The morning sun broke through torn clouds, painting the ruins of the village in gold. Smoke still curled from charred rooftops.
Arhaan stood amidst the ashes, his hand resting on the faintly glowing mark at his chest. It pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat — steady, powerful, alive.
He closed his eyes. For the first time, he could feel it: the flow of spiritual energy.
It coursed around him like invisible rivers, threading through the air, sinking into the soil, whispering through the wind.
He reached for it — and it obeyed.
The ground beneath him shivered, grass swaying as though bowing.
Arhaan exhaled slowly. So this… is cultivation.
---
A rustling sound broke his focus.
From the treeline, the children he had saved the night before emerged cautiously, their clothes damp with dew. The eldest, a thin boy named Kian, carried a bundle of herbs and firewood.
"Brother Arhaan," Kian said softly, "we thought you… you might be gone."
Arhaan smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Not yet. Someone has to look after you."
The children's eyes shone, clinging to the hope he gave them. But then, a shadow passed over their faces.
"Those men… they'll come back, won't they?" whispered a little girl.
Arhaan's smile faded. He looked toward the horizon.
"Yes. And worse will come." His voice hardened, carrying a weight beyond his years. "Which is why… I must grow stronger."
---
That Night.
Arhaan sat cross-legged in the ruins of his home, moonlight bathing him in silver. He guided his breath, remembering Azariel's words within the void.
Break the chains. One by one.
Inside his soul, he could see it: the first seal, cracked but not fully shattered. Energy leaked out, like water through broken stone. If he could widen the crack, the power would flow freely.
Hours passed. Sweat soaked his brow. His body trembled, veins bulging as spiritual energy surged, clashing against the mortal vessel that barely contained it.
At last—
BOOM.
A shockwave erupted from his body, scattering ash in all directions. His chest mark flared, the broken chain glowing brighter.
Arhaan gasped, then laughed softly to himself. "So this is… the first step."
---
Dawn — The First Test.
The next morning, just as the children were gathering food, a band of mercenaries entered the village. Their armor was battered, their eyes cold.
"Oi," the leader sneered. "Iron Serpent Sect paid us to finish the job. Any survivors, we take. The rest—dead."
The children froze, terror in their eyes.
Arhaan stepped forward, barefoot on the ash-strewn ground, his tattered clothes fluttering in the wind.
"Leave them," he said calmly.
The mercenaries laughed. "And what's a rootless brat like you going to do? Beg us?"
Arhaan's eyes hardened.
"I don't beg. I don't bow. And I don't warn twice."
The leader snarled and swung his axe.
Arhaan moved.
Like lightning, he struck. His hand caught the descending blade, the impact cracking the ground beneath them. His aura exploded, forcing the mercenaries back as if struck by a storm.
With a twist, he shattered the axe shaft and drove his palm into the man's chest.
CRACK!
The leader flew through the air, crashing into a broken wall, lifeless.
Silence.
The remaining mercenaries dropped their weapons, fleeing into the forest with screams of terror.
Arhaan stood tall, shoulders broad, eyes burning like embers. To the children, he was no longer the "weak boy without roots."
He was their protector.
Their shield against the heavens.
---
Arhaan clenched his fist, the golden chain-mark pulsing.
"This is only the beginning… I'll grow stronger. For them. For everyone who suffers under arrogant tyrants."
Above, the sky rumbled faintly, as if heaven itself had heard his vow.
And for the first time in ages… the heavens trembled.