The morning air was cool and smelled faintly of wet stone and smoke. Aryan walked with the five soldiers trailing him, their boots making steady, heavy sounds on the cobblestones. The city of Moro was waking up slowly, but the soldiers moved like clockwork—eyes sharp, every step purposeful.
Aryan's body still throbbed from his injuries. The burns, the cuts—they all reminded him how close he'd come to losing everything. But now, being escorted through this strange city, he couldn't stop thinking: Where the hell am I, really? And what's going to happen next?
The soldiers didn't say much, but Aryan noticed the way their eyes scanned every corner, every passerby. They weren't just here for show—they were the backbone of the World Government's control. Tough, no-nonsense, and always ready for trouble.
The city itself was nothing like the forest where he'd fought for survival, or the sterile hospital where he'd woken up. Moro was alive with order and strict rules. Soldiers stood watch everywhere, eyes sharp and unblinking, keeping an invisible but firm grip on the people moving through the streets. The citizens hurried by with their heads down, careful not to attract attention.
Aryan looked up at the buildings—tall, cold, and intimidating. Polished metal and stone everywhere. Flags with the World Government's symbol fluttered high on battlements, a constant reminder: Someone's always watching.
His heart pounded in his chest. It felt like walking into a cage.
When they reached the military headquarters, the heavy doors thudded shut behind him. Inside smelled like oil, paper, and a faint metallic tang. Voices echoed off the marble floors and tall walls as soldiers and officers bustled around, papers in hand, eyes fixed on their tasks.
Aryan tried to steady himself as they wound through the maze of corridors. Every face he passed was serious, focused, and—he realized—exhausted from some unseen burden.
Finally, they stopped at a steel door guarded by two soldiers who didn't even blink at the men escorting Aryan. The door swung open, and Aryan stepped inside.
The room was bare—just a metal table and two chairs. A window gave a view of the city below, orderly and sharp against the morning light.
Seated behind the table was a man who seemed to fill the room without even standing up. His uniform was perfect, the insignia of an Elite Soldier shining on his chest. His eyes locked onto Aryan immediately, sharp and cold.
"Welcome to Moro City, Aryan," the man said, voice steady but firm. "I'm Officer Rod, an Elite Soldier with the World Government. Have a seat."
Aryan swallowed and nodded, sliding into the chair. His fingers gripped the edges of the table as Rod's gaze drilled into him, searching for something.
There was silence for a moment—heavy and tense.
"So," Rod said, breaking the silence, "tell me what happened that night. Every detail. The truth."
Aryan closed his eyes briefly, the images flashing behind his eyelids—fire, screams, seven figures dragging animal children into a container, their powers burning the forest, killing the parents.
"I was resting near the edge of the forest when I heard screaming," Aryan started, voice steady but low. "Then I saw the fire. Seven people—armed, cloaked—dragging animal children into some kind of container. They used… powers. Magic, I guess. Fire, ice, energy. They controlled and killed the parents."
He paused, then said, "I tried to stop them, fought with everything I had. But then a man named Kraven, claiming to be from BLADE, knocked me out."
Rod's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Magic?"
Aryan blinked. "Yeah, magic… or something like that."
What is magic ? what are you saying ? Aryan say the power they are using .
And Officer Rod say "We call it Pluse," Rod said, his voice serious. "Those who can use it are called Pluse users. Powers over elements, energy, and other abilities. It's rare. Dangerous."
Aryan nodded slowly. "Okay, so your 'Pluse' is what I called magic."
Rod's gaze sharpened. "Yes. And the use of Pluse is strictly controlled. Unauthorized use isn't taken lightly."
Rod leaned forward, voice dropping. "Now, why were you in the forest that late at night?"
Aryan's heart slammed against his ribs. That was the question he'd dreaded. How could he tell them the truth—that he came from another world, something no one here would ever believe? If he said anything close to that, they'd see him as a threat.
He hesitated, searching for an excuse that wouldn't get him arrested or worse.
"I… don't remember," he said finally, forcing calm into his voice.
Rod studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. For now, that's enough."
Rod stood, his presence filling the room again. "Thank you for your cooperation, Aryan. You're free to go."
Aryan rose, legs stiff from sitting, and turned toward the door.
"Wait," Rod's voice stopped him. "One more thing. This city watches everything. BLADE doesn't tolerate interference. Be careful who you trust."
Rod have thought in his mind that Aryan presence felt different like he was not from here or may his imagination or something .
Aryan nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.
As he left the office and walked down the hallway, the weight of Rod's words hung over him. Moro City was a place of power, of secrets, and danger. And now, he was right in the middle of it.
Aryan looked out the window at the city spreading below—the order, the watchful eyes everywhere.
He felt small but determined.
He thought about the powers he'd seen—the fire, the ice, the energy—and how they weren't just fantasy. They were real. And they were his.
If he was going to survive here, he needed to understand them. Master them. And find out what BLADE really was.
Because now, Aryan knew, he wasn't just a stranger lost in a new world. He was a player in a game with stakes far bigger than he'd imagined.
End of Chapter 7