Beneath the earth, buried under stone and silence, the ancient shrine breathed like a slumbering beast. Parashu followed Master Vishma through a narrow corridor where torches hissed along the moss-covered walls, casting long shadows that danced like spirits. Behind them walked Veerath, silent as a ghost, his presence cold and unreadable.
Parashu's jaw clenched. "This isn't the way to the healer's quarters," he muttered, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each step.
Master Vishma didn't stop. "No healer can mend what's stirring inside you now."
Parashu shot a glance over his shoulder. "Then why is he here?"
Veerath's voice was calm, almost too calm. "Because what's inside you speaks a language only the damned remember. And I've spent a lifetime listening."
Parashu scoffed and turned the corner sharply.
They reached a chamber sealed by a great stone marked with an ancient sigil—spiraling symbols etched in red and blue light. The symbols pulsed faintly, as if in rhythm with some forgotten heartbeat.
Master Vishma's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "This place… was once forbidden. Even to me. But you've awakened something older than bloodlines, Parashu. Something that doesn't belong to this world."
Parashu's hand drifted to his chest. The heat was real. Alive.
"It burns," he said. "It breathes. What the hell is it?"
Vishma's expression was solemn. "The Core Fragment. A shard from the Age Before Ages. Buried when the gods grew afraid of it. Shattered when the worlds broke."
Veerath stepped closer. "And now it stirs again—inside you."
Parashu's voice dropped, cold and distant. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this."
"No," Vishma said. "But the Core did. Either it chose you… or it was pulled to whatever's buried inside you."
The sigil flared with light, and the chamber door opened with a low groan, like the world itself exhaling.
---
Inside the sanctum, the air felt alive. At the center floated a crystal—within it, a fragment shaped like a heart, pulsing with a dark, swirling light. Shadows flickered unnaturally on the walls, and the chamber itself seemed to be watching.
"This fragment," Vishma said, "was once part of a god-killer. A weapon not forged by hands, but by will. What's inside you now... is a piece of that force."
Parashu's voice trembled. "So what does that make me? A weapon?"
Vishma looked at him, eyes steady. "No. You're the question. What will a weapon become if it learns to feel?"
The crystal pulsed. The shrine trembled. Parashu's breathing turned erratic. His fingers twitched as a storm raged beneath his skin.
"I... I can't—" he choked.
Dark tendrils erupted from his shadow. His eyes turned black. His body convulsed.
A distorted voice tore from his throat. "Let... me... OUT."
From behind him, something began to rise. A spectral figure. Horned. Winged. Her eyes shimmered like stars swallowed by the void.
Yakshini.
Her voice coiled around them like smoke. "I am the hunger they buried. The rage your clan feared. Let me free—and I will unmake everything."
Parashu lunged forward, faster than thought, void-forged claws forming from his arms. Vishma raised a warding glyph. The impact sent shockwaves through the air—torches blew out, walls shook.
Veerath unrolled a scroll, chanting with urgency. "By the breath of the Vayrak Lords... let knowledge become flame!"
Golden sigils ignited in the air. Chains of burning runes wrapped around Parashu, glowing hot as they fought to hold him down. Yakshini screamed through him, clawing at the bindings.
"She's feeding on his hate!" Veerath shouted. "Parashu, resist her! You are not her vessel!"
You are nothing without me! Yakshini hissed.
Parashu's voice strained through the darkness. "No... I'm more without you."
With a final surge of will, Parashu roared. Yakshini's form shattered into mist, the room falling silent once more. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.
---
That same night, in the highest tower of the village, Gharvek stood beneath the moon. Its pale light washed over his silver hair as he stared into the distance. The girl approached, a scroll clutched in her hand.
"You were right," she said quietly. "I asked Vishma. Parashu... he's not just a Vetala. He's something more."
Gharvek didn't turn. "Or something less."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He closed his eyes. "He reminds me of how I began—powerful, angry, lost. But I had time to shape what I was becoming. Parashu... might not."
---
Back in the shrine, Parashu sat slumped beside the crystal. His eyes still shimmered with the last traces of shadow. Veerath stood nearby, scroll in hand.
"I didn't need your help," Parashu muttered.
"No," Veerath replied softly. "You needed someone who understands what it means to carry a curse."
Vishma stepped forward, his voice grave. "Yakshini's tasted freedom once. She'll try again."
Parashu's eyes burned with new fire. "Then let her come.
Next time… I won't just resist.
I'll fight."
---
After that, they decided to return to the villages.
Veerath and Master Vishma chose to stay behind at the village leader's office to organize defenses and tend to survivors. Parashu, exhausted and heavy with grief, walked back alone toward his house. His steps were slow, weighed down by the memories of all that had happened.
Inside, the silence offered a moment's respite. He lay down, letting sleep claim him, though his mind churned with restless thoughts.
But at the stroke of midnight, the peace shattered.
A cacophony of barking dogs erupted outside, mixing with anguished cries that pierced the night air. Parashu bolted upright and rushed outside, heart pounding like a war drum.
His village was ablaze.
Flames hungrily consumed wooden huts and thatched roofs, turning familiar homes into infernos. The ground was strewn with bodies—friends, neighbors—fallen victims of some merciless force.
Amid the flickering blaze, a dark shadow moved like a phantom.
Parashu's breath caught. The figure emerged from the firelight—it was Jamadigini.
His eyes burned with cold malice as he surveyed the destruction.
Parashu's voice rang out, raw with accusation and pain.
"First the Kara army, and now you. Why are both of you haunting my village? For years, the Kara army has bled this place dry, and now you've joined their ranks. I still don't understand why Master Vishma chose to free you from Veerath's judgment."
He took a step closer, fists clenched tight.
"What do you want here? To kill me, like you killed my mother?"
Jamadigini's smile was bitter, almost amused.
"You possess the power to save everyone," Parashu continued, "but you're twisting it for destruction. Didn't you ever remember who you once were? They called you Maharathi."
A flicker of sadness crossed Jamadigini's face, then hardened into resolve.
"That was just a title," he said quietly. "If you stare at the same thing long enough, one of two things happens: you grow bored, or you fall in love with it. I fell in love with the kill. With eradicating the rats that plague this world. For years, I was captive—caged and restrained. That hurt far worse than the act of killing ever did. Now that I'm free... I will do it. If you think you can stop me, try."
Parashu's gaze sharpened with fierce determination.
"Then I will do what no one else can. I will stop you—myself."
---
CHAPTER: AIR FLESH UNLEASHED
The night sky hung heavy with choking smoke. Flames devoured the village rooftops, turning everything to ash. Screams echoed—a grim, mournful funeral song. Blood soaked the soil where children once laughed and played.
Parashu stood barefoot on the scorched earth, his chest heaving with fury. His eyes locked onto the figure who danced amid the inferno.
Jamadigini.
Once a warrior revered as Maharathi, now nothing more than a beast cloaked in flame and betrayal.
Parashu's voice tore through the chaos.
"You! First the Kara army... and now you. Why? Why do you keep coming back to destroy what little we have left?"
Jamadigini laughed—a sound as cruel and sharp as breaking glass.
"Because destruction is the only honest thing left in this world, boy. I once fought for peace. That lie made me weak. Now... I fight for chaos. And it makes me feel alive."
With resolve burning like wildfire, Parashu stepped forward.
The wind answered him.
It swirled around his form like an invisible beast awakening from slumber. Dust rose from the ground, and flames bent away, as if acknowledging a new master.
"You could've been a god," Parashu said, voice low and fierce. "But you chose to become a plague."
Jamadigini's grin spread wide, wicked and cold.
"Because gods don't bleed. And I like the taste of blood."
With a roar, they collided.
Fists slammed. Bones rattled. The earth beneath cracked with the force of their blows.
Parashu weaved through fire-fueled strikes, ducking under a molten punch and countering with a sharp elbow. But Jamadigini moved like a shadow—catching Parashu mid-strike and slamming him into a shattered wall.
Blood trickled from Parashu's lips. He wiped it away with a trembling hand, whispering ancient words only the monks of Vayrak knew.
The air shifted.
"Air Flesh," he breathed.
Then—
He vanished.
A thunderclap echoed through the village. Then another. And another.
Jamadigini's eyes darted wildly—too slow.
Invisible blows struck his jaw, his spine, his ribs—each hit carrying the crushing force of compressed air.
Parashu reappeared behind him, hovering, his body enveloped in shimmering, wind-like energy—the full awakening of Air Flesh.
"This is the power I created," Parashu said coldly, "to protect what you threw away."
He surged forward in a blur, unleashing a flurry of Air Pulse Strikes. Each blow carved through armor and flesh like a razor wind.
Jamadigini staggered, coughing blood—but still smiled.
"Air Flesh..." he rasped between breaths. "I thought they destroyed all the scrolls."
Parashu's eyes narrowed but he said nothing.
Jamadigini chuckled, raising a shaky hand to his bleeding chest.
"Do you even understand what you wield?" he sneered. "That's no ordinary wind technique. It's forbidden. Air Flesh—once mastered by the monks of Vayrak—was born from prāņa itself. By unraveling the boundary between flesh and spirit, the body becomes something else. Lighter than air. Faster than thought."
He stepped forward, blood soaking his tattered robes.
"Phase Movement lets you pass through blades. Weightless Dash makes you silent death. Wind Cut tears flesh from across the battlefield. And the cruelest of all—Flesh Fade. To be seen, yet not touched. To flicker between realms."
He spat to the ground.
"But you don't understand it yet. You use it... but it hasn't accepted you."
Parashu ignored the warning.
He clenched his fist, compressing the air into a glowing spiral pulsing with raw power.
"This ends now!"
He launched forward, a streak of wind and vengeance—
But at the last moment—
Jamadigini moved.
He caught Parashu's wrist mid-strike, eyes colder than death. The smile vanished.
"I let you do all that," he whispered, "to see how far you've come."
His other hand flared with black flame—the forbidden Dark Astra.
BOOM.
He drove it into Parashu's side.
A violent burst of dark energy exploded outward, hurling Parashu across the burning battlefield.
Parashu screamed as he crashed into stone. The Air Flesh shattered, dissipating like dust scattered on the wind.
He gasped. His body twitched—but refused to move.
Jamadigini strode forward, scorched and bleeding—but alive. Grinning like a devil who had just won his wager with fate.
"You're not ready to carry the weight of your bloodline yet," he said softly. "But you will be... someday."
He knelt beside Parashu. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible above the crackling flames.
"Until then... suffer."
With one final, brutal strike to the neck—
Everything went dark.
Parashu, you wanna win , right ?
Then switch with me
Something inside parashu....
---