Aarav hit the ground hard.
The battlefield was gone.
Instead, he stood on an impossible landscape—a temple floating in the middle of a vast, starless void. The air was thick with a presence older than time itself.
Carvings of deities lined the towering stone pillars, their eyes glowing, as if watching him. The floor beneath him was etched with intricate sigils, pulsing with a golden light.
And ahead of him stood a throne—massive, carved from black stone, towering above everything.
Someone sat upon it.
A being draped in darkness.
Not fire. Not gold. Not warmth.
Just power.
The figure leaned forward, its voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere.
"You carry Ashvattha's mark."
Aarav's instincts screamed at him. Whatever sat on that throne was no mere warrior.
This was a god.
Before Aarav could speak, the god raised a hand—
And Aarav's body locked in place.
His lungs seized. His heartbeat slowed. His very existence felt like it was being crushed under an unseen force.
"Kneel."
Aarav's knees buckled.
A force slammed into him, driving him down. His muscles screamed in protest, his vision darkening at the edges.
But he did not kneel.
He fought against it, every inch of his body trembling.
The god's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting."
With a flick of its hand, the force vanished—and Aarav collapsed, gasping for breath.
The god stood. The entire temple shook.
"Rise, mortal. If you refuse to kneel, then prove that you deserve to stand before me."
Aarav exhaled sharply, pushing himself up.
His trial had just begun.
Aarav forced himself to stand. His legs trembled, his chest heaved, but his resolve hardened.
The god before him descended from the throne, each step resonating like a drumbeat against eternity itself.
The moment its feet touched the ground—the void shifted.
The temple expanded, the carvings along the walls twisting, reshaping into countless warriors, monsters, and divine beasts. Their eyes glowed, their bodies trembling as if waiting for a command.
The god spread its arms.
"Your trial begins."
A deafening roar erupted from the walls.
The stone warriors came to life.
Dozens. Hundreds. Moving in perfect unison, wielding ancient weapons bathed in celestial fire. Their movements were flawless, precise—like divine machines built for one purpose.
To break him.
Aarav clenched his fists. His body was still aching from the battle before, his breath ragged. But there was no time to think.
The first warrior charged.
Aarav barely had time to react as a spear thrust toward his heart.
Move.
He twisted to the side, the spearhead grazing his ribs. Another warrior lunged—Aarav ducked, rolling away just as a sword sliced through the air above his head.
They weren't giving him time to breathe.
And that was the point.
A test of endurance. A test of will.
Aarav gritted his teeth. Fine. If they wanted a fight, he'd give them one.
The mark on his arm flared.
Flames surged around his fists, his breath steadying as the power awoke within him.
A warrior leapt toward him—Aarav pivoted, slamming a blazing punch straight into its chest. The stone body cracked, then exploded into ash.
Another came. Then another.
Aarav moved like fire itself, dodging, striking, burning through his enemies.
But for every one that fell, more emerged.
His lungs burned. His muscles screamed.
And yet, he did not stop.
The god watched, its expression unreadable.
Aarav didn't care.
He would not fall. He would not kneel.
Because if this was the price of power—
He would endure it.
Aarav's breath was ragged, his vision blurring at the edges. But he still stood.
The battlefield of divine stone warriors stretched endlessly before him, their glowing eyes locked onto his every movement. Each step he took felt heavier, each strike more exhausting.
And yet—he refused to fall.
A warrior lunged with a spear of light. Aarav twisted, barely dodging as the weapon grazed his shoulder, searing his flesh. He gritted his teeth, countering with a fiery uppercut that shattered the warrior's torso into molten shards.
The next wave came instantly.
Aarav ducked beneath an axe swing, his reflexes slowing. He knew it—his body was breaking down. His arms ached, his legs felt like lead, his lungs burned for air.
This trial wasn't just about battle.
It was attrition.
The god's voice echoed through the temple:
"The body fails before the mind does."
Aarav clenched his fists. "Then my mind will not fail."
He surged forward.
Flames roared from his fists as he met the onslaught head-on. His punches shattered armor, his kicks left burning craters in the temple floor. But it wasn't enough.
The warriors did not tire.
A sword pierced his side. Aarav gasped—the pain sent a shock through his body, his vision momentarily blacking out. He staggered, clutching the wound, but his feet never left the ground.
No.
He would not fall.
The god watched in silence. The stone throne behind it pulsed, sensing his struggle.
Aarav steadied himself. His fingers curled into a fist. The mark on his arm burned brighter.
And then—
The ground cracked beneath him.
The temple trembled.
Aarav's breathing slowed, something within him awakening.
The warriors paused.
The god raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Aarav exhaled, his body igniting.
But this time—it wasn't just fire.
It was something more.
The throne's glow intensified, and the god finally stepped forward.
"Let us see if you are worthy, mortal."
The true trial had begun.
Aarav's body burned—not just with fire, but with something far greater.
The mark on his arm pulsed like a second heartbeat, its glow casting long, flickering shadows across the temple. His breath came in slow, controlled gulps.
And in that moment, something shifted.
The warriors—hundreds of them—stood frozen. The air itself trembled, as if recognizing the change.
The god watching from the throne leaned forward, eyes glinting with amusement. "So, you have finally awakened it."
Aarav didn't respond.
Because he could feel it.
A weight pressing against reality itself.
A force coursing through his veins.
Not just fire. Not just strength. Something deeper. Something older.
For the first time, the warriors hesitated.
Aarav took a step forward—and the entire battlefield shook.
Then—
He moved.
Faster than before.
Before the first warrior could react, Aarav closed the distance and drove his fist straight into its chest. The impact didn't just crack the stone—
It erased it.
The warrior exploded into dust, its form collapsing as if it had never existed.
The others charged.
Aarav was already there. He didn't just fight—he dominated.
He weaved through the onslaught, his strikes breaking warriors apart in an instant. His body no longer felt sluggish. The pain? Gone.
His attacks? Absolute.
One warrior raised a colossal hammer—Aarav tore through it before the weapon could even descend. Another swung with a blade of celestial fire—Aarav shattered its head with a single blow.
The god watched in silence.
For the first time, it was not testing him.
It was witnessing him.
Aarav stopped.
The last warrior fell.
The battlefield was silent.
He turned toward the god, blood dripping from his knuckles, his breath slow and steady.
The trial was over.
Or so he thought.
The god smiled. "Very well."
The temple rumbled.
And then, for the first time—
The god stepped down from the throne.
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