Aarav exhaled.
The battlefield was gone.
No corpses. No screams. No guilt weighing him down.
Just him—and the golden-eyed reflection of himself, watching in silence.
For the first time, the other Aarav looked satisfied.
"You finally get it."
Aarav clenched his fists, feeling the change within him. The power wasn't new—it had always been there, buried beneath hesitation, buried beneath his fear of what he could become.
Now, it was unleashed.
The other Aarav smirked. "The flames will come soon. Try not to scream too much."
Before Aarav could react, his body ignited.
---
Pain.
It was not just fire—it was a crucible.
Golden flames erupted from within him, burning away the last of his hesitation, his doubts, his past self. It was not a gift.
It was judgment.
And he had to endure.
A voice whispered through the inferno.
"To wield the power of gods, one must burn away all that makes them mortal."
Aarav gritted his teeth. The flames stripped him layer by layer, but he refused to fall.
He would not scream.
He would not break.
Because he was done losing.
---
Time passed.
Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.
And then, at last—
The flames faded.
Aarav stood in the ashes. His breath was steady. His eyes burned with golden fire.
The other Aarav was gone.
But something else remained.
A mark had appeared on Aarav's forearm—a symbol shaped like a burning tree.
Ashvattha.
The power of the tournament was now his.
And he was ready to wield it.
Aarav stared at the mark on his forearm.
The burning tree. Ashvattha.
It pulsed with golden light, its roots twisting like veins across his skin. The power inside it was alive—breathing, like an ember waiting to be fanned into an inferno.
His heartbeat was different now.
Stronger. Heavier. More.
Aarav clenched his fist. The air around him rippled as if reality itself was bending under his presence.
For the first time, he felt it—
The power of gods.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"Not bad."
Before he could test it further, the world shifted.
The black void around him fractured like glass. A force pulled him down, yanking him through space, through reality itself—
And then—
The fire disappeared.
---
He was back in the temple.
The air smelled of burnt stone and ancient incense. The massive stone door—the one that had first pulled him in—was gone.
Instead, an old man stood before him.
His robes were crimson, lined with golden sigils, and his eyes—they held centuries of knowledge.
Aarav's instincts screamed at him. This was no ordinary man.
The elder spoke, his voice like rumbling thunder.
"You are marked now. There is no turning back."
Aarav exhaled. "I never planned to."
The elder nodded, seemingly pleased.
"Then step forward. The true trial begins now."
Aarav took a single step—
And the world shattered again.
The ground vanished beneath Aarav's feet.
For a fleeting second, he was weightless, floating in an endless void. Then, with a deafening CRACK, the world reformed—
And he was falling.
Wind howled past his ears. The sky above him was split in two—one half burning with molten gold, the other frozen in eerie twilight. The ground below was an endless battlefield, littered with the bones of forgotten warriors.
And in the center of it all stood a colossal figure.
Twelve feet tall. Cloaked in swirling embers. Eyes like molten gold.
Aarav hit the ground hard, his knees bending under the impact. But he didn't fall.
Not this time.
The entity stared down at him. When it spoke, its voice carried the weight of thousands of years.
"You wield Ashvattha's mark. But can you survive its flames?"
The sky roared.
And then the flames came for him.
---
Pain.
But not like before.
The first time, the fire had burned him away—it had stripped him, reduced him to nothing but raw instinct.
This time, it was a weapon.
Aarav moved.
His hand shot forward, and fire erupted from his palm, clashing against the incoming inferno. The force of it sent shockwaves through the battlefield.
The entity's eyes narrowed.
"Good. But fire alone will not save you."
A second attack came—blades of pure golden flame, slashing through the air.
Aarav dodged the first. Blocked the second. But the third—
It carved across his shoulder.
Pain flared, but he didn't scream.
Instead, he did something the entity hadn't expected.
He smiled.
"Then I guess I'll just have to do more than survive."
He lunged forward—straight into the fire.
Aarav lunged.
The flames surged toward him, a storm of golden embers, but this time—he did not run.
He stepped through them.
Fire roared around his body, searing into his skin, but instead of consuming him, it merged with him. The pain became power. The agony became strength.
The entity's eyes flashed.
"You dare embrace the fire?"
Aarav clenched his fists. The burning tree mark on his arm ignited, its golden roots twisting across his veins. Power surged through his body, coiling, growing, demanding to be unleashed.
And so he did.
With a roar, Aarav swung his fist forward, and the fire—his fire—erupted from his knuckles.
It wasn't just an attack.
It was a declaration.
The flames collided with the entity's form, a blinding explosion of heat and light. The ground beneath them cracked, the air trembled, and for a brief moment—
The battlefield was nothing but fire.
---
When the flames finally cleared, Aarav stood, chest heaving, arms trembling. But he did not fall.
The entity remained standing too—scarred, burned, but smiling.
"You have passed the first test."
Aarav wiped the blood from his mouth. "First?"
The entity raised a hand.
"The fire has accepted you. But the gods will not be so kind."
The battlefield shattered.
Aarav's vision blurred. The world twisted once more, pulling him into the unknown—
And his true trial began.
---