Midnight had passed.
It was almost three in the morning. A gentle breeze flowed, soothing the sultry night. Sharv was gazing at the Trident Constellation with intense void black eyes.
"You didn't sleep tonight either, Sharv?" a tired, hoarse voice asked.
A man lay on a cot beside him, his father, Shyam. Sharv turned his face to look at his father. Moonlight danced on his pale white face, yet his expression remained neutral as he listened.
"It's a happy day," Shyam continued. "You've finally reached the mastery needed for the trial after rigorous training. Don't you feel happy or satisfied?"
"I am happy, Father," Sharv said in a neutral, slightly deep voice, "But I can't sleep."
"We will move out into the world in a few days. At least tell me now, Why?"
"Well.... it's a little complicated, father. After I reached a certain threshold in my 'Attunement', I began having a dream. An army of humans and unknown creatures, enveloped in flames, stood before me. And I was the only one fighting."
Sharv turned his gaze to the moon, his black hair shining in the moonlight. "I decided I would train until I could beat that army. But every time I fought, I died without an exception."
Shyam looked at his son with a compassionate gaze.
"So... dying in your dreams is why you stopped sleeping?"
"No," Sharv replied. "I don't want to be defeated, so I decided I would train rather than sleep." He paused, then spoke with a determined look, "And if that army is real... I will need to stay awake for too long to fight it."
"So that's why you haven't slept properly in two years." Shyam gave a long, tired sigh and spoke again, "But you should call it a nightmare, not a dream, Son."
"It's all the same to me," Sharv replied quietly. "You know... they call me..."
But before he could finish, screams erupted from the southern end of the village, filled with agony and despair. Sharv shot up instantly. Standing over six feet tall, his shoulder-length hair flowed in the gentle breeze. He grabbed his wooden training sword and ran toward the fence.
"Son!" Shyam shouted, pushing himself up from the cot, "At least take a real sword!"
"Wooden is enough," Sharv replied, leaping over the fence and into the unknown.
After crossing two intersections, Sharv reached the southern crossroads in under half a minute. On the roads, women were running away with their children, hoping to escape and live another day, while men were trying to fight some unknown attackers.
'A car and a truck? Where did these come from in this jungle?' Sharv questioned himself, his eyes glowing faintly, scanning the surroundings. 'This is a village far away from the advanced civilization.'
His query was answered immediately as over fifty men wearing black pants and shirts, carrying various weapons such as swords, spears, and maces, jumped out of the truck.
'Dacoits? That explains it, just a little,' he thought. 'But why would they come here?'
Sharv immediately channeled his Prana. His pelvis region glowed faintly in reddish brown light, signaling the use of Earth Chàkrà, and a brown, crystalline metallic material covered his sword, generating from his hand and moving towards the tip.
It reinforced and sharpened the sword, fusing it to his hand. A dacoit was going to slash a woman from behind, but before one could blink, first his hand then his head fell to the ground, lifeless. Even in death, his eyes were wide open with surprise.
"A Master! Fall back!" other Dacoits who saw this scene shouted. "Stay away from that man. He is a Chàkrà Master. We can't fight him."
'Man? Not a boy? Well, I have grown quite a lot,' Sharv thought. His wooden sword was now cloaked with a reddish brown aura, and a subtle black luminescence pulsed around his neck. With a subtle silver green light pulsing at his heart, a fierce wind seemed to carry him, as if he rode the air currents themselves.
His blade cut through enemies and their weapons alike, meeting little to no resistance. It felt less like cutting matter and more like dividing it, the sword defining the boundary.
Desperation and raw fear painted the faces of his foes. How could they fight what their eyes couldn't follow? In less than a minute, limbs flew and heads rolled amidst screams of agony.
As their pained cries echoed into the night, a man stepped forward. Sharv stood still at the crossroads, hair stirring in the unnatural wind, sword steady, and no visible emotions on his face. "Leader, he's a Master! We can't fight him!" The remaining dacoits cried out as the man advanced.
"He's no Master. You lot are just weak," the man growled, his voice a low rumble. He had an untrimmed long beard with a mole on his nose.
He glared at Sharv with red eyes, slicked with alcohol. "Boy," he slurred, adjusting his black hat, "surrender. You'd be a gud..... aaaddition to my.. creuw. I don't... want to kill you."
"I don't align with cowards," Sharv stated, his voice deep and steady.
"Gud deciiision, you'll be given...." The leader started with a laugh under the influence of alcohol, but mid sentence noticed the answer," Wait... Did you... just call me a coward?" His laughter wiped off of his face. "Can't you sense I'm stronger than you?" A note of angst crept into his voice.
"Attacking unprepared innocents under the cover of night? That is cowardice," Sharv replied. "And stronger? Who told you that?"
Sharv moved, a blur visible only to the leader. Reacting instantly, the leader erupted in flames.
"I gave you a chance! Now burn!"
Fiery red flames engulfed the leader. Sharv halted his advance, seeing the flames.
"You have put your hands on a wasp's nest," one of the dacoits sneered at Sharv.
"That's right! Watch your village burn!" Another dacoit shouted. Many such taunts rose amongst the dacoits. And they were right to boast, at least partially.
The leader roared, intensifying his flames with an explosive surge. He became a walking volcano. The extreme heat, accompanied with shockwaves, put cracks in the walls and ground nearby, turning them hot-red. Neighbouring trees caught fire alongside the wooden houses under them. And the magnitude was only going to increase.
'I can't let this escalate. If the flames spread the village will be in ruins.' '