The night sky was painted with stars, but Veer's eyes were fixed not on the heavens above, but on the fire burning in front of him. It was not just a flame of wood and sparks; it was the reflection of his own resolve. Around him, the warriors of his tribe sat in silence, their faces still carrying the bruises and cuts from the brutal battles they had survived.
The air was heavy, thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and smoke from the burned-out villages they had passed on their journey. Veer's heart ached at the memory of those places—the homes of innocent people reduced to ashes by tyrants and rival tribes who thrived on chaos.
And now, he knew, something greater awaited.
The Vakya system pulsed inside him, its voice calm but firm.
[Main Quest: Unite the Nine Tribes.][Progress: 3 Tribes Allied | 6 Tribes Remaining.]
Veer clenched his fists. He had fought beasts, crushed bandits, and challenged rival chieftains, but uniting the tribes… that was a challenge unlike any other. They were not just people divided by distance, but by pride, tradition, and centuries of blood feuds.
Yet deep within him, a flame burned brighter than the fire in front of him—the belief that it was his destiny, not merely to fight, but to bring people together under one banner.
"Tomorrow," Veer spoke, his voice cutting through the silence, "we march to the River Plains."
The warriors turned toward him, their eyes reflecting uncertainty.
"The River Plains?" asked Bhairav, his most loyal commander. "That is where the Ashva Clan dwells. They are fierce riders, Veer. They trust no one outside their kin, and they are quick to draw blades."
"Yes," Veer replied calmly, "and that is why we must go there. If the Ashva Clan stands with us, others will begin to listen. They respect strength—and we will show them strength, not just of arms, but of vision."
The men exchanged uneasy glances. For them, the Ashva were legends: horse-lords who moved like the wind, striking faster than thought, their cavalry feared across the lands. To approach them without being cut down was already a gamble. To convince them to join a cause was madness.
But then again, Veer had always walked the path of madness—the kind that bent fate itself.
At dawn, they rode out. The sun painted the plains in gold, and the sound of the river grew louder as they neared the Ashva territory. The ground trembled under hooves long before they saw the riders.
The Ashva Clan appeared in a storm of dust—hundreds of horsemen, their long spears gleaming, their banners snapping in the wind. They rode in perfect formation, their leader at the front: a tall man with braided hair and eyes as sharp as a hawk.
"Who dares cross into Ashva lands?" his voice boomed, carried by the wind.
Veer urged his horse forward. The riders parted, ready to encircle and crush him, but he raised a hand. His aura—fueled by Vakya—radiated like a storm, halting their advance for the briefest of moments.
"I am Veer, son of no man, bound by no clan," he declared, his voice carrying across the field. "But I stand with the will of Shiva and the strength of the land itself. I come not to conquer, but to unite."
The Ashva chief narrowed his eyes. "Unite? Bold words from a boy who barely holds three tribes under his banner. Why should we listen before we trample you into the dust?"
Veer dismounted slowly, planting his spear into the earth. "Because if we remain divided, we are nothing but prey for the empires rising in the west. I have seen their armies. I have seen their iron weapons. When they come, they will not care for the pride of the Ashva or the blood of the others. They will destroy all. Unless…"
He paused, letting the silence weigh on them.
"Unless we become more than tribes. Unless we become one people."
The chief studied him for a long moment, then laughed. His warriors joined, their laughter like thunder rolling across the plains.
"You speak like a dreamer," the chief said. "Do you think words will win loyalty? The Ashva bow only to strength. If you wish our alliance, then prove yourself in the Rite of Hooves. Survive against our riders, and we will consider your words."
The warriors roared in approval. The Rite of Hooves—a deadly trial where a man was set against a circle of mounted Ashva warriors. Few survived.
Veer's eyes hardened, but he did not flinch. "Then let it be so."
The trial began at dusk. Veer stood in the center of the wide plain, unarmed but for his spear. Around him, riders formed a circle, their horses snorting and stamping the ground.
The first rider charged, lance lowered. Veer spun his spear, knocking it aside in a burst of sparks. He leaped, twisting in the air, and landed on the horse's back, disarming the rider before vaulting back to the ground. The Ashva shouted in surprise—this was no ordinary boy.
Another came, then another. Veer's body moved with impossible precision, guided by Vakya's silent calculations. He ducked beneath spears, twisted away from hooves, his spear dancing like lightning.
But the trial was relentless. Sweat poured down his brow. His arms ached. His breath came in gasps. Still, he fought on.
At last, only one rider remained—the chief himself.
He rode forward, faster than the others, his lance aimed at Veer's heart. Veer braced himself, channeling every last spark of strength. At the last instant, he sidestepped, grabbed the shaft of the lance, and twisted with the force of a storm. The chief was thrown from his horse, landing hard in the dust.
Silence fell. The circle of riders froze. The Ashva chief lay on his back, staring up at Veer, who now held his lance.
For a moment, there was only the sound of wind. Then the chief laughed—a deep, booming laugh that echoed across the plains. He stood, brushing off the dust, and clasped Veer's arm.
"Strong… and bold. You are no ordinary leader," he admitted. "Perhaps you truly are chosen by fate. The Ashva will ride with you."
The riders erupted in cheers, raising their lances to the sky.
That night, Veer stood on a hill overlooking the joined camps. His people and the Ashva warriors mingled, sharing fires and food. It was the first step toward unity—an image of what could be if the tribes came together.
The Vakya system pulsed within him once more.
[Quest Update: 4 Tribes Allied | 5 Tribes Remaining.][Your influence grows. Destiny sharpens.]
Veer's heart swelled. Yet he knew this was only the beginning. The road ahead would be harsher still, and the shadow of empires loomed larger with every step.
But for the first time, he felt it was possible. The dream of uniting the Nine Tribes was no longer just his—it was becoming the dream of many.
And dreams, once shared, could move mountains.