The sky was the color of embers—smoke-choked, painted in dying reds. A heavy silence hung in the air, thick like the breath before a battlefield cry. Ash swirled with the morning breeze, drifting through the cracks of the training cliff, as if even nature itself held its breath. Below him lay the ruins of yet another Hell Gate—its smoking remains a testament to his recent victories. Three Hell Gates had fallen in a row: a 4-star, a 5-star, and even one of the dreaded 6-star rank. Each conquest, though arduous, only served to fuel Satya's growing sense of control and power. But that wasn't the point right now.
Satya stood at the edge of the cliff, his foot nudging aside pebbles that skittered off the edge. His breath was steady, but deep inside, something felt different today. This wasn't just about the Hell Gates or his victories. It was about the very essence of who he was becoming—and who he still needed to be.
The world had once seemed so distant to him—out of reach. But now, each battle, each encounter had forged him into something more. The fat, trembling recruit of the Inferno Guild who had struggled to hold a sword was gone. What remained was a man who had felt the bitter sting of defeat and the electrifying taste of victory, and now, he stood on the precipice of something greater than he could have imagined.
He flexed his hand, his fingers wrapping around the chakram, its heated edge burning against his skin as if to remind him of the flames that now coursed through his body. The once-distant crackle of his Garud Flame had become a part of him. It pulsed in his veins, bright and eager, just beneath his skin. His jaw was sharper now, his features more defined. He had grown—both in power and purpose. His body, lean yet corded with muscle, spoke of countless days spent inside gravity-crushed chambers, elemental storms, and illusion mazes. Each trial had tested him, pushed him to his limits—and he had endured, transformed.
Satya looked down at his hands. They didn't shake anymore. The blood that once ran cold in fear now burned with purpose. I've got this, he thought. He spun the chakram once in his right hand, watching it hum with faint heat, the glow reflecting in his eyes. This is my fight now.
But before he could gather his thoughts, a voice cut through the stillness. A voice that carried the weight of centuries, familiar yet never fully understood.
"You've 'got this'?" Oorja's voice echoed, dripping with sarcastic amusement. "Who are you? The God of Pretending-to-be-Humble?"
Satya smirked, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Oorja. I literally tore through that magma beast in the last gate. Vayunanda didn't even need to jump in."
Oorja's voice was a playful challenge. "And who do you think let you take that kill, dumbass? That beast was bait. A test. You're celebrating like you're ready to solo the universe."
Satya shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. "I mean, I am looking good these days. I've mastered three elemental basics, refined my chakra to second tier, and my weapon-switching time is under 1.3 seconds. Come on, give me some credit."
As if summoned by his words, a sudden gust of wind swept across the cliff, its chill biting through Satya's clothes. The air thickened, and the familiar weight of presence settled beside him.
Vayunanda stood there, his figure bathed in the soft light of dawn. Silent. Eternal. But today, there was something different in his eyes—an intensity that Satya had never seen before. For a moment, he looked almost… human.
"You think you're ready to lead?" Vayunanda's voice was steady, his gaze piercing.
Satya blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Wait—what?"
Vayunanda's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "Then defeat me."
Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, the world held its breath. The sky darkened above them, as if the heavens themselves were drawn into the challenge unfolding below. The wind shifted, the earth stilled. Even the silent elemental statues that stood like silent witnesses seemed to sense the gravity of the moment. This wasn't just a fight—it was the clash of two destinies.
Satya stared at him, his pulse quickening. His thoughts raced. He knew Vayunanda's strength. He had seen it. Felt it. But to face him directly? To challenge the very essence of the warrior who had guided him? Was he really ready for that?
Vayunanda moved first, slowly, deliberately. His robes fluttered in the wind, his hands poised as if about to draw the most subtle of weapons—yet there was no weapon. Only the quiet promise of divine power.
"I'll let you choose," he said, his voice almost tender, as if indulging Satya's naivety. "Come at me with whatever you've got."
Satya's heart pounded in his chest as he activated his chakra blade, the fire that coursed through the weapon blazing to life. He summoned a wind-ringed chakram in his other hand, the twin weapons humming with energy. With a single breath, he dashed forward, a streak of fire and wind, aiming a swift slash at Vayunanda's side.
CLANG!
The impact rang out across the cliff, and Satya's eyes widened. Vayunanda had caught the blade—not with the force of a trained hand, but with the sheer weight of power behind him. The old man barely flinched. And before Satya could process what had happened, Vayunanda twisted, sending him flying backward with a force that shattered the stone beneath him.
Satya slammed into a rune pillar, the force of the blow rattling his bones. He groaned, wiping the blood from his lip, and pushed himself up. "Okay. Warm-up round."
Without missing a beat, he charged again, this time bringing all three elements to bear. Wind to accelerate, fire to boost his chakram mid-air, and earth to harden his stance. His movements became a blur of speed and precision.
But Vayunanda was faster.
The elder warrior ducked under Satya's spinning kick and, with a mere twist of his wrist, sent Satya's chakram flying past him, its edge grazing a lock of his silver hair. A single gesture from Vayunanda, and the ground beneath Satya cracked open. A gravity spike shot up, slamming Satya to the earth with bone-shattering force.
Crack.
Satya barely managed to roll aside as a stone fist erupted from the ground, narrowly missing him. He grunted, his ribs aching from the impact. Blood stained his torn shirt. But he didn't look away. Not this time.
He grinned. "You're going to have to try harder than that, old man."
Vayunanda's eyes softened, the first true smile creeping onto his lips since Satya had met him. "You're beginning to understand."
Satya's flames roared to life around him. He funneled all his remaining chakra into his core—flame mode: peak channel. His body began to glow, his muscles straining with newfound power.
And then, for a split second, there was a flicker.
Wings.
Translucent. Made of golden light and ash. They flared out behind him before vanishing in the blink of an eye. His irises shifted—one gold, one storm-grey. The Garud Flame had awakened, just a whisper of its full power.
A roar tore from his throat.
He dashed forward, faster than ever before, his movements a blur of fire and fury. The very air seemed to shimmer with his power as he swung his sword in a full-circle chakra spin.
CLAAAAANG!
Vayunanda caught the blade with both hands this time. His arms trembled for the first time in centuries. But then, with a calmness that bordered on eerie, Vayunanda tapped Satya's forehead with a single finger.
BOOM!
A burst of pressure shot through Satya's body, sending him crashing across the arena. Dust and debris filled the air, and for a moment, everything was still. When the dust settled, Satya was on one knee, panting, his body battered but not broken. His grin was wide, his confidence unshaken.
Vayunanda approached him, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "You've grown."
Satya's lips curled into a smirk. "Still lost, though."
"Yes," Vayunanda agreed, his gaze steady, "but you made me use both hands."
The elder warrior helped him to his feet, his voice filled with quiet approval. "You're not ready to defeat me. But you're ready to stand on your own."
He looked at Satya's bruised arms, the small flickers of golden flame that still danced across his skin.
"The Garud spark… it's coming out too early. But it's guiding you."
Satya groaned as he adjusted his wrist guards, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Harder than this?"
Oorja's voice echoed in his mind, laced with her usual sarcasm. "Congrats. You unlocked Pain+ Mode."
Satya laughed, his eyes burning with confidence—not arrogance, but the quiet understanding that he had only just begun to scratch the surface of what he could truly become.
He had seen how far he still had to go. But more importantly, he now believed he could get there. And that belief was everything.