The journey away from Nila-Giri was not conducted on foot. The Dharma Sanctuary traveled in "Solar Carriages"—massive, levitating palanquins carved from white sandalwood and powered by refined Prana crystals. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of expensive sandalwood, a sharp contrast to the sulfur and sweat of the forge.
Arjun sat opposite the Envoy, whose name he had learned was Elder Savitra. The man spent most of the journey chanting over a string of prayer beads, but his eyes never truly left Arjun.
"You look uncomfortable, Saint-Child," Savitra said, his voice smooth as oil. "Do not miss the dirt of the forge. In the Capital, you will bathe in milk and sleep on silk woven from the cocoons of Heaven-Moths."
Arjun gripped the handle of the black hammer, Vajra-Bhara, hidden beneath his traveling cloak. "I am a blacksmith's son, Elder. We find comfort in the weight of the iron, not the softness of the silk."
Savitra chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. "That will change. Once you see the Great Sun Mandala, you will realize that your father's world was nothing but a shadow on a cave wall."
The Boundary of the Wild
On the second day, the landscape changed. The rolling hills and terraced farms of the valley gave way to a wall of ancient, suffocating green. This was the Dandaka Forest, a place where the laws of the Sanctuary held no weight. Here, the trees were so thick they blotted out the sun, and the air was heavy with the primal musk of Asura Beasts.
"Alert!" a guard shouted from the roof of the carriage. "The Prana density is spiking. We are entering the territory of the Iron-Hided Gajas."
The solar carriage hummed louder as its defensive arrays began to glow gold. But the forest remained eerily silent. Even the insects seemed to have stopped their chirping.
Suddenly, a massive, obsidian-tipped arrow whistled through the air. It didn't strike the carriage; it struck the ground ten feet ahead.
BOOM.
A shockwave of dark energy erupted, shattering the carriage's forward levitation crystals. The palanquin tilted violently, slamming into the earth and skidding across the forest floor. Arjun was thrown against the cushioned wall, his vision blurring.
Ambush of the Parashu
"Attack!" Savitra roared, his peaceful demeanor vanishing. He kicked open the carriage door, his own Swarupa—a Golden Censer—manifesting and spewing thick, protective smoke.
Arjun scrambled out of the wreckage. Outside, the scene was chaos. The six golden guards were already engaged in combat. Their opponents were not beasts, but men and women dressed in tattered grey and green—the Parashu. These were rogue cultivators, hunters who lived by the law of the jungle and the strength of their own hands.
"By the order of the High Priests, stand down!" a guard screamed, thrusting a spear of light.
A Parashu woman with a facial tattoo of a tiger laughed, dodging the spear with a fluid, predatory grace. "The Priests are in the Capital, little lamb. Here, only the hungry survive!" She struck his chest with a palm infused with wind Prana, sending him flying through a banyan tree.
Elder Savitra hissed, his Censer glowing. "Protect the boy! If he is lost, your lineages will be erased!"
Two guards moved toward Arjun, but they never reached him. A massive, hooded figure dropped from the canopy above. He carried no weapon other than his bare hands, which were encased in gauntlets made from the teeth of a dragon.
"The Sanjeevani Lotus," the hooded man rumbled. "The black market in the Southern Isles will pay a continent's worth of gold for a living battery like you, boy."
The Breaking Point
The hooded man swiped at the guards, his strength so immense it cracked their golden armor like eggshells. Arjun backed away, his heart hammering. He looked to Savitra, but the Elder was pinned down by three Parashu archers.
The hooded hunter turned his attention to Arjun. "Don't be afraid, little flower. We won't kill you. We'll just... keep you clipped."
As the hunter reached out, Arjun felt the Vajra Trident in his left palm scream. The Asura-Gati seal he had practiced for seventy-two hours began to fray. The "silk" of the Lotus was being burned away by the "acid" of the Trident's rage.
"Not yet," Arjun whispered to himself. "Father said hide."
He pulled the black hammer, Vajra-Bhara, from his belt.
"A hammer?" The hunter laughed. "You're going to build me a house while I kidnap you?"
The hunter lunged. Arjun didn't use a soul skill. He used the only thing he knew: the blacksmith's strike. He swung the hammer with both hands, aiming not for the man, but for the man's center of gravity.
CLANG.
The hammer met the hunter's tooth-gauntlet. To the hunter's shock, the small boy didn't move an inch. The black hammer absorbed the impact, its meteorite iron core humming with a low, dangerous frequency.
"You're heavy," the hunter grunted, his eyes narrowing. "What kind of Rank 10 are you?"
He roared, his own Prana—a Rank 25 Earth Bear—surging. His muscles doubled in size, and he struck again, this time with a force that shattered the ground beneath Arjun's feet.
The Trident's First Blood
Arjun was thrown back, his cloak shredded. He hit a tree, the air leaving his lungs. He saw the hunter walking toward him, a cruel knife of bone in his hand.
"The hard way it is, then."
Arjun's vision began to turn silver. The peaceful blue light of the Lotus retreated. He couldn't hold it back anymore. The weight of his father's secret, the loss of his home, and the looming cage of the Sanctuary coalesced into a single, sharp point of fury.
"Fine," Arjun thought. "Let it burn."
He opened his left hand.
The air in the forest seemed to warp. A high-pitched screech, like a thousand dying birds, filled the clearing. The Vajra Trident didn't just flicker; it materialized in a storm of purple lightning that turned the surrounding grass to ash.
The hunter froze. His "Earth Bear" soul whimpered, a primal instinct of fear overriding his greed. "That... that's not a healing soul. That's an Astra! A Forbidden Soul!"
Arjun didn't speak. He stepped forward. His movement was no longer the clumsy stride of a child; it was the Asura-Gati (The Demon's Stride). He flickered out of existence, appearing behind the hunter in a blur of purple light.
"Vajra Strike: First Prong – Thunder Clap!"
Arjun thrust the Trident. He didn't even need to touch the man. The shockwave of destructive Prana hit the hunter's back like a falling star. The man was launched five hundred feet through the forest, a trail of scorched earth marking his path until he vanished into the darkness of the trees.
The Aftermath and the Choice
The clearing went silent. The remaining Parashu, seeing their strongest fighter handled so easily by a child, vanished into the shadows like smoke.
Elder Savitra stood amidst the wreckage, his robes torn. He looked at Arjun—specifically at Arjun's left hand, where the purple lightning was slowly receding.
"The Trident," Savitra whispered, his voice trembling not with fear, but with a terrifying, religious ecstasy. "A Twin Soul. Destruction and Life. The prophecy of the Thousand-Year Mandala is true."
Arjun stood there, gasping for air, the Trident finally vanishing back into his skin. He felt hollow, his Prana completely drained.
Savitra walked toward him, his golden eyes wide. "Arjun... you are more than a Saint-Child. You are the Avatar of the Cycle. The High Priests... they will be so pleased. They will not just use you. They will study you."
Arjun looked at Savitra. He saw the same look his father had warned him about—the look of a man who saw a god, but wanted to own it.
"I won't be a study," Arjun said, his voice cold.
He looked at the forest. The Parashu were gone, but the forest felt alive, watching him. He could go with Savitra to the Capital and be a "god" in a cage, or he could run into the green nightmare of Dandaka and be a ghost.
Before Savitra could respond, a second shockwave hit. This time, it wasn't an arrow. The ground split open, and a massive, white-furred Himalayan Yeti-Hound (600-year-old Asura Beast) lunged into the clearing, attracted by the scent of the Trident's power.
"Arjun! Get back!" Savitra yelled, summoning his Censer for a final stand.
But Arjun didn't move back. He looked at the beast, and then at the path leading deeper into the woods.
"This is where I leave you, Elder," Arjun said.
He didn't fight the Yeti-Hound. Instead, he used the last drop of his Prana to trigger the Asura-Gati one more time, leaping into the dense canopy of the trees and vanishing into the heart of the Dandaka Forest.
He was ten years old. He was Rank 10. And he had just declared war on the world.