I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities
Chapter 99 - 99: Ch 98. My life is mine to live

Mirveil's cell was a coffin dressed as a cage.

There were no windows—only four steel walls, thick with the stench of despair and iron. A rusted latrine squatted like an insult in the far-left corner, and a piece of foam barely worthy of the word "bed" clung to the opposite wall like it had been nailed there centuries ago. In the middle of that gloom sat Mirveil.

The anti-ability collar on her neck buzzed faintly—an ever-present reminder of how powerless she'd become. Even a Level 1 hero could kill her in this state.

But her red eye, sharp and unwavering, was locked onto the cell door. It wasn't strategy. It was instinct—a predatory reflex that refused to die.

She had heard the alerts and felt the tremors. Something was happening beyond the cold steel.

And then it happened.

A violent blast of energy shattered the cell door, sending molten debris scattering across the floor.

Sarpa stepped into the room, veiled in shadow, dread clinging to him like a second skin.

Mirveil's breath hitched. She hadn't expected him—but the second she saw him, she immediately realised what he was hear for.

Guardian Angel's betrayal at the Maw had been the first clue. Now Sarpa had come to finish what Guardian Angel had failed to do.

Her fists clenched at the betrayal.

After everything she had done for him. All the blood spilled, all the years of loyalty. And now she was just trash to be discarded. A weapon too worn to wield.

Her mind screamed as her heart roared with fury.

"My mother didn't sacrifice herself just for me to die like this. I am no one's tool. Not anymore."

Yes, Sarpa had trained her. Given her power. Shaped her rage like a blade to be pointed against the heroes.

But he wasn't the one who saved her.

Her mother had.

And that boy with the golden eyes had also saved her.

But Sarpa? He was just a leash.

And she would rather die free than be killed like a dog.

In a flash, she lunged, body straining with desperate rage.

It was suicide.

Even with her powers, she'd stand no chance. But without them it was utterly hopeless.

But She didn't care.

From the back of her waistband, she drew a sharpened plastic spoon—filed to a knife's edge in secret. Her one hope was to catch him off guard. Just enough to escape.

But before she could even swing—

"Foolish."

Sarpa's voice cut the air like a sword.

As a wave of psychic force smashed into her.

Mirveil's body crashed into the wall, blood bursting from her mouth. As the makeshift knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Sarpa stepped forward, eyes blazing.

"After all I've done for you… you dare raise your hand against me?"

Another wave slammed into her, grinding her deeper into the wall's crater.

"I raised you."

He ripped her from the wall and slammed her into the ceiling.

"I gave you purpose."

He hurled her down to the floor, the impact snapping something inside her.

"I gave you your life!"

He whipped her across the walls from left to right like a ragdoll.

Then, one final slam—her broken body crashing back into the original crater in the wall.

The room fell quiet, except for Mirveil's labored, bloody breaths as she struggled to speak.

Sarpa stepped closer, lifting her battered frame with his mind.

"What was that?" he hissed.

Mirveil opened her mouth.

Then spat—a bloody stain painting the hood of his cloak.

"You had nothing to do with saving my life… you fucking bastard."

Time froze.

Sarpa's body tensed.

His mind boiled.

"She dares—"

He snapped.

A telekinetic choke clamped around her throat, her feet dangling above the floor.

"I'll make sure you die brutally," he seethed.

"And painfully."

The pressure built. Her neck bent.

Her vision began to tunnel—

But then—

A beam of radiant light erupted where Sarpa stood.

His eyes widened—danger.

In an instant, he vanished, teleporting just beyond the wrecked cell's threshold.

Where the beam had struck, a man now stood—gleaming in golden battle tech armor, his silhouette majestic against the charred floor.

He wore a cocky grin, infuriating in its confidence.

"So you're the ring leader, huh?"

Sarpa's eyes narrowed to slits beneath the shadows of his hood. He knew that voice. That presence.

Golden Booster.

The Ascendant Clan Leader of the Golden Emperors.

And the worst possible interruption.

****

After the catastrophe at the Maw, it was Golden Booster who dragged Guardian Angel and Mirveil both bloodied, broken, and bound in silence to Tartarus.

He hadn't done it out of mercy.

It was strategy.

He knew someone would come—had to come. A snake never leaves a fang behind. If Sarpa was truly the mastermind, then eventually, inevitably, he would show up to erase the evidence… to silence the witnesses.

Golden Booster didn't just expect it.

He counted on it.

And tonight, that gamble paid off.

Sarpa had come—and like the predator he was, he struck without hesitation.

The walls trembled with power. Steel bent in the distance. And now, as the smoke cleared, Golden Booster stood firm, a gleaming sentinel in armor kissed by divine radiance.

He glanced behind him—his golden eyes lingering for a moment on Mirveil, lying barely conscious and broken on the ground. Blood pooled beneath her. Bones were twisted at unnatural angles. Her red eye was dull.

For a second, his cocky grin flickered.

This was the same girl who had murdered one of his own—a beloved member of the Golden Emperors. To save her now felt disgusting.

But as a hero he couldn't just let her die and she still had uses.

Without a word, Golden Booster raised one gauntleted hand. A ray of soft golden light burst from his palm and washed over Mirveil, knitting flesh, stabilizing her vitals. She gasped faintly—her eye fluttering with weak awareness.

"Try not to die. Yet."

Then his gaze turned cold—locked once again onto Sarpa.

"Now, as for you…"

In the very next breath, the air ticked.

Audible and Sharp. Like the hands of a cosmic clock.

"Temporal Zone."

Time itself rippled as a massive golden sphere, ten meters wide, flashed into existence around them—encapsulating both Sarpa and Golden Booster in its radiant prison.

Outside, everything began to slow—like molasses sliding across glass.

Inside the sphere, time moved normally—isolated from the world, sealed in a battle arena of temporal stasis.

Sarpa's eyes narrowed. He turned his gaze upward, to the walls, then to the floor. Then, without a word, his form blurred—attempting to teleport out.

But Nothing.

His power clashed violently against the barrier—sparks and ruptures of spatial energy snapping against the interior shell—but the sphere held.

"What… have you done?" he growled.

Golden Booster rolled his neck, a faint hum of radiant energy pulsing around him.

"Simple," he said with a grin.

"I trapped you… so I can beat the hell out of you without interruptions."

Sarpa stared at him—silent, coiled, dangerous.

Behind the darkness of his cloak, rage began to stir.

Golden Booster's grin only grew wider.

"Let's see what secrets a cornered snake keeps when he's out of time."