The chamber vibrated with an ancient energy, thick and almost sentient, as the Fragmented Sigil hovered in a suspended constellation above the pedestal. Its shards radiated a steady, mesmerizing light — neither blinding nor faint, but a persistent heartbeat pulsing through the very air. Indra knelt reverently before it, feeling the storm within him resonate with the Sigil's steady pulse, as if they were two halves of the same cosmic force.
He extended his palms toward the Sigil, the shards' light flickering and twisting as if alive, responding to his presence. The moment his skin brushed against the shimmering fragments, an electric surge ripped through his veins — raw, wild, intoxicating, like the primal fury of a tempest unleashed from a cage. It was as if lightning itself had been captured inside him, awakening every nerve and muscle with searing intensity.
Behind his closed eyelids, visions unfolded with relentless clarity. He saw the stormlords of old — colossal beings who commanded the skies and waged cataclysmic battles amidst thunderclouds swirling with arcane power. Their wills bent storms, their fury reshaped the heavens. He glimpsed the origin of the Gauntlet — a crucible forged to test and refine those worthy of wielding the storm's eternal might. It was a force designed to challenge, to break, to transcend.
Suddenly, the Sigil pulsed once more — this time with purpose. The shards swirled and danced, spiraling around Indra's limbs and torso, weaving intricate patterns of glowing runes across his skin. This living armor was warm but electric, a fusion of heat and cold that grounded him while amplifying his senses to a supernatural level.
The first gift revealed itself: Storm Veil. A translucent, shimmering aura enveloped Indra, bending light and sound as though reality itself warped around him. This wasn't mere invisibility — it was a distortion of perception, turning him into a phantom of the tempest. His footsteps fell silent, and the world around him seemed to slow, granting him reflexes that eclipsed human limits. Every movement left behind faint, flickering afterimages — ghostly echoes that confused foes and masked his true position. With Storm Veil, Indra became less a man and more a storm incarnate, untouchable and unpredictable.
Next, deep within his chest, the Thunderheart awakened. A core of condensed storm energy ignited inside him, glowing like a pulsar of pure power. It synchronized with his heartbeat, each thump resonating with the primal rhythms of thunder and lightning. This core fed an immense reservoir of destructive energy, fueling every strike he made with devastating intensity. His punches now carried the crushing force of a lightning strike, and his fingertips sparked with lethal arcs capable of slicing through armor and disrupting enemy defenses. Thunderheart wasn't just power — it was the embodiment of controlled chaos, a tempest he could unleash or restrain with precision.
But the Sigil's greatest gift was yet to be revealed: Tempest's Eye — a new form of sight that transcended ordinary perception. Through this awakened vision, Indra could see the invisible currents of energy weaving through the battlefield: the surges of power emanating from foes, the faint tremors of their intentions, and the fragile weak points hidden beneath their defenses. It was a gift of intuition sharpened to a razor's edge, allowing him to anticipate attacks before they came, read the subtle shifts in enemy auras, and adapt his strategy in real time. Tempest's Eye granted him foresight — the ability to see the storm before it struck, to dance on the edge of chaos with perfect awareness.
As Indra stood, the glowing runes etched by the Sigil's power shimmered beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the storm's pact — not a simple weapon or tool, but a legacy and a living force demanding reverence and mastery. Every breath he drew carried the weight of responsibility, every heartbeat pulsed with the promise of power and peril intertwined.
The chamber seemed to pulse in response, as if acknowledging his transformation.
With a surge of renewed strength and purpose, Indra stepped forward into the unknown depths of the Gauntlet, no longer a mere challenger, but a storm incarnate. The Sigil's might was now his to command — and the storm was no longer within him. It was him.