SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 95: The Broken Alliance

Chapter 95: The Broken Alliance

The echoes of tension still lingered in Ketamran days after the seismic meeting of the seven rulers. Medas, the stalwart ruler of Ketamran, couldn’t shake the weight of the decision that still hung in the air. The support of Levan, Deus, Dergo, and Ikana for Morvane’s imprisonment gnawed at his mind like a relentless storm.

Inside the great hall of Ketamran’s fortress, a private gathering was underway. Crimson, the fierce King of Katakwan, leaned forward, his voice heavy with concern.

"It’s been days since we’ve heard anything from Levan," Crimson said, his expression hard.

Vianna, the alluring and resolute Queen of Nirvath, sighed. "I’ve tried contacting Ikana and Dergo as well. They haven’t responded, which only solidifies that their decision is final."

Medas clenched his fists, his voice trembling with righteous anger. "This is absurd. How can they justify imprisoning—possibly even killing—a child just because of his power? It’s not right. It’s monstrous."

Vianna’s expression softened, guilt flickering in her violet eyes. "I understand your frustration, Medas. I truly do. But right now, all we can do is focus on protecting Morvane. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to provide much support in the past days. My kingdom is still in the process of rehabilitation."

Crimson nodded solemnly. "The same goes for me. As much as I want to be here in Ketamran often, I can’t. Katakwan’s recovery demands my attention as well."

Medas took a deep breath, his resolve firm. "I understand. I truly do. But rest assured, I will ensure Morvane’s protection and safety here in Ketamran. No harm will come to him as long as I stand."

Vianna’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. "We believe in you, Medas. Just as Morvane does."

"And when the time comes," Crimson added, his voice cold with determination, "we’ll make sure those who sought to harm him answer for their choices."

A solemn vow was sealed in that room. Though divided by kingdoms and responsibilities, their hearts beat with the same fierce loyalty to Morvane. And Medas swore that the boy’s light would never be extinguished, no matter how many forces sought to snuff it out.

As the golden hues of dusk blanketed Ketamran, Vianna and Crimson stood at the gates of the fortress, their figures regal despite the burdens they carried. Medas stood before them, his expression warm but solemn.

"Be careful on your path," Medas said, his voice steady. "And thank you for seeing Morvane."

Vianna offered a reassuring smile. "We’ll stay in touch."

Crimson nodded firmly. "We’ll meet again, Medas. Stay strong."

With those parting words, they mounted their steeds and rode out, their capes fluttering in the wind. Medas watched until they disappeared beyond the horizon.

A quiet voice broke the lingering silence.

"Do they really hate my presence?"

Medas turned to see Morvane emerging from the shadows, his eyes heavy with doubt.

"It’s not you they hate," Medas reassured him. "It’s your power."

Morvane scoffed bitterly. "Oh, as if I decided to have this power, right?"

Medas placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Please don’t think too much about it. I’ll protect you, Morvane. And I know these rulers—they’re not bad people. Their judgment is just clouded by the disasters their kingdoms are facing."

Morvane’s lips pressed into a thin line, but before he could respond, a shadow shifted nearby.

Drevon emerged from the darkness, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"So, Morvane," Drevon drawled, "what’s the plan? Are you just going to sit and relax here in Ketamran while people out there are brewing to imprison or kill you?"

Morvane’s face darkened. "I... I don’t know. I don’t even know what to feel these past few days." He exhaled shakily. "The past year has been a lot. I gained unique powers, killed an angel, lost friends—actually, all of them—and my grandma was killed. Everything’s been surreal. I don’t know what to feel anymore."

Drevon laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. "What happened, happened. There’s no time for sulking, kid. Some rulers might be after you now. For all you know, they might come today or tomorrow."

"So what should I do?" Morvane asked, his voice uncertain.

Drevon smirked. "Uh, common sense? Practice. Get stronger, duh."

Medas narrowed his eyes at Drevon. "Don’t push him, Drevon. He’s been through enough."

"But Medas," Drevon said slyly, "he can’t afford to stay soft. Whether he likes it or not, the world isn’t going to wait for him to figure things out."

Morvane clenched his fists, the weight of Drevon’s words sinking in. Despite the turmoil within him, a flicker of determination sparked in his eyes. Maybe Drevon was right. He couldn’t let himself be stagnant—not when danger loomed.

Medas sighed. "We’ll do this at your pace, Morvane. I’ll help you, but only if you’re ready."

Morvane lifted his gaze, resolve hardening in his chest. "I... I’ll do it. I won’t be caught off guard again."

Drevon grinned. "That’s more like it."

As the moon rose above Ketamran, the promise of strength and survival lingered in the air. Morvane had taken his first step toward facing the forces that sought to break him—and he wouldn’t be alone.

The morning sun bathed the training grounds of Ketamran in golden light. Morvane stood at the center, gripping a wooden sword tightly, his expression filled with both determination and apprehension. Across from him stood Medas, his stance steady and composed, eyes glinting with focus.

"Ready?" Medas asked, his tone both challenging and supportive.

Morvane nodded. "Ready."

Without wasting a moment, Medas lunged forward, their wooden swords colliding with a sharp crack. The force of the blow nearly made Morvane stumble, but he gritted his teeth and held firm. They exchanged a flurry of strikes, the sounds echoing across the field.

But sparring with swords alone wasn’t enough to test their limits. Medas smirked as he stepped back, lifting his hand. The wooden sword floated beside him, shimmering with the invisible force of his telekinesis.

"Let’s take it up a notch," Medas said, his voice calm.

Morvane’s eyes narrowed. "Fine by me."

He summoned the dark energy of his manifestation magic, his body radiating with ominous power. Shadows curled around him as he unleashed a wave of chaos toward Medas. The energy twisted and pulsed, manifesting cracks in the ground and sudden gusts of destabilizing wind.

But Medas barely flinched. With a flick of his hand, he redirected the chaotic manifestations harmlessly into the sky.

"You’re going to have to do better than that, Morvane," Medas taunted.

Frustration burned in Morvane’s chest. "Fine. Let’s see if you can handle this."

With a burst of radiant energy, he summoned his angelic wings—golden and shimmering with divine light. The power of Meira coursed through him, amplifying his strength, speed, and senses to their peak. His wooden sword now glowed with raw energy as he surged forward, his offensive capabilities heightened.

Their clash was fierce and mesmerizing. Morvane’s attacks became faster, sharper, and more relentless. Medas met each blow with a masterful blend of telekinetic defense and agile movements, but even he couldn’t fully suppress a smile of admiration.

The air around them crackled with power as they danced across the field, each strike creating shockwaves that shook the ground. Sweat beaded on their brows, but neither relented.

Morvane’s wings shimmered as he spun, delivering a strike that forced Medas to leap backward.

"Now that’s what I’m talking about!" Medas grinned, his voice filled with pride.

The fight raged on until Medas finally called for a halt. Both of them were breathing heavily, their bodies glistening with sweat.

"You’ve come a long way," Medas said, clapping Morvane on the shoulder. "But there’s still room for growth."

Morvane smiled faintly, his wings folding behind him. "Thanks for pushing me."

"Always," Medas said. "You’re stronger than you think, Morvane. Never forget that."

As they stood under the blazing sun, both knew that this was just the beginning. But for the first time in days, Morvane felt something other than confusion and pain—he felt hope.

But then the light dimmed. A shadow crept over the training grounds, casting an eerie gloom.

Medas frowned, glancing up. "Looks like a cloud’s passing."

Morvane stopped mid-swing, his instincts flaring. His gaze lifted to the sky, and his heart skipped a beat. "Medas... that’s not a cloud."

Above them, blocking the radiant sun, hovered a figure clad in gleaming silver armor. His presence radiated authority and raw power. The distinct glint of the golden sigil of Baltalaha gleamed on his chest plate. Wings of light flickered faintly behind him as he levitated with effortless grace.

Medas’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Levan?"

The ruler of one of Baltalaha’s kingdoms descended, his face grim and resolute. His armor clinked softly as he landed on the ground, his presence heavy with purpose.

"What are you doing here, Levan?" Medas demanded, stepping protectively in front of Morvane.

Levan’s voice was cold and unwavering. "Sorry, Medas. I’m not here for you. I have a mission—and I will take Morvane."

Morvane tensed, anger and disbelief surging through him. "Why? What did I ever do to you?"

Levan’s gaze hardened. "It’s not personal. It’s about balance. Your powers are too dangerous to be left unchecked. I’m here to ensure that danger never manifests."

Medas’s jaw clenched as he drew his wooden sword, which flickered with telekinetic energy. "If you think I’ll let you take him, you’re mistaken. You’ll have to get through me first."

Levan’s eyes narrowed, disappointment flickering across his face. "I didn’t come here to fight you, Medas. But if you stand in my way... I will do what must be done."

The atmosphere crackled with tension. The ground seemed to hold its breath as the two powerful rulers faced off. Morvane’s wings flared behind him, his body trembling with the mix of fear and fury.

"Levan, this isn’t right," Medas said firmly. "Morvane is not a threat. He’s a boy who’s just trying to find his place in this chaotic world."

Levan’s expression remained resolute. "Then prove it to me. Defend him—and show me he’s worth protecting."

The challenge had been issued.

As Levan’s armored form began to radiate blinding energy, Medas gritted his teeth, readying himself for the inevitable clash.

"Stay back, Morvane," Medas commanded.

But Morvane’s voice cut through the tension. "No. I’m not running. If Levan thinks I’m dangerous, I’ll show him that I’m dangerous enough to protect myself—and those who stand by me."

The winds howled as the air grew thick with power. The training grounds would soon become a battlefield. And in that moment, Morvane knew that there was no turning back.