Luv couldn't feel his fingers.
The lightning had burned through his palms, up his forearms, and down his spine, branding every nerve with divine electricity. His knees struck the mirrored floor again. Blood pooled beneath him, silver-laced and steaming.
Above him, Vajranabh descended—untouched, pristine, thunder made flesh.
"You are not storm-born," the thunder avatar said,
"You are a fragment. A spark. And I am the lightning that kills."
Luv coughed, lightning flickering from his breath. His skin was burned. His silver armor cracked at the chest.
But his golden eyes…
Still burned bright.
"If you're the lightning," Luv muttered,
"Then I'll become the storm."
---
The mirrored dome that held them trembled with pressure. Bolts danced like serpents across the walls.
In the center, Luv stood once more.
His Silver Armor, blessed by Indra himself, began to shift. Ancient Sanskrit inscriptions along the collar pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. His feet rose off the floor as wind wrapped around him, tugging at his hair.
Then came the vision.
A flash.
He saw the skies split. The throne of Indra. A storm-court of arrogant gods. And himself—kneeling before them, rejected.
"You are not our blood," they had once told him.
But now…
The blood answered differently.
---
The silver began to melt—reforging.
Luv's body erupted with arcs of raw lightning. Armor reformed, sharper, sleeker, draped in stormlight. His eyes turned white-hot, golden lightning spiraling in his veins like living tattoos. His hair lifted upward, dancing with static.
This was no longer just divine armor.
This was Vajrasena—the throne of thunder reborn.
"What...?" Vajranabh staggered.
"That is forbidden. That power was sealed—"
"Then I guess I broke the seal," Luv whispered.
He vanished in a flash.
---
The Fight Turns
A punch collided with Vajranabh's chest.
The thunder avatar flew backward, crashing into the mirrored wall, cracking it for the first time.
He rose, growling.
Luv moved faster.
A flurry of kicks and thunderstrikes rained down, each impact a shockwave of divine sound. Vajranabh tried to block—but his strikes passed through illusions. Luv appeared behind him, palms crackling.
"Vajra Netra."
A beam of compressed lightning shot from his eyes—pure condensed energy. It struck Vajranabh in the back, searing through divine marrow.
The mirror dome shattered, raining shards across Swarnalok.
From below, Astha looked up through the golden firelight.
He smiled.
---
Elsewhere in the Temple of Origins, Naira knelt before the ancient altar of the Asravinari.
In her hand, the Blade of Compassion had bloomed.
The hilt opened into wings. The edge curved like a crescent moon. Inside, a glow—like the dying breath of a sun.
"If I awaken this," she whispered,
"There's no turning back."
The voice of her mother echoed softly.
"You are not just meant to fight. You are meant to choose who deserves to be saved."
Naira stood.
She slashed the blade into the air—and the scream of the First Sound echoed across Swarnalok.
And far above, a slumbering god flinched.
---
Back at the shattered Law-Domain, Astha emerged through floating ash and memory-embers. His cloak of broken scripture rippled behind him.
Above, he saw Luv hover mid-air, storm pouring from his body. Naira stood on the opposite tower, wings of sound coiled behind her like divine fire.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
He just watched.
"They're changing," he whispered.
He was too.
Ashvaanta's edge now flickered with spectral light—drawn from the Divine Shard buried in his chest. Smritidhaara tightened around his arm, flame-pulses syncing with his heartbeat.
"You feel it too," he said to the sword.
"We're not mortal anymore."
---
Return of the Council
Suddenly—bells rang across the Citadel.
The remaining Divine Mouths stepped forward, robes unraveling, masks crumbling. They chanted in unison, and their bodies twisted into colossal, angelic entities made of divine metal and light.
The Second Trial had begun.
Each one a living scripture.
Each one a sentinel of godly order.
Astha stepped forward.
"I've burned a law," he called out.
"So what happens when I burn your names too?"
---
The wind howled across the sacred bridge.
Luv descended beside Astha, lightning still arcing from his hands.
"You good?" Luv asked, eyes still storm-lit.
"You look like a god," Astha smirked.
"You look like the end of one," Luv replied.
Naira joined them, her voice calm, but her presence burning like a star.
"They know we're not leaving quietly," she said.
"We're not leaving," Astha replied, stepping forward.
He looked toward the highest spire—the Divine Archive, where the true gods slumbered.
"We're climbing. All the way."
"Even if we have to kill our way there?" Naira asked.
"Especially if we have to."
The heavens thundered above.
The next level of Swarnalok waited.
The gods were no longer ignoring them.
They were preparing for war.