Chapter 9: The Trial of Dharma (2)
The scene again change and I didn't feel anything just I was always belonged here.
Warmth.
Not the suffocating heat of the battlefield, not the acrid stench of blood and ash, but true warmth—the kind that seeps into your skin and anchors itself inside your chest.
I blinked.
The battlefield was gone.
In its place stretched a quiet village. Rolling fields of green shimmered under golden sunlight, broken only by winding dirt paths and clusters of humble wooden homes. The wind smelled of earth and blossoms, fresh and sweet, like spring mornings I thought I had forgotten.
"Brother!"
The voice hit me like a hammer to the chest.
I turned.
A little girl, no older than two or three, barreled toward me with stubby legs, her brown hair bouncing wildly. Her smile was bright enough to outshine the sun.
"Eira…"
My throat constricted. I fell to my knees just as she threw herself into my arms. My sister. My baby sister. Her tiny hands clutched my shirt, her laughter bubbling like music I had only half remembered.
But this—this was impossible.
I had only glimpsed her after reincarnating here. In truth, I barely knew her. Yet holding her now felt so natural, so real, that my arms trembled.
"Kael," another voice called.
I looked up.
There they were. My parents. Alive. Whole. Smiling. My father's sharp jaw softened with warmth. My mother's tired eyes glimmered with affection.
Tears blurred my sight.
"Welcome home, son," my father said. His voice carried pride I had never earned.
"Come eat," my mother added, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear. "You must be starving."
For a moment—for a dangerous, intoxicating moment—I let myself believe it.
The war, the trials, the choices. Gone.
Here, I was not Kael Arden the desperate reincarnate clawing for survival. Not the coward forced to kill a child for the sake of humanity. Here, I was simply a son, a brother.
"Is this… real?" My whisper was hoarse, almost childlike.
That was when Bhargav's voice slid through the breeze.
"Dharma does not only weigh justice. It weighs attachment. Desire binds. Desire blinds."
The warmth froze in my chest.
I hugged Eira tighter, almost as if Bhargav's voice itself would rip her away.
"No," I muttered. "Not this time. I've lost enough."
"This world is woven of Maya—illusion. Do you choose the dream, Kael Arden?"
My heart clenched violently.
Eira's small hand tugged my sleeve. "Brother, play with me!"
I looked down. Her wide innocent eyes reflected me. The very same eyes of the child I had killed moments ago.
My stomach twisted.
Illusion or not… how was I supposed to turn away?
---
The day unfolded like a vision stolen from my deepest cravings.
We ate together. We laughed. Father taught me how to split firewood. Mother hummed as she cooked. Eira sat in my lap, her sticky fingers clutching half a pastry.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
And in that perfection, guilt gnawed at me.
This wasn't real.
But gods, how I wanted it to be.
Every time I glanced at my parents' smiles, I remembered the battlefield, the choice I had made, the girl's eyes as I struck her down. Here, in this "paradise," there was no blood. No judgment.
Only forgiveness.
Wasn't that enough?
"Dharma is not comfort," Bhargav's voice reminded, sharper now, cutting through laughter.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
What was Dharma then? To deny every joy? To reject everything that tethered me?
No… no, that wasn't right. Dharma wasn't about rejection for rejection's sake. It was about clarity. About walking a path where desire could not sway judgment.
I knew that. Rationally, I knew that.
But when Eira's little arms circled my neck and she whispered, "Don't leave again, brother," my reason fractured.
"I don't want to," I whispered back, voice breaking. "I want to stay."
The illusion trembled. For a heartbeat, my mother's smile flickered. My father's proud shoulders sagged into shadow. The food turned to ash in my mouth.
"Maya grants what you crave most. But if you accept, you remain here forever—your body rotting in the world above. Choose."
AN: Maya means illusion
Forever.
A quiet life. My family whole. My sister growing up safe.
Or reality. A world of pain. Of war. Of responsibility.
I bit my lip until blood spilled.
If I stayed… if I chose this dream… then who would stand against the horrors I knew were coming? Who would protect the millions who had no idea what was ahead?
Wouldn't that be the same as choosing cowardice?
I closed my eyes. Eira's warmth pressed into me. My mother's humming softened the edges of my despair. My father's presence anchored me.
But Dharma… Dharma demanded sacrifice.
It demanded I give up me.
"…I'm sorry." My whisper cracked.
I pushed Eira gently away. She blinked, confused.
Standing, I summoned my axe. Its weight felt heavier than ever, as though it carried not steel, but the weight of my desire.
Bhargav's voice lingered like a shadow.
"To break Maya, you must strike the tether. Sever what you cling to most."
My hands shook.
I raised the axe.
For a moment, the world blurred, my vision fracturing between illusion and truth. My sister's smile warped into tears. My mother's voice twisted into wails. My father's warmth turned to ash.
They weren't real.
They weren't.
But my love was.
That was the cruelty of this trial my feelings were real, even if they weren't.
Tears streamed down my face.
"Forgive me," I whispered, raising the axe above my head not toward them, but toward myself.
If I wanted to cut free, I had to sever the part of me that clung to the lie.
I swung.
The blade cleaved through light.
Pain seared me, not physical, but soul-deep, like threads tearing apart. My body convulsed. I fell to my knees, gasping as the illusion shattered around me.
The village, my parents, Eira—gone. Dissolved into nothing.
Only silence remained.
---
I knelt in darkness, chest heaving, vision blurred with tears.
I had killed desire. I had rejected the dream.
But it didn't feel like triumph.
It felt like loss all over again.
"You have learned," Bhargav's voice intoned, softer now, tinged with something almost… mournful.
"Dharma is not cruelty. Dharma is clarity. Even love, when bound by illusion, must be severed."
I laughed bitterly, the sound cracking. "Clarity feels a lot like loneliness."
Silence.
Then, a new presence pressed into the darkness. Heavy. Oppressive. Like the weight of an axe hanging just above my skull.
A figure stepped forward.
It was Bhargav. Not the tea-brewing master. Not the calm guide. But a warrior scarred, stern, every line of his body radiating dominance. An axe glimmered in his grip, its blade engraved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly like heartbeats.
My blood ran cold.
"You have weighed justice. You have severed desire."
His eyes glowed like embers in the void.
"Now, Kael Arden… can you strike down even your master?"
The darkness split with a roar of steel.
The trial didn't end but began to continue.