---
The crowd was still gasping.
Kamsa lay twisted in the dust like a puppet cut from its strings.
Krishna stepped back, his eyes steady, his face unreadable.
But Agasthya—still barefoot, still blood-spattered—stood absolutely still.
And then the world around him stopped.
The noise faded.
The torches dimmed.
Everything turned quiet.
> [SYSTEM ALERT]
[FATE ANCHOR STRUCK — KAMSA'S THREAD SEVERED BY UNWRITTEN ENTITY]
[YOU HAVE DEVIATED FROM DESTINY IN A WAY THAT CANNOT BE CORRECTED]
[REWARD: PRIMORDIAL TALENT CORE — UNBOUND]
[UPLOADING CORE...]
[WARNING: MORTAL VESSEL MAY NOT WITHSTAND FULL INSTALLATION]
Agasthya gasped.
His spine arched backward as if struck by lightning.
Heat burst through his body. Not pain—memory in the shape of fire. His bones rang like bells forged from steel and starlight.
He dropped to his knees.
His hands trembled.
> [Secondary Impact: MEMORY SHARD UNSEALED]
[VISION: "The Flaming Womb"]
[Initiating…]
---
Suddenly he was somewhere else.
Floating in nothing.
No time. No form.
He heard a heartbeat.
Then another.
Then a voice. No—two voices speaking as one.
> "He is not to exist."
Another voice replied, softer but heavier, like sky crushing stone.
> "Then he must not be remembered."
Agasthya felt the womb—not a human womb, but a cosmic one—a ball of pure molten energy. His spirit was forged in it. His consciousness born from both fire and nectar, both destruction and illusion.
He heard his name.
Not Agasthya.
His true name.
But it broke as soon as it was spoken—like a god had slapped silence over the syllables.
---
The vision snapped.
He fell forward, gasping.
His hands dug into the sand of the arena.
> [INSTALLATION COMPLETE]
[PRIMORDIAL TALENT CORE ACTIVE]
[PASSIVE ENABLED: MARTIAL INFUSION — ALL PHYSICAL MOVEMENT MAY EXPRESS VIOLENCE WITH PURPOSE]
[NEW SHARD: 2% of Divinity Restored]
[Warning: Soul integrity under observation...]
Agasthya stood.
Slowly.
Not trembling.
Not broken.
Reforged.
And in the crowd—no one knew what had happened.
They only saw a boy, eight years old, standing over the body of a tyrant.
And they whispered, louder now:
> "Who is he?"
"Why does he move like a god?"
"He didn't just strike… he unmade."
Krishna came to his side.
"You felt it?"
Agasthya nodded, sweat running down his back.
"I remember… fire."
---