Morning wind.
The last distant moan of night fading away.
A light knock of stone against stone.
When Arjun opened his eyes inside the cave, the first thing he noticed was a strange silence.
It was not the silence of night.
Night’s silence was heavy with fear—filled with the breathing of roaming monsters, the laughter of spirits, and the restless presence of darkness.
This silence was different.
It was clean.
Light.
As if the sky had finally stopped holding its breath.
Arjun looked down at his arm.
The small black spot that had appeared the day before was now clear and distinct.
It was the first seal of cultivation on his body.
He drew a deep breath.
The cold inside him no longer felt the same.
There was a new stability in his flesh, a new hardness, as though someone had coated the inside of his bones with a thin layer of iron.
Then he saw a faint light coming from outside.
The soft sound of dim rays.
He tensed.
He cleared the stones from the cave mouth.
Morning light fell across his hands.
The darkness outside was gone.
The red rain had stopped.
The cloud layer was breaking apart.
And for the first time in many days, there was truly a sun in the sky.
Arjun stared at it for a long moment.
He barely remembered the sun.
In this ruined city he had not seen it openly for a very long time.
He inhaled deeply.
The sunlight felt as if life itself had once again spread itself across the world.
Arjun stepped outside.
He stretched his body thoroughly, then checked his pack.
The rusted short dagger, the black iron nail, the water flask, and the hidden Neelmani gem—everything was safe.
He adjusted his torn clothes and looked once toward the city.
The city that had looked like a corpse at night now appeared, under daylight, like a vast wounded body.
Walls broken.
Roofs collapsed.
Dried bloodstains on the streets.
And corpses lying everywhere.
Arjun studied them with a long gaze.
No expression showed on his face, yet something inside him grew slightly heavier.
He knew that, just like yesterday, this city was still dead.
But leaving the dead like this did not feel right either.
He lifted one corpse onto his shoulder.
The heavy sound of a body being raised.
Then a second.
Then a third.
Without speaking, he began carrying them to a square in the middle of the city and stacking them.
One by one he gathered more bodies.
Fear was frozen on some faces.
Some eyes were still open.
Some bodies were twisted and broken.
Yet Arjun placed every corpse with care.
To him they were not merely dead people.
They were the remaining memory of this city.
### Chapter 2
**The Pyres**
When enough bodies had been gathered, he took a half-burnt piece of wood lying nearby and placed it on top of the pile.
The soft crackle of fire catching.
The sound of wood splitting.
The moment the flame rose, smoke raced upward into the sky.
Black ash, thick smoke, and the sharp smell of burning flesh spread through the air.
Arjun stood at a distance and watched the fire.
His eyes were calm, but a strange resolve lived inside him.
Then he went in another direction.
There too he found more corpses.
And further still.
The deep roar of smoke and flames.
In a short time two separate black pillars of smoke began rising.
The sun was shining, yet the smoke from these fires was so heavy that it pressed even against the light.
The entire city seemed to sink into mourning.
Arjun then went to the old medicine-seller whose body he had seen the day before.
The man was still there.
Arjun lifted the body gently and placed it on the nearby burning pyre.
For a moment he bowed his head.
“Find peace,” he said in a low voice.
Fierce flames of the fire.
The heat rising from the old man’s burning body lit Arjun’s face.
Warmth reached even the ends of his long, tangled hair.
He stood quietly.
This was no formal rite.
No royal farewell.
But somewhere inside him it was a small attempt at respect.
He had given whatever he could.
And then—
Footsteps.
A bold, mocking laugh from a distance.
A voice behind him said in a jeering tone—
“Oh!
So this is where all the goods were hidden!
We were wondering where all the corpses had gone.
A skinny little kid, and he’s working so hard to burn the pyres?
Wah, wah.
What devotion!”
Arjun turned at once.
About seventy or eighty feet away stood a group of seven people.
Their clothes were of dull grey leather.
Sacks hung on their backs.
Bags rested on their shoulders.
Weapons were tied at their waists.
Three carried bows.
Two held swords.
And in the middle of the group stood a sturdy, older man whose hands were fitted with iron fighting gauntlets.
At the very front stood a heavy, broad-shouldered man with a massive battle-axe in his hands.
In a single glance Arjun read them all.
They were not traders.
They were not soldiers.
They did not look like disciplined members of any proper band.
They were scavengers.
People who had come to gather whatever the city still had left—corpses, goods, weapons, medicines.
And the face of the axe-man?
Hard.
Old scar marks crossed it.
A thick beard.
A cruel gleam in his eyes.
And on his lips that dangerous smile that belongs only to those who take pleasure in the pain of others.
His name was **Krur Vrishabh**.
A slight tension entered Arjun’s body, but his expression did not change.
### Chapter 3
**The First Strike**
Krur Vrishabh stepped forward, as though the weak-looking boy standing before him pleased him greatly.
“Thinking of running?” he said with a laugh.
“I like chasing little kids like you.
Your pack must be full of goods, right?
This boy is mine, Chief Veerbhadra!”
There was so much hatred in his voice that even the air seemed to harden for a moment.
A cold light settled in Arjun’s eyes.
He was reading the group’s structure.
No one truly stood for anyone else.
They were companions of convenience.
And such people are rarely trustworthy.
The moment Krur Vrishabh raised his axe, Arjun’s body became instantly alert.
The sound of the axe cutting the air.
Vrishabh lunged straight at him.
His strength and speed were terrifying together.
But Arjun was no longer the same as before.
Just as the axe was about to split his head, Arjun leaned hard to the left.
A sharp sound of swift movement.
The axe passed so close to his face that the pressure of the air blew his hair backward.
In that same instant he understood the direction of Vrishabh’s body.
When a man strikes with full force, his balance opens for a few heartbeats.
Arjun twisted his body in that exact moment.
Ducked.
Rolled.
And suddenly came back toward Vrishabh.
The black iron nail was now in his hand.
Vrishabh thought the boy was running.
In the next second he had already made a dangerous mistake.
Arjun leapt beneath him and drove the nail upward with all his strength.
The sharp sound of metal piercing.
The nail struck under Vrishabh’s chin.
A thin stream of blood ran down.
“Ah—!”
Vrishabh flared with rage.
But before he could turn and strike, Arjun drew the dagger hidden in his left palm and, still low, drove it into the heel of Vrishabh’s right foot.
*Thud!*
The dagger sank straight into flesh and rooted Vrishabh’s leg to the ground like a stake.
His face twisted in pain.
“You—!”
But Arjun did not stay.
He withdrew like lightning, then ducked behind a broken wall.
His breathing was slow.
His eyes sharp.
His body ready.
From there he watched the outside, as if the prey was no longer his, but theirs.
The others were still reacting.
The archers became alert.
The armed men looked around.
But Arjun did not look at their eyes.
He fixed his gaze directly on the older man in the middle—Chief Veerbhadra.
Veerbhadra’s eyes were calm.
Very calm.
Looking at him alone, Arjun understood that this man was the true leader of the group.
The rest were only hunters circling around him.
Arjun’s eyes met Veerbhadra’s.
For several moments both remained silent.
Then Vrishabh, pulling the dagger from his wounded foot with a roar, started toward Arjun again.
“I won’t leave you alive, boy!”
But before he could move further, Veerbhadra spoke in a deep, commanding voice—
“Enough.”
An authoritative tone.
Vrishabh stopped.
Arjun saw it and understood—Veerbhadra’s voice held not only power, but authority.
The kind of authority that could halt a fight in the middle.
Vrishabh clenched his teeth.
“But Chief—”
Veerbhadra looked at him with no interest.
“That is enough.”
There was such coldness in his tone that all of Vrishabh’s fury was suppressed for a moment.
Veerbhadra turned his gaze to Arjun.
“Boy,” he said, “it seems you are some survivor from the settlement.
If the Broken God left you alive, we are not the ones to stop you.
We are leaving.”
Arjun was still hidden.
But his eyes remained wary.
Veerbhadra spoke again.
“If you want to fight further, then fight.
But understand this—we do not waste our time here.”
Arjun gave no reply.
He simply continued to watch them.
Blood still filled Vrishabh’s eyes.
He wanted to leap at Arjun again.
But Veerbhadra stopped him with a single hard look.
In the end Vrishabh stepped back, though revenge was clearly written in his eyes.
The others also began to move slowly.
But before leaving, Veerbhadra paused.
He looked at Arjun.
“Boy,” he said quietly, “if you want to stay alive, don’t run far from us.
If you want to walk with us, then walk.”
Arjun held his breath.
He had not expected this offer.
Their eyes met.
Then Arjun slowly stood up.
He read Veerbhadra’s face.
No pity.
No deceit.
No flattery.
Only hard practicality.
Without a word, Arjun stepped forward.
A light flow of wind.
A very faint smile touched Veerbhadra’s lips.
He turned and walked on.
The others watched him for a moment, then followed behind.
And so— rising from the ashes of the ruined city—
Arjun Arya walked with a group for the first time.
His small shadow lengthened along the road.
Krur Vrishabh kept turning back to glare at him.
Poison filled his eyes.
And Arjun knew—this clash had not ended here.
This was only the beginning.
A wandering wind from far away.
The slow crackle of flames.
Behind them the smoke of the city continued to rise.
And ahead, with Veerbhadra’s band, Arjun’s fate moved onto a new road.