"Finally... You have arrived... I was waiting for you."
A heavy silence lingered after the voice echoed through the cave, eerie and hollow like a whisper from the void.
Then… he emerged.
From the veil of darkness at the far end of the cave's fork, a humanoid silhouette began to take shape—each step he took echoing with a low rumble through the stone beneath their feet.
His entire body was pitch black, as if crafted not from flesh but from living shadow itself. His skin didn't shine; it absorbed light. His eyes were pure white, glowing faintly, with no pupils—just an infinite depth of ancient rage and awareness.
His limbs were long, precise, and oddly elegant. He stood tall—at least seven and a half feet—and had a noble posture, arms calmly crossed behind his back as he walked forward like a royal figure entering his throne room.
A thin black mist constantly drifted around his body, dispersing like embers with each step, and his chest bore an intricate red sigil, glowing like magma etched into dark stone. The aura around him was so dense it felt like being underwater—except the water was pure dread.
Each step he took shook their knees further.
Tara, Reet, and Manvi grunted in agony, blood trailing from their noses.
"Ughhh—" Reet tried to stand, but her legs were trembling too violently.
"Wh-what is this…?" Tara whispered, her voice breaking under the strain.
"Why… does it feel like my soul is being crushed…?" Manvi said, eyes tearing from the pressure.
Armaan didn't speak. He had already moved.
His body stood between the team and the approaching figure, his left foot sliding back slightly, right knee bending just enough. His fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his blade, the air buzzing softly with energy gathering around him.
His right hand was glowing. He was already preparing for a release.
The figure stopped a few meters from them, his presence still exerting enough pressure to make the cave feel like it could collapse.
"Finally," the entity said, voice smooth but laced with authority—neither demonic nor monstrous. Just… immensely powerful. "I get to meet… the one who carries that wretched light."
His glowing white eyes locked directly onto Armaan.
"You are… the boy who slayed the shadowlings. The dragon boy."
The words weren't meant to praise—but to label, to recognize, to assess. His gaze locked straight onto Armaan.
The others, though straining against the weight of the entity's prana, looked toward Armaan as if their last hope rested on the teen standing tall before them.
Even Advika, always composed and steel-hearted, had fallen to one knee, sweat trickling down her face. Her prana circulation was fluctuating, trying to resist the pressure.
"Armaan…" she muttered, wide-eyed, "…he's… not even flinching?"
Armaan's head had tilted slightly downward under the force, strands of his black hair drifting over his eyes. But he didn't fall. He stood like a wall.
As the Daitya unfolded its arms, a gust of invisible force radiated across the cave like a pulse—dense, suffocating, almost like reality bending.
"ENOUGH!"
Armaan's voice echoed like thunder—his patience torn apart.
In a blink, he dashed.
A flash.
A blur.
And with a fierce war cry, his blade cut through the air, aiming straight for the creature's neck with godlike speed.
CLANG!
The blade stopped.
Dead in its track.
Held.
By two fingers.
The Daitya had caught Armaan's slash with its bare hand—as if it were merely catching a falling leaf.
"Hmm…" it murmured in a deep baritone, its black skin gleaming like obsidian under the cave's dim light. "You are fast… too fast."
Armaan's eyes narrowed as he pressed harder—but the creature didn't budge. Not even an inch.
Then—
It looked up, calm and collected, and asked,
"What is your name, child?"
Armaan didn't answer immediately. His feet dug into the ground, sword locked, breath tense.
"Armaan," he finally said.
The Daitya nodded slowly.
"…Armaan."
It rolled the name around like a tasting of wine.
Then, it let go of the blade.
"I am Varkash."
"Varkash the Black Maw."
A name that echoed.
A name that somehow felt ancient—and wrong.
It took a step forward, towering over Armaan like a dark deity.
"I remember all the strong ones I've killed," it said, its voice vibrating through the walls. "I do not just slay—I honor. I etch them in my memory."
It leaned forward just enough that Armaan could see the faint, horrifying smile on its lips.
"That is why," Varkash continued, "you too shall know the name of the one who will kill you."
Then it lifted its hand slowly.
The prana shifted again.
The girls behind—all of them—keeled further under the pressure. Tara and Reet's noses bled anew. Manvi gasped for air.
Advika was back on one knee, sweat soaking her collar.
Armaan's blade ignited.
But even he—could feel it.
This was beyond anything.
And yet…
He grinned.
"We'll see."
Armaan's grip tightened on his blade, his voice calm but filled with unwavering conviction:
"Everyone… stand up."
The air trembled.
"Fight for your life. For the people waiting outside. For the ones who believe in us.
For humanity."
His words roared across the cave like a divine command.
Advika, Tara, Reet, and Manvi—shaking and bloodied—felt a surge rush through their veins. His voice wasn't just a call… it was a spark.
A spark that re-ignited hope.
Then—
BOOOOM.
A sudden shockwave blasted from Armaan's body.
His prana erupted.
A gigantic pillar of shadow-black aura shot up around him, twisting like a violent storm of dragons, spears, and wild flames. The air itself was pulled into it—twisting, howling, dancing in chaos.
The entire cavern shuddered.
Even the Daitya—Varkash—took a step back, eyes slightly widened.
"…What… is this?" he muttered, voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.
The pressure Armaan released was suffocating, but not for the team anymore.
They could feel it—
Strength.
Warmth.
Courage.
"Wha–What is this power…?" Manvi whispered, awestruck.
"His prana is off the scale…" Reet's eyes were shaking.
Tara couldn't speak—her heart pounded so fast it almost hurt.
And then—
In the very heart of that prana storm, Armaan raised his head.
His hair swayed in the vortex of energy.
And as his eyelids opened—
Two glowing SILVER EYES pierced through the darkness like stars over a void.
His blade followed—
Erupting in midnight-black flames, coiling and licking its edge like living serpents made of shadow and fire.
Varkash whispered, almost reverently,
"…Shadow Flame Prana… and those eyes… That isn't just power. That's wrath."
Armaan took a single step forward, each stride shaking the rock underfoot.
He pointed his blade at Varkash.
"Let's finish what fate started."
As Armaan's declaration echoed through the cave, something incredible happened.
One by one, the others began to rise.
Advika pushed herself up first—slowly but determined.
And in that very moment—
A burst of PURE WHITE AURA exploded from her.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't subtle.
It was a dazzling pillar of raw Divya Prana, shooting up like a sacred lance piercing the heavens.
Even the very air around her shifted, warping under the pressure of the power now being released.
Armaan's eyes widened, for the first time in battle, with genuine surprise.
"…Advika?"
She turned to him, her aura flaring like divine wings behind her, white flames curling around her hands, her eyes glowing with a faint golden sheen. She looked fierce, divine—and unshakably confident.
Armaan stepped toward her, lowering his blade slightly.
"Why were you hiding this?" he asked, both stunned and a little annoyed.
Advika, instead of replying seriously, pouted and folded her arms.
"Because you never let me fight, O wise leader."
"Always: 'Stay back, Advika', 'Support from behind, Advika', 'It's dangerous, Advika'..."
She mockingly mimicked his voice, narrowing her eyes.
Armaan blinked, taken aback.
Reet snorted.
Tara chuckled.
Manvi, despite her bleeding nose, managed a grin.
"Looks like you've been scolded, Captain," Manvi smirked.
Armaan scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"…Fair."
But he looked at Advika again—this time with a proud, softened gaze.
"Well then…" he said, lifting his blade again.
"…let's fight together."
Advika smiled faintly, stepping forward, her white aura wrapping around Armaan's black flames for a moment—like day and night, perfectly synchronized.
Then—
BOOM.
Tara lit up with violet sparks.
Reet cracked her knuckles, golden lightning running down her arms.
Manvi summoned her bow, now glowing with sacred sigils.
The team—finally—stood united.
Facing the monstrous Daitya whose prana was like a planet pressing down on their shoulders.
Armaan pointed his blade forward.
As the air thickened with god-like Prana and tension sat on every shoulder like a mountain, the entire squad turned toward one person—
Armaan.
The boy who had fought shadowlings like they were mere insects.
The one who stood first when everyone else trembled.
Now, with silver glowing eyes and black flames rising from his blade like demonic fire—
He was the symbol of hope.
They all waited—Reet, Tara, Manvi… and especially Advika, who stepped forward beside him, her white aura still pulsing like a divine heartbeat.
She tilted her head slightly, raising a brow with a slight teasing edge in her voice.
"So, oh fearless leader... what's the plan?"
Even in this heavy moment, that spark of mischief flickered behind her eyes.
Armaan didn't look back.
He simply raised his blade to shoulder level, the black flames now roaring like a storm.
Then…
He smirked.
That same crooked, battle-ready grin that always signaled trouble for the enemy.
"The plan is…"
A gust of black wind erupted around him.
"…FIGHT."
His voice was sharp. Final.
Their hearts skipped a beat.
The Daitya in front of them growled low, the air trembling around its figure. The cave began to shake, debris fell from the ceiling, and the oppressive Prana pressure hit a new peak.
But none of them flinched now.
Because Armaan had spoken.
And when he said fight, he wasn't asking for permission.
He was declaring war.
The ground beneath their feet shattered with the force of their unified charge.
"HAAA!!"
A collective roar echoed as Armaan, Advika, Reet, Tara, and Manvi launched themselves at the towering Daitya—each one pushing their prana to the edge.
But the Daitya… smiled.
And then it vanished.
No—it moved. Like a blur of death wrapped in black flesh.
In a fraction of a second, it dodged Tara's blade, slipped past Reet's sweeping prana whip, and knocked aside Manvi's energy blast with the back of its hand.
Every attack missed. Every formation failed.
"Damn it!" Reet hissed, just barely regaining balance.
Tara growled, blood dripping from her nose again.
"This thing's speed… It's like it's dancing."
But Armaan didn't move.
He was just watching—sharp silver eyes locked onto the flow of battle.
Then his gaze shifted.
To Advika.
And she understood.
Without a word exchanged.
Boom! Armaan vanished from his spot.
"Huh—?!" The Daitya finally showed emotion.
Surprise.
A violent gust cracked the stone floor as Armaan reappeared right in front of the beast, his blade glowing black and red.
"YOU'RE MINE!!"
SLASH!!
A deep, clean cut tore across the Daitya's shoulder, black blood spattering into the air.
The beast howled—not out of pain, but amusement.
"Interesting—"
SLASH!
Another cut, this time from behind.
Advika.
Her blade shone with blinding white light, her body flowing like moonlight.
The Daitya staggered forward from the double assault.
But only for a moment.
WHAM!!
Its leg swung, smashing into Armaan's ribs and launching him several meters back through broken terrain.
Before anyone could blink, it spun around—its fist crashing into Advika's chest.
"ADVIKA!!"
CRASH!!
She slammed into the cave wall with devastating force, debris falling like dust rain.
"Ugh…" she coughed, blood trickling from the corner of her lips.
Armaan gritted his teeth, one hand gripping his side as he stood up again.
He didn't scream. He didn't panic.
He just stood.
Blade rising.
Eyes locked on the monster.
The Daitya licked the blood from its shoulder and grinned.
"Now... this is getting fun."
The Daitya chuckled, black blood still dripping down its shoulder, its knuckles cracked, its gaze smug—
Until three auras flared.
The ground trembled.
Armaan, rising from the rubble, blinked.
Reet, Tara, and Manvi had stepped forward—shoulders squared, hair dancing in the violent wind of their awakening powers.
Tara, insulted by being brushed aside, clenched her fists and raised her head.
"You made me bleed… Now I'll make you feel it."
Suddenly, her entire body glowed with a violent violet aura, and the runes on her arms began to ignite one by one. Tara, the combat-type warrior, manipulated mass-enhancement seals etched on her skin—each one doubling her weight and power but keeping her agility through raw prana control. Every step she took now cracked the ground beneath her.
"This is the real me."
She vanished—and then appeared mid-air, her legs crashing down like meteor strikes.
The Daitya blocked—but staggered, its feet dragged backward through the rock. Its face twitched.
Then Reet joined in.
Her aura turned into a stormy hue of sea-blue and wind-white, swirling around her body as if nature obeyed her call. Reet specialized in prana manipulation through frequencies—her every movement sending vibrational waves that disoriented foes, blurred vision, and ruptured inner prana flow.
She slammed her palms together.
"Frequency Lock: Shatter Note!"
A piercing chime echoed through the air, and for a moment, the Daitya flinched, its balance thrown off as Reet danced around it, her legs moving in spiral strikes—each kick vibrating at a different destructive wavelength.
And then came Manvi.
Quietest in the team—but her power was terrifying.
Her white prana shone like the light of judgment, and her eyes turned completely silver.
From her back, six long chakras formed—like floating blades of pure energy.
Manvi was a Purifier, a rare class of fighter who could extract corrupted energy and launch it back as compressed prana blades.
"Mode: Trishul Pulse."
Three energy tridents formed mid-air and launched at the Daitya while it was still recovering from Tara and Reet's assault.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The impact forced the Daitya back.
Its eyes narrowed.
"Tch…"
It raised a hand, about to deflect another blow—but Tara punched it right in the chest, sending it skidding.
Reet followed with a spin-kick and a frequency burst to the ear, forcing it to lean.
And then Manvi's purifying energy laced through its legs, making it drop to one knee.
The Daitya was being pushed.
Not defeated.
But clearly… annoyed.
"Enough games," it growled, dark smoke hissing out of its nostrils.
"You're making me use strength on mortals. How irritating."
But none of the girls stopped.
They stood, side-by-side, glowing with brilliance, facing a monster that shook even the heavens.
And behind them…
Armaan had risen fully now, eyes glowing silver, a grin on his face as he watched them.
"You girls really are something…" he muttered.
"But not strong enough to defeat me," the Daitya growled, its voice echoing through the shattered cavern, deep and cruel like the whispers of ancient demons.
Its aura flared—like a midnight sun—completely dark but unbearably radiant. The space around it twisted. Even the rocks, once sturdy, began to melt in places, overwhelmed by its dark Prana pressure.
And then it moved.
The real battle began.
A shockwave cracked the stone under its feet as the Daitya vanished from sight and reappeared right behind Reet.
SLASH!
A solidified blade of pitch-black prana—shaped like a cleaver—swung for her neck. But Reet ducked just in time, and Tara intercepted the swing with a flying elbow enhanced by her weight seals.
CLANG!
Stone fractured beneath her, but the Daitya didn't budge. Instead, it twisted mid-air and morphed its blade into a whip, hurling it outward.
WHISH! WHISH! WHISH!
The whip carved through air and darkness, forcing everyone to scatter.
Manvi floated back with her chakras spinning in defense, blocking each hit with pulses of purifying energy, but even her defense began to crack under the sheer pressure of the Daitya's power.
Advika, white aura blazing around her, clashed blades with a second solidified scythe the Daitya conjured from his shadow. Her blade struck it—and nearly shattered.
She landed, skidding, panting.
"He can shift form and attack pattern without even blinking…"
And all around them—the cave had become the Daitya's domain.
It melted into shadows. One second it was above, next it stabbed from below. Its dark body blended perfectly into the shadows of the cave, and with each movement it summoned new weapons, some long, some short—blades, spears, hammers—all forged from its monstrous prana.
Everyone fought on the brink of their lives.
Tara landed heavy punches, breaking ground and shaking the walls. Reet maintained vibration control, locking the Daitya's balance whenever possible. Manvi healed and defended others in flashes of silver light, while Advika led counterattacks, her blade glowing pure white.
But the Daitya was unrelenting.
He turned his arm into a serrated spear and hurled it at Reet. She dodged—but not fast enough. A thin cut formed across her ribs.
"He's too fast!" she gasped.
And then—
Armaan vanished.
Not in power.
In strategy.
Throughout the battle, Armaan had been moving silently across the shadows, cutting small slashes across key points in the cave wall. His goal wasn't to fight brute force… but trap it.
As the Daitya launched at Advika with a black greatsword, Armaan struck.
"Now!"
He slashed a rock pillar he had weakened earlier—causing a chain collapse across the ceiling. The Daitya dodged—only to realize he was herded into one position.
Exactly where Armaan wanted.
Armaan burst through the shadow, his blade spinning with silver trails.
"Your arm is mine."
SHING!!!
A swift arc of his sword—precise, swift, surgical—and the Daitya's right arm detached clean from its body.
A moment of silence followed.
Then a roar.
"RAAAAAAGHH!!!"
Black blood sprayed as the Daitya's face twisted in hatred.
But in less than two seconds, the arm regenerated—flesh bubbling back over bone in horrifying speed.
Armaan's eyes widened, lips slightly parted.
"It can regenerate instantly…?"
The Daitya was no longer calm.
It was furious.
It smashed its fist into the ground, and with a sound like an avalanche, sent everyone flying. Tara and Reet smashed into opposite walls, Manvi collapsed to her knees gasping, and Advika barely remained standing.
Armaan turned to regroup—
But it was too late.
The Daitya was already in front of him.
"You… little insect!"
BOOM!
A savage kick to Armaan's gut. His body was hurled like a ragdoll across the battlefield, crashing into the far cave wall with such force the entire cavern shook.
Blood burst from Armaan's mouth as he slumped to the ground.
He tried to rise.
One hand lifted.
But before he could even get to a knee—
The Daitya appeared above him, placing its massive black foot on his head, pinning him down.
It leaned in, growling.
"I overestimated you, kid…"
It pressed harder, cracking the ground beneath Armaan's skull.
"You're nothing… nothing like something that can defeat me."
And then—
SCHLUNK!
The Daitya solidified a prana spear from its own chest and stabbed it downward—straight into Armaan's chest.
The blade pierced through armor, through skin, through hope.
Armaan gasped.
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
His fingers twitched—then went still.
He collapsed under the Daitya's foot—lifeless.
Silence fell.
The team stared in horror.
Tara's eyes trembled.
Reet froze.
Advika… collapsed to her knees, eyes wide, lips trembling.
Manvi covered her mouth to stop the scream.
The Daitya stood tall, spear still lodged in Armaan's chest.
"Weaklings."