There was no sky. No ground. No light. No sound.
Just… blackness.
Shaurya opened his eyes—or thought he did. He couldn't tell if they were open or shut in this endless void. There was no sensation, no breath, no heartbeat. Only the echo of a thought:
"Where am I…?"
He looked around—if "looking" was even possible here—and suddenly, the void shifted. Two glowing orbs of light descended slowly from above, casting soft ripples into the darkness.
The light solidified.
Two figures emerged—both boys. Both his age. Both… him.
His jaw dropped.
They stood before him like mirrors, yet… not quite. One wore black assassin robes, his eyes sharp and haunted. The other, in simple training clothes, had the air of someone born into hardship, carrying a faint sadness in his tired face.
"Who… who are you?" Shaurya asked, blinking in disbelief.
The boy in black narrowed his eyes. "Shaurya."
The other one spoke too, calmly. "Shaurya."
His heart skipped. "But… that's my name."
All three stood in silence. Three Shauryas. Three lives. One name.
"Where are you from?" Shaurya asked cautiously.
"Assassin world," the dark-robed version replied. "Shaakt Clan. A place of betrayal and shadows."
"Spirit world," the tired one added. "I trained to be a Rishi Warrior… but I failed. My body gave up during meditation."
"I'm… from Earth," Shaurya said softly. "I think I died too. Slipped in the bathroom like an idiot."
Suddenly, a voice boomed from everywhere—and nowhere.
"You three perished at the same moment. Two of your bodies are destroyed. Only one vessel remains."
The three Shauryas looked up instinctively, though there was no sky.
The assassin Shaurya folded his arms. "Then let me sleep. I've burned enough lives."
The voice answered:"Not yet. You must pass on something to the one who remains. A gift."
Assassin Shaurya stepped forward. "Then I give my knowledge. My poisons. My hidden weapons. My will to survive."
A glow emerged from his forehead—streams of memory, technique, instinct—gathering into a pulsating crimson brain-shaped orb that floated silently toward Earth Shaurya.
Shaurya stared in awe.
The spirit world Shaurya exhaled slowly. "I disappointed my father. I never lived up to his hopes. So, I won't try again."
"But—" Earth Shaurya began.
"I'll do something better. I'll give you all I've learned… and one request."
From his head, golden-blue light emerged—a second orb of glowing knowledge. It hovered beside the first, circling Earth Shaurya like a crown.
"My world. My pain. My memories. You'll understand it all." His voice softened. "Please… take care of my father. He doesn't deserve to lose two sons."
And then, like whispers fading in fog, both versions of Shaurya began to vanish.
"No—wait!" Shaurya reached out, but his fingers passed through mist.
The voice returned, gentler this time."You are now the vessel of three souls. Their knowledge is yours. Their paths have ended… but yours begins. Do you have a wish before you reincarnate?"
Shaurya hesitated. "You said I'd live again. But… where?"
A deep, amused laugh echoed."Ah, my mistake. I forgot to mention—one of the bodies remains intact. The one from the Spirit World. He died of malnutrition, not injury. So that's the life you'll inherit."
Shaurya's eyes widened.
"Then… I'm going to—?"
Before he could finish, the two glowing orbs slammed into his chest and forehead. His mind exploded with images: techniques, languages, poisons, meditations, beasts, spirit ranks…
And then—Darkness again.
The New Beginning
Shaurya opened his eyes.
The air smelled of damp earth and mold. His body felt weak—bones thin, skin clinging to him like cloth on a broomstick.
He was lying on a straw mat in a cracked mud hut.
Pain.
His chest ached. His limbs felt like twigs. But there was something else… a voice.
"I left this for you, Shaurya."
The spirit world Shaurya's voice echoed within.
"This world… is full of Mantra Beasts. Divine Spirits. It runs on orbs of energy and ancient lineages. I never got to rise. But you will. My father is a good man. He doesn't smile much… but he gave me everything he could. Please… make him proud."
Tears welled up in Shaurya's eyes.
He sat up—barely—and looked around the dim hut. In the corner, slumped against the wall, snoring softly, was a middle-aged man clutching an empty bottle.
Shiva.His father.
Not his by blood—but now, by fate.
Shaurya stood, wobbled, and made his way to the tiny stove. He didn't need to think—his body knew where the rice and lentils were. His hands, guided by old instincts, prepared a simple meal.
Later, they ate in silence. Shiva muttered something incoherent and fell asleep on the mat.
Shaurya washed the plates. Everything felt… surreal.
That night, lying under a thin blanket, he stared at the dark ceiling.
"Was it a dream? Or fate?"
Suddenly, a woman's voice—soft, melodic—echoed in his mind.
"Shaurya…"
He jolted upright. His chest pounded.
"I've seen this before," he whispered. "This moment… this feeling…"
And then it hit him.
"This is Soul Land. Not just any world. The one I watched. The one I dreamed of."
His lips curled into a wide grin.
"I'm really here…"
He couldn't hold it in. "YESSSSS!"
A loud grunt came from across the room.
"Shaurya! Shut up and sleep! If you shout again, I'll throw you out!"
Shaurya covered his mouth and laughed into his blanket.
His heart was light. His spirit was burning.
He had a second chance.A new body.Two lifetimes of power.A promise to keep.And a world to conquer.
The true story of Shaurya was just beginning.