The first rays of dawn had barely crept over the canopy when the winds changed. Not the gentle rustling breeze of the morning—but something far more ominous. The birds fell eerily silent, their songs choked off mid-note. The trees, once dancing to the rhythm of nature, now stood rigid, as if the entire jungle held its breath.
Shivansh stood at the heart of the sacred ground, flanked by Lucky and Yogi. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where a low, rhythmic tremor grew stronger with each passing second.
Thum... Thum... Thum...
It was not thunder.
"They're here," Yogi whispered, tightening the grip on his weathered wooden staff. His eyes, once calm pools of serenity, now glinted with battle-readiness.
From the shadows beyond the trees, the forest tore open like a festering wound.
They emerged—not men, not beasts, but an abomination of both. The dark commander had returned, clad in jagged obsidian armor that pulsed with dark magic. His helm twisted into a grotesque sneer, and his eyes glowed crimson behind the mask.
Behind him surged an army—a sea of horrors. Mutated beasts with jagged spines, armored ghouls with rotting flesh, and shadowmancers in black robes whispered incantations that curdled the air. The jungle was being swallowed by darkness.
"Formations!" Shivansh's voice rang out like a war drum, now infused with divine authority.
Lucky stepped forward, fire already dancing around his form. The Flame of Lakshman burned in his grip, its light defiant against the encroaching void. The sigil on his chest pulsed like a heartbeat of a forgotten god.
He smirked, lifting the sword. "Time to burn through fate."
The clash was instant. Like thunder made flesh.
Lucky erupted forward, flames roaring around him. Each swing of the divine blade was a comet—scorching, unforgiving. A beast lunged with venom-dripping fangs; Lucky ducked low, spun, and bisected it clean through. The creature didn't fall—it evaporated, turned to ash before it hit the ground.
Another rushed him—a giant ogre with bone-plated arms. Lucky met it head-on, their weapons crashing in a burst of light and dark. The ogre roared. Lucky grinned, twisted his blade, and drove it through the creature's chest. The Flame of Lakshman drank the darkness, leaving only scorched earth behind.
Yogi, meanwhile, stood at the battlefield's core. His hands moved in ancient mudras, fingers weaving intricate patterns. Glowing sigils formed mid-air, rotating like celestial gears. Barriers of light formed walls that repelled incoming shadow bolts. When the ghouls breached the lines, Yogi met them with swift strikes of his staff. Each hit unleashed a burst of holy energy—shattering bones and dispelling curses.
"Behind you!" Shivansh warned, and Yogi turned just in time, summoning a shield that blocked a clawed strike from a shadowmancer. With a calm breath, Yogi reversed the flow—his palm glowed, and he sent the enemy flying with a shockwave of sanctified power.
But the commander was no fool.
He raised one hand—and ten monstrous figures stepped forward. Hulking beasts—stitched from dark magic and shadowsteel, their hides immune to ordinary attacks, their eyes void of mercy.
"Leave them to me," Shivansh said quietly, stepping into their path.
He raised his hand.
The chakra—a radiant disc of divine power—rose, glowing with ancient runes. It hovered above his palm, humming with anticipation. With a flick of his fingers, it launched—like a star fallen from the heavens.
It cut through the air like lightning and slammed into the first elite beast. There was no resistance—the creature was severed cleanly, its top half sliding off before vanishing into light. The disc turned mid-air and zipped to the next, then the next—dancing through them like a predator unchained.
Within seconds, seven of the ten lay scattered and destroyed.
But the remaining three surged together, closing in. Shivansh ran forward, chakra slicing through one, but another beast lunged and tackled him to the ground. Its claws tore through the earth around him. Shivansh twisted, summoned the chakra back, and slammed it upward—decapitating the monster from beneath.
The final one leaped, mouth wide in a screech of fury.
"Shivansh!" Lucky shouted.
But Shivansh didn't flinch.
He raised his other hand—and the chakra split into three smaller discs. They spiraled outward like divine shurikens, slicing the beast mid-air into ribbons before returning to his grip.
Then, from above, a crashing sound tore through the battlefield.
The commander had leapt—sword raised high. He landed near Shivansh, sending a shockwave that cracked trees and hurled debris into the air. Shadows coiled around his armor like serpents.
"You again," the commander sneered. "I should've crushed you when I had the chance."
"You'll get none now," Shivansh replied, eyes burning.
Their blades met in a fury.
The chakra clashed with the commander's sword of black flame. Sparks flew like comets. Every strike shook the land beneath them. Shivansh moved with divine grace, every swing calculated, guided not just by skill—but by destiny. The chakra spiraled, rebounded off a tree, and struck again from behind, forcing the commander into a defensive stance.
But the enemy was powerful. He matched blow for blow, and in a moment of darkness, he struck a brutal counter. His blade slammed into Shivansh's side, sending him flying through the air. Shivansh crashed into a tree, bark exploding around him.
The chakra fell.
The commander loomed above him, sword raised for the final blow. "This ends now."
But Shivansh's eyes… flared.
A memory surged—of the vision in the temple, of the divine presence whispering hope, of the forgotten warriors who had once stood where he now stood.
He raised his hand.
The chakra didn't return.
It merged.
A pulse of light exploded from within him. He rose from the ground—not standing, but floating. Symbols glowed on his forehead and chest. A golden halo formed behind him, and the jungle stilled in awe.
His voice rang with celestial power.
"For balance… for light… for the forgotten warriors!"
The chakra, now spinning with cosmic fury, launched itself forward—unstoppable.
It didn't just strike.
It was erased.
The commander's blade shattered like glass. The chakra tore through his armor, his flesh, his essence. The scream he let out could have shattered the heavens. And then—dust.
Only silence remained.
The dark army froze. Their leader gone, their link to the shadows severed, they began to disintegrate or flee. Like rats before a flood, they scattered—vanishing into the jungle's depths.
Shivansh collapsed to his knees, exhausted. The chakra hovered gently, then returned to his palm, dimming.
Lucky ran over, still steaming with embers. "You okay?"
Shivansh gave a tired nod. "It's done."
Yogi approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You brought light where there was none."
But the victory was short-lived.
Deep within the jungle, unseen by all, a figure watched. Cloaked in ancient, tattered robes, his face hidden beneath layers of shadow. Only his eyes—glowing with malice—were visible.
His voice was a whisper that slithered through the trees.
"No matter… I shall send another grand army. Let's see how long you can survive."
A cold smile curved beneath the veil.