Chapter 227: 227. POSSIBILITY OF GOING BAD

State your name.” Tsaka naturally took the role of starting the final run of the hall. It was now past midnight, and other than throwing accusations and calling each other incompetent, it could be true to say the councils were in a stalemate.

“Sagiri,” sagiri said begrudgingly. He very much hated hearings.

“Sinner Sagiri, you have been accused of killing an entire Seventh Wing squad. Do you deny it?” Tsaka asked, standing to the left side of the mandra’s throne. Silence followed. Most in the hall had never seen him. They had all not witnessed the massacre in person, and it was well to say they were waiting to hear it from his very own mouth.

“No,” Sagiri replied. “I killed them,” Sagiri said after prolonged silence, his head slowly rising to look at Tsaka. A ripple of murmurs spread through the chamber.

“Then you admit to mass murder. See, he has admitted to killing them.” Felunka’s eyes hardened. It was as if he was finally being proven right, and he was ecstatic.

“They came to capture me,” Sagiri said. “I defended myself.”

“Ridiculous!” Bekizize said under his breath.

“You kidnapped a student and killed a warrior who tried to stop you. Yet you seem to think your acts are justified.” Nakia said, tapping claws softly. The woman looked like a snake in her mannerisms. Her pet snake had its eyes on Sagiri, and it looked about ready to pounce. “One hundred and twenty warriors do not fall to self-defense by a normal boy. A red haired red eyed boy. A southerner. What is a southerner doing in the north?” Nakia asked again.

“Isn’t it a question you northerners should answer?” Sagiri said after a while, tilting his head to look at the kun of the west.

Sagiri remained silent, his gaze drifting across the chamber until it settled on Zaka Asakana, the Great Chief of the North. His expression had also changed at his answer, the calm giving way to something darker. Zaka rose, studying him with interest.

“You fought a whole squad alone. That is a strength. The North respects such power. Why not choose to use that power to do good?” Chief Zaka said. Sagiri let out a short, humorless laugh. He loathed the man after what he had witnessed and what he had heard from Kiuga. A man who trains his own son to death and drives another close to his death could dare to speak about using his power for good. He had wanted to eliminate the man ever since he saw his brutal display on Kaka. Only a man like Salka was worthy of ruling the north. He was strong but with a big heart. This Zaka was just brute force and pride.

“Use it for good? Chief Zaka, does killing your own son and almost killing another in a sparring match equal you using your strength for good?” Sagiri said, and there was pin-drop silence. The hall grew still. Everyone knew what had happened to the first son of the great chief of the north, yet no one had dared speak of it.

“The weak have no place in this world. I am willing to let that remark slide, but don’t forget I can kill you in the same breath. You are either a weapon or a threat,” Zaka Asakana seethed, his killing intent pressing on Sagiri.

“A weapon?” Sagiri said. “Is that what you call it? You want to use me as your weapon. Who says I want to be a weapon for the north?” asked. He was getting irritated the more he stayed in the hall. All the auras and intents pressing onto him were stirring something deep inside of him.

“The way I see it. You don’t have a choice. You have to pay for your sins in some way or die. At least being useful could prolong your life,” Chief Zaka Asakana held his stance.

“My clan was wiped out by you northerners,” Said after a while, his voice tightening. He knew for sure the person who had a hand in it was in the room in one of the councils, and it made him burn with rage to be told that he did not have a choice but to serve a people who wiped out his clan. “Burned to the ground. Slaughtered. Men, women, children. And it was done under the banners of the Northern tribes!!”

A wave of shock rippled through the chamber. Zaka’s expression hardened, but he did not interrupt. Sagiri’s eyes blazed with restrained fury.

“So tell me, Chief Asakana… who pays for that? Who answers for their deaths? If blood should be paid with more blood, the way I see it, it is the North that owes me a debt of blood! Somehow, Sagiri could now feel two feelings merging: those of shock and those of guilt. The strongest one was coming from the direction of the mandra. His face was covered in a veil. Someone sitting in the council of the mandra. Another was coming from one of the generals sitting at Felunka’s table. The special units general.

In that moment, the archive that had been silent stirred. And it had been a while since the voice screamed in his ears.

Enemy

Before Zaka could respond, General Felunka slammed his fist against the railing.

“Enough! This council will not be derailed by unverified accusations.” I have been the head of the war council for twenty-five years, and I have never given such an order!” he was telling the truth, and sagiri could tell. The man might have been a pain in the neck, but that was the extent of it. Sagiri turned sharply toward him.

“Unverified?” he said. “I watched it happen,” Sagiri said, his eyes narrowing. He could feel the markings under his skin crawling violently. The archive had finally found who it was looking for, and sagiri could feel the raw pain and rage of his clan in that moment. He demanded that the debt be paid.

Felunka’s patience snapped. “You dare stand here and accuse the North while admitting to the slaughter of our soldiers? You are a menace, and I should end you where you stand.” Felunka was too heated to hear whatever Sagiri had to say,

The shadow corp shifted uneasily in the shadows as the tension escalated, but they remained in the shadows. Sagiri met Felunka’s glare, completely unfazed.

“Should?” he asked quietly. “Or could?” Sagiri asked, his voice now cold. The question hung in the air like a drawn blade. Felunka’s face flushed with rage.

“Do not test me, boy,” Felunka said, pulling out his blade.

Sagiri shot to his feet suddenly, and the tension in the room spiked. He could feel the shadows move, but with a raised finger from the supreme mandra, they remained in the shadows, lurking. He took a single step forward. The restraining threads flared, tightening around him, yet he did not flinch. His gaze swept across the entire assembly.

“Felunka, do you think you are capable of killing me?” Sagiri’s voice was chilling even to his own ears, and Felunka paused in his position. Salka had asked him not to do anything stupid, but who could understand the hypocrisy and audacity of the north more than him? He would rather die than submit and be used like a weapon by them.

“You sit here,” Sagiri said, voice low but carrying through the hall, “deciding whether I should live or die. You call me a monster. A weapon. A threat.” He paused, letting the silence build. “Tell me something,” he continued. “If I had truly wanted to kill every person in this hall… who would have stopped me? Shouldn’t I sink this hall and bury all of us in this building?”

The chamber fell into stunned silence.

Several council members instinctively tensed. The shadow unit multiplied, making the hall seem even darker. The faint hum of the restraining threads was suddenly the only sound in the vast hall.

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