Tower Arc | Floor 3 – Side Scene: Raunak's Past
Location: Tower – Floor 3, Hidden Alcove – Hours Before the Encounter with Ankit
The silence in this part of the maze was unnatural. The illusions here weren't loud or cruel—they whispered. They listened.
Raunak Vritra sat cross-legged on a flat stone beneath a weeping white tree. His whip, Naga's Fang, coiled lazily around his arm, its serpent-like tip flicking at the moss.
He had already bypassed two-thirds of the floor's memory traps. The rest? He was saving… because this one always came.
And there it was now.
The tree shimmered—and formed into a room.
A grand white hall. Columns of ivory. Curtains like flowing mist.
And in the center—
A man, regal and terrifying, stood with his back turned. Gold rings on his fingers. A long coat with a serpent crest etched in rubies.
"Raunak. Kneel."
He was thirteen again. Weak. Brilliant, but weak.
He didn't kneel.
The man turned. Cold eyes. Disappointment.
His father—Devraj Vritra, the head of the Delhi Serpent Syndicate.
Raunak remembered his voice, not because it was loud—but because it always sounded like it knew how the story ended.
"Emotions are what prey use to justify their deaths. We're not prey, Raunak. We devour. You want the throne? Then burn the weakness in your heart."
⚔️ Flashback: The Bloodline Trial – Age 15
It had been a choice between two brothers.
One would inherit the family bloodline—Serpent Devourer. The other would die.
They fought in the arena beneath their mansion, surrounded by silent onlookers.
Raunak didn't hesitate.
He killed his elder brother. Not because he hated him—but because he refused to be ruled by empathy.
His Soulmark awakened that day, coiling into a serpent that glowed silver-white.
So did his Soul Weapon—a whip of living mana forged in venom and ambition.
🌑 Present – Floor 3 Maze
Raunak opened his eyes. The illusion faded.
"I don't need to escape regret," he murmured. "I carved it out of me long ago."
He stood, eyes narrowing toward the direction Ankit had gone.
"But he still believes in bonds. That'll make him predictable. Vulnerable."
His whip slithered up his shoulder, as if hissing in agreement.
Raunak turned, walking into the next corridor of grief—not as prey, but as a predator hunting the last thing he had yet to dominate:
Genuine loyalty.
And he knew exactly whose he would test first.