Time passed like smoke—visible only when disturbed.
For four long years, the Indrajeet brothers vanished from Ayothira's stage. No sect claimed them. No scroll recorded their progress. To the world, they were forgotten. But in truth, they were evolving.
Jagan trained in silence. His days were spent in the ruins of the Ember Sanctum, where the wind carried whispers of old battles. He tempered his body with elemental Qi, mastering the art of rhythm-based combat. Every movement followed a beat, every strike a pattern. He fused body cultivation with sword technique, creating a style that mimicked Ravana's legendary cadence. By age fourteen, he had reached Stage 5—but he wore the mask of Stage 3.
Karthi's forge grew deeper, more complex. He built spiritual engines that amplified Qi through harmonic resonance. His machines responded to thought, forming astral constructs that could fight, scout, and shield. He studied summoning glyphs, beast taming rituals, and soul-binding techniques. His cultivation was layered—spirit, summoning, invention. He too reached Stage 5, and like his brother, cloaked it beneath a soul veil.
They became ghosts of power.
Jagan began recruiting quietly—orphans, outcasts, late bloomers. He taught them rhythm, resilience, and justice. Solara was born, a hidden kingdom of light.
Karthi did the same. He found inventors, thinkers, and those cast aside by sects. He gave them tools, knowledge, and purpose. Umbra rose beneath the earth, a realm of shadow and invention.
Neither brother knew the other was alive.
And beneath Ayothira, the Eight Demons stirred. Their seals pulsed faintly, sensing the rise of twin flames. The Guardians began to whisper through relics and dreams.
The world believed the Indrajeet legacy was dead.
But in silence, it was being reborn.