It stepped into the room, its presence warping the air around it like heat rising from a pyre. Yug felt it before he saw it—an aura of pure malice that clung to every breath he drew. It was ancient, suffused with sulfurous hunger. Evil, primal, and insatiable.
The Brahmarakshas's eyes scanned the room, briefly lingering on Sarla before locking onto Yug. Its gaze was full of predatory hunger, a beast sizing up its next meal. Time itself seemed to freeze.
The shadows deepened, stretching like fingers reaching for their prey. The air grew suffocating, as though every breath was a battle. The creature's presence seeped into the walls, the floor, into Yug's very soul. This house—this place of warmth and memory—was no longer his. It had become the feeding ground of something ancient and unholy.
Yug's body refused to obey him. His legs trembled; his chest constricted with a weight far heavier than fear. He tried to scream, to shout for his mother to run, but his voice was choked in his throat. His lips parted, but no sound emerged.
His soul screamed, a cry of desperation that echoed through the void.
Run, Mother. Run.
Sarla's body, already worn from years of suffering, collapsed onto the floor. One hand clutched the shrine, the other pressed against her chest as if to steady her heart. Her eyes fluttered, a silent prayer escaping her lips before she crumpled. Her head struck the wooden floor with a dull thud, final, lifeless. The Brahmarakshas's presence had drained her—her will to live shattered like glass under the weight of its power.
Yug's heart stuttered. The overwhelming sensation of helplessness was more suffocating than the monster's aura.
The Brahmarakshas turned its gaze toward him again, its claws flexing—long, twisted, blackened like dead roots. Its steps were slow, deliberate, savoring the moment of Yug's terror.
Then, it struck.
Yug's eye snapped shut just before the blow landed. But it hit only sheets. The bed was empty.
A low, guttural snarl escaped the Brahmarakshas. It stepped back, then froze.
Yug hung from the ceiling, suspended by his feet, which had become fused to the wood as if by divine nails. His mouth split open unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. His body twisted and cracked as it transformed into something demonic limbs elongating, bones warping, skin darkening with pulsing veins of shadow. A snarl—inhuman, primal, terrifying—erupted from his throat.
The battle exploded into chaos.
Yug dropped to the floor, moving with feral speed, striking with a fury that was more animal than human. Claws met claws. Blood sprayed. The walls cracked under the force of their blows. The very air seemed to tremble.
The Brahmarakshas was relentless, a force of nature in its own right, but Yug fought back with the desperation of one who had nothing left to lose, with the rage of the damned.
Then came the kick.
A brutal, bone-crushing strike sent Yug flying backward. He slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, coughing up blood, his vision blurring. His hand outstretched, groping for his axe.
It was just beyond reach.
He grabbed it.
With a guttural roar, he charged forward, but the Brahmarakshas caught him by the wrist, its grip like iron. It yanked Yug forward, raising its foot to crush his chest.
A sickening snap echoed through the room.
Yug's shoulder dislocated. Flesh tore. His arm, still clutching the axe, fell limp, blood pouring from the open socket. His body crumpled, unmoving.
The Brahmarakshas, satisfied, turned toward Sarla's lifeless form, preparing to finish what it had started.
But before it could take another step, it froze.
A thunderous whistle pierced the air.
THUNK.
A javelin—glowing with celestial markings and wrapped in Echo bindings—pierced through the Brahmarakshas's skull, pinning it to the wall like a grotesque tapestry. The beast howled in fury, its limbs flailing in a desperate bid to escape.
From the shattered doorway stepped a lone figure, clad in dark armor etched with arcane runes—the mark of the Echo Hunter Corps.
He raised a hand. "Back to the pit you crawled from, beast."
The Brahmarakshas howled, its black blood hissing against the floor as it tried to free itself from the javelin's grip. It surged forward with unholy speed.
The Echo Hunter moved with blinding precision, drawing twin scimitars glowing with Echo-forged light. Each slash was a prayer, each movement a curse. The battle was a dance between light and shadow, divine power clashing against ancient evil.
The creature howled in rage, its claws raking through the air, sending tremors through the very fabric of reality. But the Echo Hunter was relentless. With a shout, he drove both blades deep into the Brahmarakshas's chest. A backflip carried him away just as the javelin glowed, its Echo seal activating.
A final, earth-shattering scream filled the room.
And then—silence.
The Brahmarakshas's body exploded into ash, devoured by the sealing curse. The house collapsed in on itself, the roof caving under the weight of the battle.
The air smelled of blood, sulfur, and smoke.
Footsteps echoed outside as more Echo Hunters arrived, their torches casting flickering light over the ruined village. The leader, Ghanashyam, stepped forward, his gaze scanning the scene.
He nodded toward the fallen bodies of Sarla and Yug.
"She's alive. Barely," one of the Echo Hunters said, checking her pulse. "This village is lost. The Asuras razed it."
Another glanced around. "No survivors... except her."
Then his eyes landed on Yug.
The boy was bloodied, broken, still.
A cold silence followed as the Echo Hunter placed two fingers on Yug's neck.
"Dead."
Ghanashyam lowered his head. "May his soul find rest in the Rivers Beyond."
With swift precision, Sarla was placed on a stretcher, her body wrapped in protective wards. The Echo Hunters began their retreat, careful not to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over the battlefield.
But then—a sound.
A sickening crack of bone. A grinding, wet breath.
The Echo Hunters froze, turning toward the source of the noise.
Within Yug's broken body, a spark ignited.
In the silent core of his soul, darker than any shadow, something smiled.
Rows of bright white teeth split a face made of nothing—pure ink, pure void. Two glowing white eyes opened, brimming with cruel calm. The Shadow.
It had no form, yet it moved like memory. It laughed—not out of joy or madness, but recognition.
"You've broken again," it whispered, voice slick as oil over bone.
"Let me rebuild you."
The Shadow raised one smoke-formed limb. Then it began.
It cut Yug's spirit-body from the inside. Inch by inch. Not with pain, but precision. Five hundred pieces—flesh, bone, memory—all floating, twitching.
Yug watched himself unravel.
"I will forge a new skeleton," the Shadow hissed. "From your rage."
From the black around it, the Shadow drew clay—liquid night, thick with echo and scream. It molded a hand, formed new marrow, filled blood paths with ancient heat. The pieces of Yug's soul reassembled like puzzle shards kissed by fire. "The room fell into silence".
Then—twitch.
Yug's severed hand jerked, then crawled across the blood-slick floor like a spider. It moved with purpose, drawn by something deeper than instinct. When it reached the body, it slapped into place.
There was a sound like wet stone grinding.
The bones fused. The blood soaked back in, not dripped—inhaled, thick as tar, flowing backward, crawling into the veins like sentient ink.
His chest rose.
Fingers twitched.
Yug's head turned, his neck clicking back into socket.
His eyes opened.
One was his—bloody, furious.
The other was glowing white.
A breath escaped his lips—low, guttural.
Not of fear.
But hunger.
And the Shadow Inside Still Smiled.
The ground rumbled beneath their feet.
And then came the voice.
Low. Raspy. Not Yug's voice.
"I am awake."