The forest canopy rustled like a living beast, shafts of fractured sunlight piercing the gloom as Sindhu pushed his legs to their limit. Branches lashed his face, roots clawed at his boots, but he powered through, Prāṇna-spear gripped tight.
"Hey! You'll need backup—don't leave me behind again!" he shouted ahead, his voice echoing off the twisted trunks.
Absolutely, taking Sindhu as backup was either the smartest or dumbest best idea for someone in Vayu's position—depending on who you asked. The guy had decent survival instincts, or maybe just a ridiculous amount of luck. Hard to tell. In a world where demons stitched themselves back together from ashes and warriors burned their souls for a single strike, luck was worth more than gold.
Vayu, ahead in the chase, matched his speed to the erratic pyre of molten magma—a glowing orb that bobbed and weaved like a taunting firefly, leaving trails of scorched earth in its wake. He slashed with his yellow fragment sword, the blade whistling through the air in precise arcs, but each time, the pyre twisted its trajectory at the last instant, veering left, right, upward into the underbrush.
Vayu could feel the pain, his body screaming protests—dizziness crept in at the edges of his vision, a fuzzy haze from the relentless pursuit and the Prāṇna drain. He couldn't keep this up forever; the forest spun like a bad dream. If he fell here, there'd be no one left to stop it.
In a final, desperate moment, Vayu shifted to an offensive style, channeling his essence into a "Thunder-Storm" assault. He planted his feet, sword raised high and unleashed it—a vortex of crackling wind and golden lightning that exploded outward, making the whole forest scream in agony. Trees splintered, leaves ignited in mid-air, and the ground trembled as if the earth itself recoiled. The pyre had no escape; it dissipated in a burst of searing light, crumbling into harmless ashes that scattered on the wind like defeated whispers.
Sindhu burst into the small clearing just then, chest heaving, lungs burning like he'd swallowed embers. He doubled over, hands on knees, gasping. "You... run fast, dude," he wheezed, forcing a grin through the exhaustion.
Vayu turned, his sword still humming faintly, eyes scanning Sindhu with quiet concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked, voice steady but laced with the subtle fatigue of a warrior who'd just pushed his limits.
Sindhu straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. "I am completely okay—" But before he could finish the sentence, a long, resonant thud echoed through the trees, like a massive weight dropping from above. Both whipped around, instincts kicking in.
Vayu shifted seamlessly into a defensive stance, sword angled low and ready, body coiled like a spring. Sindhu, on the other hand, was just fed up—his shoulders slumped for a split second before he raised his spear half-heartedly. "Not more...." he muttered under his breath, exasperation dripping from every syllable. "Can't we catch a break? Just five minutes without something trying to eat us?"
High up on a thick branch of an ancient banyan, they spotted it—a silhouette p crouched like a predator, clad in flowing attire that suggested a girl's form: Loose robes fluttered in the faint breeze; tangled hair framed the hint of a face hidden in shadow. Every breath of the forest seemed to hold still.
She turned toward them slowly, her murmur —soft, but sharp enough to raise goosebumps.
"You two..."
The words slid through the clearing, cold and accusing. Both warriors tensed; Sindhu's grip tightened on his spear, while Vayu's eyes narrowed, analyzing, body coiled and ready.
Whatever she was, she wasn't here to help.
Who was she, this shadowy figure emerging from the treetops? And why did her anger burn toward them, as if they'd personally ignited her fury?