Both Rudra and Lily felt a ripple of joy in their hearts at the Chief Instructor's words of praise, yet their faces remained composed. Not a flicker of arrogance or triumph betrayed their calm demeanor. Chief Instructor Peter Jons noticed this, his stern eyes softening ever so slightly as he gave a silent nod. Many students swelled with pride the moment they were acknowledged, but restraint—that rare quality—was what he valued most. And these two had it.
"The test is over," Peter's commanding voice echoed across the hall. "Those who failed—return, train harder, and strive for success." His words were like steel, final and sharp. Without sparing them another glance, he turned on his heel and strode toward the elevator, the heavy silence of dismissal following him.
Just as Rudra and Lily were exchanging uncertain glances about their next step, Peter's voice rang out again, firm and unyielding:
"You two. Come with me."
The sudden call froze them for a heartbeat. Then, without hesitation, they fell into step behind him, their footsteps quickening as they followed the Chief Instructor toward the waiting elevator, the air around them charged with a sense of something far greater about to unfold.
As the elevator doors slid shut behind them with a soft clang, silence filled the confined space. Neither Rudra nor Lily spoke—a quiet tension hung in the air. It was, after all, their first time alone with the Chief Instructor himself.
Peter Jons glanced at the two standing stiffly at attention beside him and couldn't help but chuckle, the sound low and unexpectedly warm. He had seen this reaction countless times before—students turned to statues the moment they shared a lift with him.
"You two," he said, his voice breaking the silence, "don't be so stiff. Relax a little. Behave as you normally would."
Rudra and Lily blinked, momentarily taken aback. The man who had always seemed unyielding, cold as steel in the training arena, now smiled at them with surprising gentleness. The contrast was almost jarring—like watching a mountain suddenly breathe.
Peter Jons let out a hearty chuckle, his usually stern eyes softening.
"Haha, you both look surprised to see me like this?" he said, amusement lacing his tone. "Don't worry. That strict image of mine—it's mostly for show. When I'm not drilling recruits, this is the real me."
Rudra and Lily exchanged quick glances before nodding slightly, still adjusting to this unexpected side of their formidable instructor.
Peter leaned back against the elevator wall, his expression turning thoughtful. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you both," he said, his voice growing calm yet serious. "That's why I asked you to come with me. Any guesses what it might be?"
The two looked at each other again, searching for clues in each other's eyes—but found none. Finally, they both shook their heads.
Peter's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "The reason," he said slowly, his words deliberate and heavy with meaning, "is that I want you both to join the Indian Group of Martial Artists."
Rudra and Lily froze, their eyes widening in disbelief. The Indian Group of Martial Artists?
It didn't make sense. By all logic, the Chief Instructor should have been recruiting them into the Extreme Martial Hall—the most elite training force under his command. So why this? Why them?
Questions surged in their minds, but before either could speak, Peter raised a hand lightly, his calm authority silencing them.
"Before you ask anything," he said in a steady voice, "hear me out first."
Just then, the elevator gave a soft ding as it reached its destination. The doors slid open, revealing a quiet corridor bathed in pale light.
"Come with me to my office," Peter said, stepping out. "We can talk freely there."
Without hesitation, Rudra and Lily followed him, their footsteps echoing down the hallway. The air seemed heavier now—not from pressure, but from the sense that whatever awaited them behind that office door could change everything.
The office door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss. The room was spacious but simple—steel walls lined with faintly glowing panels, a large holographic map flickering quietly in the corner. Peter walked to his desk and gestured for them to sit.
"Take a seat," he said.
Rudra and Lily complied, their movements cautious. The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the low hum of the ventilation system.
Peter took his time, pouring himself a glass of water before speaking. His tone was steady, each word deliberates.
"You must be wondering," he began, his gaze shifting between the two, "why I asked you to join another organization—rather than the Extreme Martial Hall, the most powerful force in the world."
He paused for a moment, letting the name sink in.
"The Hall's creator, Hong, is the strongest man alive. The entire world knows that. So naturally, you're thinking—why would I ask you to join some unknown group with no visible advantages?"
Peter's words came slowly, like carefully placed stones, each one carrying weight.
Rudra and Lily exchanged glances, then nodded. He was right. Those questions were exactly what they'd been thinking.
Peter leaned back slightly in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he noticed the doubt in their eyes.
"I think you may have misunderstood my intentions," he began, his tone calm but firm. "The reason I want you to join the Indian Group of Martial Artists isn't without purpose. This organization carries its own unique advantages."
He paused for a moment, letting his words settle before continuing.
"First of all," he said, raising a finger, "joining this group doesn't restrict you from entering any other organization—not even the Extreme Martial Hall. You'll retain full freedom in your path."
Rudra and Lily exchanged brief, surprised glances. That alone was unusual.
"Second," Peter continued, "the group is directly funded by the Indian government. So, you won't have to worry about money or resources. Everything you need to grow stronger—will be provided."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering with weight.
"Third, by joining us, you'll gain access to advanced techniques and combat methods that aren't publicly available. The only exceptions are Hong's 'Destruction' and Lei Shen's 'Nine Stage Thunder Blade.' Aside from those two, almost everything else can be arranged."
Finally, Peter's expression softened.
"And most importantly… your families will be under the protection of the Indian Group. You'll be free to cultivate without fear—without distraction."
The room fell silent. The offer wasn't just tempting—it was solid, calculated, and wrapped in something far deeper than mere opportunity.
Rudra's jaw tightened. "But Chief," he said, voice low and steady, "if you're offering so much… what do we owe in return?" He knew better than to accept gifts that came without a cost.
Peter's laugh was warm, not unkind. "You're sharp for your age, Rudra. Of course there are duties." He folded his hands on the desk, eyes resting on both of them with the weight of a man used to making decisions that changed lives.
"You will have three obligations," Peter said slowly, as if engraving them into their minds. "First: if the country falls into a dire state, you will answer its call—no excuses. Second: should you discover anything unusual—ancient ruins, strange artifacts, anomalies—you must report them to us immediately. Third: unless someone poses a direct threat to your life, you will not kill another Indian Martial Artist. If you can help them in the wild, do so."
The silence that followed was heavy, full of consequence. These weren't small favors; they were pledges—anchoring duty to the benefits Peter had just described. Rudra and Lily exchanged a look: it wasn't a trap, but a covenant. One that would bind them to something far larger than themselves.
As Peter's words settled into silence, Rudra's mind began to turn. It didn't take him long to grasp the truth behind the offer.
So that was it. The Indian Group wasn't just recruiting talent—it was searching for a backbone. A foundation strong enough to stand when the world trembled.
After all, in this age of monsters and martial gods, there weren't many powerful warriors left who bore the name of India.
Rudra's gaze lowered slightly, a quiet understanding flashing in his eyes. This wasn't about benefits or titles—it was about responsibility. About the weight of representing a nation that refused to be forgotten.
In this era, where countless organizations clashed for resources and nations competed in a silent war for survival, strength was the only true currency. The weak were devoured without mercy.
India—once proud—now stood as the weakest among the five great nations. Without powerful warriors to uphold its name, it risked being swallowed by the ambitions of the others.
Rudra understood this all too well. His memories of the future, of the time when Luo Feng rose to become the Lord of Earth, still burned in his mind. In that era, the name India had vanished—erased from the stage of history as if it had never existed.
Even Tripathi Singh, India's mightiest warrior, who had once stood alone to halt the rampage of the Golden Horned Beast—his sacrifice, his courage—was never mentioned again. When Luo Feng eventually reclaimed his body, not even a whisper of Tripathi's name remained.
That silence was more tragic than death itself.
Rudra clenched his fists under the table. If the world had forgotten India… then perhaps it was time to carve its name back into history.
Peter noticed the silence stretching on, both Rudra and Lily lost deep in thought. He mistook their contemplation for hesitation and decided to press the matter further.
"If you think the benefits aren't enough, then perhaps—"
He didn't get to finish.
"No need to elaborate further, Chief Instructor," Rudra interrupted, his tone steady and resolute. "I'm willing to join the Indian Group of Martial Artists."
His voice carried no hesitation—only conviction. In that moment, his heart beat with the same quiet pride that had once burned in his previous life. No matter how far he had come, the thought of serving his country still anchored him.
Peter blinked, momentarily stunned, as did Lily. To her, it didn't make much sense—she could easily earn everything Peter mentioned by joining the Extreme Martial Hall. Yet, hearing the firmness in Rudra's words, something in her heart wavered. She found herself reconsidering.
Then, Peter suddenly burst into laughter—deep, unrestrained, echoing through the office.
"Hahaha! Good! Very good! Rudra, you truly are heaven's gift to this nation! You've no idea how happy I am to hear this!"
His laughter wasn't just pride—it was relief, hope, and belief all wrapped into one. For the first time in many years, Peter felt that the future of India might just have found its spark.
Lily lowered her head slightly, her voice soft but sincere.
"Instructor… I'm not sure about myself yet. I still need some time to think about it."
Peter regarded her quietly for a moment before nodding. His tone remained calm, but there was a hint of finality in his words.
"There's no problem with that, Lily. Take all the time you need. Just remember—sometimes it's better to join sooner rather than later."
His response carried no irritation, only practicality. In truth, Peter's real focus had always been Rudra. Lily's presence was merely incidental—he had extended the offer to her because she was with him, nothing more.
Now that Rudra had agreed, Peter felt a quiet satisfaction settle over him. Whether Lily joined or not no longer held much weight in his mind. The pillar he sought—the one strong enough to bear the name of India—was already standing before him.
Note: - Hello readers, I'm sorry to upload this late. There was something going on my mind for the future plot, so need sometime to make it clear. Also, there were tests and admission going on for my studies so I had to postponed my schedule. Anyway now I'm back. Let's continue our Journey with Rudra.
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