The air in the crimson hell shifted, carrying the weight of something ancient. The flames along the lava streams hissed lower as if holding their breath.
Om stood amidst the cracked obsidian plain, sweat dripping down his chin, fists trembling. His chest heaved, but there was a spark in his eyes—not of despair, but of rising defiance.
"I'm holding pretty well", he thought to himself. His lips curved faintly despite the exhaustion. "Without Zero guiding me, without anyone telling me what to do… I'm still standing against him. Against Raj."
There was pride, but also a quiet unease. Raj was not fighting seriously. That much was obvious. Every strike Raj had thrown was playful, every counter calculated just enough to push but never break him. Om knew it. Narad and Sara knew it. And perhaps that truth stung more than the bruises forming across his ribs.
Still, he clenched his fists tighter. "Even if I'm just surviving, survival is enough. Because the Om from before could never have lasted even a minute against him."
Suddenly, Raj's eyes darkened. His playful grin curved into something else—sharper, hungrier. He tilted his head as though listening to some distant sound only he could hear. Then his lips parted in a whisper that carried through the scorching air like a command to the world itself.
"...Guys, come out."
The lava trembled.
A low rumble shook the plain, cracks zigzagging across the blackened stone. From the molten rivers, shapes began to emerge. First a skeletal hand, blackened by flame. Then another. Then dozens more, clattering as they dragged themselves free from the crimson lava.
One by one, burning skeletons rose. Some bore rusted armor still clinging to their scorched bones. Others were bare, nothing but frames of charred marrow holding embers within. Some raised bows, strings taut with flaming arrows. Others clutched staffs of obsidian, glyphs etched into the surface, their hollow eye sockets glowing with eerie blue flames.
The air filled with the rattling of bones and the crackling of fire. A legion of the dead stood before Om, birthed from Raj's command.
Narad's breath caught. Even Sara, who had seen Raj's terrifying summons before, found herself pressing a hand to her chest.
Om's gaze swept across them, unflinching. His throat felt dry, but his resolve flared brighter.
If I go all out now… He bit the inside of his cheek. I'll have enough time to recover before the trials begin. This is my chance. To test everything.
He raised his voice, sharp and clear, carrying above the crackle of fire and the hiss of molten rivers.
"Now… I'm going all out!"
Raj's lips curved into a wicked grin. "Good. Show me everything you've got, Om."
At once, Om's body flared.
Golden aura erupted from his pores, spilling across his skin like liquid sunlight. Ancient Sanskrit characters, glowing with divine brilliance, spiraled across his flesh. They shimmered, then blazed, as though his very body had become a scripture inscribed by gods.
The skeletons froze for an instant, as if their soulless remnants recognized divinity.
Then Om whispered, his voice low, deliberate, and filled with power.
"Vajra Kāya."
At once, the Sanskrit characters rearranged themselves into a lattice across his skin, forming a barrier like a diamond shell. Light wrapped his body, armor not forged of steel but of words—eternal, unbreakable, divine.
The skeletons hissed, the fire in their sockets flaring brighter.
Om raised his palm.
"Grutva Ākarṣaṇ."
A pulse of golden light exploded outward. The ground groaned, the air warped, and suddenly every skeleton staggered. Armor clattered, weapons fell, and the mages' staves bent as though crushed under invisible weight.
They were pinned.
Even Raj shifted, his boots sinking a fraction deeper into the obsidian. His grin faltered for a brief moment as he muttered, "So… you can manipulate gravity itself."
But Om wasn't done. His voice rose again, whispering yet echoing with impossible force.
"Vāyavastra!"
The air screamed as gales of wind surged from his body, spiraling into a hurricane. Skeletons were ripped from their stances, their flaming bodies slammed into the ground by crushing gravity, then hurled backward by the furious winds.
The plain shook under the storm of divine techniques.
But Om's chest heaved violently. His knees buckled. Sweat poured down his face, his vision flickering. His body wasn't built to channel this much power yet.
Still, he forced himself upright. His golden aura flickered, trembling, but he glared through the storm.
The skeletons crumbled into heaps of burning bones. From the fiery sky above, charred fragments rained down, a macabre rain of fire and ash.
And yet—Raj remained.
Untouched.
He stood amidst the storm, the flames bending around him as though the world itself refused to mar him. His arms were folded, his smirk sharper than ever.
"You've grown strong, Om," Raj said, voice calm, almost amused. "But don't think this is enough."
Om gasped, falling to one knee. His aura sputtered, Sanskrit symbols cracking like glass.
But he gritted his teeth. "I'm… not done yet."
His right hand rose, trembling, but unyielding.
Above, the crimson sky quaked. But Om fell.
.
.
.
.
Om collapsed, his body hitting the obsidian ground with a heavy thud, Sanskrit characters flickering faintly across his skin before dissolving like embers into the air. His golden aura vanished completely, leaving behind only the trembling rise and fall of his chest.
Dawon hurriedly ran to Om and began to lick his face. Its worries for its master were witnessed by all present there.
Raj stood still, his crimson-tinged eyes locked on the boy. For a moment, silence reigned in his bone-forged territory—broken only by the crackle of fire and the distant hiss of molten lava. Even the skeletons that had emerged from the crimson depths halted their movements, as though their master's stillness commanded the entire battlefield.
Raj's lips curved into something caught between a smile and a grimace.
"He really has grown…" he muttered under his breath. "Even my territory—this Yama Lok, I forged—couldn't completely suppress him. If he had pushed one more step, one more time… even I might've needed to go all out."
Narad and Sara exchanged a glance from the sidelines, their throats dry. Both had seen countless battles, countless inheritors rise and fall in the shadows of the world. Yet this—this was different. Om was no longer the trembling boy with broken inheritance and a fragile frame. The boy standing before them, even unconscious, had glimpsed into the domain of true monsters.
Sara clutched her chest. "What kind of power is that? … gravity, barriers, storms… and all channeled through that broken inheritance? Who is he really?"
Narad, on the other hand, felt his heart pound with equal parts fear and excitement. He had heard long of Om's potential from Shiv and Kashyap—but witnessing it against Raj, the inheritor of Yama, sent chills down his spine. He couldn't help but think of Shiv, Om's grandfather, and the secrets buried with him.
Raj finally let out a long breath, snapping his fingers. At once, the bone gate behind them began to collapse, crimson fire folding back into ash as if reality itself rejected its existence.
The skeletons crumbled, dissolving back into lava. The air, once heavy with suffocating heat, cooled slightly, though the ground remained scarred with cracks from meteors and spikes alike.
Raj knelt down beside Om, his sharp aura softening as he reached out and placed a hand on Om's shoulder.
"You really are back to your old self," he whispered, almost fondly. "But at the same time… you're something more. A will to not give up."
Om's lips trembled faintly in unconsciousness, as though his body still tried to form words even in exhaustion. Raj's eyes lingered on him for a long moment before he stood again.
Narad stepped forward cautiously.
"Raj… was this truly necessary?"
Raj didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed on Om's frail-looking figure, lying amidst the battlefield of shattered obsidian. When he did speak, his voice was low.
"Yes. I needed to know… how far he's come. And now I know the truth."
Sara frowned. "And what truth is that?"
Raj's crimson eyes flickered dangerously before softening into something that almost looked like respect.
"That he's ready. Ready for trials. Ready for the role this world is already forcing onto his shoulders."