The air stilled. Not a whisper stirred inside the Kalambhaar Cave.
The moment Armaan collapsed, pierced by the Daitya's solidified prana spear, the world seemed to stop breathing.
Advika froze.
Her eyes stared blankly at Armaan's fallen form—blood trailing from the wound in his chest, his silver eyes dimming like fading stars. His blade, which had burned moments ago with fierce black flames, now lay beside him, flickering weakly.
Something inside her snapped.
A blinding white aura erupted from Advika—not soft, not majestic this time, but furious. Divine fury incarnate. The air warped around her. The cave trembled. Rocks shattered from the ground, levitating in a violent orbit, pulled by the raw force of her exploding prana.
"YOU DARE!" she roared.
Varkash turned slowly, a cruel smirk tugging at his blackened lips. "Ah, the flame of rebellion. I wondered when you'd stop hiding."
She didn't answer.
Advika moved.
In a blur of white light, she vanished from her spot. Varkash raised his arm, but her blade was already there, slashing downward in a spiraling arc. He blocked with both forearms, the collision sending a sonic shockwave ripping through the cavern, forcing even Tara and Reet to stumble back.
She pressed the assault relentlessly.
Twisting mid-air, she spun behind him and drove her blade forward. White, lightning-like prana lashes swirled around every strike, her blade glowing with an intensity that etched glowing scars into the cave walls.
Varkash growled, fury flashing as the white blade cut across his shoulder, burning away his dark prana skin.
But he struck back.
With a sweeping motion, he summoned a scythe of black prana, forged from shadow and rage, and swung it like thunder. Advika parried—but the force threw her against a jagged boulder, shattering stone and sending dust flying.
Coughing, blood dripping, she pushed herself off the rubble.
"I won't lose… not after what you did to him!" she cried, eyes blazing with raw emotion.
Varkash chuckled, a sound dripping with dark amusement. "You fight with fire, little Rakshak. But fire without control… burns out."
He lunged.
She blocked.
Their blades clashed again—light and shadow locked in a furious dance, the battlefield shaking beneath the force of their strikes. Advika moved with precision, fueled by rage and desperate hope. Her blade sang, a perfect blend of technique and raw instinct, born from years of hidden training she'd longed to unleash.
But Varkash adapted swiftly.
His prana morphed at will—maces, spears, chains emerged from the void. His attacks were wild and unpredictable, designed to overwhelm and confuse.
Advika held her ground, darting through spirals of shadow-solid prana, using her light to burn through every trap.
Still, it was too much.
A black hammer slammed into her side, sending her skidding across the battlefield, coughing blood. Yet she rose again.
Another strike—a whip of pure prana—wrapped around her ankle, yanked her into the air, and slammed her hard into the stone floor.
The stone cracked beneath her. Vision blurred. Ears rang.
She crawled forward, her blade trembling in her grasp.
Varkash approached slowly, hands folded behind his back. "Why stand, child? Your leader lies broken. Your comrades are shattered. And you? Bleeding from every wound."
Advika coughed, blood staining her lips, eyes red but defiant. "Because he stood up... for us. So I'll do the same... for him."
She charged one last time—every ounce of strength poured into a final, desperate strike. Their blades met in a blinding explosion of white and black light.
When the light faded, Advika lay motionless, battered and bloodied, her breathing shallow. Her blade cracked. Her prana spent.
She wasn't fully unconscious—just barely clinging to the edge. Her gaze found Armaan's body in the distance.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
"Not yet… don't die… Armaan…"
Varkash stood amidst the shattered battlefield—silent, composed, untouchable.
But his eyes no longer mocked. No cruel smile twisted his lips.
For the first time since arriving…
Varkash looked furious.
Armaan's vision blurred. His breathing was shallow, his chest pierced and burning, yet his silver eyes remained open, defiant against the haze of agony. Every nerve screamed for him to rise—but his body refused.
Still, he saw the battle continue in flickering flashes.
Advika's blade had clashed fiercely with Varkash's conjured arsenal—white light battling void-black shadows, flickering like lightning in the cavern's dark heart. Her movements were swift and godlike, until one brutal strike landed against her stomach, sending her crashing into the cavern wall.
She slumped, coughing blood but still conscious, unable to rise.
Armaan watched helplessly, trapped within his failing body.
Varkash—his form a swirling storm of shadowed prana—stood at the center, eyes glowing crimson like burning coals. His voice echoed like the rumble of an ancient mountain:
"Is this all the Divya Rakshaks can muster?"
But the fight was not over.
Reet, Tara, and Manvi screamed in unison, their fury and despair erupting as white, blue, and crimson auras blazed around them. They charged with desperate strength—bonded not only by training but now by heartbreak.
Reet spun circular chakras of light, hurling them like meteors.
Manvi's fists glowed crimson as she blurred in kinetic strikes and powerful kicks.
Tara wielded twin sabers of blue energy, each arc sending slicing waves through the air.
They attacked from every side—speed, precision, and strength combined.
Varkash grunted—not from pain, but from effort. For the first time, his movements sharpened, his parries perfect and practiced, as if this battle was not his first.
Blades of prana formed from his arms like deadly extensions. He danced through the fight with deadly grace.
Manvi landed a crushing blow to his chest, sending him staggering.
Reet's chakra wheel slashed across his shoulder.
Tara looked at Armaan and passed a knowing smile. Tears coming from her eyes, she leapt, sabers crossing in a fatal strike.
Armaan's eyes widened and he gave his all to stop her but his body couldn't.
And then —
A flash.
A strike.
Blood.
Time froze for Armaan.
Tara's strike had landed—but not as planned.
Varkash was faster. Too fast.
The prana blade sliced across Tara mid-air—her body splitting at the waist.
Blood sprayed like crimson rain.
She fell, two halves collapsing separately to the ground.
Silence swallowed the battlefield.
Manvi screamed.
Reet dropped to her knees, stunned.
Even Advika, broken and bleeding, looked up in horror.
And Armaan—
The boy who couldn't move moments ago—
Screamed.
A primal roar, desperate and broken.
"TARAAAA!!!"
The air went still.
Time itself paused as Tara's lifeless body cleaved the battlefield.
Then—
A low hum vibrated beneath Armaan's body.
The cracked stone beneath him began to fissure.
His fingers twitched.
His legs trembled.
And then—his eyes gleamed.
Silver.
Varkash raised a newly forged prana blade, aiming to end Reet's life as she wept.
But before he could strike—
A flash of steel tore through the air.
SLASH!
Both of Varkash's arms flew off, sprayed with dark energy that dripped like bleeding shadows.
"What—!?" Varkash gasped, eyes wide in shock and confusion.
The blade that struck him wasn't just thrown.It was launched.
It was too fast to be perceived by normal eyes.
Moments before, it had lain beside Armaan's broken body.
Now it danced midair, as if alive, with sentient precision.
Before the Daitya could recover, Armaan was gone from the ground.
In the blink of an eye—
CLANG!
He stood by his sword, hand wrapped tightly around the hilt, as if teleported to the heart of the battlefield.
He grasped the blade tightly.
And then—
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
A scream erupted from the depths of his soul.
Not of pain.
Not of anger.
But of something primordial.
A warrior's roar that shook the very atmosphere of the Kalambhaar Cave.
His hair whipped wildly. His clothes torn and blood-stained.
But his presence—his aura—was overwhelming.
Shadow-black prana surged from him like a storm unleashed, coiling upward like a serpent.
Silver lightning cracked through the cave, arcs of divine fury illuminating the darkness like the wrath of heaven itself.
The air screamed.
Stone shattered.
The cavern groaned under his power.
The roof began to collapse—jagged rocks fell in torrents—but none dared approach him. His aura incinerated anything near.
Varkash, regenerating his severed arms, stood frozen, stepping back in disbelief.
Even he did not understand what had changed.
This was no longer the boy he had struck down.
This… was something else.
Reet and Manvi, trembling beside Tara's broken form, stared at Armaan.
Then froze when they saw his eyes.
Not rage. Not sorrow.
But a primal calm.
Like a god preparing judgment.
"Reet… Manvi," Armaan's voice echoed—calm yet thunderous.
"Take Tara… and retreat."
They hesitated.
But then they saw it in his eyes.
Something ancient.
Something divine.
They nodded silently, tears streaming, lifting Tara's broken body, and fled.
As the cave trembled behind them and Armaan's monstrous aura surged like a tsunami, Reet and Manvi moved shakily through the dust and falling debris, holding onto what was left of Tara.
Her body—torn in half.
But her face…
Still had that soft, gentle smile.
Reet's eyes were filled with tears, her arms trembling as she carried Tara's upper body close.
"She… she smiled, Manvi…" her voice cracked, thick with sorrow. "Just before that last attack… she knew…"
Manvi, dragging the lower half with her hands quaking, clenched her jaw to stop it from trembling.
"She knew she wouldn't make it. But she still went in… to protect us…"
Both girls paused for a brief second, kneeling momentarily behind a fallen pillar for cover as they caught their breath.
Reet whispered, "She always said… 'If I have to die, I'll die fighting for the people I love.'"
Manvi nodded, tears streaming down her face, "She kept her word…"
Then, a monstrous boom roared behind them.
They turned to see Armaan, no longer the same boy who had been crushed and stabbed.
A demon cloaked in shadow and lightning had taken his place.
Reet whispered with a shaken voice, "Tara… you gave us time. And he… he's going to end this now."
Even Varkash made no move to stop them—too stunned by the seismic shift in the cavern's energy.
Across the battlefield, Advika coughed, blood staining her lips, trying to rise once more.
She looked toward Armaan through the swirling dust and fading light.
Her voice trembled.
"Th-that prana… that aura…"
She dropped to one knee.
"It can't be…"
Her heart thundered in her chest as she stared at the storm of black shadow and silver lightning enveloping Armaan's form.
The ground beneath him glowed faintly, cracking with the sheer force of his presence.
Her eyes widened as realization dawned, like a divine revelation.
She gasped, voice barely a whisper.
"It can't be…"
A flash of silver lightning illuminated his silhouette, his blade pulsing with an otherworldly energy.
Advika's breath caught, fingers digging into stone to steady herself.
"It is…"
She looked horrified, yet awestruck.
"Prana Howl. The Form of Ignition."
A form no beginner, no prodigy, no legend could touch without decades of discipline.
Not merely power, but the pure harmony of body, soul, and an unyielding will to protect.
"Only the strongest Rakshaks—those who trained their prana for generations were able to attain this powerful form... " she clutched herself, blood dripping from her mouth" but how could he.... Being just 16 years old.... "
Her eyes met his once more—Armaan's form now completely engulfed in swirling black and silver. His sword was not just a weapon anymore—it felt like an extension of fate.
There were no words to explain it.
No logic.
Just truth:
He was born for this.
Not trained.
Born.
And at the center of it all, Armaan, without a word spoken yet, took one slow step toward Varkash—his blade humming with fury, the shadows shrieking around him like echoes of vengeance.