Aarav's body ached with every step. His ribs throbbed, his wounds burned, but none of it mattered. He had survived.
The guard led him down a dimly lit corridor, the air heavy with an unseen presence. The stone walls bore ancient carvings—scenes of warriors clashing, gods watching from above, and an eternal fire that refused to die.
Aarav's gaze lingered on one engraving: a lone warrior standing against an army, his body wreathed in flames. The resemblance was uncanny.
The guard glanced at him. "Intimidated?"
Aarav scoffed, rolling his shoulders. "I've been through worse."
The guard smirked. "Then let's see if you still say that after meeting them."
At the end of the corridor stood a towering set of obsidian doors, inscribed with ancient Sanskrit runes pulsating with faint golden light. The moment the guard stepped forward, the doors rumbled and groaned, parting like the jaws of a great beast.
Beyond them lay a chamber unlike anything Aarav had ever seen.
A circular hall stretched before him, its domed ceiling shrouded in shadows. Thirteen thrones lined the edges, each occupied by a figure cloaked in power. Some wore intricate armor, others draped in flowing robes—each radiating an aura so immense, it felt suffocating.
At the center of the chamber, a single pillar of light shone down upon a black stone platform.
The guard stopped at the threshold and turned to Aarav. "Step forward, outsider. Your fate is theirs to decide."
Aarav clenched his fists and took a breath. No turning back now.
As he stepped onto the platform, a voice—old, commanding, absolute—echoed through the chamber.
"Aarav Sen. You stand before the Keepers. We shall judge whether you are worthy… or if you should be erased."
Aarav stood in the center of the chamber, his body battered but his resolve unshaken. The thirteen Keepers loomed over him from their thrones, their expressions unreadable. These were the ones who controlled the tournament. The ones who decided who lived… and who vanished.
The air crackled with unseen energy, a force beyond mortal comprehension pressing down on him like a judge's gavel.
Then, a voice rang out—sharp, unyielding.
"This one is reckless. He fights with instinct, not discipline. That is the mark of a fool."
Aarav's jaw clenched. He wasn't here to be insulted.
Another voice, deeper and far colder, followed.
"He survived against the First Gatekeeper. That alone warrants consideration."
Aarav's gaze flicked to the armored guard—his former opponent—who stood silently by the entrance, arms crossed. 'Gatekeeper?'
The realization hit him. That wasn't just a test. It was a screening.
The tallest of the Keepers leaned forward. His presence alone sent a chill down Aarav's spine. His eyes gleamed like molten gold beneath his hood.
"Tell me, Aarav Sen. Why do you seek the Ashvattha Tournament?"
Aarav exhaled, his mind flashing back to the empty home, the shattered door, the bloodstains left behind. To the moment he realized his sister was gone.
"I'm looking for someone." His voice was steady. "And I'll burn this whole place down if I have to."
A murmur rippled through the Keepers. Some intrigued, some disapproving.
One of them scoffed. "Such arrogance. Power without control is destruction."
Another chuckled. "And yet, destruction is sometimes necessary."
The tallest Keeper raised a hand, silencing the chamber. "Enough."
His golden eyes bore into Aarav, as if stripping away everything until only the truth remained.
Then, he uttered a single, chilling question.
"How far are you willing to go?"
Aarav didn't hesitate.
"As far as it takes."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The weight of judgment, of history, of fate itself, hung over him.
Then—a decision was made.
The Keeper's lips curled into something almost like a smile.
"Very well. The trial begins now."
Aarav's muscles tensed. Trial?
The word echoed in his mind as a sudden shift rippled through the chamber.
The floor beneath him rumbled, and the air grew dense, thick with an unseen force. Something ancient was awakening.
One of the Keepers—a woman cloaked in deep crimson—spoke with a voice like smoldering embers.
"You claim you'll go as far as it takes. But words are weightless. Blood, however, is heavy."
She raised a single hand, her fingers tracing a sigil in the air. The runes on the stone platform beneath Aarav's feet glowed ominously.
"Survive… and prove your worth."
The ground collapsed.
Aarav's heart lurched as he was yanked downward into blackness.
---
The Trial Chamber
Aarav landed in a crouch, dust exploding around him as he struck solid stone. The fall should have shattered bones—but something unnatural had slowed his descent at the last second.
He straightened, scanning his surroundings.
A massive underground arena.
Torches lined the ancient walls, their flames burning blue. The space was silent, the air thick with the scent of dust, sweat… and something metallic.
Blood.
Then—a growl.
Aarav's body reacted before his mind caught up. He spun to the side just as something massive lunged from the darkness.
CLANG!
The beast's claws scraped against stone, missing his face by inches.
His eyes widened.
It was no ordinary creature.
Standing before him was a warrior—but not human.
A beast clad in rusted armor, its eyes burning with unnatural fire. Its jaw unhinged, revealing rows of jagged teeth.
A Keeper's voice echoed from above.
"You face the Forsaken. They were once warriors, like you. But they failed."
Aarav's pulse pounded.
They failed… and were turned into this?
The Forsaken warrior roared and charged.
Aarav had no time to think.
No time to breathe.
Only time to fight.
Aarav moved.
There was no hesitation, no moment of doubt—only raw survival instinct.
The Forsaken warrior lunged, a blur of rusted metal and madness.
Aarav ducked, narrowly avoiding a clawed gauntlet that tore through the air where his head had been. The sheer force of the attack sent a shockwave rippling through the arena floor, cracking stone.
Fast. Strong. Relentless.
The creature wasn't just a mindless beast. It had once been a warrior. It knew how to fight.
Aarav had no time to process the horror of it. The second attack came immediately.
The Forsaken pivoted, bringing its spiked elbow down like a hammer.
Aarav twisted his body—not back, but forward.
He charged into the attack.
The edge of the warrior's rusted armor sliced across his shoulder, drawing blood. But Aarav was already moving, already inside the creature's guard.
His fists burned. Ignition.
With a roar, Aarav drove his flaming fist into the warrior's gut.
BOOM!
The impact sent a shockwave of fire through the beast's armor. The creature staggered back, smoke rising from its blackened torso.
But it didn't fall.
Instead, it laughed.
A guttural, broken sound.
Aarav's breath hitched. What…?
The Keeper's voice rang from above, cold and absolute.
"Pain means nothing to them. You cannot win through force alone. You must end this… the right way."
Aarav's fists clenched. The right way? What the hell does that mean?
The Forsaken let out a second roar, its burning eyes locked onto Aarav's own.
And then, Aarav understood.
The creature wasn't just fighting him.
It was testing him.
Not his strength. His resolve.
His mind flashed back to the Keeper's words.
"They were once warriors, like you."
The Forsaken weren't just monsters. They had been people once.
And in some twisted way… they still were.
Aarav inhaled sharply. His flames dimmed.
The Forsaken warrior charged again, its rusted blade aimed for Aarav's throat.
But this time—Aarav didn't attack.
Instead, he caught the warrior's blade with his bare hands.
Sparks flew. Blood spilled. Pain surged.
But Aarav held firm. He met the creature's gaze… and spoke.
"I see you."
The Forsaken warrior froze.
For a split second, the fire in its eyes flickered.
Aarav tightened his grip, ignoring the searing pain.
"You're not just a beast. You were a fighter. A warrior. A man."
The creature trembled.
A single breath.
Then—silence.
The flames in its eyes dimmed.
The warrior let out a final, shuddering exhale. Its body stiffened… and then crumbled to dust.
Aarav fell to his knees, breathing hard. Blood dripped from his fingers.
Above, the Keepers watched.
And then—for the first time, one of them spoke with something resembling respect.
"He understands."
---