The silence that followed the brutal clash between Satya and Karadosh was suffocating. The air hung heavy with the scent of charred earth, blood, and divinity. The earth beneath them was cracked open, a jagged scar running across the land, evidence of the colossal power that had just been unleashed. Satya stood alone at the center of the destruction, panting heavily, his eyes locked on the dissipating remnants of Karadosh's divine form.
His body trembled, not from fear but from the aftershocks of using the Monarch Touch to its fullest. The power had drained him, pushed him to his limits. He could feel the remnants of divine energy swirling within him, his muscles sore, his mind still reeling from the magnitude of what had just transpired. Victory, yes, but at a cost.
But despite the cost, there was something undeniably different. Satya had transcended. The boy who had struggled, who had fought to prove his worth, had emerged from this battle as something greater, something unrecognizable to even himself.
A soft groan reached his ears, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He turned, eyes narrowing as he saw Vaidehi and Yug, both barely standing but still alive. Vaidehi, her once pristine armor now bloodstained and cracked, stumbled forward, her face pale but determined. Beside her, Yug was leaning on his sword for support, his usual strength dulled by the toll the battle had taken.
Satya's heart clenched as he looked at them—his comrades, his friends. They had fought so fiercely, so tirelessly, but now they were battered, broken. Their bodies reflected the sacrifice they had made.
Vaidehi locked eyes with Satya, her lips curving into a weak smile, but it did little to hide the exhaustion in her eyes. "You did it," she whispered, voice hoarse. "You defeated him... Karadosh..."
Satya nodded, his throat tight. "We did it," he corrected, his gaze flickering to Yug, who stood stoically beside Vaidehi, but the bloodstains on his armor told a different story. Yug gave him a slight nod, but there was no joy in his expression—only a heavy weariness, the kind that came from fighting battles beyond one's limits.
Vaidehi staggered as if to take a step forward, but she collapsed onto the ground, her body unable to support her any longer. Satya rushed to her side, catching her in his arms just before she hit the ground. The warmth of her blood soaked through his clothes as he lifted her gently.
"Don't... don't speak," Satya whispered, his voice breaking. "We'll get through this."
But even as he spoke, the realization settled in his chest—he wasn't sure if they would make it through. Karadosh had fallen, yes, but the fight had taken its toll. They were too wounded to continue without help, and Satya could feel the rising tide of darkness creeping up on him as well. The Monarch Touch had drained him to his core, and the battle wasn't even over yet.
Satya carefully placed Vaidehi on the ground, his heart hammering in his chest as his hand gently touched her forehead. She was burning up with fever, the result of the injuries she had sustained in her own battle with Raghnor, the Ash Monk. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling erratically.
Before Satya could react further, Yug collapsed beside her, his body giving out at last. Satya's heart stuttered as his eyes scanned his friends, both too battered to stand, too broken to fight.
And then, the sound of footsteps.
Vayunanda, still standing despite the countless battles he had fought, his body covered in cuts and bruises, walked towards them. The Storm Warrior was weathered—his age, his battle-worn experiences, everything about him spoke of a man who had been fighting for too long, a man who had sacrificed everything in service of the greater good. Yet, despite the state he was in, Vayunanda still had his will.
He came to a stop before Satya and knelt down. There was no need for words—just the raw, unspoken understanding between warriors. Satya glanced at Vayunanda, his mind clouded with exhaustion and pain, but Vayunanda spoke anyway.
"You've done it, Satya. You've awakened something within you that even I could never dream of," Vayunanda said, his voice raspy, but filled with admiration. "But it came at a cost... a cost we must all bear."
Satya's expression hardened. "The fight is not over. Karadosh is dead, but the world has just begun to shift. There are others, more powerful beings than even he."
Vayunanda's brow furrowed, his ancient eyes scanning the battlefield, already aware of the dangers that lay ahead. "The battle... it is never truly over, is it?"
Satya's gaze softened, but he nodded. "No. And I'm afraid that soon, we'll face what we fear most. The Seven-Star Gatekeeper."
Vayunanda grimaced at the mention of Velissara, the one who controlled time itself—a being that made even the most powerful warriors tremble. The Seven-Star Gatekeeper was more than a gatekeeper; she was a harbinger of death, a time-wielder who had mastered the ability to manipulate time in her favor.
"Velissara..." Vayunanda muttered, his face grim. "If she comes, none of us will survive without everything we have. Even Me, Satya, may not stand against her."
Satya clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing with resolve. "Then we will fight together. We will not fall. Not now. Not after everything we've endured."
The Gathering Storm
As the words left Satya's lips, a sudden shift in the atmosphere gripped the battlefield. The winds began to churn violently, swirling in unnatural patterns. The very ground beneath them began to rumble, and a pulse of energy rolled across the battlefield like a distant storm—Velissara had arrived.
In the distance, a figure emerged—an ethereal being dressed in robes woven from the fabric of time itself. Her presence bent the very fabric of reality, her steps distorting the air around her. She was Velissara, the Ninth Dream, the time-wielder, a being that existed beyond the realms of mortal comprehension. Her seven eyes glowed with the ancient power of time itself, and with each step, the air seemed to crackle and hum with infinite potential.
Satya's pulse quickened. He could feel the weight of the battle ahead, the impossible odds that loomed over them. His muscles were still sore from the fight with Karadosh, but he knew that this next battle would be the one that would define their fates.
"I warned you," Velissara's voice rang out like a thousand whispers. "Time is not your ally. And soon... neither will I be."