The letter reached Master Hari before sunrise.
He read it once.
Then again.
The wax seal of Lord First still glowed faintly, warm from the spell that delivered it across the sky.
"So… they've decided," Hari murmured.
Outside, the training grounds were silent. Mist drifted over the stone floor like the world itself was holding its breath.
Hari folded the letter.
"Send Deva to me."
Deva stood alone near the guardian quarters, staring at the horizon as night slowly surrendered to dawn.
Every time he closed his eyes, the word echoed again.
Disqualified.
His chest tightened.
"Deva."
A temple soldier stood behind him.
"Master Hari is calling for you."
Deva nodded silently and followed.
Inside the main hall, Master Hari stood with his hands behind his back.
He wasn't smiling.
"Do you know why you're here?" Hari asked.
Deva shook his head.
Hari studied him—the straight posture, the controlled breathing, the quiet weight he carried.
"The Seven Lords have made their decision."
Deva's heartbeat quickened.
"You will become a guardian."
The words hit harder than rejection ever could.
"…What?"
"Lord First has taken responsibility for you," Hari continued calmly. "He will personally mentor you."
Silence filled the hall.
"Why?" Deva asked quietly. "After what I did… they should have expelled me. I'm a coward."
Hari stepped closer.
"You think refusing to fight makes you a coward?"
Deva didn't answer.
"I know what happened in the stadium," Hari said. "When the Ashura attacked the child in the stands, you used your power to protect her."
Deva's eyes widened.
"And when your curse began to awaken," Hari continued, voice low, "you suppressed it. Alone. You burned through all your remaining strength to stop it from taking control."
The air felt heavier.
"You chose humiliation over destruction," Hari said firmly. "That is not cowardice."
Deva lowered his head.
"Everyone thinks I was afraid…"
"Yes," Hari replied. "And now you have the chance to prove them wrong."
High above the temple, Lord First stood at the highest platform, his staff resting lightly against the stone.
He felt the exact moment the decision reached Deva.
"So it begins," he said softly.
Behind him, Lord Seventh spoke.
"You are tying your fate to his."
Lord First smiled faintly.
"I already did… long ago."
Later that morning, the newly chosen guardians gathered before the weapon sanctum.
Massive doors slowly opened.
Inside, rows of weapons stood displayed in silence.
Swords. Spears. Bows. Blades carved with ancient markings.
The air felt different inside the chamber.
Heavier.
When Deva stepped in, whispers followed immediately.
"That's him…"
"The cursed one…"
"The boy who didn't fight…"
Deva stopped walking.
His chest tightened.
Then someone stepped forward.
Karan.
He stood beside Deva without looking at him.
"If he's standing here," Karan said calmly, "then the Seven Lords judged him worthy."
The whispers faded.
Deva glanced at him.
"…Thank you."
Karan's expression didn't change.
"Don't thank me. Just don't break."
A deep bell echoed through the chamber.
Master Hari stepped forward.
"From today onward, you are no longer candidates."
He paused.
"You are guardians in training."
A ripple of tension moved through the group.
"Your first trial begins now," Hari continued. "You will choose a divine weapon."
Maya raised her hand immediately.
"I already carry a special sword. Can I choose another one?"
Hari looked at the blade at her waist.
"What you carry is blessed by human spiritual energy," he explained. "But it is not divine."
Indra tilted his head. "There's a difference?"
"Yes," Hari replied.
"There are three kinds of weapons."
"Ordinary weapons used by soldiers."
"Weapons blessed or cursed by human spiritual power."
"And divine weapons… created by gods and Devtas themselves."
The room grew quiet.
Sun raised his hand. "But Master Hari… can't we kill Ashura with normal weapons?"
"You can," Hari said. "Some of them."
His gaze hardened.
"But there are Ashura that only divine weapons can harm. And divine weapons do more than kill. They amplify a guardian's power."
Indra looked around. "If they're made by gods, how are there so many here?"
"There aren't," Hari answered.
"In this age, divine weapons are rare. When a guardian dies or retires, their weapon returns to this chamber."
Silence followed that statement.
"These weapons are not tools," Hari added. "They have will. They choose their wielder."
Maya stepped toward a sleek silver sword resting on a dark pedestal.
The blade emitted a faint glow.
She grinned confidently and grabbed the hilt.
The moment her fingers closed around it—
The air exploded with pressure.
A crushing force slammed down on her shoulders.
Crack.
The stone beneath her boots fractured.
Maya gasped as her knees buckled.
The sword didn't move.
It wasn't heavy.
It was rejecting her.
After a few seconds, the pressure vanished.
Maya stumbled back, breathing hard.
"…What was that?"
"Divine weapons test the soul," Hari said calmly. "If you cannot endure their will, they will not accept you."
The room was completely silent now.
"No one draws a weapon today," Hari continued. "Mark the one that responds to you. Training begins at dusk."
One by one, the guardians moved carefully through the chamber.
This time, no one acted casually.
At the far center of the room, Deva felt something.
A gold bracelet that did not glow.
Did not hum.
Did not shine.
It simply stood there.
Waiting.