Chapter 8 : The Ruler Of The City

At the same time Luna was with Clara, Ron was in his room getting dressed. He wore gray jeans and a black leather jacket, his silver hair resting smoothly along the sides of his face, and his expression calm and focused as usual.

"Leaders' meeting... leaders' meeting," Ron muttered in a voice close to a whisper.

This leaders' meeting occurred periodically and was naturally meant to discuss matters of the revolution and other issues—something quite straightforward. However, Ron seemed more stern as he repeated the words, his voice carrying a slight hint of nervousness.

"Ron, are you ready? We need to leave in a few minutes to avoid being late," Kanz entered the room.

"Yes, I'm ready. We can leave now," Ron turned to him and replied.

Before leaving the room, Ron grabbed a long, slender knife secured in its leather sheath, tying it around his waist beneath the jacket. He also took a small bag containing items that made a rough clinking sound as it moved, tying it around his waist as well. Finally, he pulled out a sleek, distinctive pistol and handed it to Kanz.

"Keep this with you. You might need it there," Ron extended his hand holding the pistol toward Kanz.

"I already have one. Why don't you keep it yourself?" Kanz objected calmly.

"Because you're the dual-weapons expert here," Ron replied, still waiting for Kanz to take the pistol.

Kanz remained silent, eventually taking the pistol and placing it in his backpack, which already contained a laptop and another pistol of the same type. He secured it inside the bag and closed it tightly.

"We're going alone, right?" Kanz asked as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

"Do you have someone in mind? And don't say Jennifer—you know why," Ron looked at Kanz seriously.

"No, I thought you might bring someone, so I asked. But since you're asking me, I think Cloud is a good choice. However, he's currently on a reconnaissance mission, so the suitable option is Fiora, the former leader of the Seventh Squad. What do you think?" Kanz posed the question to Ron, who was listening with his arms crossed.

"Cloud is the best choice for me. He has a solid physique and excels at using long-range weapons perfectly. We could've had him monitor the surroundings of the meeting site for security, but he's already busy. Fiora is good too, though—despite using automatic spray weapons, she'll do," Ron explained his perspective.

"Alright, I'll inform her to meet us at the car. But Ron... aren't you taking your sword with you?" Kanz asked with curiosity and surprise.

"No need for that. The location is secret, and only the revolutionary leaders know about it. We won't be attacked, I assure you," Ron said, reassuring Kanz.

Kanz smiled at Ron's words and stepped aside to let him leave first. Ron passed him and headed straight to the base's vehicle area. He took the elevator down and, while walking through the massive hallway, was stopped by Fiora, who was working on her personal weapon.

"So, you're here," Ron said clearly as he approached.

"Oh, Ron! Good morning, young commander," Fiora replied in a soft and respectful tone.

Fiora was a woman in her thirties, specifically 37 years old, with a muscular build, blonde hair tinged with white tied back, and gray eyes. She wore loose military pants and boots, with only a sleeveless white shirt on top, leaving her slightly exposed.

"You're early as usual, former commander," Ron said, complimenting her dedication.

"I'm honored and delighted to hear that from the commander himself. I always strive not to be a burden to anyone," she said with a smile.

Fiora had been the leader of the Seventh Squad five years ago. She also led the squad after it merged with the Fifth Squad. Known for her strictness, she was considered the strongest woman in the revolution at the time. However, three years ago, she was shot in the knee, leaving her incapacitated. She relinquished her leadership of the Seventh Squad and appointed Ron in her place because he had saved her life back then. She owed him her life. Despite becoming the leader, Ron didn't abandon Fiora and kept her among his close allies in the squad, respecting all she had contributed to the revolution. For this, Fiora regarded Ron as someone worthy of loyalty and following.

"Your outfit is quite striking today, commander. Are you heading to the leaders' meeting? I can guess from your breathing—you're uneasy, haha," Fiora joked warmly.

"No matter how I look at it, I'm still amazed by your ability to read my feelings. Anyway, yes, I'm going to that meeting, and I want you to come with Kanz and me," Ron offered.

"I'd be happy to come. Even though I'm not of much use, the commander's wishes are orders," Fiora conveyed her response to Ron, confirming she would join them.

Ten minutes later, Ron and Fiora were already near the car they would take to the designated location. Kanz was delayed because he had some matters to attend to, but when he arrived...

"Sorry for the delay. As I see... you've already found Miss Fiora. From this, I can say we're going together, right?" Kanz spoke with a satisfied smile.

"I can't refuse a request from the young commander," Fiora replied playfully.

"Alright, let's leave now. Who's driving?" Ron asked the two standing before him.

Kanz was about to respond that he couldn't, but Fiora beat him to it, getting into the driver's seat with a playful smile. "Do you two need a ride?" she asked.

Ron sighed and got into the front seat beside Fiora, while Kanz sat in the back. With a hand signal from Ron, the dynamic platform activated, lifting them upward.

"Are you sure you can drive? What about your knee?" Ron asked with a serious expression, though his tone indicated concern.

"I'm fine, commander. True, my injury has made me unable to fight the central government forces as before, but I can still do things like this. I'm no longer helpless. Thank you for your concern, commander," Fiora smiled happily at Ron.

Ron remained silent, turning his head to look in the opposite direction. Moments later, the car reached the surface. Fiora started the engine and drove out of the parking area where the base's secret entrance was located.

Fiora drove at a steady speed, her face carrying the same cheerful and calm smile. Kanz worked attentively on his laptop, deeply focused. Ron, however, was silent, watching the buildings move backward before his eyes. He seemed... lost. But soon, he felt a gentle touch on his hand—it was Fiora's hand.

"You're still thinking about Commander Schrawn, aren't you?" Fiora asked in a kind and considerate tone.

"...." Ron didn't respond.

"Ron, I know what happened was hard on you, but please... don't push yourself too much. What happened wasn't your fault," Fiora said gently.

Fiora's tone was always incredibly kind, especially toward Ron. She knew well that Ron never had a moment of peace, whether due to the present or the past.

"Thank you for your concern, Fiora. I'm fine now," Ron replied, looking at her hand holding his, then into her smiling, beautiful face.

The companions continued their journey to the designated location. Meanwhile, in a distant place, specifically in an enormous, magnificently designed building, a man in a formal suit sipped wine as he gazed out at the city through his office's large window.

The office was luxurious in every aspect—walls painted crimson red, a tiger-skin rug, plants in the corners, crimson red sofas. At the center of the room was a large desk made of expensive, meticulously polished oak wood.

"This city is lucky to have me as its ruler. Those commoners, their lives hang by my fingertip. They are the happiest people because I am... Abraham Kavil, the ruler of this city," the man declared.

A man with white hair and dry, pale skin, clearly showing his advanced age—Abraham Kavil, the ruler of Ginor City, aged 79. As he enjoyed his red wine and spoke grandly about himself, the automatic office door opened, and a woman in tight black clothing with a striking figure and long black hair tied back entered.

"Sir, the laboratory workers request your visit. They wish to honor you with your esteemed presence," the woman spoke in a serious tone, carrying great reverence for Abraham Kavil.

Abraham turned his head to glance at her, then turned his body, placing his wine glass on his desk. He walked steadily toward the woman who had brought him the news. Standing before her, their height difference became apparent. He placed one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist, beginning to touch her.

"Tell them that whether I attend or not is my decision—Abraham Kavil's. But before you go, I want to have some fun with you," he whispered in her ear while touching her waist.

"As you wish, city ruler. Your desires are orders," the woman replied without resistance.

"Before that, I heard you were the mother of two girls. I want to know their names. I didn't focus on this before, but I remembered now. Give me an answer," he whispered in her ear.

Abraham's touches were deliberate, shameless, and bold, reflecting his arrogant and domineering personality. The woman remained silent for a while, her body trembling slightly from his touches, but she eventually replied.

"The younger one... I didn't give her a name, but the older one... her name is Clara," the woman responded between her breaths.

Abraham hummed at her response. "Clara," the name echoed in his mind several times as he thought to himself, "She must be as beautiful as her mother, who's in my hands right now." He smiled a malicious smile that carried no goodwill. At that moment, another individual entered the office, holding a tablet, interrupting the scene.

"You insolent fool! Don't you see that I'm enjoying myself with my secretary here?" Abraham said angrily, with a threatening gaze.

"Apologies, sir, but this is urgent. We've received news from the secret spy. In summary, they've informed us that the opposition revolution leaders are going to meet at a location whose coordinates have already been provided. What should we do?" The man presented all his information at once, slightly fearful of Abraham's reaction.

For a moment, Abraham's annoyance dissipated, replaced by a wide, sinister grin. He even chuckled softly, though his laugh was heavy and spine-chilling.

"It's obvious... Bring me Ron Herald's head!" He declared with a wicked smile and a commanding tone.

To be continued...