The sound of Virya's heavy footsteps slowly faded down the hallway. The thick oak door shut with a sharp
'click'.
And just like that... it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
A deafening silence took over.
Acharya looked at Tej with deep, calm eyes.
His voice wasn't rushed; it had the eerie stillness that comes right before a storm.
"What's the news... from the other nations, Tej?"
Commander Tej's face, scarred by a horrifying burn mark, looked even more intimidating under the room's yellow light.
His jaw tightened, and his expression turned dead serious. He didn't say a word.
He just walked over to Acharya's massive desk with heavy steps.
Rustle...
Acharya unrolled an old, leather map across the desk. The faint smell of dried ink and old dust filled the air.
It wasn't just an ordinary map. It was a picture of the entire world. On that faded brown parchment, four massive countries sprawled out like giant beasts.
Three of them shared borders, practically at each other's throats.
The fourth was a massive island, sitting quietly in a corner, far away from their hatred and politics.
But then... your eyes would drift to the very edge of the map.
There was a fifth country. Compared to those four giants, it looked like a tiny speck.
It was completely surrounded by the dark, salty waters of the black ocean. Across that small piece of land, faded letters read—
Garuda Island'
Even though it was the smallest, Garuda Island was painted in the deepest, richest green. It held more lush greenery than any of the other nations.
It was a tiny green pearl, and the rest of the world had its eyes fixed on it, ready to swallow it whole.
Tej and Acharya stared at that little island, almost as if they could feel the heavy weight of its future pressing down on their own chests.
The heavy night finally passed, and the first rays of the morning sun lit up the dust floating over Musutafu City.
The next day.
A wide, old, cobblestone street was packed to the brim. The usual silence of the area had turned into a deafening roar.
A sea of fourteen to seventeen-year-old boys and girls flooded the street. It looked like every drop of young blood in the city had gathered there today.
There were all kinds of faces in the crowd. Some wore expensive silk, their eyes full of born arrogance.
Others wore torn clothes and shoes with holes in them, but their eyes held the fierce fire of a hungry wolf.
Amidst the smell of sweat and brushing shoulders, a restless, nervous energy hung in the air.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the building in front of them.
It wasn't just a normal building; it looked like an impenetrable fortress.
Its thick, black stone walls were covered in deep scratches and marks from old weapons, as if the building itself had survived countless bloody wars.
Right at the top, a massive red banner fluttered in the wind.
On it, bold black letters read:
"Astra-Yagya Registrations Are Now Open."
The crowd's heartbeats quickened.
Suddenly...
Creaaak...
The door to the stone balcony above opened. With the heavyclank-clank of iron boots, a soldier stepped up to the edge.
His iron armor gleamed in the sunlight. He looked down at the chaotic sea of kids with a cold, hard stare.
The noise of the crowd died instantly.
The soldier took a deep breath, and his booming voice echoed off the walls of the street:
Registrations for the Astra-Yagya tournament have begun!
But... before you fill out the form, you must pass two tests!"
His voice hit their chests like a hammer.
First... lifting the 'Prana Bell'. It weighs exactly 100 kilograms!
A nervous murmur rippled through the crowd.
And second...
the soldier's voice boomed again,
You have to fill in your details and sign the form using a 'Prana Pen'!
If the Prana Pen releases ink for your signature... and you manage to sign it... you will be selected for this tournament!
The soldier paused for a second.
You will earn new ranks as you pass each stage.
Further details... will only be given to those who pass this form test!
The balcony door slammed shut.
But the real terror... was about to begin inside the building.
The atmosphere inside the building was suffocating.
The lighting was dim. Between the cold stone walls, two soldiers sat on chairs behind an old wooden desk.
But the desk wasn't the scariest thing in the room.
Right in front of them, sitting dead center on the floor... was a massive, golden Bell.
Engraved deeply on its surface was 100 KG.
It didn't just look like a chunk of metal; it radiated a strange, heavy aura that seemed to suck the very air out of the room.
"Begin," the soldier at the desk ordered in a dry, flat tone.
The guard at the door opened it.
The first student walked in.
He had a confident look on his face. He took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and walked straight up to the golden bell.
He gripped the thick handle of the bell tightly with both hands. He closed his eyes and pulled with all his might.
Grrrrr...
The veins on the boy's neck bulged instantly. Thick beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
He dug his heels into the floor, straightened his back, and gave it everything he had. But... the bell didn't move a single inch.
Grind... Grind...
The boy gritted his teeth so hard they scraped together.
The faint, metallic taste of blood from his gums seeped into his mouth. His eyes turned red.
"Is this a joke?"
the boy screamed in his mind. "I can lift three times this weight! Why won't it budge? No... I can't lose like this!"
He pulled one last time, draining every ounce of strength from his soul, but the bell stayed glued to the floor.
Panting heavily, the boy dropped to his knees. He turned to the soldier at the desk in frustration and yelled,
You're lying to us! There's no way this is only 100 kilos
The soldier put his pen down. "It is exactly 100 kilos."
The soldier got up from his chair, walked slowly over to the bell, reached out with his left hand, grabbed the handle... and
Clank!
In one smooth motion, he lifted the 100-kilo bell into the air like it was a plastic toy.
The boy's eyes widened in utter disbelief.
The soldier dropped the bell back onto the floor.
Thud!
The ground shook.
You probably tried to draw power by mixing your feelings with your 'Prana',
the soldier said, looking him dead in the eye.
"This... is a bell made of gold.
It sucks your Prana right out of you."
The boy snapped, frustrated.
What does it matter! Whether it comes from my muscles or my feelings! In a battle... winning is all that matters! I am way more powerful with my Prana than with just my muscles!"
There was a strange calmness in the soldier's eyes. He looked at a candle burning on the desk.
Winning in a battle is all that matters... you're right about that,
the soldier said.
He raised his finger. Without touching the candle, an invisible wave of Prana shot from his finger, making the flame flicker wildly.
Your Prana is like the wind... it can make this flame dance, it can give it power.
Then, the soldier suddenly pulled his Prana back.
Poof.
The flame went out. Now, only the lifeless, solid wax structure was left.
But when the wind is sucked away...
The soldier struck the solid candle hard with his iron-like finger.
Crack!
The candle snapped in half and fell to the floor. ...all that remains is the frame.
Your base body.
The soldier turned back to the boy. *"You don't
have absolute control over your Prana and your feelings.
They can run out, they can change.
But your muscle power... that belongs solely to you.
Show me you can lift this without your Prana.
The boy's ego was badly bruised. He ground his teeth together.
I'll lift it right now!
He grabbed the bell's handle again.
This time, he completely quieted his Prana and pushed all his raw physical strength into his veins and bones.
He dug his heels into the ground and gave it his all.
"Aaaaargh!" he screamed.
But...
the bell didn't move a single millimeter.
The boy's hands began to shake. His body gave out.
Since childhood, he had only taken pride in his Prana; he had never actually trained his real body.
Without his Prana, he was nothing more than a normal, weak human.
That harsh truth hit his mind like a sledgehammer.
His fingers lost their grip, and he dropped to his knees. His hollow pride had shattered like glass.
The soldier turned back toward his chair.
"You can leave now."
The boy didn't have a single word left to say. The naked truth was standing right in front of him.
Dragging his heavy feet, he accepted his defeat, hung his head, and walked out into the dark.
Time passed.
Hour after hour. Boys and girls walked in, one after another.
Some had faces glowing with confidence, while others were pale with fear. But standing before that golden bell, everyone's ego was crushed.
That bell wasn't just a weight; it was weighing the reality of their souls.
Ten kids in a row had failed due to their weak muscles, walking out crying and defeated.
And then... a new boy stepped into the doorway.
He was completely different from the rest. His clothes were very simple and worn out in several places.
There was no fear on his face, no nervousness, and no hollow arrogance.
His eyes held the kind of stillness you'd find at the bottom of a deep well.
Tied tightly around his forehead... was a white cloth, slightly damp from his sweat.
The air inside the room suddenly grew heavy. The soldiers stopped their pens and stared at the boy with the white cloth tied around his head.