The sect was not the same after that day. The usual skirmishes still erupted, disciples still sought dominance in the training grounds, but something beneath the surface had shifted. It was in the way conversations hushed when certain names were mentioned, in the way wary glances were exchanged before a challenge was issued. A ripple had been sent through the rigid structure of power, and no one knew yet where it would settle.

For the stronger disciples, it was an unspoken humiliation. They had lost—not in combat, but in control. Aaryan had defied the unspoken rules that kept the sect's hierarchy in place, and worse, he had walked away unscathed. That could not be allowed to stand. They grew restless, their tempers sharper, their fights more vicious. Every duel became an unspoken attempt to reclaim their authority. They watched Aaryan, but not with open hostility—not yet.

Rather than act rashly, they recalculated.

Some sought out old rivals, testing their strength in duels that grew harsher by the day. Others gauged the shifting alliances, taking note of who had stood with Aaryan and who had merely watched. And then there were those who remained patient, biding their time, waiting for the moment when he would falter—or when someone would ensure that he did.

Among the weaker disciples, the ones who had stood behind Aaryan, uncertainty festered. Some had acted on impulse, swept up by the moment, and now questioned their decision. Strength ruled in this sect.

Had they chosen wrong? Would they be the first to suffer if a reckoning came?

A few had already begun to withdraw, no longer standing too close when Aaryan passed, speaking in careful tones, as if quiet distance could erase their involvement. Some simply avoided the subject altogether, pretending they had never chosen a side to begin with.

Whispers spread through quiet corners—some doubting, some rationalizing, and others searching for signs that he had a plan.

They avoided meeting the gazes of those who had once ignored them but now saw them as something more than background figures.

But others—others watched Aaryan with a different kind of intensity. He had done what no one else had dared, and they needed to believe he had done it with purpose. He had to have a plan. Because if he didn't, then what they had done wasn't just bold—it was foolish. And foolishness had a cost in a place like this.

The air was heavier now, thick with an unseen pressure. The sect had changed. Whether that change would take root or shatter beneath the weight of what came next—no one could say.

Those who felt that their dignity, honour, and resources had diminished because of Aaryan were now waiting patiently, searching for the right opportunity. But none of them were willing to sit quietly.

At first, the change was subtle—a few sideways glances, some hushed murmurs—but soon, it spread throughout the entire sect, faster than a wildfire in the forest.

"Aaryan is only safe because of Overseer Dharun. Otherwise..."

"He's becoming quite the hero, hiding among the crowd, a coward at heart."

"Is he trying to form his own faction?"

"Who cares? Soon enough, he'll learn that you can't lead a pack of wolves with words alone."

It started with a single voice, a casual remark tossed into the air like a careless ember. 'Strange, isn't it? Aaryan's been hiding behind Overseer Dharun all this time…'

Another disciple chuckled, shaking his head. "Does he even know how to fight without someone watching his back?"

And just like that, the spark caught. By evening, what had started as a passing comment had spread like wildfire, twisting with each retelling, reshaping itself into a new truth.

It didn't happen on its own. Some disciples had carefully planted the seeds of these whispers, and over time, the whispers grew, some true, some distorted, but all with one clear goal in mind.

It didn't take long before even those who once stood with Aaryan began to waver. They had seen him as a symbol of change—but now? Doubt crept in. They questioned whether they had misunderstood his defiance as ambition.

"I had a feeling, you know. He was only playing the saviour to protect himself that day."

"Let's see how it plays out when Overseer Dharun's support is gone."

"But at least, that day, we saved our resources."

"Oh Right, but those resources won't matter when the bones start breaking."

Even among the weaker disciples, doubt began to spread. Some feared they were mere pawns and quickly distanced themselves, pretending they had never supported him.

But it wasn't just fear that took hold—envy did too. Not everyone believed the rumours, but no one could ignore what they meant. If Aaryan was truly rising, siding with him might be the smarter move.

A small group huddled together, their voices barely above whispers. One, a tall-built disciple, shot a glare across the yard, frustration twisting his face.

"Do you see him? He's becoming someone," He muttered. "He's rising, getting the attention of the overseers. Who does he think he is?"

"Maybe we should stick with him," said another, her voice laced with bitterness.

"We could have joined him," The tall one said, his voice dripping with resentment. " But look at him now. He doesn't even care about us anymore."

Not everyone was thinking like that though.

"If the elders are watching, maybe joining him is the smart move."

"If he does form a faction... do I really want to be left out?"

Aaryan's attention briefly flickered to the whispers outside his cave. He could hear the faint buzz of voices, each carrying a piece of the narrative others were spinning about him. His fingers twitched for a brief second, an old habit from days when rumours carried real consequences.

But it didn't matter. He had dealt with rumours his whole life. If anything, the sect was predictable—jealousy masquerading as wisdom, fear disguised as strategy. Let them talk. None of it would change the path he had chosen.

Deep down, he knew the truth—perception shaped reality. If the sect's view of him shifted too much, it could block his path. And he had no time for obstacles.

He was in his cave, focused on his own preparation, with no interest in getting tangled in these matters. He already knew that true power came from within, and for that, he would have to rely on himself to achieve everything.

That's why his path was now different from everyone else's. The sect had given him nothing but obstacles, and he was done waiting for their approval. He had made up his mind—he would no longer depend on their resources. No overseer, no alliance, no borrowed strength. He would take what he needed on his own.

A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. Let them fight over scraps. He had bigger things to claim.

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The retaliation began subtly, creeping into daily life like an unseen toxin. The stronger disciples had learned from their past mistakes; they knew that coming after Aaryan directly was too risky. Instead, they turned their attention elsewhere—toward those who had stood by him.

At night, weaker disciples found themselves dragged into alleyways, their cries muffled by calloused hands. In the training fields, spars turned into executions—bodies left in the dirt, breathless and unmoving. One disciple, desperate to escape, offered his entire ration pouch as a bribe. They took it. And still broke his fingers.

Food rations went missing, and resources mysteriously vanished from their storage pouches. Whispers turned into threats, and soon, intimidation gave way to outright violence.

"You think standing by him makes you strong?" a disciple sneered as he slammed another into a stone wall, his grip tightening around his opponent's collar. "You're nothing. Without him, you're just another worm in the dirt."

Another group of disciples cornered a lone figure near the marketplace, their smiles twisted with amusement. "You made the wrong choice," one of them said before knocking the disciple to the ground. "Learn from it."

Among those suffering the worst was Kinu, the same disciple who had once been among Aaryan's doubters but had hesitantly aligned with him. Now, he lay bloodied on the ground after another humiliating ambush, his breath ragged. When he tried to get up, a foot pressed down on his back, shoving him down again.

"Tell me, was it worth it?" his attacker jeered. "You thought he'd protect you? That he even cares?"

Kinu gritted his teeth, but he said nothing. The truth was, he didn't know the answer.

The message was clear—Aaryan couldn't protect them. The ones who had once believed in him now lived in fear, their confidence shattered with each passing day. Some began avoiding him entirely, afraid that even being seen near him would invite further punishment.

But others couldn't take it any longer.

A small group of them gathered, their eyes darting nervously as they approached Aaryan's cave. Their postures were tense, their faces lined with bruises and frustration. When they found him, they didn't wait for pleasantries.

"You started this! Now they're coming for us!" one of them, a thin but fiery disciple, spat out, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration.

Another, bruises lining his arms, took a step forward. "You made them hesitate last time. If you do it again, they'll back off!"

"And if they don't?" A panicked voice broke through. A younger disciple, barely able to meet Aaryan's gaze, was shaking. "What if this only makes it worse?"

"What choice do we have?" The fiery disciple snapped, turning on him. "You want to just wait until they break your legs next time?"

The younger disciple flinched at his own words, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to be listening. Another shifted from foot to foot, rubbing at a fresh bruise. The tension among them was thick, clinging like damp air before a storm.

"You don't understand," another voice broke in, quieter but just as desperate. "It's different now. They're not just scaring us—they're making sure we don't stand up again."

The fiery disciple took another step forward, his hands clenched. "We can't just—" Someone grabbed the fiery disciple's arm, as if afraid he might go too far. The younger one took a shaky step back, glancing over his shoulder.

Aaryan sat still, his expression unreadable. He looked at each of them in turn, gaze settling for a moment on Kinu, who stood slightly behind the others, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Kinu's gaze flickered—part anger, part hesitation. He hadn't wanted to come. Maybe he should have stayed away. But now that he was here, he found himself waiting just like the others.

Kinu forced himself to stand still, even as every instinct screamed at him to leave. He didn't want to be here—didn't want to ask for help. But when he saw Aaryan's face, unreadable as ever, something inside him twisted. Had they all made a mistake? Had he?

Aaryan exhaled, slow and measured. Then, finally, he spoke. "So, you've come to me."

The weight of his words settled over them, the tension in the air thick enough to choke. They had made their plea. Now, they waited for his answer.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Aaryan's gaze swept over them, unimpressed, his posture relaxed yet unyielding. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

"And what do you expect me to do?" His tone was blunt, edged with disinterest. "Fight for you?"

A few of them tensed, anger flashing in their eyes. The fiery disciple stepped forward, fists clenched. "You used us to get out of trouble! Now you're abandoning us?"

Aaryan smirked, slow and deliberate. "Of course I used you." He let the words settle, watching the shift in their expressions—shock, anger, unease. Then, his voice sharpened, cutting through their indignation. "Didn't you use me too?"

No one spoke, but the weight of his accusation made some flinch, while others averted their gaze. Aaryan's stare remained steady, unwavering.

"You ran to me, not because you trusted me, but because I was your safest bet." His gaze flickered to Kinu, who stiffened. "And now, you're doing the same thing."

A disciple let out a harsh breath, his anger barely restrained. 'That's not—' He cut himself off, then clenched his fists. 'You act like you're different, but you're just like them. You act strong because you don't have to care.'"

A murmur rippled through the group, uncertainty shifting to something sharper—resentment.

Aaryan exhaled, shaking his head. "You think I don't care?" His gaze swept over them, unreadable. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here wasting my breath."

His smirk returned, colder this time. "And if I were just like them, then you wouldn't be here."

A muscle in Kinu's jaw twitched. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say Aaryan was wrong. But wasn't that exactly what they were doing?

A different disciple, younger and more desperate, broke the silence. "Then what are we supposed to do?!" His voice cracked. "We're not like you! Some of us just aren't strong enough!" His fists clenched, frustration bleeding into fear. "You keep talking about making them hesitate, but what if they don't? What if they just beat us worse next time?"

Aaryan exhaled through his nose, as if their ignorance was exhausting. "Then make sure every time they take from you, they bleed for it." His voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like steel.

He took a step forward, forcing them to hold his gaze. "You don't have to win. You just have to make them ask themselves if it's worth it. If they think kicking you down will cost them something—blood, a broken finger, even a few days of pain—they won't be so eager next time."

His gaze flicked between them. "But if you roll over and wait for someone stronger to fix it for you…" He let the words hang, the implication clear.

A murmur ran through the group, uncertain but intrigued.

"Strength isn't victory," Aaryan continued. "It's consequences. If they know beating you down means nothing, they'll keep doing it. But if they think there's even a chance, they'll pay a price for it, they'll think twice."

The fiery disciple frowned. "What price? They're stronger, they have more resources—what do we have?"

Aaryan's eyes darkened, his voice turning colder. "Desperation."

The word lingered, heavier than the rest.

"They know you're weak," Aaryan went on. "That's why they don't hold back. But if you stop being predictable, if they start wondering whether the next fight will leave them limping, whether you'll grab their leg even when you're down, whether their 'easy victory' might come at a cost… they'll hesitate."

Kinu exhaled sharply. He understood now. It wasn't about winning. It was about making sure no one got to walk away untouched.

Aaryan exhaled quietly. He could understand their fear—he'd lived through it himself once. But understanding didn't mean he cared.

"But if you'd rather keep your heads down and wait for someone else to save you…"

Aaryan's gaze swept over them once more, hard and unwavering.

"Then stay weak."

No one moved. The words hit their mark, but whether they would act on them—that was their choice.

Aaryan studied them for a second longer. Fear, doubt, anger—it was all there, tangled together.

He could almost see himself in them, back when he still thought fairness meant something.

But fairness was a lie.

He turned without another word, stepping back into the shadows of his cave, leaving them standing there, the weight of his truth pressing down on them like a storm waiting to break.

Silence lingered long after Aaryan disappeared into the shadows of his cave.

For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. The weight of his words still pressed down on them, thick and suffocating.

Then, like a dam breaking, the murmurs began.

"He's just leaving us like that?" a disciple scoffed, crossing his arms. His voice was sharp with frustration, but beneath it was something raw—something closer to fear.

"What did you expect?" another snapped. "That he'd stand in front of us like a shield? Fight all our battles?"

The first disciple clenched his fists. "That's not the point. He used us when it suited him! Now he's telling us to deal with it on our own?"

"And why shouldn't he?" The voice came from the back, quieter but steady. A girl, one of the younger disciples, shook her head. "Didn't we use him too? We followed him because it was convenient that day. But what now? What do we do?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

A tense silence settled over them once more, the weight of uncertainty far heavier than any words Aaryan had spoken.

A disciple near the front, older and hardened by too many losses, exhaled through his nose. "He's right about one thing," he muttered. "If we keep letting them take from us, we'll always be weak."

Some nodded. Others hesitated.

"But what can we even do?" someone else muttered. "We're not fighters. We're not like him."

The older disciple let out a dry chuckle. "Neither was he. And look what happened to him. He almost died."

No one had an answer to that.

Some turned and walked away, unwilling to entertain the thought of fighting back. Some lingered, debating among themselves, voices rising and falling in frustration. A few stood still, silent, the weight of the moment settling deep into their bones.

The choice was theirs now.

Whether they fought back or cowered—it wasn't Aaryan's concern.

Inside his cave, Aaryan exhaled slowly, eyes closed. He could almost predict the ones who would break first. Maybe that was the problem—he already knew how this would end.

It didn't matter.

He had changed the rules once. Let's see who survives them.

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