Aarav's breath was ragged, his muscles screaming in agony. The battlefield was drenched in blood and ichor, the corpse of the fallen beast still twitching at his feet.
But none of that mattered.
Because Varun was still watching.
And the golden-eyed prodigy was smiling.
"Not bad, little brother." Varun's voice was smooth, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "But do you really think that was your trial?"
Aarav's fingers twitched. His instincts screamed at him.
Something was coming.
Varun tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Let me tell you something, Aarav."
His hand rose—
And the air shattered.
A monstrous howl erupted from the darkness.
The ground split apart, massive cracks tearing through the battlefield. Shadows coiled, twisting into something—someone.
A figure emerged.
Towering. Cloaked in black armor, its face hidden behind an obsidian mask. Four burning violet eyes pierced through the void, each one radiating an unfathomable presence.
Aarav's chest tightened. This was different.
The air itself felt heavier, pressing against him like invisible chains. His heartbeat thundered.
A whisper crawled into his mind. Ancient. Endless.
"Kneel."
Aarav's knees buckled. His body screamed to obey.
No.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand.
"I don't kneel." His voice was raw, but unwavering.
The masked figure tilted its head. Then, in a voice that was neither human nor beast, it spoke.
"Then you will break."
Aarav's pulse pounded.
The masked figure stood motionless, yet its presence alone crushed the air, making it hard to breathe. The violet eyes burned, each one a hole into something vast and merciless.
And the whisper still coiled around Aarav's mind.
"Kneel."
His body fought against him. His muscles locked. The weight of the command wasn't just physical—it was something deeper.
A force that pressed against his very existence.
He could feel the stone beneath him cracking, as if the battlefield itself was kneeling. Warriors in the distance fell to their knees, unable to resist the presence.
Even the shadows seemed to bow.
But Aarav—
He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. The fire inside him refused to be extinguished.
I don't kneel.
A growl rumbled from the figure's throat. The weight doubled, pressing against him like a mountain of chains. His legs shook.
But he would not fall.
Varun's voice cut through the tension. "Still so stubborn, Aarav?"
His older brother's golden eyes gleamed, filled with something between amusement and warning.
"You don't even know what you're defying."
Aarav's head snapped toward him. "And you do?"
Varun's smirk deepened.
"I know this." His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of something absolute.
"In this world, you either bow—or you break."
Aarav's breath hitched.
Varun took a step forward, his presence shifting. Something unseen coiled around him, hidden yet suffocating.
The masked figure did not turn, did not acknowledge him.
Instead, it stepped toward Aarav.
A deep, unnatural rumble echoed through the battlefield.
Then—it raised its hand.
The world turned black.
Aarav's mind reeled. The sky disappeared. The ground vanished.
Everything was swallowed in a void of endless abyss.
And in that abyss—something watched him.
Something with no shape, no form. Only hunger.
And then, it spoke.
A voice older than time. A whisper from the depths of forgotten history.
"Who are you?"
Aarav staggered, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
The world was gone—swallowed by an abyss so deep it felt like reality itself had unraveled. The battlefield, the warriors, even Varun had vanished.
Only he remained.
And it.
The voice had no source, no direction. It was everywhere—a whisper that slithered into his very bones.
"Who are you?"
The words echoed inside him, scraping against his mind like rusted blades.
His vision blurred. His thoughts twisted.
He saw himself—but not as he was.
A child, sitting in the wreckage of a burning home. His mother's blood on the floor. His sister's scream lost in the flames.
A street fighter, broken and bruised, coughing up blood in an alleyway as his enemies laughed.
A warrior, standing here, standing now, fighting against something he did not understand.
Aarav gritted his teeth.
I am—
His voice caught.
He didn't know what to say.
The abyss pressed closer. The darkness thickened.
"Who are you?"
This time, the voice was sharper. Demanding. Unforgiving.
Aarav clenched his fists. He could feel the weight of the question pressing down on him. Not just words. A challenge. A test.
If he answered wrong—he would be erased.
"I…" His throat felt dry, but he forced the words out. "I am Aarav Sen."
Silence.
Then—laughter.
Cold, hollow laughter that rattled through the abyss.
"A name. That is all?"
A chill crawled up Aarav's spine.
The abyss did not accept his answer.
His chest tightened. If his name was not enough—then what?
What was he?
A fighter? A survivor? A man trying to outrun his past?
No.
He was something more.
His hands trembled, but his eyes burned.
His voice cut through the darkness, steady and defiant.
"I am the one who refuses to kneel."
The abyss shuddered.
For a brief moment, it hesitated.
Then—it struck.
Aarav's body jerked, an invisible force slamming into his chest. His vision fractured, the world breaking apart.
Pain tore through him, deeper than anything he had ever felt.
And in that moment, he realized—
This was not a test.
It was a war for his very existence.
Pain.
Not the kind that fades. Not the kind that wounds.
This was absolute.
Aarav's soul felt like it was being carved apart, stripped layer by layer as the abyss swallowed him. His thoughts were unraveling, memories dissolving into the void.
The voice returned, closer now. Inside him.
"You are nothing."
Aarav's fingers twitched. His body felt distant, unreal—like a fading dream.
But he wasn't gone.
Not yet.
A flicker of resistance burned deep within him, fragile but unyielding.
He gritted his teeth.
"I am Aarav Sen."
The abyss recoiled—just slightly.
Pain lashed through him again, sharper this time.
The voice snarled. "A name is meaningless. Power is what defines you. And you… have none."
Aarav coughed, the taste of blood thick on his tongue. His vision blurred, but he forced his eyes open.
Power?
If power was the only thing that mattered—then what about the scars he carried?
What about the nights he spent fighting for scraps, surviving against odds that should have crushed him?
What about the rage burning in his chest, the hunger that refused to die?
A low, hoarse chuckle left his lips.
"You're wrong."
The abyss shook.
Aarav pushed against the darkness, every ounce of his being resisting. His bones felt like they were cracking apart, his veins burning, but he did not stop.
His voice was raw, but it carried weight. A truth carved from blood and defiance.
"I have something stronger than power."
The abyss froze.
For the first time, it hesitated.
Aarav took a shaky breath, his body barely holding on. His lips curled into a faint, battered smirk.
"I have the will to fight."
Then—he roared.
A primal, furious sound that shattered the silence.
The abyss screamed.
The darkness ripped apart, cracks of light tearing through the void. The pressure around Aarav snapped, and for the first time, he could breathe.
Something inside him ignited.
The mark on his chest burned with an unearthly glow, veins of blue fire racing up his arms.
The abyss collapsed in on itself, the endless void crumbling like dying embers.
And then—
He opened his eyes.
---