Chapter 39: This marks a new journey

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: This marks a new journey

Morgan’s slowly eyes cracked open to a dull ache that pulsed behind his skull like a second heartbeat. The light was soft, filtered through cracks in the rock above, and the air carried the damp mineral scent of deep stone mixed with the faint metallic tang of dried blood. He tried to sit up and the world tilted hard enough that a groan tore out of him before he could stop it. Bandages wrapped his torso, arms, even the side of his neck where something had nearly opened him up. Every breath tugged at the wrapping.

A familiar voice cut through the haze. "We thought for sure you were dead."

Luke sat on a low stool a few feet away, elbows on his knees, face drawn tighter than Morgan had ever seen it. Dirt still clung to the edges of his boots and the cuff of one sleeve was torn. Behind him the cave wall curved inward, smoothed in places by hand and reinforced with thick wooden beams that looked recently set. This was no natural hollow. Someone had turned it into a place people could live.

"Luke? Where are we?"

"Our quarters," Luke said, the words causally. "What’s left of them after the last scrape."

Morgan’s gaze drifted past him and landed on the second bed. Beare lay still, chest rising in shallow pulls, one arm heavily wrapped and a dark bruise blooming across the side of his jaw. The sight jet motionless made something cold settle in Morgan’s gut.

Then a different voice spoke, older, steady. "You need rest more than answers right now."

The speaker stepped into the better light. Grey hair pulled back, face lined but not soft, eyes that had seen too many battles and bloodshed and still refused to look away. He wore a dark coat that had been mended more than once, and the way he carried himself said he was used to people listening when he opened his mouth.

"Name’s Vandal. Head Captain of the Calamities. You’re in our headquarters, or what’s left of the one we could still keep hidden."

Morgan pushed himself higher against the rough pillow despite the loud protest in his ribs. "Calamities headquarters. What does that even mean? Where’s my uncle? Why a cave? And what the hell is a Calamity supposed to be?"

Vandal pulled a second stool closer and sat. The calm in his tone was the kind that settled over a room without force. "Everyone under this roof was branded by the system the same way you were. Not because we went out looking for blood. Most of us never touched anything darker than a bar fight before the mark showed up. The system doesn’t care about the difference. Once the brand settles, people like Fahai start hunting you and killing."

Morgan’s brow furrowed. "Fahai?"

A faint smile ghosted across Vandal’s mouth. "The rest of the world knows him as Bailon the Great."

The name landed like a stone. "Sir Bailon? The one they call the strongest in the capital?"

"There’s a lot the capital doesn’t put in its public stories."

Luke shifted on his stool. "We barely got you both out. Beare took the worst of it covering the rear. But she’s stable, but she won’t be swinging anything for a while."

Morgan looked again at the still form on the other bed. Guilt sat heavy on his chest at that moment.He wanted to ask more about the fight itself, about the moment everything went sideways, but the questions tangled with the larger ones pressing against his skull.

Vandal continued as if he could see the tangle. "You asked what a Calamity is. It’s the label the system drops on anyone whose power signature crosses a line the Virtues decided was too dangerous. Doesn’t matter if you used it to save a village or if you never used it at all. The brand appears, and suddenly every Good Deeder with a badge has permission to kill you."

He let that sit for a moment. "Fahai—Bailon—has made a career of it. He and the rest of the Ten Virtues keep the maps of known Calamities updated. Most of us stay low, move often, try not to light any signal fires. You lit one without meaning to."

Morgan’s mouth felt dry. "How?"

"Your first wave. The power that came out of you wasn’t just strong. It registered at a level the system hadn’t seen in a living Calamity for a long time. That kind of reading doesn’t stay quiet."

Far from the cave, in a tall chamber of polished stone and high windows that caught the late light, another conversation was already underway.

Lady Grace sat with perfect posture across a long table of dark wood. Her presence filled the space the way deep water fills a basin—quiet, heavy, impossible to ignore. Bailon occupied the chair opposite, coat still dusted from travel, expression locked somewhere between focus and irritation.

Beside Grace, Lougard had one boot propped on the edge of the table and a glass bottle of something fizzy in his hand. The scar that cut across his cheek pulled when he drank. "I say it’s about high time we take over this capital. Calamities are growing. Every month the list gets longer and the ones at the top get louder."

But Bailon’s reply was measured. "I would suggest we still lay low. Drawing too much attention while the Destruction of Mankind remains unaccounted for only creates new problems."

A younger woman two seats down snorted. Layla, Good Deed of Breath—wind itself—spun a thin knife between her fingers with the ease of long practice. "Oh who gives a shit about what you think, Lougard. Or you, Bailon. We’ve been laying low so long the grass is growing over us."

"Enough." A single word came from the far end of the table. The speaker was older, shoulders still broad under a plain coat, eyes the color of old iron. He was one of the Ten, and the room quieted for him without argument.

The Ten Virtues held the world in a grip most people never noticed until it closed. Bailon carried the Good Deed of Religion, the living embodiment of every belief that had ever taken root in the capital and beyond. And then Layla’s whose wind could strip flesh from bone when she stopped playing. Lady Grace held Mercy, Compassion, and Love in equal measure, and those who underestimated the strength behind that calm rarely lived long enough to correct the mistake. Lougard’s Hope was the kind that ended with Calamities on their knees, no matter how frail he looked, don’t do the mistake of underestimating him. Then The elusive Good Deed of Patience. He was recorded as one of the good deeder with the deadliest of powers. The ability To Warp time itself, but like it was said, it has been good Fifthy years since he was last seen. Then of course we have Old Man Kiuesna, Good Deed of Wisdom, who sat nearest to the head of the table and watched everything with the patience of someone who had already calculated the next three moves.

Kiuesna raised one hand. A translucent screen unfolded in the air above the table, letters sharp and lifeless.

Most Potentially Dangerous Calamities in Existence

The name at the top was Morgan Liues.

The Silence in the room seemed to have stretched. Even the Ten Destructions of Mankind had never claimed that single highest rank. To think a mere boy...A mere boy still on his first wave had done it is frightening to imagine.

Kiuesna’s voice stayed even. "We absolutely must hunt this child and stop him. At all cost."

Back in the cave Vandal’s expression had gone flat and serious. "Morgan. Your life can never be normal again. Not even your family is safe. Everyone related to you is going to be a target by the Heavenly Virtues."

Morgan stared at the rough stone ceiling. The throbbing in his head had settled into a steady grind. He could still feel the echo of whatever power had poured out of him in that last fight, the way the air itself had seemed to lean away. He had not asked for to be a calamity, He has never asked dfor any of this. He had not asked to be ranked above the oldest nightmares the system kept on file. Yet the ranking sat there, and the people who enforced it already knew his name.

Luke leaned forward. "We got you here. That buys time. Not much, but some. Vandal’s people have been running from the Virtues longer than you’ve been alive. They know the safe routes, the dead drops, the places even the strongest can’t see us still can’t see clearly."

Beare stirred on the other bed, a low sound escaping her before she settled again. Morgan watched the rise and fall of her chest and felt the weight of every choice that had led them into that fight. He thought of his uncle, of the ordinary streets that no longer felt ordinary, of the way the lawless lands banners had always looked like weird sigils until now.

"But, " Said Vandal, his voice bringing Morgan back from his trance. "Instead of wallowing here and wait for the virtues to find, we will do them the honour first. That is why The calamities headquarters is created. The motivation of every Good deeder is **a world were calamities do not exist**. The calamities, we are here to fight that ,to fight for what’s ours."

"What is ours?" Asked Morgan.

"The right to LIVE. They will give us this right, wether they want it or not."

"How?"

"Make them fear, and they will give you everything. I have five catastrophes with me, each one is on a mission, once that is done we will be a free and qualified nation, The good deeders will no longer have the right to kill us as they will."

" So what is my purpose in all this?"

" Your purpose in this Because with you Liues Morgan, we can not only secure our vision of being free, but we will also manage to stop the virtues once and for all." Vandals face burned with passion, Morgan looking at him couldn’t help but feel his boil.

" Will you join us?" Luke’s voice rang from behind.

"What about Beare..?"

" She was already one of us, infact every one in that barn is on our side, we are simply waiting for you.."

Morgan stayed quiet again, All this far to much to take in all at once. But when he close his eyes, image of people like Angel rang in his head like a bell. Such people do not only need to stop, they need to stop living as well.

" I will do it." Muttered Morgan, not to Vandal or Luke, but also to his soul.

And this, this is when the actual fun begins.