The forest blurred past Dev in streaks of black and green, branches tearing at his sleeves, his breath ragged in his throat. He didn't stop running until the trees opened into a narrow clearing bathed in pale moonlight — and there, waiting, stood a lone figure leaning against a moss-covered rock.
Dev skidded to a halt, chest heaving.
"I know you," he gasped, pointing a shaking finger. "You're only Shakuni."
The figure didn't move. Shakuni's eyes glinted, unreadable, amused. "Only Shakuni," he repeated slowly, tasting the words like an insult he'd decided not to be offended by. "And yet here you are, running through my forest like the dead are chasing you."
Dev bent forward, hands on his knees, sucking in air. "Something is chasing me."
"Who did this to you?" Shakuni asked, stepping off the rock. His voice had lost its mockery now — sharpened into something more careful. "Who defeated Rutu Raj?"
Dev's head snapped up. "You know about that already?"
"News travels faster than you run, apparently." Shakuni folded his arms. "Answer the question."
Dev straightened, swallowing hard, like the name itself cost him something to say. "He's my step-brother."
Shakuni's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes did. "Your step-brother defeated Rutu Raj."
"You don't understand what that means," Dev said, his voice cracking with something between fear and disbelief. "My grandfather — Prasad — he gave him the Infinity Technique. Years ago. Before any of us knew what it really was."
"The Infinity Technique." Shakuni said the name like he was turning over a blade to check for rust. "That's a myth. A bedtime story old men tell to frighten children into training harder."
"It's not a myth." Dev's hands curled into fists at his sides. "I've seen what it does. If he masters it — actually masters it, not just wields it — he doesn't just become strong. He becomes something else. Something above strong." He lowered his voice, as if the trees themselves might be listening. "He'll master all seven Supreme Skills. All of them. At once. Do you understand what that makes him?"
Shakuni was quiet for a long moment. "A god."
"A god," Dev echoed hollowly.
"And Rutu Raj —" Shakuni tilted his head. "He was already ranked among the ten finest sword-hands in this age. If what you're saying is true, that ranking means nothing anymore. There is no rank above what he's becoming."
"That's why I ran," Dev said. "That's why I'm still running."
For a moment neither of them spoke. The wind moved through the clearing, dragging the scent of char and something older — something like old blood soaked so deep into the earth it had become part of the soil.
Shakuni finally exhaled, almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "So the great Prasad's blood finally shows its true color. I always wondered which of his grandsons would burn brighter."
Dev's jaw tightened. "Don't."
"I'm not mocking you." Shakuni's voice dropped, quieter, almost gentle — which somehow made it worse. "I'm telling you the truth. You've spent your whole life standing in his shadow, and now that shadow has grown large enough to swallow the sky. What do you plan to do about it?"
Dev didn't answer right away. His eyes drifted toward the horizon, toward wherever his brother was at that very moment, wherever the Infinity Technique was quietly reshaping the world's balance of power one heartbeat at a time.
"I don't know yet," he admitted finally. "But I can't stay here."
He turned, already backing toward the treeline.
"Where are you going?" Shakuni called after him.
"Home," Dev said. "To my place. There are things there — things my grandfather left me — that I need to understand before it's too late."
Shakuni watched him go, the moonlight catching the edge of a thin, calculating smile. "Everyone always thinks they have time," he murmured to the empty clearing. "Until the fire starts."
Dev didn't look back. The forest swallowed him whole, and somewhere far beyond the trees, the world was already beginning to change.