The battlefield lay cloaked in smoke and ruin. For a breathless moment, only two voices dared to break the silence that followed Kartik's awakening.
"How can someone wield power like that?" Ranthak's voice trembled, weathered hands clutching his staff tighter.
"So this is what it means… when the divine eye truly awakens," Agastyan whispered beside him, awe and dread etched into the furrows of his brow.
For Kartik, the world felt newly born. Every shift of dust, each heartbeat, felt clear as water.
His chest felt light, as if a great weight had lifted, replaced by a strange serenity. He could sense malice before it formed, see the lines of danger as if etched into the air itself. And beyond that, an even deeper pull—a sense of the heavens, and the ancient gaze of Lord Shiva watching through the veil. "I won't let you down,"
Kartik promised silently, the divine eye on his chest answering with a faint, steady glow.
As the haze thinned, his gaze fell upon something buried amidst cracked stones—a pitch-black trident.
Dark energy coiled lazily from its points, like smoke longing for the sky. Kartik felt it resonate with his heartbeat, as if it had been waiting only for him.
Stepping forward, he grasped the cold shaft. Power coursed through his veins,whispering of ancient battles and forgotten prayers. It felt right, as though this weapon was an extension of himself.
A thunderous roar shattered the moment—a colossal undead beast, raised by Kraan's foul magic, barreled toward him.
Rotten scales scraped earth, and its fanged maw gaped wide, breath foul with decay.
Without a flicker of fear, Kartik drew back his arm and cast the trident. The air itself parted before its flight.
A rush of wind peeled dust from stone, and in an instant, the weapon bored through the beast's chest,
bursting out the other side. Its charge ended mid-step, life finally and utterly stolen. The corpse crashed to the ground, unmoving.
Kraan's eyes widened, panic cracking through rage. "Rise!" he bellowed, clawed hand outstretched. "Obey me!" Nothing happened.
The beast's spirit had fled. Kartik's gaze was cold, voice calm yet carrying across the field:
"Its spirit has passed beyond your reach, guarded by Lord Shiva himself. You cannot summon it again."
Before Kraan could curse, new threats struck from the shadows—cloaked foes and another undead horror lunging at Kartik's back.
He stood unmoved, eyes closed, trusting what he felt rather than what he saw.
With a howl of black wind, the trident, still infused with divine will, turned mid-air and carved through the attackers in a single, merciless sweep. Bodies fell without a sound; blood stained the dust.
Ranthak swallowed hard. "It's like… the weapon itself listens to him," he whispered.
Nishaara, her eyes colder than night, summoned venom shadows. "Then let's see if the eye can stop true cursecraft." Her fingers traced dark sigils, and a wave of writhing curses streaked toward Kartik.
The air rippled; the divine eye flared. The curses dissolved before reaching his skin, like snow melting on a flame.
Kartik felt anger stir within him—not for himself, but for the sacred land desecrated by such magic. His eyes turned to Kraan.
With a roar, Kraan unleashed his undead horde—tigers with broken spines, wolves stitched with black thread, winged carrion beasts shrieking murder. Shadows danced between rotting teeth.
Kartik recalled the trident; it flew to his grip as if drawn by thought. He stepped forward, each movement silent yet unstoppable.
The first beast lunged; Kartik turned his wrist, and the trident's tip flashed, severing head from spine.
Another charged—its ribs splintered under a single strike. Black mist trailed behind each swing, marking the dead.
One beast, faster than the rest, slipped past. Its claws cut the air inches from Kartik's chest—but Kartik's fist met it mid-leap. The blow crushed bone and hurled the creature backward, limbs limp.
Kraan, sweat pouring, lunged himself. "Fall!" he roared, swinging a jagged blade. Kartik vanished, an afterimage lingering behind. Reappearing at Kraan's back, he seized the brute's collar.
Kraan froze, breath catching.
"Never come back." Kartik's voice was low, final as a tombstone.
His punch crashed into Kraan's chest. The giant flew across the ground, rolling limp until silence claimed him. Dust settled; his hulking form lay still, unconscious.
Hope sparked in the warriors' hearts—but Nishaara stepped forward, cloak billowing, eyes filled with seething venom. "You're not divine," she hissed. "You're just another mortal child."
She cast shadows into serpents and spears, curses inscribed on their skin. They lashed out in a black storm.
Kartik's trident spun, deflecting and shattering spear after spear, but the curse-serpents kept coming.
One serpent coiled around Kartik's arm. He felt the bite—cold like death. Shadows crawled across his veins,
and for the first time, he felt weakness surge through him. The immense divine power raging within his unprepared body spilled over; blood welled up and dripped onto the ground. Yet even as his vision dimmed for an instant, Kartik's resolve hardened.
"Enough."
The divine eye blazed, silver and gold threads snaking through the shadows. Kartik wrenched free, shadows burning away. He surged forward; Nishaara retreated, summoning a curtain of writhing darkness.
Kartik punched through it, cracking the earth beneath. Dust exploded outward. Nishaara stumbled, barely weaving another curse—but Kartik hurled the trident.
It pierced the curse, snapping it apart. Nishaara gasped, shadows twisting around her in panic. Kartik reappeared before her, hand raised.
He struck—not to kill, but with force enough to tear through illusions and shadows alike. The blow shattered her final defense; a wave of divine shockwave rolled across the ground.
Nishaara flew back, cloak torn, curses unraveling mid-air. She crashed to the ground, unconscious.
Kartik stood alone amidst ruin, chest rising and falling heavily, blood staining his arm. Dust swirled around him, catching in the dim light.
Kartik turned his gaze skyward. Above, the sundered clouds remained, sunlight bathing the cursed ground for the first time in generations. He felt it again—that presence, ancient and patient.
"Lord Shiva… keep watching. I'll protect them all."
The divine eye answered with silent light, and the trident in his hand hummed, as if swearing the same vow.
And for a moment, even the darkness dared not move.