The battlefield was silent.
Aarav stood in the ashes of his opponent, his fists still smoldering. The hunger in his flames had not faded.
The cursed fire-wielder had been strong. But it hadn't mattered.
Because Aarav's flames had been stronger. More ruthless. More absolute.
His chest rose and fell, his body still adjusting to the new power coursing through him.
Varun approached, slow and deliberate. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, studying Aarav like a craftsman inspecting a freshly forged blade.
"You felt it, didn't you?"
Aarav turned to him, rolling his shoulders. "Felt what?"
Varun smirked. "The thrill of it. The moment where power stopped being a weapon and became something… more."
Aarav didn't answer.
Because deep down, he knew Varun was right.
That final blow—the way his flames hadn't just burned but **consumed—**it had felt natural.
Like breathing.
Like instinct.
And the worst part?
He had enjoyed it.
Before he could respond, a sudden roar erupted across the battlefield.
Aarav turned just in time to see a new figure step forward.
A warrior clad in tattered black armor, his presence drowning the air in sheer, oppressive bloodlust.
Not just a fighter.
A butcher.
Varun's smirk widened. "Looks like the Cull has begun."
Aarav narrowed his eyes. "The Cull?"
Varun chuckled. "The first true test. The weak will die. The strong will survive. And the worthy?"
His golden eyes burned.
"The worthy will conquer."
Aarav exhaled, feeling the fire surge in his veins again.
So be it.
Let the Cull begin.
Aarav stood his ground as the armored warrior strode forward. Each step was heavy, deliberate—like a predator that had already decided its prey's fate.
The battlefield around them was shifting.
What had been a chaotic free-for-all was now something worse.
Something darker.
The Cull had begun.
This wasn't a fight anymore.
It was a purge.
All around them, warriors fell. Blood sprayed across the stone. Limbs were severed. Bodies crushed. Screams filled the air, then faded into silence.
Only the strongest would remain.
And Aarav had no intention of dying here.
The black-armored warrior finally stopped a few meters away, tilting his head. The metal plating covering his body was scarred, dented, and stained with the blood of countless battles.
His voice, when it came, was like the growl of a dying beast.
"You burn bright."
Aarav's fingers curled into fists, the dark fire flickering around him. "You'll find out just how bright soon enough."
The warrior chuckled. It was a cold, guttural sound. "Let's see if that fire lasts when I break you."
Then he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One second he was standing still. The next, he was in front of Aarav—his massive hand wrapping around Aarav's throat like an iron vice.
Aarav's body lifted off the ground.
Damn—!
The grip tightened.
Aarav's vision blurred as the warrior hurled him across the battlefield.
The impact was brutal. Stone shattered as Aarav's body crashed into the ground, a shockwave ripping through the air.
Pain exploded through his ribs.
Before he could move, a shadow loomed over him.
The warrior was already there, his massive foot coming down to crush Aarav's skull.
Aarav rolled.
The ground shattered where his head had been a moment ago. The force alone sent cracks spiderwebbing through the battlefield.
Aarav's mind raced. This guy—he wasn't just strong. He was a monster.
The warrior's voice rumbled. "Get up."
Aarav gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. The flames in his veins still burned, but the pain in his body was real.
This was no ordinary opponent.
Aarav exhaled, his eyes sharpening. Then I'll have to stop holding back.
Aarav wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his gaze locked onto the black-armored warrior. The man was a juggernaut—powerful, relentless, and utterly unfazed by anything around him.
The battlefield behind them was littered with corpses. The Cull was in full effect now, separating the weak from the strong.
And this warrior?
He was the executioner.
Aarav cracked his neck, feeling the ache in his bones. He needed to adjust. Fast.
The armored man didn't wait. He lunged forward, the air cracking from the sheer force of his movement. His fist came down like a hammer—aimed straight for Aarav's skull.
Aarav dodged. Barely.
The ground where he had stood exploded. Shattered stone and dust filled the air.
Fast. But predictable.
Aarav countered, his flames igniting in a violent burst. He slammed his knee into the warrior's ribs, his fire surging in full force.
The attack landed.
For the first time, the warrior staggered.
Aarav didn't stop.
He pressed forward, his fists a blur of dark fire and raw force. A strike to the gut. A blow to the jaw. A spinning kick aimed at the side of the head—
Each hit landed. Each hit burned.
The warrior didn't react.
Then, he moved.
His massive arm lashed out—faster than Aarav expected.
Aarav felt impact before he even saw the attack.
A single punch to the chest.
But it wasn't just a punch.
It was a sledgehammer of raw brutality.
Aarav's ribs cracked. The world tilted as his body was hurled backward, smashing through broken pillars and ruined walls.
The pain was unbearable. He gasped, struggling to pull himself up—but his body refused to move.
The warrior's heavy footsteps echoed as he approached. His voice was calm, cold.
"You burn bright. But flames flicker. And flames die."
He raised his fist for the final blow.
Aarav grit his teeth, his flames surging back to life.
Not yet.
He wasn't done.
Aarav's world blurred with pain. His ribs screamed, his breath came ragged, but his mind—his fire—refused to flicker out.
The black-armored warrior loomed over him, his massive fist raised for the killing blow. A single strike would end it.
No.
Aarav's body might have been battered, but his fire—his power—was still burning.
And now?
Now, it was hungry.
As the warrior's fist came crashing down, Aarav's body moved on instinct.
His flames erupted—not just from his hands, but from his entire body. A pulse of raw, devouring fire exploded outward, twisting through the air like living serpents.
The warrior's fist halted inches from Aarav's skull.
Aarav saw it then—for the first time, the warrior hesitated.
Because his armor, the very thing that made him untouchable, was melting.
Aarav's fire was eating through it.
The warrior's golden eyes widened—not in fear, but in recognition.
Aarav didn't waste the moment.
He drove his fist upward, smashing into the warrior's gut. The impact sent another pulse of blackened fire ripping through the man's body.
The warrior stumbled back.
Not far. But enough.
Aarav forced himself up, flames crackling around his body. His bones still ached, his vision still swam, but the pain was nothing compared to what he felt inside.
Something new had awakened in his fire.
Something primal.
Something that didn't just burn.
It consumed.
The black-armored warrior straightened, staring at Aarav with something that almost looked like amusement. Then, he did something unexpected.
He laughed.
A low, rumbling sound, more beast than man.
Then he spoke.
"I see it now."
Aarav narrowed his eyes. "See what?"
The warrior wiped the blood from his lips, grinning.
"You're not the one being tested here."** His golden eyes gleamed.** "I am."
Then, without another word, he lunged again.
And Aarav met him head-on.
---