CHAPTER 110: MARA

Two days later. The training ground. Packed earth, weapon racks. Mid-morning light slanted across the space.

Fin stood near the center again. Arachne and Scarlet stood opposite him, holding wooden swords. They moved through drills – block, parry, thrust, cut – their movements practiced, efficient. The clack of wood echoed rhythmically.

Meg sat on a low stone bench near the edge of the training ground. She wore simple clothes, different from the workout gear. She held a plain wooden cup in both hands, sipping slowly from it. Her face was pale, faint bruises still visible. She watched the others train, her expression quiet, observant.

Fin called out a sequence. "Parry high, spin, thrust low."

Arachne flowed through the movements, her blade precise, her balance perfect. Scarlet executed the moves with more flair, adding unnecessary flourishes but landing each step correctly. They reset.

"Again."

They repeated the sequence.

Meg set her cup down beside her on the bench. She watched Fin, then Arachne, then Scarlet. Her gaze lingered on their hands, their feet, the way they shifted their weight. She mimicked a small wrist movement Scarlet made, her empty hand turning slightly in the air.

Fin stopped the drill. "Scarlet. Overextend less on the thrust."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Got it, coach."

He walked towards the edge of the training ground, stopping near the bench where Meg sat. He looked down at her. "How are you feeling?"

She looked up at him. "Okay." Her voice was quiet. "Tired. Sore. But... okay." She flexed her fingers slowly. "Feels weird. Like... buzzing. All the time."

"That’s the core," he stated. "Settling in." He crouched down slightly, bringing his face closer to level with hers. "You need rest. Don’t push it."

She nodded. "I know." She looked past him, towards Arachne and Scarlet, who stood waiting patiently. "When can I start?"

"Start what?"

"Training," she said, meeting his gaze. "With them."

He studied her face for a moment. "Not yet. Your body needs to recover fully. Adapt to the core." He stood up straight. "Soon. Maybe another few days."

She looked down at her hands again. "Okay."

He turned back towards the others. "Arachne, Scarlet. Unarmed drills. Disarms."

---

The low hum of the server rack filled Mara’s small, cluttered office. Empty coffee cups littered the desk beside her keyboard. Outside the grimy window, Arclight’s perpetual grey drizzle continued.

She ignored it, her focus entirely on the monitor before her. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, keystrokes rapid, precise. Lines of code scrolled rapidly up the screen, a complex dance of characters and commands.

She stopped typing, clicking the mouse quickly, navigating through layers of encrypted directories. Access Denied. She frowned, chewed on her lower lip, then resumed typing, entering a different string of commands.

The screen flickered. Access Granted. She leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the newly revealed file lists. Association Secure Server - Valerius Node. Mission Archives. Restricted Access.

She navigated deeper. Internal Investigations. Operation Logs. Cross-Referenced Personnel Files. Her mouse hovered over a folder labeled: Dungeon Anomaly #482 - Retrieval Op - Team HANA. She clicked. Files appeared. Personnel rosters. Initial briefing parameters. Gear manifests. Incident reports – incomplete, heavily redacted.

She opened Hana’s pre-mission directive file. More redactions. But keywords flashed past as she scrolled: PRIORITY ASSET. MANA CELL. CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL SIGMA. RETRIEVAL PARAMOUNT. She stopped scrolling, highlighting ’MANA CELL’. A pop-up window appeared: Classification SSS - Abyssal Origin - Extreme Volatility.

She read the brief description, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Power source. Unstable. Capable of fueling... She scrolled down further. Potential applications: City-scale energy matrix, reality stabilization, weaponization (Project Chimera - REDACTED).

She leaned back slowly, rubbing her temples. Mana Cell. So that’s what Hana was really after. Not just mapping, not just clearing. Retrieval. And the Association alert claimed Fin had it? Absorbed it? She remembered his strange calmness in the hospital, the weird power she sensed when Rowena visited. The pieces clicked into place.

She navigated back, searching for Fin Carver’s file within the Association’s restricted database. Limited access. Basic Guild data. But then she found a secondary flag: Anomaly-774. Cross-referenced with Retrieval Op 482. Subject designated HIGH INTEREST - POTENTIAL VESSEL/THREAT.

Notes appended: Survivor. Possesses Artifact. Unexplained stabilization. Amnesia claim suspect. Current Status: Rogue. Omega Alert Issued. Recommended Action: Retrieval or Termination. Specialist Dispatched.

Specialist Dispatched. The words sent a chill down her spine. Association specialists weren’t negotiators. They were hunters of a different breed.

She pulled up the log for the Omega Alert dissemination. Sent to all major Guilds, Hunter networks, even black market contacts. A kill order, dressed up in official language.

She quickly typed a new search query: Specialist Dispatches - Current Active. Most results were classified Level 10+. She bypassed the security protocols again, the code flowing from her fingers almost instinctively. A single active file appeared, heavily encrypted, but the designation was visible: OPERATIVE JERICHO - Tasked: Anomaly-774 Retrieval/Termination.

Jericho. She recognized the codename. Whispers in the higher Guild circles. A ghost. A cleaner. Someone who handled problems the Association wanted permanently erased, leaving no trace.

She swore softly, pushing her chair back abruptly. This was worse than she thought. Fin wasn’t just being hunted; he was being targeted by the Association’s boogeyman. She needed to warn him. But how? He was off-grid, hidden.

She looked back at the screen, at the glowing lines of data confirming Fin’s death sentence. She slammed her fist quietly onto the desk.

"Dammit, where are you, Fin?"

She bypassed another security layer, the screen flashing briefly before resolving into a heavily restricted directory. OPERATIVE FILES - CLASSIFIED. Her cursor hovered, then clicked on a single entry: JERICHO.

Access Denied - LEVEL 10+ CLEARANCE REQUIRED.

She snorted softly, cracking her knuckles. Her fingers flew again, different commands this time, exploiting a back-end protocol she’d discovered months ago during a system audit. The denial screen flickered, replaced by lines of heavily redacted text.

Most of the file was black bars. Mission history: [REDACTED]. Psychological profile: [REDACTED]. Abilities: [REDACTED]. Affiliation: Association Special Operations - Direct Action Unit. Status: Active. Current Assignment: Anomaly-774.

Below the redactions, a single grainy image remained. A partial facial scan. Cold eyes. A scar bisecting one eyebrow. Nothing else identifiable. Then, a short, appended note, seemingly overlooked in the redaction sweep: Target resolution method consistent across [REDACTED] assignments. Collateral damage deemed acceptable within operational parameters. Retrieval secondary to neutralization.

Neutralization. Acceptable collateral damage. Mara leaned back slowly, rubbing her tired eyes beneath her glasses.

"Working late?"

Mara jumped, spinning her chair around. Juna stood in the open doorway, leaning casually against the frame. She held two steaming mugs. Her usual playful smile was absent, replaced by a quiet watchfulness.

"Just finishing up reports," she deflected, instinctively minimizing the classified screen, though it was too late.

Juna walked into the office, the scent of fresh, strong coffee following her. She placed one mug on the edge of Mara’s cluttered desk. "Looks more interesting than budget projections." She nodded towards the screen. "Jericho? Digging deep, aren’t we?"

Mara frowned, turning back to the terminal, pointedly ignoring the coffee. "Guild security protocols require periodic review of external threats."

"External threats?" she raised an eyebrow, moving to stand beside the desk, looking down at the screen. "Or personal vendettas? Jericho doesn’t get tasked for minor anomalies. They sent their ghost." She paused. "Why do you care so much?"

"I don’t care," she snapped, scrolling through meaningless lines of code now. "He’s a Guild Hunter under an Omega Alert. It’s my job to understand the situation."

"Your job? Or your obsession?" Juna’s voice remained soft, but it held a sharp edge. "You hated the kid when he walked in here. Scrawny slum rat playing Hunter. You barely tolerated him." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Now you’re hacking Association black files, risking your position, maybe more, for him. Why?"

Mara stopped typing. Her hands hovered over the keyboard, fingers stiff. She stared at the screen, seeing nothing. "He’s... different now."

"Different how? Because he suddenly got strong?" Juna circled the desk slowly. "Or because he survived something he shouldn’t have? Power like that, appearing out of nowhere... it attracts attention. Dangerous attention. From the Association. From... others."

"I know the risks," she said tightly.

"Do you?" Juna stopped behind her chair. "Risking your career is one thing. Risking Association retribution? They don’t just fire people, Mara. They erase them. And anyone associated with them." She paused.

"Is this rookie really worth that?"

Mara stared at the screen without saying anything.