The man stood under the winding path's shadows, arms folded, eyes scanning the darkening trail. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of crickets and the distant rustle of leaves. Evening had settled in, and the last of the sun's warmth had long since vanished. The trees below shifted with the breeze, their tops swaying like heads turning to watch.

He didn't know someone was behind him.

Not until a cold tingle crawled down his neck.

He stiffened. His eyes darted to the sides, and he turned with a sudden jolt.

But all he caught was a blur.

Then came the punch—fast, brutal, and right across his jaw.

It knocked the wind out of him. He staggered backward, boots scraping across the dirt. For a second, he thought he might fall, but his legs barely held. He opened his mouth to yell.

Too late.

A hand clamped down on his mouth, firm and unmoving.

His gaze locked on the figure—and his heart jumped to his throat.

He'd seen this boy before. Back in the village. Watching him quietly as he played the role of a bandit attack survivor.

Now he stood here, his face unreadable, and his eyes steady.

That same boy was smiling. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just calm—like he had all the time in the world.

Panic surged. The man clawed at the hand covering his mouth, but it didn't move. His fingernails dug in. The boy didn't even blink.

He was still struggling to believe it. A child had done this. Held him down like it meant nothing.

Then the other hand rose.

Faint traces of qi shimmered across Aaryan's fingers like smoke in the air.

The man froze.

Qi Condensation.

No, worse. A boy already in Qi Condensation—something most grown men failed to reach.

Aaryan leaned closer, his voice low and level. "I'm going to take my hand off. I'll ask you some questions. If you say anything other than answers, I'll break your fingers. Nod if you understand."

The man nodded. Too fast. His whole body trembled with it.

Aaryan slowly pulled his hand away.

"Why the act this morning?" he asked.

The man opened his mouth. At first, no sound came. Then a hesitant whisper. "You're not from that village… Who are you?"

Aaryan's grin returned.

His hand struck out again, swift and sure, covering the man's mouth. His other hand grabbed the man's right hand, thumb pressing against one finger.

A sharp snap broke the silence.

The man's scream was muffled, pressed back into his throat by Aaryan's grip. His knees buckled slightly, but he didn't fall. Pain twisted across his face.

"Let's try again." Aaryan's voice held no anger. Just certainty.

He inclined his head. The smile was gone now.

"I ask. You answer. Simple."

This time, the man didn't nod like a chicken. He nodded slow, and his eyes showed something real.

Fear. Not the kind he faked in the village. This one settled deep and raw, the kind that didn't need words.

Aaryan eased his hand away from the man's mouth.

"Why the act this morning?" he asked again, voice low but steady.

The man sucked in a breath like it hurt. "I was sent to scout. For that, I had to stay in the village."

Aaryan's head tilted slightly. "So why the bandit attack story?"

"To make them afraid," the man said quickly. "And to earn sympathy. People talk more when they think you've suffered. It lowers their guard."

Aaryan didn't respond immediately. His eyes studied the man's face like he was watching a puzzle solve itself.

"What were you trying to find out? And did you get it?"

The man gave a shaky nod. "We heard the village was hiding something. Valuable. Strange. My group sent me to confirm it."

He hesitated. Aaryan waited.

"There's a shrine," the man continued. "Up on the ridge, north side. A few kids mentioned it. Said the elders never let anyone near. If something's hidden, that's where it is."

Aaryan didn't blink. "How did your group find out about this mysterious thing in the first place?"

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Silence.

The man's mouth opened—then closed again.

One breath.

Two.

Crack.

Another finger. His whole body jerked. A strangled scream fought past Aaryan's hand, muffled and weak. His knees wobbled.

"I forgot to mention," Aaryan said quietly. "You get two breaths. No more."

The man nodded furiously, sweat running down his temple. "Steel City," he gasped once Aaryan let him breathe. "Someone there hired us. Not just us—lots of groups. Bandits, mercs, scouts. All sent to search the villages."

Aaryan leaned in. "Search for what? And who gave the order?"

"I don't know the name," the man said quickly. "No one gave it directly. The job came through a broker. Said something was buried in this region."

"And?"

"All we got was a clue," the man whispered. "That the item reveals its brilliance under the stars."

Aaryan stayed quiet.

His hand still covered the man's mouth. His eyes narrowed.

'Under the stars.'

He filed the words away. Then slowly pulled his hand back.

"No more questions. I'm done asking," Aaryan said, voice low. "If you've got something to say, say all of it. Now."

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Aaryan didn't ask any more questions. The man's broken fingers throbbed with pain, and the faint shimmer of qi flickering around Aaryan's hands left no doubt—this boy was no gentle child. Hence, under Aaryan's relentless grip, the man spilled everything—no secrets left to hide, no lies left to twist. The cold certainty in Aaryan's hold had done its work.

Satisfied that there was nothing more to learn, Aaryan pressed one hand firmly over the man's mouth again. The man—who had silenced countless others before—recognized the sign immediately. He thrashed and struggled, every muscle straining with desperate strength, but Aaryan's grip held fast, unwavering.

A cold smile curved Aaryan's lips. "You know the drill. No loose ends." His voice was low, sharp, but carried an almost casual edge, as if this was just another routine step. "And in appreciation of your cooperation—I'll make it quick."

Before the man could even blink, a sharp crack cut through the night. Aaryan snapped the man's neck with practiced ease, his movements precise and unhesitating.

The forest around them had surrendered fully to darkness. Aaryan glanced down the narrow path swallowed by shadows. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, then tossed the lifeless body toward the rocky wall lining the mountain trail. The corpse hit the stones with a heavy thud, scraping against rough surfaces before settling on the hard ground.

Without hesitation, Aaryan followed, retracing his steps along the path. His eyes scanned the area, searching for a suitable place to dispose of the body completely, leaving no trace behind.

Suddenly, Vedik opened his mouth. A narrow stream of flame burst forth—silver-white and nearly pure in colour. At the edges, faint flickers of violet, sea-green, and rose gold shimmered and danced, vanishing as quickly as they appeared—like fleeting illusions.

Aaryan blinked, surprised. He'd seen Vedik's sparks and smoke before, but this was something else entirely—the flame in full, radiant brilliance.

The fire licked the corpse swiftly, consuming it until only ashes remained. The cool jungle breeze caught the remnants, scattering them silently into the night.

Aaryan turned toward Vedik, who now wore a smug, almost proud expression. A twitch pulled at Aaryan's face. "Couldn't you have done that before I tossed the body?" he muttered.

Vedik chirped sharply, as if protesting the lack of praise for his brilliance.

The night had turned still again, the only sound the rustle of leaves and Vedik's smug chirp. Aaryan exhaled slowly, then turned, steps already retracing the path back to the village.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The village lay quiet beneath the cloak of night. Aaryan's footsteps barely disturbed the dirt path as he slipped forward, senses alert despite the calm.

He moved quietly through the village, the night settling over it like a heavy cloak. The cool air was still, and the faint smell of earth and wood drifted around him. He hadn't managed to get near the shrine itself, but the scraps of information he'd gathered were enough for now. Others were interested in the secret the shrine held—and that raised the stakes far beyond what he'd anticipated.

Most of the villagers were already asleep by the time he returned. Doors were shut, windows dark, and the only light came from the soft glow of a few lanterns left burning. A handful of old men lingered near the well in the village square, their faces shadowed but their eyes sharp and watchful. They watched Aaryan's approach with a flicker of suspicion, their gazes lingering longer than comfort allowed. It was the kind of look reserved for someone sneaking off to meet daughters or wives in the dead of night.

Aaryan ignored the silent judgment and kept his pace steady, not looking back. He headed directly for Binay's house.

He knocked softly. The door creaked open slowly, and Binay's familiar face appeared in the dim light.

"Lost track of time while training," Aaryan said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "Sorry for the late hour."

Binay shrugged off the apology easily. "No big deal. Go freshen up. I'll reheat the food."

Aaryan nodded, grateful for the simple kindness. After a quick wash, he sat down at the wooden table with a steaming bowl in front of him.

In the next room, he could hear Chottu's soft, even breathing. The boy was already fast asleep, unaware of the dangers and secrets swirling around the village.

Aaryan ate quickly but carefully, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders. Hunger gnawed at him, but his mind was restless, racing through every detail he'd uncovered.

When the meal was gone, he thanked Binay once more and moved to the small room he was staying in. He dropped onto the cot, the thin mattress creaking under him.

Vedik was perched at the open window, eyes gleaming in the moonlight like twin jewels. The little dragonling watched him with quiet amusement, as if sharing some unspoken secret.

The day had been full of surprises and danger—enough to shake even someone used to the shadows. But Aaryan knew this was only the beginning.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The morning sun filtered lazily through the small window, casting soft light over the room. Aaryan sat quietly, cradling a warm cup of tea between his hands. The heat was a small comfort, but his mind was far from peaceful. The man's words from last night echoed relentlessly—there were other groups out there, hunting for the shrine's secret. And they weren't exactly planning a polite visit.

Whoever was behind sending those bandits had to know something important about what the shrine held. Otherwise, why bother sending multiple groups to raid villages? That wasn't a coincidence—it was a coordinated effort. Then there was Dawnshard, his sword, and its mysterious connection to the secret in the shrine. The secret in the shrine wasn't just a curiosity. It mattered—to Aaryan, to the bandits, and to whoever sent them.

Trading for whatever was inside the shrine? He snorted quietly to himself. As if he had anything worth trading. And even if he did, the villagers wouldn't hear of it. To them, whatever lay hidden wasn't just some valuable trinket—it was a blessing from the gods, sacred and untouchable. No amount of gold, promises, or sweet talk was going to change that.

So stealing it was the only real choice left. Not that Aaryan liked the idea. He wasn't exactly the "break and enter" type, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He convinced himself that the bandits—and whoever was pulling their strings—would take it by force sooner or later. If that was the case, it was him —even if he couldn't care less about the village—than with some mercenary who'd happily burn it to the ground. At least he will be sad for some time if something like that happens.

Maybe, just maybe, if the shrine's secret vanished, the bandits would lose interest and leave the village alone. Because nothing says 'peaceful night' quite like merciless thieves demanding your gods' blessing on a silver platter.

Aaryan drained the last of his tea, the bitter taste lingering as he gave a dry chuckle. There was no turning back now. Welcome to the mess.

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