They stood like starving wolves circling meat.

Six pedestals. Six treasures. Eleven cultivators.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then one pedestal shifted with a faint grinding noise.

Like a match dropped in dry grass, the hall ignited.

Yashan lunged. Shivul followed, blade half-drawn. Veiyra didn't move, but her disciples scattered like birds while she stood still, arms folded, watching like a queen. Shouts rang out. Metal clanged. Techniques flared.

"Wake up, you fool!" Rudra barked, eyes wide. "Don't just stand there—move!"

But Aaryan wasn't listening.

His gaze hadn't left her.

She wasn't the fastest, but she was the smoothest—elegant, almost bored, as she glided toward one of the treasures.

Aaryan sighed dramatically. "Well. If she's picking hers, I might as well go pick mine. Can't have her thinking I'm broke."

And with that, he strolled into the chaos.

Aaryan weaved through the chaos, letting others clash and roar like drunk bulls in a pit. His eyes scanned the pedestals again. Too many strong contenders on most. But then—

There. On the third pedestal.

Two rogue cultivators—scarred, grimy, and snarling like mutts over a bone. Peak of 7th stage, sure, but wild and unrefined. Their robes were frayed, their footwork sloppy, and more importantly—they hadn't even noticed him.

Aaryan smirked. "Well now. If it isn't the discount aisle."

He slipped toward them, unnoticed.

But just as he reached the edge of their scuffle, the burlier of the two spotted him.

"You?" the man spat, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "Third stage trash thinks he can—"

Aaryan didn't wait for him to finish.

He rushed forward, feinting high—then dropped low in a sudden crouch. His leg swept under the man's stance, knocking him off balance. Before the rogue could recover, Aaryan shot up and slammed his elbow into the back of the man's knee.

Crack.

The man howled, stumbling forward.

And then Aaryan struck—the Coiling Serpent Bind. A real, brutal manoeuvre, not some flashy mystic trick.

He stepped behind the rogue, hooked an arm under the man's armpit and twisted it up sharply, jamming a knee between his shoulders. His other arm locked around the throat, not choking—controlling. The man struggled, but the more he moved, the tighter Aaryan's limbs twisted. His joints locked. His leverage vanished.

"Stay still," Aaryan hissed, breath warm at the man's ear. "You're embarrassing yourself."

The man snarled and tried to elbow him—but Aaryan let the momentum roll them both sideways, slamming him down hard into the stone floor. The rogue groaned, pinned, arm twisted awkwardly behind his back. He wasn't getting up.

Meanwhile—

The second rogue let out a bark and lunged toward Aaryan with a broken saber raised—only for Rudra to crash into him from the side like a battering ram.

No finesse. Just raw strength.

The man's saber swung once—then Rudra caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted it until bones cracked, and drove his head into the rogue's nose.

Blood spurted. The saber clattered.

Rudra didn't stop.

He kneed the man in the gut, spun him around, and kicked the back of his knee, dropping him to the floor with a thud.

Aaryan finally let go of his struggling opponent and stood, brushing dust off his sleeves.

"Teamwork," he said, cheerful. "You beat yours half to death, I wrestle mine like an angry raccoon. Nice division of labour."

Rudra just grunted. "Stop talking. Pick the damn treasure."

"Right. Before someone else gets a discount."

They turned together toward the pedestal.

Its surface shimmered faintly. Whatever lay atop it had just been bought with bruises.

Just as Aaryan reached for the treasure, a blur cut across his vision.

Steel rang.

He yanked his hand back in time to see a blade sink inches deep into the stone pedestal where it had been.

Three figures had arrived—disciples in crisp robes, insignias of Crimson Serpent Hall and Cloud Pillar Sect glinting on their chests. All 8th stage. All pissed.

"Didn't your sect teach you manners?" one of them sneered. "Trash doesn't touch treasure."

Rudra reacted first, slamming into two of them with a roar. His fists moved like hammers, heavy and fast. One disciple blocked, only to be shoved back by sheer brute force. The other tried to circle around, but Rudra twisted, caught his cloak, and dragged him straight into a knee to the ribs.

Aaryan wasn't so lucky.

The third attacker rushed him—a slender youth with sharp eyes and sharper footwork.

Aaryan dodged the first strike.

The second clipped his shoulder.

The third slammed into his ribs, and Aaryan wheezed as breath fled his lungs.

He backed off, hands raised in a loose guard, trying to keep distance. But his opponent was relentless, pressing forward with sharp, precise strikes—each one faster than the last.

Aaryan ducked one, deflected another—but the next punch struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side.

Then a kick caught him square in the gut.

He folded.

Pain flared as he staggered backward, feet skidding against the stone. The world tilted—his ears rang.

Another blow came.

He tried to twist away—but the fist struck his ribs again, this time with a crack.

"Gonna take a nap now, pretty boy?" the disciple taunted.

Aaryan spat blood, eyes narrowed—but before he could reply, the disciple spun and drove a full-force kick into his chest.

Boom.

The impact launched him off his feet.

He flew back like a ragdoll, bounced once off the floor, then slammed into one of the far pedestals with a sickening thud.

Aaryan slumped at the base of it, coughing, barely conscious.

He wiped the blood from his lip, blinking past the blur, he could still make out the faint carvings on the wall behind the pedestal. Strange, intricate grooves, spiralling outward like the veins of some ancient beast.

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Something was off. His instincts, still sharp despite the pounding in his skull, screamed that this was important. He leaned closer, squinting. The indentations seemed to form a pattern. Or a... path?

Before he could study it further, a movement snapped his attention back to the chaos. A flash of motion. A blur of steel.

Yashan.

The man appeared in his peripheral vision, blade raised, a mocking smile on his face. "Still playing scavenger while real cultivators fight?" Yashan taunted, swinging his sword with deliberate malice.

Aaryan barely had time to react. He dove sideways, but his limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, the dizzying pain in his ribs clouding his judgment. He stumbled, barely dodging the first slash. The second, however, caught the edge of his arm, sending a sharp sting of pain through his body.

"Pathetic," Yashan jeered, stepping forward with deliberate slowness, like a predator toying with its prey. "Can't even dodge properly now? I expected more from a 'clever' little snake like you."

Aaryan's eyes flicked back to the wall, the grooves still drawing him in, demanding his attention. His mind raced. He couldn't just leave it. Not now, not when it felt like the key to something far more important.

He staggered back, letting Yashan press the attack, shoving him toward the wall. Aaryan's movements were clumsy, but there was a purpose in them—he let Yashan push him exactly where he wanted.

"Closer…. Just a little more."

With one last shove, Yashan drove him into the stone wall. The impact knocked the wind from Aaryan's lungs, and his head spun. He slumped against the wall, groaning. But as he looked down, his gaze locked onto the wall's surface.

The spiral wasn't just a design—it was recessed, shaped, deliberate. A socket. No, a keyhole.

Aaryan's breath caught. His fingers moved instinctively to his pouch. He pulled out the key he had taken from the beast's body in the pond, his pulse quickening. The shape of it matched perfectly.

His attention snapped back to the chaos around him. He scanned the hall quickly. In the chaos, two figures stood out—Shivul, holding the third strongest orb, its glow flickering with power. Veiyra, on the other side, was clutching the fourth, her eyes watching the room with quiet intensity, the orb's light matching her calculated focus.

Rudra was still battling the three disciples, locked in his own brutal struggle.

Aaryan grinned, wiping the blood from his lip. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

As Aaryan slid the key into the hole, he felt the moment of tension—just a breath before something shifted. The click was faint, barely audible, but it was enough to send a tremor through the room. The air around him grew heavy, thickening with an unnatural energy.

For a moment, everything was still. Then the walls trembled, and a deep rumble echoed from the depths of the tomb. The walls groaned like an old beast roused from slumber. Aaryan barely had time to brace himself before the floor split beneath them, and a flood of dark energy exploded from the walls.

The trap was triggered.

Rudra, in the thick of his fight, was the first to feel it. He staggered, his body thrown backward by an invisible force. The disciples from Crimson Serpent Hall and Cloud Pillar Sect weren't any luckier. They too were tossed aside, colliding with the walls with bone-crushing force.

Then came the chains.

Thick, radiant threads of energy shot from the walls, curling around the cultivators, locking them in place. The force of it was overwhelming. Veiyra grunted as chains coiled around her arms and legs, trapping her with little more than a flick of the tomb's magic. Shivul roared in defiance, his sword flashing as he tried to cut through the chains, but it was no use.

And then there was the wild chaos of the rogue cultivators. One was slammed into a wall, his body limp and unmoving as the chains snaked around him. The other was struggling, his face twisted in desperation, but the power of the trap overwhelmed him quickly.

Everyone was caught.

Except for Aaryan.

He stood alone in the centre of it all, his body unaffected by the magical chains that shackled the others. The air around him buzzed with tension, as if the tomb itself was waiting for something. Aaryan glanced over his shoulder at the others, smirking at their helplessness.

But there was something else—a strange pull in the air, a whisper at the back of his mind. He could feel it. The tomb had given him the power to control the trap, to manipulate it.

He could release someone if he wanted. If he chose to.

Aaryan crouched beside the nearest pedestal, scanning the scene around him. His eyes flicked toward the orbs that Shivul and Veiyra still held, their faint glow a constant reminder of their resolve to claim the treasure. They had kept their prizes. Aaryan's lips curled into a grin. 'A bit of pride, huh?'

As the chains tightened around them, the cultivators struggled in vain. But something was happening—the chains were weakening. Slowly at first, but unmistakably. The force that had held them in place was starting to lose its grip.

Aaryan could see it.

Rudra was already beginning to push against his restraints, the pressure on his arms lessening. The rogue cultivators' chains trembled as they too began to show signs of giving way. But they weren't free yet.

And Aaryan? He was fully aware of the window of opportunity this created.

The exit.

The tomb pulsed again. Across the room, a corner shimmered—just briefly. Stone peeled back in layered folds, revealing a faintly glowing door.

Chains rattled. Voices rose. Threats, curses, desperate promises.

"You think this will hold me forever, you little rat?" Shivul snarled, straining against the glowing restraints. Veins bulged on his neck, his aura pulsing with frustration.

"Aaryan!" Rudra growled. "Don't be stupid. Release me. Now."

"Let me out, and I won't break your legs," Yashan spat, his face twisted with fury.

Aaryan didn't flinch. He didn't even look at them.

He strolled across the hall like he was taking a casual evening walk, hands clasped behind his back, humming softly to himself. He stopped beside the closest pedestal and peered at the orb resting on it, tilting his head like he was admiring a piece of fruit.

"Ah," he murmured. "Still warm."

Then came a voice—calm, razor-sharp, and unbothered by chains.

"Release me, or I will carve your heart out and feed it to whatever beast I find first."

Aaryan froze. His brain short-circuited like a sparrow flying into a thunderclap.

His eyes widened. That voice.

He turned slowly. There she was—bound like the others, but her gaze was cold enough to split stone. The mysterious girl. Fierce, furious, and utterly, devastatingly beautiful.

For a second, Aaryan just stood there, staring like a stunned deer.

Then he smiled—wide, hopeless, smitten.

"O-of course, fair executioner," he stammered, pressing his hand to the pedestal's base. "Anything for you."

With a flick of his fingers, the chains around her dissolved into light.

She barely spared him a glance. With a swift, fluid motion, she snatched the strongest-glowing orb from its pedestal and strode straight for the gate, the glow parting around her like water.

The exit shimmered open.

And she was gone.

Silence hung in the air, heavy and stunned.

"…What," Shivul finally muttered.

Rudra groaned. "Are you serious right now?"

Aaryan was still staring at the now-empty doorway, sighing dreamily. "She threatened to feed me to a beast. I think I'm in love."

The tomb echoed with collective disbelief.

"You idiot," Rudra snapped. "You absolute—what part of trap them all did your brain not—?"

Aaryan spun on his heel. "Relax, relax." He strolled to the remaining pedestals, plucking up the other orbs one by one like a merchant collecting ripe fruit. "I got the goods, didn't I?"

He turned toward Rudra, holding up a hand before the man could speak. "Besides, we're from the same sect. It would be terribly inappropriate to leave you here. Bad look for brotherhood and all."

He tapped the control rune again. Rudra's chains shattered into light.

Aaryan gave a mock bow. "It was my plan all along, of course."

Rudra glared. "You mean the part where you let her take the strongest treasure?"

Aaryan waved him off. "She earned it. With... charisma. And a death threat. Honestly, she deserved it."

The hall was still trembling faintly, as if the tomb itself was amused by the spectacle.

The remaining cultivators—all still bound—were staring daggers at Aaryan. Shivul's jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might shatter. Yashan looked ready to combust. Veiyra, oddly, seemed more intrigued than furious, her head tilted slightly as she studied him like a puzzle that just flipped the board.

"You're playing a dangerous game," Shivul muttered, low and venomous. "Release me, and I might let you walk out of here alive."

Aaryan sauntered past him without a glance. "Tempting, but I think I'll enjoy the silence a bit longer."

"You idiot!" Yashan shouted. "We're all going to break out anyway—the chains are weakening! And when I do—"

"—you'll insult my mother, swing your sword, and cry when I dodge," Aaryan finished, waving lazily over his shoulder. "Heard it all before."

Rudra was rubbing his wrists, flexing his fingers. "So what now? We walk out while they boil in rage?"

"That's the dream," Aaryan said cheerfully. He approached the faintly glowing gate, the orbs tucked under one arm like spoils from a candy store. "You coming or staying for the encore?"

He glanced back at the chained cultivators one last time. "Think of this as... a motivational exercise. Builds patience, deepens hatred, strengthens the core."

The chains pulsed, flickered. Shivul growled something guttural.

Aaryan turned to the gate, holding up one of the glowing orbs. The stone shimmered, sensing the power.

"You sure you didn't just let the best treasure walk out?" Rudra muttered.

Aaryan sighed, dreamily. "She took my heart too, so... fair trade."

The gate loomed ahead, its glow pulsing in sync with the orbs cradled in Aaryan's arms. Just a few steps more, and they'd be through.

"See?" Aaryan said with a sideways grin. "Easy. Little trap, little chaos, little love story—classic Aaryan success."

Rudra smirked. "Yeah... classic."

But before Aaryan could respond, a sharp snap echoed through the chamber.

The chains around Shivul shattered.

A surge of killing intent flooded the room.

Aaryan and Rudra both froze.

Shivul rose slowly, his eyes burning with restrained fury. His aura surged, wild and vengeful. "You're not walking out of here."

Aaryan's breath caught.

And then Rudra moved.

In a single, practiced motion, he yanked the three glowing orbs from Aaryan's grasp. A hard shove followed—swift, deliberate, brutal. Aaryan stumbled backward, right toward Shivul.

"Rudra—?!" Aaryan's voice was raw, shocked.

But the betrayal wasn't done.

A dagger gleamed in Rudra's hand, already in mid-air, spinning toward the wall where the key glowed faintly.

Aaryan's eyes widened.

"No—!"

The dagger struck true. The key cracked. Sparks flew. A horrible, grinding shrrrkkk shook the air as the gate began to seal.

Rudra leapt through in the nick of time.

The stone door slammed shut behind him.

Silence fell.

Aaryan stood there, arms empty, the fading glow of the gate casting long shadows across his stunned expression.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

"Did... did he seriously just—?"

Behind him, the sound of more chains snapping filled the hall.

One by one, the others were breaking free.

Yashan's chuckle was low and vicious. "Looks like the snake just got skinned."

Shivul cracked his neck, stepping closer, his aura crackling with menace. "You made me bleed, brat."

Veiyra dusted off her sleeves, eyes locked on Aaryan—not with hate, but with cold, dangerous curiosity.

Aaryan didn't move. Didn't speak.

He just stared at the door, mind still reeling.

His chest tightened. Not just from fear. Not just from the aura pressing in.

But from something deeper.

'That damn hurt.'

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