Garvit's defeat shook the Normal Class—but the ripples did not stop there.
In the Expert Class, a young man stood silently inside his room, his expression dark.
Sarthak.
Shishya Rank 8.
He was Garvit's backer, the one who had supported him from the shadows. To Sarthak, Garvit was nothing more than a useful pawn—but that pawn had just been crushed by someone who should never have been able to do so.
"Siddharth…" Sarthak muttered.
That same evening, a message reached Siddharth.
Come to my room.
Siddharth went.
Sarthak sat casually, sipping tea, his aura faintly oppressive even without being released.
"You defeated Garvit," Sarthak said calmly. "Impressive."
Siddharth remained silent.
Sarthak smiled. "I like talented people. Come under my wing. Be my subordinate. I'll make sure no one in the Gurukul dares touch you."
The offer was tempting to many.
But Siddharth shook his head. "I refuse."
The smile vanished.
Sarthak's eyes turned cold. "Think carefully."
"I already have," Siddharth replied.
Silence filled the room.
Then Sarthak stood up.
"You should know what's good for you," he said flatly. "The year-end evaluation is in one month. Accidents happen on the stage."
He leaned closer, his voice icy.
"If you die… You can only blame your own weakness."
Sarthak turned and left.
Siddharth returned to his room, fists clenched.
I could defeat him, he thought.
With those eyes… with illusions…
But he shook his head.
No.
Abilities that should only exist at Rishi rank would attract attention—dangerous attention. Not just from students, but from elders… perhaps even from forces beyond the Gurukul.
I need strength that can be explained.
The next morning, Siddharth went to see Devdutt.
"I want to take leave," Siddharth said. "I'll return before the year-end evaluation. I plan to train in the Forbidden Valley."
Devdutt's expression changed instantly.
"That place isn't for training," he said sharply. "It's for people who want to die."
"I still want to go."
Devdutt stared at him for a long moment, then sighed.
"I'll allow it," he said slowly, "if you can withstand one punch from me."
Siddharth's eyes sharpened.
"Shishya Rank 9 power," Devdutt added. "No holding back."
Siddharth nodded. "If I take more than three steps back, I won't go. I'll stay and study under your guidance."
It was an arrogant reply.
Devdutt's brows rose.
"So confident?" he said quietly.
In the next instant, Devdutt released his Yogi Rank 2 prana pressure.
The room seemed to shrink.
The air turned heavy, crushing.
Ordinary Shishya-rank disciples would have collapsed instantly.
Siddharth's legs trembled—but he did not kneel.
His bones screamed. His muscles tightened. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
But he stood.
Devdutt's eyes widened slightly.
Shishya Rank 4… resisting this?
Devdutt withdrew his pressure.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Devdutt exhaled.
"You can go," he said. "But don't blame me if you end up dead there."
Siddharth bowed deeply.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "For everything."
He raised his head, eyes steady.
"Even if I die… I'll never forget that after I lost my parents, there was still someone who believed I could succeed."
Devdutt turned away.
"Go," he said gruffly. "Before I change my mind."
Siddharth left.
And with that step—
He walked away from safety.
Toward his own fate.