like Scaro don't walk away unless someone above him says so."
She was right.
By dawn, the outskirts of Yutan, a major city in Basira Sector Five, came into view.
Tall stone structures rose from the valley like watchful sentinels. Trade towers glowed softly with rune-lit signs. Despite its beauty, Yutan carried the heavy presence of authority—guards everywhere, systems watching, eyes judging.
They slipped in quietly.
---
WITHIN THE GOLDEN CASTLE
Far from Yutan, within the heart of Mavaria itself, the Golden Castle of Alsia towered above everything else—its walls untouched by time, its halls layered with arrogance and legacy.
Inside the Council Chamber, seven figures sat in a wide circle. These were the High Nobles of Mavaria, rulers whose decisions shaped continents.
Scaro stood alone at the center.
His coat bore the CD 9 insignia clearly now. No shadows. No concealment. His posture was relaxed, but the stone beneath his boots showed faint fractures where his aura pressed down unconsciously.
One noble broke the silence.
"Moro Kim Jama survived you."
Not a question. A statement.
Scaro replied evenly. "For now."
Another noble leaned forward, fingertips glinting with rings of authority. "He displayed multiple layers of evolution mid-combat. Ultra Fusion 3. Matrix adaptation. A flexible combat mind."
"A living anomaly," a third added. "Such growth cannot be allowed to remain unchecked."
Scaro's jaw tightened slightly.
The head noble spoke last, voice smooth and unsettlingly calm. "Which is why elimination is no longer efficient."
The chamber shifted.
"We do not destroy weapons of this magnitude," the noble continued. "We claim them."
Holographic projections ignited above the table—visions of Moro bound by seals, armies kneeling before overwhelming force, nations yielding without resistance.
"With Moro Kim Jama under our control," the noble said, "Mavaria will never fear revolt, invasion, or rebellion again."
Scaro finally stepped forward. "You're talking about enslaving a seventeen-year-old."
The response was cold laughter.
"Age is irrelevant," another noble replied. "Power defines value."
Scaro clenched his fist. "He won't submit."
"That's where fear, leverage, and patience come in," the head noble replied. "No one remains defiant forever."
Silence pressed heavy.
"You will assist in capturing him," the noble concluded. "Or stand aside."
Scaro said nothing—but the air cracked faintly around him.
---
YUTAN – A FRAGILE HAVEN
Moro awoke slowly, reality returning in fragments.
A dull ceiling. Soft lighting. The faint hum of city life outside.
Pain arrived second.
Kaya was seated beside him instantly. "You're awake," she said quietly. "Don't move."
"Too late," Moro muttered as he tried anyway and failed.
Herbet exhaled in relief. "Good. That means your neural pathways aren't damaged."
Moro frowned. "How bad is it?"
Steven answered instead. "Bad enough that you won't be fighting Scaro again anytime soon."
Moro was silent for a moment, then nodded. "They stopped because someone ordered them to."
Kiro turned from the window. "Which means they're planning something worse."
A quiet understanding settled among them.
"They're not trying to kill me anymore," Moro said.
"No," Kaya replied firmly. "They want to control you."
Moro stared at his hands—scarred, trembling, but still his. "Then they've already chosen the wrong strategy."
Outside, the city of Yutan carried on unaware—markets opening, guards changing shifts, children laughing.
Above them all, decisions had already been made.
---
THE NOBLES' FINAL DECISION
Back in Alsia, the High Nobles concluded their council.
"Deploy capture forces," the head noble ordered. "No mistakes. No mercy."
"Contain Moro Kim Jama," another added. "Alive."
Scaro turned away without another word.
As he left the chamber, his reflection passed across polished gold walls—commander, executioner, and something dangerously close to a man questioning his orders.
Run, he thought.
Because once they move… even I won't be able to stop what comes next.
---
CLOSING
That night in Yutan, Moro lay awake despite the pain.
He could feel it—the tightening web, the approaching storm.
Yet beneath the exhaustion, something burned quietly stronger than before.
Resolve.
"They can come," he murmured to himself.
Outside, the winds of Mavaria shifted.
And the hunt began.
---
END OF CHAPTER 100