Chapter 230: Bunch of Weavers

Jonah stood there, staring at the dead screens, his mind struggling to understand what he’d just seen.

How do we fight that?

“Jonah.” Vanessa’s hand found his. Her hands were shaking. “Tell me you saw something different than I did. Tell me those weren’t thousands of Weavers ready to be deployed.”

He wanted to lie. To tell her it was a bluff.

But he couldn’t.

“I saw it too.”

Around them, the rescued Weavers sat scattered among the wreckage. Some rocked back and forth, humming to themselves. Others just stared at nothing. A few were quietly crying.

Sylva’s gentle aura kept them calm, but Jonah could feel that peace would not last.

Draven limped over, with a hand pressed against his ribs. “So let me get this straight. We just destroyed Sterling’s factory, saved hundreds of people, and somehow that makes things worse?”

“Much worse.” Ariana said as she cam down from Nomad. “He was never trying to win here. He was gathering data. And we gave him exactly what he needed.”

Seraph’s jaw tightened. “Then we played right into his hands.”

“We had no choice,” Jonah said quietly. “If we had done nothing, these people would have died. Or worse.”

He looked at the young Weaver girl nearest to him. Her God Mark traced rough patterns down her left arm like lightning scars. She was hugging her knees, rocking gently.

When she noticed him watching, she flinched.

“It’s okay,” Jonah said softly, kneeling down to her level. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The girl’s eyes were blank and lifeless. “Are you… are you like us? Do you have the mark too?”

He showed her his own God Mark, the nine-headed beast on his forearm.

“Yeah. I have one too.”

“Does yours hurt?” Her voice cracked. “Mine hurts all the time. Like fire under my skin.”

“It used to hurt,” Jonah admitted. “But I learned to live with it. I can teach you, if you want.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

They turned their attention towards a groaning sound. More Weavers were starting to move, slowly coming back to normal now that Sylva’s calm energy had given them a chance to recover.

Vanessa ran another scan. “Jonah, we have a problem. My readings show that Sylva’s aura is working, but it’s not a permanent solution. The trauma these people have… it’s too deep. The moment the aura fades, they could become dangerous again.”

“Then we don’t let it fade.” Jonah stood up, his legs feeling stronger now. “Sylva stays active as long as it takes.”

“That will drain you,” Ariana warned. “Maintaining a Grade-5 Progeny at full power for long periods is extremely draining on a Weaver’s soul.”

“I don’t care. I’m not letting them suffer again.”

The sound of engines interrupted their conversation.

WHOOOSH.

Three military VTOLs came down from the sky. They landed hard, deploying squads of heavily armed soldiers.

General Ironwood came out from the lead transport, his face looking hard and serious. Behind him came the Headmaster, looking older and more tired than Jonah had ever seen him.

Ironwood examined the whole scene. The underground factory, the wreckage, the hundreds of young Weavers sitting among the wreckage.

“Captain Seraph,” he said formally. “Report.”

Seraph stood up straight, even though she was very tired. “Sir. Mission accomplished. The factory is destroyed. But we have a… complication.”

“I can see that.” Ironwood’s eyes looked over the Weavers. “These are Sterling’s failed experiments?”

“They are victims,” Jonah said, stepping forward. “Not experiments.”

Ironwood looked over at Jonah. “That difference might not be important, young man. Each one of them is a walking weapon of mass destruction. A threat to themselves and everyone around them.”

“They are children!”

“They are dangerous children.” Ironwood’s voice was firm but not unkind. “I’ve seen what happens when powered individuals lose control. Entire city blocks wiped out. Hundreds dead. I cannot allow that risk.”

Seraph understood it first. “General, you can’t be suggesting…”

“I think we need to be realistic about this. We have limited resources and an interstellar threat on the horizon. These… people need more help and safety than we are able to give them right now.”

“So what?” Draven’s voice was dangerous. “You’re just going to put them down like sick dogs?”

“I’m going to make the hard choice that protects the many over the few.”

Jonah felt something shift inside him. A line being drawn. He had spent his entire life following orders, trusting the people in charge to make the right calls.

But this wasn’t right.

He stepped directly between Ironwood and the Weavers. Behind him, Sylva’s presence grew brighter. The deer-like Progeny stood at his back, ready to defend.

“No,” Jonah said simply.

Ironwood’s expression became more serious. “Weaver Jonah, that’s not a request. Step aside.”

“I said no, General.” Jonah shot back at him. “These people are not going to be executed. Not today. Not ever.”

The Headmaster placed a hand on Ironwood’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should hear the boy out.”

“With all due respect, Headmaster, there’s nothing to hear out. We are at war. We don’t have the luxury of mercy.”

“Mercy isn’t a luxury,” Jonah countered. “It’s what separates us from Sterling. He sees people as products. If we start doing the same thing, then what are we even fighting for?”

Vanessa moved to stand beside him. Then Seraph. Then Draven, despite his injuries. Even Ariana stood with Jonah’s group.

“The boy’s right,” Ariana said quietly. “I’ve watched him choose compassion over convenience at every turn. That is why my Empire respects him. That is why I came to save him in space. If you kill these victims to make your plans simpler, you prove that Sterling’s way of thinking is right.”

Ironwood looked at each of them in turn. Then he sighed, and his face became a little softer.

“Fine. What do you propose, Weaver Jonah?”

“We take them back to the Academy. Put them in a secure containment, yes, but treat them like patients, not prisoners. I’ll take personal responsibility for them. All of them.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re committing to?” the Headmaster asked. “Hundreds of traumatized individuals with godlike power? The resources, the staff, the security required…”

“I know.” Jonah met the headmaster’s eyes. “But Sterling made them by stealing pieces of my soul. My power. That makes them my responsibility.”

The Headmaster studied him for a long moment.

“Very well. I’ll authorize the facility. But Jonah, you’ll need help. More than just your team.”

“I’ll find it.”

Ironwood pulled out a secure datapad. “Before we go any further, there’s something you all need to see. We managed to trace Sterling’s transmission back to its source.”

He pulled up a star chart. A red dot pulsed in a part of space.

“This is Sterling’s current location. The Crimson Expanse. it would take us three months to get there using normal warp speeds. The planet you saw in the background is Xerath Prime, a former mining colony.”

“Three months,” Vanessa said. “That’s how long we have before he can bring his fleet back here.”

“If we’re lucky.” Ironwood’s face was serious. “If he decides to move faster, we’ll have less time. Either way, this changes everything. We’re no longer fighting a war for control of one nation. We’re fighting for the survival of our world.”

Jonah looked back at the Weavers. At the young girl he’d promised to help. At all the others who were depending on him to be strong.

Sterling had an army. He had technology and resources beyond anything they could match.

But Sterling didn’t have what Jonah had.

He didn’t have people who fought for each other instead of for orders. He didn’t understand that mercy could be a strength. To him, every situation was something to manage and improve, nothing more.

And that would be his weakness.

“Three months,” Jonah said, turning back to face his leaders and his team. “Then we have three months to get ready. To heal these people. To build our own strength. And to show Sterling that his factory-made army can’t beat something made with heart.”

Seraph smiled. “You know the odds are impossible, right?”

“Good thing we have been beating impossible odds since the beginning.”

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