The jungle throbbed with tension. Twisted roots and thick vines clawed at Aaryan's feet as he moved, silent and sharp through the undergrowth. Shadows flitted between the trees—low snarls, the gleam of pale black fur.

Twelve of them. Maybe more.

The beasts circled, each one nearly four feet tall, their glowing eyes locked onto him. Qi Condensation first stage—easy enough to handle, if they came one by one. But they didn't. They were pack hunters.

Aaryan exhaled slowly.

The first wolf lunged. His body moved on instinct. A clean side-step, a flash of his blade, and the beast dropped, its throat spilling crimson onto the earth. Two more came from the left. Aaryan ducked low, pivoted on his heel, and drove his fist into one's ribs. Bones cracked. The second leapt—he caught it mid-air and slammed it down, spine-first, onto a jutting rock.

Snarls rose behind him.

A second-stage wolf burst from the foliage, fangs bared, faster than the others. Aaryan didn't turn. He didn't need to.

Crack.

It hit the ground like a sack of meat, life drained, struck by something it never saw. Its wide eyes stayed open—vacant, like the mind had broken before the body did.

Aaryan smiled without warmth, readying for another round.

But something changed.

The air—suddenly dry. Hot. And still.

Aaryan's senses screamed. The other beasts, snarling just moments ago, now hesitated, ears twitching, some even whimpering. Their fury dulled, replaced with something primal: obedience? Fear?

A low vibration passed through the ground, subtle but unmistakable.

He turned—and saw it.

Between the trees, shadows moved.

Then it stepped out.

The Ashenfang Direwolf.

Its massive form parted the undergrowth like a prow through water. Blackened fur shimmered with ember-streaks, each step leaving behind faint trails of scorched earth. Smoke curled from its jaws as it exhaled—slow and calm, as if it didn't consider this a fight. Just a hunt.

Its eyes met his—amber coals, unblinking.

Aaryan shifted his stance, blade low. The Direwolf watched, smoke curling from its breath. Lesser beasts cowered, none daring to cross the line it had drawn.

For a heartbeat, nothing moved.

Then Aaryan exhaled. "Alright then..." he whispered, eyes narrowing. Limbs tensed as ready to strike.

The Direwolf tensed.

Aaryan stepped forward—

Then spun on his heel and bolted.

"Do it! Now!" he barked over his shoulder, not at a beast—but at the dragon perched on him.

The baby dragon blinked, silver irises flashing with mischief. It chirped once, a sound too light for the tension and then closed its eyes.

For a single second, the air shimmered.

And Aaryan vanished.

Where he had been, now only stillness remained. No footprints. No scent. Nothing.

The Direwolf lunged, too late. Its jaws snapped shut on empty air. It skidded across scorched soil, eyes blazing, hackles raised.

It circled, growling low. Sniffed once. Then again.

Nothing.

Only trees. Smoke. And silence.

The Direwolf let out a thunderous snarl, sending nearby beasts scattering, then slammed a paw down, scorching the earth. Its golden gaze lingered on the empty clearing a moment longer... then it turned and vanished into the jungle like a flame devoured by the dark.

Far above, hidden beneath a veil of shimmering air and illusion, Aaryan crouched on a thick branch, breath steadying.

The dragon on his shoulder gave a quiet trill.

He almost swore it was smirking.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The roar of falling water muffled the jungle's wild rhythm. Mist hung in the air, clinging to Aaryan's skin as he crouched on a flat boulder beside the cascade, robes clinging damp to his body. The sun filtered through the treetops, streaking golden against the silver spray.

A breath—steady now. His pulse had finally slowed.

It had been over a year since he left Evernight Sect. A year since he'd turned his back on Dharun's quiet disapproval and still unconscious Kalyani. He hadn't said much. Just that he needed strength. And that he couldn't find it by staying.

With Maya around, time had passed comfortably. Almost too comfortably. She made the journey easier—too easy. Foes that should've left scars crumbled into dust with a flick of her hand. Most of his victories before he left? They weren't because he was stronger. They were because his enemies were careless. Underestimating. Caught off-guard. That nagged at him more than he let on.

He'd tried, more than once, to convince her they should part ways. That he needed to walk alone, take hits without a shield always nearby. But Maya—Maya only ever smirked, shook her head, and told him he wasn't ready.

Then, one day, she was gone.

No warning. Just a faint gust of wind, the scent of her lingering in the trees—and a jade slip, left where she knew he'd find it. Her voice echoed in his mind even now: "Don't wait too long again. You already know what you have to do. I'll find you… when it's time."

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He hadn't known what to say then. He still didn't.

A flick of movement drew his gaze to his wrist. Coiled tightly there like an ornament, a spirit snake slumbered—except it wasn't a snake. Not really.

"You just had to stir the Direwolf, didn't you?" Aaryan muttered.

The creature uncoiled slightly, lifting its narrow head and blinking lazily. Silver irises flickered with false innocence.

"Don't give me that look." Aaryan scoffed. "You did eat that herb it was guarding."

Vedik—the dragonling masquerading as a snake—clicked his tongue in mock offense. One of his tiny front claws twitched, forming what looked suspiciously like a shrug, followed by a cocky series of gestures that made Aaryan's jaw twitch.

"You'll handle it next time?" Aaryan narrowed his eyes. "That's not the point. You know why I didn't let you fight."

Vedik slumped against his wrist like a sulking child, tail flicking. Aaryan leaned back against the rock, watching the water crash down.

"It's training. You wiping that thing out would've taught me nothing," he muttered. "But now? After months of stagnation... I'm almost there. Just a little more."

The dragonling lifted its snout, unimpressed. One claw traced a spiral in the air—mocking. Like Aaryan was just daydreaming again.

"I swear to the heavens, sometimes I think I should've cracked your egg and made breakfast instead..." Aaryan growled, rubbing a hand down his face.

Vedik chirped, smug again.

Aaryan glanced at the treetops. The Ashenfang was still out there. Waiting.

Round two wasn't far off.

And this time, it wouldn't be so one-sided.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The map was crude—scratched into a flat slate of stone with the edge of his dagger—but it was enough.

Aaryan sat cross-legged near the dying embers of last night's fire, squinting at the messy lines. He'd redrawn it enough times that he could trace it from memory. Six continents. Endless borders and names he couldn't pronounce.

"Yugantar…" he muttered. The name still felt strange on his tongue.

He hadn't even known the world had a name until Maya said it like it was obvious. Like it wasn't absurd that a boy from a forgotten corner of nowhere hadn't even heard of the lands beyond his own continent.

Panchvati. His home. One of the six.

A continent that clung to the southern curve of Yugantar like an afterthought. Maya once said the central cities probably didn't even know his region existed. Too remote. Too southern. Too small.

His finger traced its outline—Panchvati's jagged edges, bordered to the north by Kamyaka, a land of wild forests and unaffiliated cultivators, where power changed hands faster than maps could be drawn. Further left, across the ridge of spine-like mountains, sat Vajra—the centre of the world.

The heart of it all.

And the one place Maya told him never to go.

"You step into Vajra as you are now," she'd said, arms crossed, wind in her hair, "and you'll be dead before the first hour ends."

He'd laughed. She hadn't.

The wind shifted. Aaryan looked up, watching a pair of birds vanish into the trees. Behind him, Vedik stirred, tail tightening around his wrist like a warm bracelet.

"I get it now," he murmured. "Why she insisted we head to Kamyaka."

Unlike Vajra, Kamyaka didn't boast heaven-grade beasts or ancient lineages blessed by stars. It was wilder. Unclaimed. Full of risk—and opportunity. A place where power could be earned, not inherited.

That suited him.

His eyes scanned the rest of the etched map. Anjana lay southeast of Vajra, blanketed in fog and mystery. Maya said not even the sky worked right there. He hadn't asked what she meant.

Then, to the far north: Arya and Sharanya, isolated continents surrounded on all sides by the Sagar. No bridges. No land routes.

"Even the strongest," Maya once whispered, "don't cross those waters casually."

She'd spoken of them like places one went to vanish—or die.

Aaryan leaned back, resting on his elbows as clouds drifted overhead.

Yugantar. Six continents. And he hadn't even left his own yet.

Not really.

His gaze dropped back to the scratched lines. A narrow curve arced north from Panchvati.

Kamyaka.

The trail wasn't easy. But he didn't need easy.

He needed stronger bones. A sharper mind. Enough power that when he did step onto Vajra, the land would remember.

And if it didn't?

He'd make sure it regretted that.

Vedik snorted, a puff of smoke curling across his wrist. One silver eye cracked open, unimpressed.

"Yeah, yeah," Aaryan muttered, brushing the smoke away. He gave the dragonling a pat.

Vedik lifted his head and smugly rubbed into the touch.

Aaryan stood, rolling up the slate and tucking it into his robe.

"Still not even at the centre of Panchvati yet," he said.

The world was bigger than he'd imagined.

Good.

He was tired of small.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Far from the flickering campfire where Aaryan traced maps of continents and futures, the world was already shifting around him—threads pulling taut in places he couldn't see.

In one of the courtyards of the Evernight Sect, Elder Kiyan stood alone, his hands clenched behind his back as Rudra adjusted the strap of his travel cloak. The early morning mist curled low around the tiles, clinging like it didn't want to let go. Kiyan knew the feeling.

"I said no," he said, for the fifth time—or maybe the fiftieth. "You're not ready."

Rudra didn't answer. He didn't even glance up. The boy moved with purpose, rolling his sleeves, fixing the grip on his blade. Stubborn didn't begin to cover it. He'd grown—taller, colder, quieter. And impossible to reason with.

"I've begged. I've warned. What else do you want from me, Rudra?" Kiyan's voice broke for just a second, then steeled itself again. "You think the world out there is waiting for you with open arms? That strength comes just because you chase it?"

Still no response.

Then Rudra paused, turned, and walked over. For a moment, the icy wall cracked. He looked at Kiyan—not as a defiant disciple, but as a grandson. One last time. And then, without a word, he pulled the old man into a sudden hug.

It didn't last long.

By the time Kiyan could react, Rudra had stepped back, the mask of indifference already settled on his face again.

"If that's what you want," Kiyan muttered, his shoulders dropping, "then fine."

He reached into his sleeve and tossed something through the air. Rudra caught it—a spatial ring, dark silver with a single blue rune etched across the band.

"I can't have my idiot grandson walking around carrying his luggage like a street peddler," Kiyan said gruffly.

Rudra stared at the ring for a second, then slipped it on his finger without comment.

He turned, heading toward the sect gates.

Kiyan took a step forward, anxiety bubbling up. "When will you return?"

"I don't know," Rudra said, never breaking stride.

Kiyan watched until the silhouette vanished into mist. And even after, he kept watching

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Some two hundred kilometres northeast, the residence of the Singh Clan stirred with motion. Lanterns flickered, servants rushed, and family members crowded the open courtyard where two figures stood at the centre of attention.

One was a girl with fire in her eyes and purpose in her step. Meera. The frightened girl Aaryan found in chains had vanished—scarred by fifty lost years, but no longer shaped by them.

The other was a boy with silver-streaked hair and a lazy smile. Vayu, her self-appointed companion, who didn't yet realize what he'd signed up for.

Surrounding them were clansmen, elders, cousins with teary eyes. And among them, calm and quiet as always, stood Sect Leader Shiela of Evernight.

She embraced Meera tightly. "You really won't tell your parents why?"

"They wouldn't understand," Meera said, her voice soft but certain.

Shiela nodded, and leaned in close. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You're going after him, aren't you?"

Meera froze. A blush rose uninvited to her cheeks, lighting her face in a way not even the rising sun could match.

Shiela laughed—quiet and knowing.

Vayu tilted his head. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," both women said in unison.

Baffled, he scratched his neck. "Right…"

With final goodbyes and too many well-wishes, the pair stepped beyond the clan gates. Their journey had no set destination—just a direction. Forward.

The sun rose in full now, gilding the hills in pale gold. Meera stopped for a second, eyes narrowing as she looked at the path ahead.

"I said I won't be late to you," she murmured, barely loud enough for Vayu to hear. He didn't.

But the image in her mind was clear—a boy, ten years old, wild-eyed and fearless, grinning like he owned the world even in torn robes and empty pockets, making her blush again.

Vayu groaned. "You know, if you're going to keep sighing and blushing every ten steps, I might just turn around now."

Meera laughed and walked on.

Vayu followed—with significantly less enthusiasm.

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