The air in the training arena froze into a deathly silence. The blindfolded boy stood as still as a carved stone statue.
A faint displacement of air—a whisper of a *swoosh*—was his only warning. In a fraction of a second, the Prana clone of Guru Kailash executed the 'Prana-Vayu', materializing directly behind him. The clone's fingers morphed into jagged, glowing knives, slashing downward with lethal intent.
The boy didn't even flinch. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he angled his razor-sharp iron Chakram.
*Clang!* A shower of brilliant blue sparks erupted in the darkness of his vision. He didn't need eyes; it felt as though he possessed a divine vision, calculating exactly how every single molecule of air around him was shifting.
The second clone lunged. Its nails crackled with intense blue electrical energy, aiming straight for the boy's throat like a starving beast. Moving with unnatural, machine-like agility, the boy merely tilted his torso. The lethal strike tore through empty air, plunging deeply into the chest of the first clone right behind him.
A cold, mirthless smirk tugged at the boy's lips. "Fighting these mechanical husks... is nothing but a waste of time."
Before the system could recover, the boy spun into a violent whirlwind. The Chakrams in his hands flared with a blinding blue light. Striking and dodging with terrifying precision, the air grew heavy with the acrid scent of scorched iron and intense friction.
Then, a sharp *swish* sliced through the chaos. In a single, fluid heartbeat, his Chakrams decapitated both clones simultaneously. The headless bodies hit the floor and dissolved into wisps of blue smoke, vanishing into thin air.
Pulling off his blindfold, the boy let out a slow breath of relief. But the silence didn't last.
*Thud... Thud... Thud...*
Heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the darkened corridor. A middle-aged man stepped into the dim light. A deep, dark Tilak was marked upon his forehead, and a scabbard hung at his waist, holding an ancient but imposing sword.
But it was his face that commanded absolute terror—a grotesque, jagged burn scar stretched from his left eye down to the corner of his lips, a mark horrifying enough to make a weak man tremble.
Resting a hand on his hilt, the man spoke. His voice was so deep it vibrated through the floorboards. "Do you truly believe that defeating these lifeless dolls makes you powerful enough for this world?"
Before the boy could blink, the man crossed the distance. A heavy, ice-cold hand clamped onto his shoulder. The pressure was suffocating, as if a literal mountain had been dropped onto his collarbone.
"You know, don't you?" the man whispered, his breath carrying the faint stench of burnt ash. "In this world, 'Power' is the only absolute truth. Those who lack it aren't even worthy of making promises."
The man leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a lethal hiss. "And you know this better than anyone... Rakteshwar, eldest son of the Root Clan."
With those words hanging in the air, the scarred man melted back into the shadows. Rakteshwar stood paralyzed, his eyes wide with stark terror. His body had turned as cold as stone.
Miles away, the sharp, clinical stench of spirit and phenyl dominated the hospital corridor. A nurse hurried along, the glass medicine vials on her tray clinking softly with every step.
She stopped before a room. The bold letters on the nameplate read: **PAWAN**.
The exact same Pawan for whom Dev, Maya, and Rudra had risked their lives to secure the Prana-Lotus.
"Pawan, it's time for your medi—" The nurse pushed the door open with a warm smile, but the words died in her throat.
The room was dead empty. The window was wide open, a cold draft billowing the curtains. The white bedsheets were perfectly smooth, as if no one had ever rested there. Right in the center of the mattress lay a folded piece of paper.
With trembling hands, she picked it up.
*Forgive me. I do not have the time to rest. I am completely healed now. My goal awaits me.*
"Oh no!" The nurse clutched her head, her panicked scream echoing down the hall. "That boy ran away again!"
High above the island, where the air was thin and crisp, a lone silhouette stood atop a jagged mountain peak. Pawan stared directly into the blinding light of the rising sun. He breathed in the fresh morning air, but inside his chest, a different kind of fire was roaring.
The absolute, burning desire for the 'Astra-Yagya'.
*(Author's Note: If you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know in the comments! You can also support the story by voting with your Power Stones. Thank you for reading!)*