One month. Thirty days. 720 hours of divine torture so intense that Satya started talking to vegetables. He now had names for his sprouts. One was called Despair, the other Dignity. Both tasted like sadness.
He had done everything from flame sword ballet to waterfall brain-freeze yoga. He'd been kicked, zapped, yelled at, and once had to sing a mantra while being chased by fire ducks. Yes. Fire ducks. Not even magical—just really angry birds someone enchanted and let loose for "combat realism."
It was on the thirty-first day of this agony that everything changed. Or so he thought.
The bell rang. Not the usual bone-shaking BWOOMMM but a melodic, serious gong that echoed with a tone of plot development. Every member of the Inferno Guild—and even some wandering ghosts who were just passing through—gathered at the DDA Main Hall. This wasn't just any hall. This was the sanctum of the Divine Defense Authority. Tall pillars. Ancient statues. A ceiling so high, Satya wondered if clouds had rent control here.
Vayunanda, the White Death, stood on the dais, his expression unreadable. His long white robes shimmered like frozen lightning. He raised a hand, and silence fell.
"I have urgent matters beyond Bharat," he said. "The Hell Gates outside our borders are evolving at an unpredictable rate. I must leave immediately."
The guild members gasped. Some nodded in grim understanding. Others looked excited at the idea of possibly having a day without their organs being turned into origami.
Satya, on the other hand, had never smiled so wide in his life. He turned to Agneyi with tears of joy. "I'm safe! No more 3 AM surprise kicks! No more hallucinating samosas in the middle of training!"
He fell to his knees. "Thank you, divine lords! I survived! I am reborn!"
Oorja floated beside him, arching a brow. "Don't get too excited, Your Roundness."
Satya ignored her. He ripped off a sock and threw it into the air like a graduation hat. "I declare myself King Satya the Liberated! Bring me laddoos and cold coffee! We shall celebrate with gulab jamuns and—"
Aryan the Etherbane, the Rank 1 Guild Master and leader of the Mythic Valor Guild, stepped forward. The hall quieted again. Aryan looked like a calm inferno—graceful, deadly, and always two steps ahead.
"As the Rank 1 Guild Master," he said, his voice silk over steel, "I will take over as acting DDA President while Vayunanda is away."
Whispers rippled across the hall. Aryan, already a legend, now had more authority than ever.
Satya didn't care. He was too busy posing with a stick as his 'royal scepter.' "Hail King Satya! Emperor of Nap Time! Slayer of Push-Ups!"
Oorja smirked. "Majesty, your nose is bleeding again."
Satya wiped it with dramatic flair. "A king bleeds not red, but royal jam."
Karna, the Rank 10 Guild Master, stepped forward. He looked like someone who had seen this kind of delusion way too often.
He crossed his arms and said with a smirk, "Wait. The president is not done yet."
Satya blinked. "What more? I'm already retired emotionally."
Then Vayunanda raised his hand. "Satya will accompany me outside Bharat. This is not just a mission—it is his exposure to the wider threat. He will live and train with me."
Time stopped. Satya's fake crown—crafted from a chapati and imagination—fell from his hand.
"I'm sorry... what?"
Vayunanda nodded calmly. "Yes. He will travel with me. For months."
Oorja straight-up fell out of the air laughing.
Agneyi chuckled darkly. "You wanted biryani? Enjoy your next meal of desert wind and regrets."
Satya stumbled forward. "No-no-no-no. Wait! I have a condition! My leg! It's broken!" He dramatically fell to the ground, clutching his shin.
Vayunanda blinked. "That's your elbow."
"I have a rare condition! Elbow shin disorder. Very dangerous. Needs twelve months of bed rest and mango lassi."
Oorja slapped her forehead. "He's improvising medical fiction now."
Aryan, now temporarily president, raised a brow. "Hmm. If he's unfit for travel, perhaps we should reroute him... to the 7-Star Hell Gate in Kalayaan Wastes. A trial zone for near-death enlightenment."
Satya's eyes went wide. He saw a vision: a bleak desert, fire tornadoes, flaming snakes with PhDs in pain, and a cactus whispering "your suffering is eternal."
He jumped up, striking a military pose. "I AM FINE! Never felt better! My bones are titanium! My soul is ready! Take me with you, President-Sir-Vayunanda-ji!"
Vayunanda gave him a slow nod. "Good. We leave at dawn."
Satya internally screamed. Outwardly, he saluted like a soldier who just got drafted into a war with no bullets, just insults and fireballs.
"Can I pack snacks?" he asked weakly.
"Only ash-flavored protein cubes," said the drone behind him.
Oorja wiped tears from laughing too hard. "You upgraded from Hell Camp to Ultra Divine Death March. So proud of you."
Just as the meeting ended and Satya was being escorted out, he made one last desperate plea.
"Wait-wait-wait!" Satya yelled, dramatically spinning around with the grace of a tired chicken. "Before I leave, I demand a royal farewell ceremony!"
Everyone paused. Even Vayunanda tilted his head like he wasn't sure if this was a joke or a prophecy.
Agneyi crossed his arms. "This again?"
"I insist!" Satya cried, puffing his chest. "A hero's send-off! I want dhols! I want flower petals! I want someone to cry and say, 'Don't go, you beautiful idiot!'"
Karna sighed. "Oorja, why is your chosen one like this?"
Oorja deadpanned, "He was on sale."
Without missing a beat, Satya grabbed a curtain, wrapped it around himself like a royal cape, and strutted around the hall.
"I am Satya of House Sore-Legs! The First of His Name! Breaker of Bedframes! Eater of Emergency Rations!"
He pointed to a nearby recruit and shouted, "You! Play the conch shell!"
The poor guy blinked. "I—I don't have a conch."
"Then make the sound with your mouth! Phaaaaahhhh! Come on, spirit!"
The guy awkwardly went, "Phaa... phuuu..."
"No passion!" Satya snapped, throwing a stale biscuit at him. "You insult my legacy!"
Meanwhile, Oorja floated beside Karna whispering, "I'm 70% sure he's trying to delay departure. The other 30% is just... Satya."
Satya then knelt dramatically in front of Vayunanda. "Before I leave, I must say goodbye to my people. My sprouts. My beloved training vegetables."
He pulled out a pouch from his cloak. Inside were two shriveled bean sprouts.
"Despair... Dignity... Papa's going on a deadly field trip. Grow strong, my babies. May you never be eaten."
Vayunanda blinked. "Are those... edible?"
"No," Satya said solemnly. "They're emotional support snacks."
Suddenly, a junior officer ran in holding a travel kit. "Sir Satya, here's your official mission gear: pain-resistant boots, anti-flame undies, and three packets of dried regret."
Satya took one look and shrieked. "Is this... ash-flavored toothpaste?! Who brushes with despair?!"
Agneyi called out, "Don't forget your fireproof underwear. Last time you screamed for 18 minutes."
"Those weren't screams," Satya sniffled. "That was opera."
As the sun began to rise, Satya stood at the gate of the DDA compound, clutching a ridiculously oversized backpack stuffed with things no one approved—like an inflatable flamingo, ten packets of instant noodles, a haunted teddy bear, and a scroll labeled "Emergency Motivational Quotes."
He saluted one final time. "Fear not, my guildmates! For I march boldly into divine punishment armed with courage, snacks, and denial!"
Karna waved half-heartedly. "Try not to die."
Oorja gave him a thumbs-up. "Write if you survive. Or don't. I'm subscribed to your emotional breakdowns anyway."
And with that, Satya marched off like a soldier heading for a very dramatic school dance recital.