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From the Legacy of Vetala
The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the remains of a once-thriving village. Crumbling homes stood like hollow skeletons of memory, their walls barely standing, overtaken by vines and silence. The paths were overgrown, yet one could still feel the faint pulse of life that once beat here.
At the heart of the ruins, Master Vishma stood tall, his cloak billowing gently in the morning breeze. Beside him stood Asura, arms crossed and stern, and Parashu, his eyes filled with sympathy. A few steps away, the stranger boy stood stiff and unyielding, the weight of his past anchoring his feet to this ghost of a home.
"You've been living here alone for too long," Vishma said, voice firm, commanding. "You're coming with us, kid."
The boy's jaw tightened, his gaze burning with defiance. "I'm not leaving. This is my village. I belong here."
Parashu stepped forward, voice soft, but steady. "A village should be filled with family, friends… people who care. This place…" He glanced around the empty ruins. "This place is a memory, not a home. It's time to forge a new path—together."
The stranger hesitated. His eyes flickered, torn between pride and pain. "The devil sprite inside me… it grows stronger each day. It only brings darkness. It's a curse—drives everyone away. Don't come too close. You don't know what it's like living with this thing."
Vishma didn't flinch. His eyes held the calm of someone who had seen darker things and survived. "We're not here because of your demons. We're on a quest—searching for someone capable of standing against the Kara Monster Army. And out of all of us, only you have that power. So I ask again… will you join us?"
The boy's lips parted. A moment passed—then another. His shoulders sagged, and he exhaled slowly. "When you find him… I'll return. Until then, I'll come."
Vishma nodded solemnly. "As you wish."
With a final look at the ruined homes, the group turned. Without another word, they began walking, the boy trailing a few steps behind—finally leaving behind the ashes of his past.
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Village Outskirts – Later That Day
The road ahead was dry and cracked, stretching endlessly beneath a pale sky. The four figures walked in silence, their shadows long in the dust. As they crested a ridge, the land opened up into a vast, lonely field. At its center stood a solitary, worn-down house—silent, lifeless, and weathered by time.
They stopped at the edge of the field.
Near the house's entrance, a man knelt beside a tiny plant. He poured water into the dry soil with gentle hands. His face, carved with sorrow, turned at the sound of footsteps. His left sleeve hung empty, fluttering with the breeze.
Parashu glanced at Asura. "So… that one-handed man—is he the friend we've been searching for?"
Asura stared, a softness entering his voice. "Yes. That's Daksha. But… it looks like he's still blaming himself."
Daksha rose slowly, wiping his hands on his robe. His eyes squinted in the sun. "Asura… is that you?"
Asura stepped forward, offering a faint smile. "Long time no see, my friend."
Daksha's empty sleeve shifted as he stood fully. He inhaled deeply. "After all these years… we meet again. And these three?" He motioned toward Vishma, Parashu, and the stranger. "Are they with you?"
"They are," Asura said. "And we came looking for you."
Daksha's face tightened. "Looking for me? Why?"
Asura's tone changed—low and serious. "We need your help. But… what happened to you? You're from the Naagvanshya clan. You can regenerate limbs. I know you lost your hand in that battle… but why haven't you healed?"
Daksha turned his face away. The sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable. "This wound… it's a reminder. A reminder of my failure. I don't want to forget."
"You're still blaming yourself?" Asura said sharply. "That wasn't your fault!"
"But it was," Daksha whispered. "Because of me… we lost everything. Our village. Your family."
Asura's voice dropped, pain threading through each word. "As I said before… it wasn't your fault."
Daksha's voice trembled. "They're all gone… aren't they?"
A long silence stretched between them.
"Durga…" Asura said softly. "She's still alive."
Daksha's head snapped up. His voice broke. "Seriously…? Thank the gods…"
Asura's expression hardened. "But she's still with the Kara Army. We have to get her back."
Daksha's shoulders slumped under the weight of old guilt. "Asura… you lost everything because of me. And now, your only hope—your daughter—is still alive. But I... I can't be part of this again."
He turned away, eyes clouded, voice breaking. "If I join you, I'll fail again. Just like I did before. I can't bear to lose anyone else."
A bitter wind howled across the field. The flames of a distant fire flickered on the horizon, like dying stars.
Daksha leaned against a broken stone pillar, a man crushed by his own past.
"For my sake… and for hers… please," he said, voice barely audible. "Let me suffer in peace. That's all I deserve."
Asura stepped forward. His eyes, dark as steel, burned with something unbreakable. "Daksha, I know what happened… but this is our chance to fix it. This time—we save everyone."
Daksha's laugh was hollow. "And what if we fail again?"
"We won't," Asura said, stepping closer. "Not this time."
Daksha looked away, shaking his head. "If you need me to die, just say it. I'll do it. But don't ask me to fight again."
Asura's jaw tightened. Silence passed between them—thick, aching.
Then Daksha looked up, eyes narrowed. "If you're actually planning to take on the Kara Army… then you know you're still not strong enough."
He paused.
"You need someone else. Don't tell me… you've forgotten about him."
The name went unspoken. But the air seemed to shift.
Asura let out a slow breath. A small smirk touched his lips, his eyes fierce.
"We haven't forgotten," he said. "I just hope he'll be fighting alongside us. Right next to you."
Daksha said nothing. But in his eyes—buried deep beneath the pain—there was a flicker. A spark not yet extinguished.
The sun dipped below the edge of the world, casting long shadows across the earth. The fire in their hearts had only just begun to burn.
TO BE CONTINUED
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