Note: The previous chapter you read (Mayana Part 1) is also a part of this story, and so is this one. That part explains the political issues of the mainland of Mayana, while this chapter tells the story of the novel's protagonist, Siddharth.
---
Evening.
The sun was just about to disappear behind the mountains. Outside a small house in a quiet village nestled in the hills, a couple stood silently, watching the sunset. Beside them stood a majestic white horse. The woman was pregnant.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle sliced through the calm air—
An arrow.
She saw it first. And without hesitation, she pushed her husband aside.
The arrow pierced her instead.
It was laced with poison.
He couldn't save her.
Not her.
Not the child.
She died in that very moment.
Grief swallowed him whole. But he didn't scream. He didn't cry.
He created.
From his own hands, he formed a bow—dark red as spilled blood.
Holding it with one hand, he shaped his fingers of the other into an arrow-drawing gesture. As he pulled back, a crimson arrow began to form between his thumb and finger, stringing itself across the bow.
He turned—towards the assassin who stood high upon a cliff.
And he released.
The arrow struck.
The mountain shook.
And then… it shattered.
So did the assassin.
---
(One Year Later)
Morning.
By the riverside, a young man was watering his white horse, gently cleaning it as sunlight danced on the flowing water.
Suddenly, four or five young men arrived, each on horseback.
They too had come to water their horses.
One of the boys, clearly their leader, looked at the white horse with admiration and said,
"Wow. What a horse. As beautiful as it is powerful."
Then turning to the young man, he smirked,
"Hey. How much for this horse?"
The young man ignored him.
"Oi, you deaf or something? I asked how much."
The reply came calmly, almost cold,
"This horse is not for sale."
The leader's face darkened, his pride wounded. He scoffed,
"When I set my eyes on something I like, I buy it. Simple. Now name your price—fifty thousand? Sixty? One lakh Mayas(currency)? Say it."
The young man didn't flinch. His voice remained quiet but firm,
"I already told you—it's not for sale. You're not understanding me. I don't want to sell it."
The arrogant boy let out a laugh,
"Alright, listen. I've never paid this much for any damn horse, but maybe this one's worth it. If it can win a few races, it'll earn me double. So here—five lakh Mayas. Final offer."
"Still no," the young man replied, without breaking eye contact.
That smirk turned sinister.
"You know what I forgot to mention? When I like something, I either buy it… or I take it."
The young man smiled.
"Then try."
The boy stepped forward, fists clenching in fury—
But before he could make a move, a crimson flare shot up into the sky.
A signal. The race was about to begin.
He scoffed and backed off, muttering as he walked away,
"Not today. But I'll remember this. I'll have that horse. One way or another."
---
(Night falls.)
The young man rested at home, calm, quiet.
He felt a sudden thirst and walked into the next room to drink some water.
But as he brought the glass to his lips—
Clink.
A faint sound from behind.
Before he could turn, a heavy iron rod struck the back of his head.
Darkness swallowed him.
---
(Next Morning)
The same arrogant boy walked into a stable.
Looking at the white horse, he smirked and told one of the workers,
"Get this one ready. He's racing today."
---
The owner of the stables—Nagesh—laid eyes on the white horse and immediately rushed toward the boy.
"Suraj sir," he asked, a mix of confusion and suspicion in his tone, "Where did you get this horse?"
Suraj grinned casually.
"I won it in a challenge. Why? Got a problem with that, Nagesh?"
But Nagesh's face paled.
"No. You're lying. This horse isn't yours. And I don't think… you even know whose it is."
Suraj raised a brow, smirking.
"Fine. Yeah—I stole it. So? What the hell are you gonna do about it?"
Nagesh chuckled darkly.
"You stole it? Interesting. And tell me, from whom did you steal this horse?"
Suraj scoffed,
"How the hell would I know? Tall guy. Long hair. Lives in Virdale hillside .Anything else you wanna know?"
Nagesh's voice turned heavy.
"You've stolen from Siddharth Kasaar. "
The name struck like thunder.
Everyone nearby froze.
Nagesh said in a serious tone," You don't know him… you've stolen his horse… he'll steal your breath!
Suraj laughed mockingly.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but we killed him before taking the horse."
Nagesh burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"Haha! You hear that?! He says he killed Siddharth Kasaar!"
Suraj, furious now, barked back,
"Why's that funny? I hit him in the head with an iron rod. Cracked his skull myself."
Nagesh's smile vanished, replaced with a deadly seriousness.
"The same man who fought and defeated the only known Lethal Sword Holder…
And you think you ended him with a rod?"
He stepped closer, voice dripping with sarcasm,
"Impressive."
---
(Meanwhile)
Somewhere, in the silence of a ruined home,
Siddharth opened his eyes.
His head throbbed.
His house was in shambles.
He got up slowly, stumbled outside—
The white horse was gone.
He didn't need to guess who was responsible.
He just knew.
He stepped to a barrel, splashed water on his face—
His eyes steady, calm… but filled with storm.
He walked back inside, opened a hidden trapdoor in the floor,
Descended into the basement.
From an old chest, he pulled out folded black robes, and a crimson armor that gleamed like dried blood.
He dressed in silence—black cloth first, then the armor.
He was no longer just a man.
He was coming back as vengeance.
.
.
.
.
(In the Shadow of Night, a Warrior Awakens)
The wounds on Siddharth's body had healed on their own—
not by medicine,
but by rage.
And when he wore his armor,
the crimson plating over pitch-black robes,
he looked like a burning ember in the heart of night.
His eyes held no fire—only a cold fury.
The kind of rage that doesn't scream...
it kills.
Staring at his reflection, he whispered,
"You didn't just steal a horse from me...
You stole the last memory of my wife.
Now I will take more than just what you owe—
I will take your breath, Suraj."
He reached down and drew his weapon—
a massive, dark red sword forged entirely from blood.
Holding it steady, he spoke with ice in his voice,
"Tonight, the earth shall wear a shroud of blood."
His tone was calm.
But every word was a death sentence.
---
(First Stable – The Beginning of the Hunt)
It was night.
Siddharth had cloaked himself in a hooded robe,
his crimson armor hidden beneath the folds of darkness.
He didn't want to be recognized—
not yet.
The first stable he entered was ordinary.
Dimly lit. Quiet.
Only a few men sat at the bar, nursing their drinks.
He walked up to the counter and asked,
"A white horse was brought here. Did you see it?"
Without even looking,
the bartender grunted,
"Plenty of white horses pass through. Which one?"
Without a word,
Siddharth pressed a small, blood-forged dagger
against the man's throat.
"The one Suraj stole," he whispered.
The man's face went pale instantly.
"N-no… not here. But I heard…
Suraj plans to race his new horse soon.
His men are spread across the stables of Kanzar, Velmora and Oldaad.
You might find something… there."
Siddharth withdrew the blade,
silent,
and disappeared into the night.
---
(Second Stable(Kanzar )– The Message of Death)
The sound of a bell echoed faintly through the air.
From outside, the pounding of hooves grew louder.
Suraj's soldiers were practicing—
racing through the night like wolves.
Siddharth's eyes held that chilling calm—
the kind only a seasoned warrior possesses.
He drew his twin swords—
their edges still bare, untouched by blood.
"Tonight, iron swords are enough ," he murmured,
a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Like a hunter who could already smell the fear.
He slipped into the second stable.
This one was different—
a miniature fortress for elite racehorses.
Inside the bar, soldiers of Suraj were scattered—
some drinking, some talking, some watching the horses.
No one paid attention to Siddharth.
Maybe they thought he was just another guard.
He moved past them silently,
into the rear quarters where the horses were kept.
There, in a quiet corner,
a soldier was watering a horse.
Siddharth crept up behind him,
swift and silent.
His hand gripped the man's throat—tight, controlled.
"Where is Suraj?" he asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.
The soldier struggled,
but Siddharth's hold was too strong.
Within seconds, the man went limp.
Siddharth dragged the body to the shadows
and moved on,
like a ghost with unfinished business.
---
(Moments Later – The Slaughter Begins)
Most of Suraj's men had left.
Only four remained.
Siddharth knew this was the moment.
He returned to the bar—calm,
blending in like smoke in the dark.
Then he stood up.
And walked toward them.
They noticed—
eyes sharp, bodies tensing.
"What the hell are you doing here?" one of the guards barked.
Siddharth didn't reply.
He just kept walking—slow, steady, like a storm that knew exactly where it was going. Unshaken. Untouchable.
Hands went to hilts.
So did his.
Twin blades—untouched by blood—slid free from their scabbards with a hiss that whispered of death. That silence wasn't going to last much longer.
The first guard lunged forward—clumsy, desperate.
Too slow.
Siddharth met his sword with one blade, steel on steel—then in a blink, his second blade swept across the man's throat. A clean slice. A gurgle. Silence.
One down.
The other three came at him like wolves—together, fast, furious.
But Siddharth had seen worse.
One of them brought his blade down from above. Siddharth ducked effortlessly, twisted, and drove his sword upward into the man's legs. The scream was short-lived. Another flash of steel—and the head rolled before the body hit the ground.
Two left.
One thought to be clever. Came in from behind. A sneak.
But Siddharth turned with the wind—fluid, deadly—and his reversed strike carved through the man's arm like a hot knife through parchment. The scream this time was sharper—but brief.
The last one stood frozen.
Pale.
Shaking.
"You can run," Siddharth said, his voice low. Cold. "Or you can fight."
The soldier didn't wait to choose. He turned and bolted down the corridor, armor clinking with every terrified step.
Siddharth reached over his shoulder—pulled out a long spear, nearly the length of a horse.
One breath. One aim. One throw.
The spear cut through the air with a savage hum—then thud—skewered the fleeing man through the spine, lifting him clean off his feet before pinning him to the stone wall like a hunted trophy.
Siddharth smirked.
"Ah… right. Forgot to mention—" he muttered, turning away,
"Either way, you die."
He wiped his blades,
slid them back into his robe,
and walked forward—
to find Suraj.
---
(The Whisper of Fear)
A trembling servant stood near the broken bodies,
clutching a cloth, eyes wide in terror.
Siddharth approached, steps slow, precise.
"Where's Suraj?" he asked—voice calm, but edged with steel.
"I—I'm not sure," the servant stammered, voice cracking.
"But… but I heard something. Maybe… the Arena Stables… in Oldaad City.
His men are there. They'll know. Please… please don't kill me…"
Siddharth stared for a second.
Then—smiled. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just knowingly.
Like a storm smiling before it strikes.
He slid his swords back into his robe,
turned without a word,
and walked into the night.
The servant collapsed to the ground—alive, but shaken to his bones.
---
---
The Grand Entrance of the Stable
It was night.
This stable was unlike any he had seen before—larger, louder, alive.
As Siddharth stepped inside, it felt like he had entered a different world.
To the front, a bar buzzed with chaos. Twenty to twenty-five men sat drinking, some laughing madly, others drowning in their losses. In one corner, two men were beating each other bloody while no one intervened.
Behind the bar, there was a section where horses were kept, and beyond that, a sprawling raceground shimmered under dim lantern light.
At the center stood a wide elevated platform—a viewing deck for the races, drenched in smoke, sweat, and sin.
Without a word, Siddharth slid his sword back into his robe and walked straight toward the stable owner.
---
---
Siddharth and the Stable Owner
As Siddharth reached the stable owner, the man recognized him instantly.
"Come, Siddharth," he said with a knowing smile. "What brings you here?"
Siddharth, with a faint smirk –
"I'm looking for Suraj, Wasim bhai. No riddles. Just tell me where he is."
Wasim placed his glass gently on the table, his eyes locking with Siddharth's.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Siddharth… after all this time, and you're still chasing blood? I thought you'd left all that behind."
Siddharth chuckled softly –
"When we try to be decent, the world suddenly believes it's the villain. You should be used to it by now. Is Suraj here or not?"
Wasim nodded slowly.
"He is… or at least, he was. I don't know where he went. But there's someone here who might."
He gestured toward a boy standing quietly in the corner.
Siddharth glanced in that direction.
"Who's he?"
"Vishal," Wasim replied. "Suraj's younger brother."
At those words, Siddharth's expression shifted.
And without wasting a second, he began walking toward the boy.
Vishal and the Hidden Trap
Vishal sat alone at a table, his face carrying a calm, harmless smile—as if he were just another stable boy.
Siddharth approached him and asked, "Can you tell me where Suraj is?"
Vishal looked up, still smiling.
"Why are you looking for Suraj?"
Siddharth smirked.
"Oh, just wanna meet him… one last time. I've got a special gift for him."
Vishal chuckled lightly.
"Really? What kind of gift?"
Siddharth leaned in slightly.
"Something exclusive. Can only be given once. And once it's received… there's no coming back."
Vishal's smile flickered for a second. Something shifted in his eyes—but he masked it quickly.
"So it's some old grudge?"
Siddharth shook his head slowly.
"Grudge? Nah, just a little... misunderstanding. Like a solar eclipse—people think the sun has disappeared. But in truth, it's only hiding behind the moon. Suraj thinks he's safe… but really, he's just hiding under the shadow of death."
Vishal understood exactly what Siddharth meant. But his face didn't flinch.
"I don't know where Suraj is," he said. "But some guys were talking about him behind the stables. Maybe you'll find something there."
Siddharth looked at him for a moment, silent.
(In his mind)
"Clever kid. He won't spill it that easy. This might just be a trap. Still… worth a look."
And with that, Siddharth turned to head toward the back of the stable.
But behind him, Vishal's expression changed—and with a subtle nod, he signaled nine soldiers hiding in the shadows.
---
---
Nine vs One – The First Clash
Siddharth hadn't even reached the corner when the clanking of boots echoed ahead. Nine soldiers stepped out, forming a wall of steel and fear.
One stepped forward, sword drawn, voice trembling with false courage.
"Stop right there, Siddharth! Your journey ends tonight!"
Siddharth paused, tilted his head slightly—and chuckled.
"Just nine of you?" he said, as if insulted. "At least send twenty-five. Budget cuts, huh? Cheap management."
Another soldier snapped, "Kill him!"
Siddharth took a breath. His fingers tightened on the hilts resting at his hips.
In one motion, both swords gleamed free—reflecting the flickering torchlight of the stables.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Let's begin... Been a while since I had real sword practice."
The first attacker lunged—reckless.
Siddharth's blade moved like a whisper.
One stroke. One severed head.
Two more charged together. Siddharth parried the first with brutal force, then spun on his heel—his second blade plunging deep into the other's chest.
He laughed mid-motion.
"Whoa whoa, easy boys! One at a time. Form a line!"
Behind him, two soldiers tried a sneak attack.
Too late.
Siddharth ducked low, twisted, and in one seamless arc, opened one's throat and buried his blade into the other's heart.
Five down.
And Siddharth hadn't even broken a sweat.
---
Siddharth Gets Angry: Blood Power Unleashed
He cleaned his sword on a dead man's sleeve, breath calm, eyes unbothered.
But one soldier wasn't done. Creeping behind him, blade in hand, he lunged.
Siddharth caught the hand mid-air—but not before a shallow cut slipped across his waist.
A thin line of blood.
Enough.
His expression shifted. The air grew heavier.
He looked at the crimson staining his fingertips and whispered—
"My mistake… I thought steel alone would be enough.
But you made me bleed?"
His eyes ignited—burning red. No mercy. No hesitation.
He sheathed both swords slowly. Calm. Controlled.
A single drop of blood fell from his hand.
When it touched the ground, it didn't soak—it changed. Twisting and hardening into a massive Blood Hammer, forged in rage and magic.
He grabbed it with one hand, the weight nothing to him.
"Now…" Siddharth smirked.
"This is going to be fun."
One soldier turned to flee.
Too slow.
Siddharth raised his left hand—Blood Spear. Formed in mid-air, razor-sharp.
He hurled it.
The spear tore through the man's skull, bursting from the other side like glass.
The remaining three panicked—ran for their lives.
Siddharth charged, swinging the Blood Hammer.
The first was caught mid-run—smashed. His head flattened into the floor like rotten fruit.
The second screamed as Blood Chains shot from the ground, coiling around his neck.
Siddharth clenched his fist.
The chain tightened. Bones snapped. Skull cracked.
The last soldier didn't make it far.
A chain snagged his leg—yanked him backward.
He screamed, fingernails scraping the floor.
Siddharth walked toward him—cold, precise.
When they met mid-slide, he crouched...
and plunged a Blood Dagger straight into his throat.
Silence returned.
Nine men dead.
Siddharth stood in the middle, surrounded by blood—and not a scratch on him that mattered.
---
Summoning Fear – The Bloodspawn Unleashed
Vishal tightened the leather strap on his wrist and pressed the orb into the center of his bracelet. The moment the aura orb made contact, a faint hum resonated—followed by a burst of glowing energy.
Exactly two minutes later, the sound of marching boots and clinking armor filled the air.
Thirty soldiers arrived—armed, alert, and deadly.
Siddharth didn't notice. He was still wiping out the last of the previous guards, their broken bodies strewn like forgotten meat.
Vishal stepped forward, voice sharp.
"Go! Finish him now! But be careful… he carries Blood Serum."
The moment those words echoed—
—every single soldier froze.
A murmur ran through the group. Their faces turned pale.
One of them whispered, voice shaking,
"That's the one… the serum that lets him create anything from his own blood... just a scratch, and he becomes a monster."
Another nodded nervously.
"Yeah. Swords, daggers, shields, hammers... I even heard he can create worse things. Darker things."
A third looked ready to flee.
"We shouldn't go near him. We'll be slaughtered."
But Vishal's voice snapped through the hesitation—venomous and cruel.
"Go. Or I'll have Father kill you anyway."
That was enough.
Terrified yet obedient, all thirty charged.
But they were too late.
Siddharth had already turned around, a blood-slicked smile on his face.
"Oh... finally."
From his back, four blood-red arms erupted—grotesque and powerful, each ending in long, razor-sharp spikes. They pulsed like living muscle, eager for carnage.
Siddharth reached out, and from the blood still dripping on the ground, forged a massive two-handed Blood Greatsword—longer than a man and heavier than steel.
Then, he launched forward.
Like a storm.
The blood-arms lashed out first—spinning, stabbing, ripping through armor like paper. Screams filled the air, but they were short-lived.
The Blood Greatsword swung wide—one single slash cleaving through five soldiers at once.
In seconds, limbs flew. Heads rolled. The ground was slick with red.
Some tried to run—blood chains snagged their ankles and dragged them back into the slaughter.
Others tried to fight—blood daggers flew from nowhere, piercing their skulls.
Ten… fifteen… twenty-five…
Bodies fell like dominoes.
And when the last five tried to regroup—
Siddharth roared, the blood-arms stabbing all five simultaneously—lifting them into the air before hurling them into the walls like ragdolls.
Silence returned.
All thirty were dead.
Siddharth stood in the center, surrounded by carnage, drenched in blood—none of it his own.
He didn't look at Vishal yet.
But his smile said it all.
"Send more."
---
Vishal Loses His Nerve
Vishal had been watching everything from a distance.
His face had gone pale—completely drained of color.
Vishal (thinking to himself):
"He's a demon… a monster in human skin! Suraj bhaiya doesn't stand a chance against him!"
Without making a sound, he quietly slipped away—vanishing through a hidden door behind the stable.
Siddharth didn't even glance at him.
Siddharth (to himself):
"Told you… steel wouldn't be enough.
Now the real game begins."
Vishal was already running—rushing to his father for help.
And now…
Suraj's death was just a matter of time.
---
---
The Fear of Raghavendra
Raghavendra Rai—father to both Suraj and Vishal.
But not just that—he was the biggest horse-race organizer in the region.
He lived in a city called Reevat, where he ruled as king.
Though the kingdom wasn't massive, Reevat was a well-known city surrounded by many smaller realms—
and nearly every major stable in those lands… belonged to him.
Vishal burst into the palace, running through its golden halls, and stormed straight into the royal chamber.
Raghavendra sat on a grand throne, heavy and ornate, with guards lined up on both sides.
A gold-embedded crown rested in his hand, and in his eyes—
the cold calculation of a man who played life like chess.
As the door slammed open, Raghavendra's eyes flared with anger.
"Vishal! What is this insolence?"
Gasping for breath, Vishal cried out,
"Father! This is no time for discipline! Something terrible is coming!"
Raghavendra raised an eyebrow, annoyed.
"Terrible? What nonsense are you talking about?"
Vishal threw out his arm, panic in his voice.
"Siddharth! Siddharth is coming!"
And in that one moment—
the name dropped like thunder.
Raghavendra's face went pale.
The golden crown nearly slipped from his fingers.
That name… that name had buried itself deep within his fears long ago.
Now, it had returned.
"Siddharth…"
He whispered in a heavy, shaken voice.
---
The Past That Haunts
Raghavendra fell silent for a moment.
His eyes shifted toward a soldier sitting nearby—
even he had flinched slightly at the mention of the name.
The tension in the room thickened.
Raghavendra slowly raised his hand and spoke,
his voice laced with a mix of concern… and confusion.
"This is a grave problem… but why is he doing all this?...
There was a time… he worked for me.I helped him when no one else did…Then why… what reason does he have now to return like this?"
He looked down, almost as if searching the marble floor for answers—
but deep down…
he knew that ghosts from the past never return without blood in their eyes.
---
---
The Call to Arms
Vishal's voice trembled slightly.
"I don't know the full story… but from the way he spoke, it felt like he's after Suraj. Suraj must've done something terrible to him."
Raghavendra's eyes sharpened. He immediately turned to his guards.
"Ready twenty-five soldiers! Arm them with Fire Serum and Soil Serum. Siddharth must be stopped!"
Vishal stepped back, anxious.
"Stopped?! Father, you're sending them to die!"
Raghavendra locked eyes with his son—his tone cold, commanding.
"Leave this to me. Go find Suraj. Tell him Siddharth is coming… and ask what sin he committed to bring this storm upon us."
Vishal hesitated, then whispered,
"But… where is Suraj?"
---
---
The Hunt Begins
Raghavendra turned toward one of his ministers.
"Where is he?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency.
The minister touched a shimmering aura orb on his bracelet. A faint blue glow emerged, forming a small floating screen in mid-air. A map flickered into view—detailed and glowing—with a small pulsing dot showing Suraj's exact location.
"Suraj sir is nearby," the minister reported. "He's built a massive stable on the eastern side of Reevat city. Just past the jungle and across that open field... yes—" he pointed toward the palace window,
"You can even see the area from here. That hill... his stable is just behind it. Barely 5 kilometers away."
Raghavendra raised his hand toward Vishal, silently commanding him to go.
---
---
Vishal nodded in agreement. Without a word, the 25 soldiers sent by Raghavendra followed him as they marched toward Suraj's stable, their destination clear.
---
---
Siddharth's Bloodlust
Siddharth still stood inside the stable, where corpses lay strewn like fallen leaves. The air reeked of blood, and the earth had turned crimson. His eyes scanned each lifeless body until they locked onto a soldier — one whose head was still intact.
Grabbing the corpse by its hair, Siddharth yanked it up and, without a hint of shame, twisted the skull clean off the neck with a brutal jerk.
"I don't want weak blood," he muttered, sensing the strength in the fallen man.
He brought the warm, dripping head to his lips and kissed the blood, taking a deep, slow sip — not letting a single drop hit the ground.
For a moment, a strange calm washed over his face, like an addict after a hit. Then, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he tossed the body aside and stepped out into the night.
---
Suraj's Stable — Grandeur and Guilt
Not far from the palace stood another stable — larger, richer, almost royal in its look. Inside, Suraj laughed with his friends and a few soldiers, sipping wine under lantern light. Women dressed in vibrant silks laughed alongside them.
"Man, you're living the dream!" a friend chuckled.
"Haha! We're born kings, brother. What's there to fear?" Suraj grinned, raising another drink.
But his grin vanished as the doors slammed open. Vishal entered, flanked by twenty-five heavily armed soldiers — each carrying fire and soil serums. The air of pleasure turned instantly to dread.
Still intoxicated, Suraj squinted at Vishal. "Vishal bhai! What's this grand entrance? Won a war?"
Vishal's eyes blazed. "Cut the bullshit, Suraj. Something big is coming for us."
Suraj chuckled. "What now? You see a ghost?"
One of the soldiers stepped forward. "Siddharth is coming."
That name hit harder than a slap. Suraj's face dropped. His drink slipped. The fear sobered him in an instant.
"W-What? Siddharth?"
Vishal twirled a dagger in his hand. "Yes. The same Siddharth who slaughtered over thirty of your men — alone. The survivors died in such horror, people are trembling at just his name."
Suraj's hands trembled. "B-But... I killed him! I killed him myself!"
Vishal leaned in. "Then tell me, what did you do to him?"
Suraj stammered. "N-Nothing… I didn't—"
"Cut the crap!" Vishal snapped. "Why would a man turn into a monster for nothing?"
"…I took his horse," Suraj whispered. "We went to his home… killed him... and stole the horse…"
Vishal's voice rose. "He's a demon, and you killed him for a damn horse? You weren't afraid?"
"We didn't know it was him!" Suraj protested. "I even went to Nagesh's stable... he warned me... but I thought Siddharth was dead!"
"You thought wrong," Vishal growled. "And now, he's coming to kill you."
After a pause, Vishal said, "Fine. I'll try to strike a deal. You give the horse back, and maybe he'll spare your life."
Suraj thought for a second. No. He won't spare me. He's a demon now.
Aloud, he shouted, "No! You said it yourself — he's a monster! He won't stop! We have to kill him!"
"Oh, just like that?" Vishal mocked. "You haven't seen what I have. We're ants before him."
A proud soldier interrupted, "Sir, don't worry. Let him come. We'll handle him!" He turned to his comrades, "Right, brothers?"
All shouted, "Yes!"
"See?" the soldier said. "We're ready. Go to your father. Raghavendra-sir needs you."
Vishal sighed. "Fine. He's called for me. I'll leave now. Suraj, you're coming with me. These men will handle things here."
Suraj nodded hesitantly. Vishal summoned ten soldiers, preparing to exit with Suraj.
---
The Arrival of Siddharth
But just as they neared the stable doors, a sudden wind howled through. The candle flames flickered violently.
As Vishal, Suraj, and the soldiers approached the exit, a voice echoed in the dark—
"Tch tch tch… No, Munna. Where do you all think you're going?"
There stood Siddharth.
In one hand, he held a severed head, its lifeless eyes staring into the abyss.
The stable fell into a grave silence.
Only Suraj's heartbeat dared to speak.
---
---
"WHO IS HE?!" a soldier shouted.
Across the stable, Suraj sat slumped in a chair, reeking of alcohol, a large bowl in his hand. Vishal stood nearby, his face clouded with worry. A few horses were tied on one side, while armed soldiers guarded the other.
One of the soldiers pointed at the approaching figure.
"That… that's the man who tore our battalion apart!"
Suraj turned his head slowly. "Yes… it's him."
Siddharth smirked — a twisted, devilish grin.
Vishal's voice thundered through the stable.
"KILL THAT BASTARD! I WANT HIM DEAD!"
Siddharth calmly replied," Yes please come,but no one will live anymore!!"
---
Chapter: The Battle Ignites – Blood Against Elements
The moment Vishal raised his hand, twenty-five elite warriors charged across the ruined field like unleashed beasts.
Ten wore fire. Fifteen brought the earth with them.
---
The Fire Serum Warriors — Death in Flames
One warrior raised his palm.
A roaring fireball burst forth, screaming toward Siddharth like a comet.
Another ignited his blade, the flames dancing across steel.
He ran, screaming, flames trailing behind like a vengeful spirit.
A third cracked a whip made of pure fire — its blaze slicing the air with a predator's hiss.
---
The Soil Serum Warriors — Wrath of the Earth
One soldier slammed both palms into the ground —
THUD!
The battlefield trembled violently. Siddharth stumbled for a breath.
Another stabbed his sword into the dirt —
A dust storm surged up, turning the world brown and blind.
Others summoned walls of earth, rising like jagged teeth, boxing him in.
---
The Wrath of Siddharth – Blood Reigns Supreme
The fireball screamed closer—
Siddharth didn't flinch.
He stepped back. Then — leapt.
The fireball smashed into the ground below, exploding into a storm of dirt and flame.
From that chaos, a silhouette emerged —
His sword, forged of blood, gleaming like a crimson fang.
A fire-soldier ran in blindly, too fast to stop—
SHLUK!
The sword pierced his chest.
And then—
From within the soldier's body, blood spikes exploded outwards.
His corpse burst apart mid-air. Pieces rained down like meat.
---
Another warrior slashed with his flaming sword—
Siddharth lashed a blood-chain, caught the blade in mid-air, twisted—
—and ripped it from the man's hands.
In one motion, he slammed the flaming sword back—
through his throat.
The body dropped, twitching.
---
A Soil soldier summoned a massive boulder overhead.
Siddharth didn't hesitate.
He conjured a blood hammer, heavy and furious —
—and crushed the rock mid-air into gravel.
Before the soldier could react, the hammer kept moving —
CRACK!
It split his skull like a pumpkin, blood spraying in all directions.
---
The flaming whip lashed forward, hungry and fast.
Siddharth raised a blood shield, the impact sizzling across it.
Then — the shield shifted, turning into spikes mid-block—
—and impaled the attacker's chest, skewering him against a tree.
---
From beneath his feet, muddy hands grabbed for his legs.
Siddharth reacted like lightning.
He launched a blood-rope toward the caster, caught his arm —
—and yanked.
The man flew forward, feet off the ground—
Right as Siddharth pulled a blood sword straight out of his own chest.
The blade slid into the soldier's heart like it belonged there.
---
Another fireball screamed toward his face.
Siddharth raised a wall of blood, solid and red.
BOOM!
The ball shattered against it.
From behind that crimson curtain—
Siddharth crafted a thin blood-dagger, whipped it forward—
SPLASH.
It sliced the throat of the caster clean open.
---
By the time the dust settled, half the army lay dead.
Burning. Bleeding. Broken.
Siddharth stood in the middle — chest heaving, body soaked in the blood of others, his eyes glowing with fire that wasn't his own.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a slaughter.
And it had only just begun.
---
---
Suraj and Vishal's Escape
From the shadows of the stable, Suraj and Vishal watched in horror — their faces pale as death. Suraj's trembling hand clutched his glass of liquor… until it slipped and shattered on the ground.
Vishal grabbed Suraj's arm.
"We're leaving! Now! Siddharth didn't come to kill… he came to destroy!"
Suraj stammered, still frozen in shock.
"W-Where will we even go?"
Vishal's voice cracked with anger and urgency.
"My father has called us immediately. If we want to live, we have to run!"
Without wasting another second, the two disappeared through a hidden exit behind the stable.
---
Out of 25 soldiers… only 3 remained alive.
Even they weren't fighting — they were fleeing in terror.
But Siddharth's gaze was locked on the path Suraj and Vishal had taken.
He growled, voice heavy with wrath —
"Run… run as fast as you can…
But death will reach you before you do."
---
---
Siddharth vs The Last 3 – Bloodthirst Unleashed
The three remaining soldiers stood frozen — their faces painted with a single emotion: fear.
The stable had become a graveyard, soaked in blood and scattered with bodies.
In the flickering torchlight, Siddharth's face glowed like a demon risen from hell.
One soldier screamed,
"RUN!"
But before he could take a step, Siddharth's blood chain snapped around his legs.
He shrieked, trying to free himself—
but in the next instant, Siddharth yanked the chain with a brutal pull.
CRACK!
The soldier's skull slammed into a wooden post — his brain splattering across the stable wall like red mist.
The second soldier hurled a fire spear at Siddharth with trembling hands—
But Siddharth instantly raised a blood wall.
The flaming spear struck it and exploded into sparks.
Before the ashes could settle, the wall morphed into deadly blood spikes and in one brutal motion—
pierced straight through the soldier's heart.
Now only one remained.
He dropped to his knees, trembling.
"P-Please… I'm just a soldier… let me go…"
Siddharth slowly walked up to him, eyes locked like a predator.
He gripped the soldier's throat, leaned in close, and whispered coldly—
"I told you… not a single one will live."
Then, with chilling precision, he plunged his blood dagger into the soldier's neck, dragging it slowly across.
The man gasped, choked, thrashed—
And then… silence.
---
Only Siddharth remained.
Alone. Alive. Covered in blood.
The storm had calmed. The war was silent.
But just then—
he saw them.
Suraj and Vishal.
Fleeing through the shadows…
Siddharth's eyes narrowed.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.
---
---
Midnight Chase on Horseback – Siddharth Hunts
Without wasting a breath, Siddharth mounted a horse and bolted into the darkness, chasing the fleeing shadows of Suraj and Vishal.
The night was thick and black, but torches along the forest trail cast a fiery glow—
Illuminating the chaos as hooves thundered like drums of war.
Suraj and Vishal shared a horse, galloping as fast as fear could carry them.
Vishal kept glancing back, panic dripping from his face like sweat.
"HE'S STILL ALIVE, THAT FREAKING MONSTER!" Vishal shouted.
Then, without warning—
Vishal pressed a glowing bracelet strapped to his wrist.
A tiny aura orb flickered in his palm.
He shoved it into the bracelet's core—
and vanished in a soft flash of light.
---
Elsewhere…
Far away, in the heart of a fortified city—
an old man opened his eyes.
Raghavendra Rai.
Vishal's father.
One of the most feared warlords alive.
He stood up and snapped his fingers.
His guards rushed in.
"Siddharth is coming," he growled.
"Send thirty of my deadliest men. I want his blood spilled before sunrise."
And like unleashed beasts, his thirty nightmare warriors mounted their horses—
racing straight toward Siddharth, Suraj, and the firestorm that was about to ignite.
---
---
⚡🔥🌱 Siddharth vs 30 Soldiers – A Demon's War Begins ⚡🔥🌱
The moment Vishal triggered his bracelet,
Raghavendra's elite battalion began their march.
Between the burning stables and the great city of Reevat,
lay a shadowed hill—blocking Raghavendra's view of both his son… and the coming storm.
Siddharth charged forward like a blood-soaked ghost on horseback.
But then—a blinding glow pierced the darkness.
Thirty warriors stood in his path.
Ten armed with fire serum,
Ten infused with soil serum,
And ten crackling with the fury of lightning serum.
---
Chapter: Ashes, Earth, and Thunder
The sky cracked open.
Fireballs tore through the air like meteors, each one screaming toward Siddharth's heart.
One soldier sprinted ahead —
His sword ablaze, wreathed in red flames, burning like hell's own tongue.
Another cracked a flaming whip, slicing the sky like a demon's tail.
Every step they took set the battlefield on fire.
---
Beneath Siddharth's galloping horse, the ground quivered.
From the soil, walls of rock erupted, trying to trap him like prey.
Massive boulders — hurled by Earth-Benders — launched through the air like siege weapons, shattering everything in their path.
The earth wasn't just alive.
It was hunting.
---
And then came the Lightning-Touched.
Sparks danced across their skin like living ghosts.
One charged his sword — lightning wrapping it in a crackling blue death.
Another formed a glowing orb of electricity, then hurled it toward Siddharth's face like a thunder god's wrath.
---
The Demon Wavers – When Blood Fights Back
Siddharth yanked the reins.
His horse skidded to a halt, hooves churning up dirt and ash.
His body trembled.
Muscles numb. Veins screaming.
He had used too much blood.
Too fast. Too hard.
But he refused to kneel.
With a roar, he smashed the soil wall in front of him using a crimson hammer—
—but a second wave of fireballs followed instantly.
He raised a blood shield—
FWOOM!
It held—
Then shattered, consumed by the inferno.
Before he could recover—
CRACK!
A lightning bolt struck his spine from behind.
His body twisted in agony.
He stumbled—
and that's when the soil arms burst from the ground, grabbing his legs, pulling him down.
---
Still, the demon fought.
He stabbed a blood spear through one fire soldier's throat—
SPLURT!
Snapped another's neck clean with a blood rope that coiled like a serpent—
CRACK!
Blocked a final flame slash—
But then—
Another lightning bolt hit him.
Hard.
His scream ripped through the battlefield.
His knees buckled.
He collapsed.
---
Blood dripped from his lips.
He tried to raise his sword—
but the weight of the world pinned him down.
Soil arms clutched his legs.
A fire-spear pierced through his shoulder—
SPLASH!
He howled.
Tried to breathe.
Tried to fight.
But his wrists were seized.
His ankles bound by electric chains.
---
From atop a blackened hill, Vishal stood — arms crossed, face cold.
A soldier turned to him.
> "What are your orders, sir?"
Vishal smiled — not in joy, but in cruelty.
> "Lock him in the stable. I'll ask Father what to do next.
Suraj — go inform him.
I'll handle this demon myself."
Siddharth's body slumped.
Broken.
But his eyes—
His eyes still hunted.
Still burned.
They dragged him across the battlefield, through blood, ash, and fire.
Threw him inside the old stable.
And chained him.
Chains forged not for men… but for monsters.
---
A thunder rumbled in the distance.
Even in chains…
The storm wasn't over.
It was just waiting.
---