Night settled over the battlefield like a heavy blanket, the stars hidden behind thick, roiling clouds. Veer sat by the fire, his sword laid across his knees, staring silently into the flickering flames. His companions sat nearby — Arya sharpening her arrows, Jai tending to his wounds, Mira humming softly as she mixed herbs, and little Tanu curled up under a blanket, exhausted but safe.
Yet Veer's mind wasn't on them.
Inside, Vakya pulsed faintly, a quiet presence that had become both a guide and a burden.
"You have crossed a threshold," the system murmured, its voice a vibration through his bones. "What comes next is no longer survival. It is ascension."
Veer closed his eyes briefly. His body ached from the battle — muscles strained, cuts stinging, mind worn thin. But the weight in his chest wasn't from the fight. It was from the truth: they were no longer the hunters. They were the hunted.
Arya glanced at him across the fire. "You're thinking too much again."
Veer gave a faint, tired smile. "That obvious?"
"You're always obvious, Veer," she teased gently. "You carry everything on your face."
Jai rumbled a low laugh. "Not on his face. On his back."
Veer huffed softly, shaking his head. "I'm fine."
But Mira's soft voice cut through the quiet. "You're lying."
Veer met her eyes — kind, clear, knowing. She didn't push further. She didn't need to.
Because in truth, none of them had faced anything like this before.
The enemy wasn't just a warlord with soldiers.
It was something older. Deeper.
As Veer stared into the fire, the air shifted — a faint ripple, like the world holding its breath.
Suddenly, a voice — not Vakya this time, but something cold, creeping into his mind.
"Child of destiny…"
Veer's head snapped up. His companions hadn't heard it. They continued their quiet tasks, unaware.
He rose slowly, stepping away from the fire, heart pounding.
"You carry a stolen name…"
The shadows thickened around him. Shapes moved just beyond sight.
"Do you know whose throne you climb toward?"
Veer gritted his teeth. "Show yourself."
The mist parted, and from it emerged a figure cloaked in ragged black, its face hidden beneath a cracked porcelain mask. Its presence felt… wrong. Not human. Not alive.
Arya was on her feet instantly, bow raised. "Veer, what is that?"
The figure tilted its head slightly. "A ghost, nothing more. But a ghost with a message."
Jai grabbed his axe, stepping forward. "You picked the wrong camp, spirit."
But Veer raised a hand, stopping them. His eyes narrowed. "What message?"
The figure's masked face turned directly to him.
"The throne you seek was built on betrayal. The system you carry is not your ally."
A chill ran down Veer's spine.
Vakya pulsed sharply in his mind. "Do not listen."
The figure took a slow step closer.
"Ask your system where its power comes from. Ask it whose blood it consumed."
Veer's breath caught.
Vakya surged. "Enough!"
With a crack like thunder, the spirit shattered — vanishing into smoke.
The air went still.
Veer stood frozen, heart racing. His companions stared at him, tense and confused.
"Veer?" Arya asked softly.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "It's gone."
Jai grunted. "That thing wasn't just a messenger. It was probing you."
Mira stepped closer, her brows furrowed. "What did it mean, Veer? What did it say to you?"
Veer hesitated.
He looked down at his hands — calloused, scarred, steady. The hands of a warrior. The hands of a king in the making.
But now, doubt gnawed at the edge of his mind.
Whose blood did it consume?
He clenched his fists.
"I don't know," he whispered. "But I'll find out."
Later that night, Veer sat alone, sword in his lap, eyes on the stars now barely peeking through the clouds.
Vakya was silent.
For the first time in weeks, it offered no whispers, no guidance, no commands.
Just silence.
Veer spoke softly into the night. "What are you hiding from me?"
No answer.
A breeze stirred the trees, carrying with it the scent of ash and earth.
He thought back to the voice — the way it knew him, the way it spoke of the system as if it were a thief, a predator.
Veer closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
"I don't care what you are," he murmured. "I don't care whose power you hold."
His hands tightened on the sword hilt.
"I will become king. I will unite the tribes. I will build a future."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And if you stand in my way, Vakya… I will tear you down too."
For a long moment, there was only the night.
Then, faintly, just faintly, the system's voice returned.
"We will see, Veer. We will see."