A week had passed since Sampoorna had fed the three divine pills to Aaryan.

Within the quiet, mist-laden cave, silence reigned. No birds sang here, nor did wind rustle through trees. Only the slow, rhythmic breathing of the boy lying on the smooth stone bed echoed in the stillness. But he was no longer the same boy who had collapsed here with bloodied robes and shattered bones.

Aaryan's transformation was subtle at first—threads of vitality weaving through his veins, torn meridians knitting themselves with a strength unknown to the world of mortals. But now, the change could no longer be hidden.

His bones had not merely healed; they had reforged. Each fracture had melded together not like broken wood glued in place, but like molten steel reforged in celestial fire—denser, heavier, yet somehow more flexible. His spine, once fractured in three places, now lay straight and unyielding like a divine rod. Every joint in his body sat in perfect alignment, as if the heavens had sculpted him anew.

His meridians had widened beyond anything a Qi Condensation realm cultivator should possess. They pulsed now—thick channels of flowing life essence, capable of holding power meant for someone far above his current cultivation. No longer did they appear like fragile threads within his body. They were rivers now, slow but deep, waiting to flood.

And Aaryan himself—

If the heavens did hold a standard for beauty, then he was brushing against it.

His face had lost all signs of youth's awkwardness. The softness had faded, replaced by sharpness and balance. Cheekbones slightly high, yet not severe. A straight nose, carved as if with precision, and lips shaped with neither excess nor flaw—his appearance now was regal and arresting, but not cold. His skin glowed with a faint, warm undertone like sunlight glancing off polished jade. It was not pale, but clear and vibrant, the very picture of vitality.

And his eyes, though still closed in sleep, held faint golden tinges near the lashes. As if even in unconsciousness, something divine was beginning to stir behind those lids.

His body remained lean, never overly muscular, but every inch of him radiated strength. The kind of strength that didn't rely on bulk—but coiled in the limbs like a predator's spring, silent and controlled. Even his height had changed. Where once he might've only reached Sampoorna's chest, his frame had now stretched. Taller. Straighter. A child still, but one whose frame was starting to echo the man he might become as if retaining a strange ethereal grace.

Sampoorna stood nearby, arms folded behind his back, his ever-stern gaze locked on Aaryan.

Behind him, Maya approached quietly. Her veil fluttered with the faint breeze of her steps.

"He will surpass them," she murmured, voice soft and thoughtful.

Sampoorna did not turn.

Maya stepped beside him. "Even those monstrous heirs of the main clan—nurtured with divine elixirs—never had their meridians reshaped so early. If young master cultivates from this new foundation…"

"He will crush them," Sampoorna said simply.

Maya's eyes lingered on Aaryan's sleeping form. "He's too handsome," she muttered, half to herself. "Even among the clan's elite, I've never seen someone like this. The third son of the main house is called the 'Phoenix Mirror' for his face, but even he would look average beside this."

Sampoorna's lips twitched faintly at that, though he remained silent.

After a pause, Maya turned slightly. "So, what now? We've found him, kept him alive. But what's next?"

The silence stretched.

Sampoorna closed his eyes. Then he let out a long sigh, one that seemed to carry years of weight.

"…Master entrusted me with the young master's safety," he said quietly. "Back then, I thought the only path was to take him somewhere remote. A hidden valley, a forsaken peak—some place where no one would ever find him."

"And yet, they still did," Maya whispered. "Your brother…"

Sampoorna's eyes darkened for a heartbeat. "I was ambushed. Forced to flee. In that chaos, I could only send the child away, to live as a mortal, far from the reach of bloodlines and blades. Master… Master only wanted him to have a normal life. A happy one."

"But," Sampoorna sighed, "it seems the young master has already chosen his path."

A long silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional crackle from the faintly glowing spiritual flame warming the cave.

Then Maya frowned, something seeming to click in her mind. "Wait. You're not thinking of telling him… the truth?"

Sampoorna didn't respond.

"You can't," Maya said firmly. "You can't. He's still a child. Even our master and madam—those unmatched cultivators—couldn't face what was chasing them. What can a boy do?"

Sampoorna turned toward the cave mouth.

"Come," he said quietly. "There's something I need to show you."

His tone left no room for argument. Maya hesitated, then followed.

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The two of them vanished into the shadows, leaving Aaryan behind. Silent. Still. Yet faint traces of golden light began to shimmer across his skin, like stars waiting for night to fall.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The world above the cliff was silent—eerily so.

Jagged rocks jutted like broken teeth from the earth, and the once-solid platform where elders had once stood in arrogance now lay shattered, scarred by fire, force, and blood. Craters split the ground, branching like spiderwebs. Rubble still smoked faintly, and the faintest trace of the scent of scorched earth clung to the wind like an accusation.

Sampoorna and Maya hovered in the air above it all, robes fluttering soundlessly.

Below, three bodies lay amid the chaos—two headless and one with a hole near where abdomen should be. Death had not come gently.

Maya's gaze lingered on the ruin. She turned slowly to Sampoorna, brow furrowed beneath her veil. "Why did you bring me here?"

Sampoorna did not answer immediately. His eyes swept over the battlefield once more, as if committing every broken stone and bloodied ripple to memory.

"This is where I found the young master," he said at last, voice low. "He had barely a breath left in him. Every bone cracked. His meridians torn. And yet… he was still holding on."

Maya's head whipped toward him.

She looked again at the corpses below, the destruction around them. Her lips parted slightly beneath the veil. "You mean to say…" Her voice faltered. "This… all of this… was him?"

Sampoorna said nothing.

"But the faint qi lingering in those corpses…" Maya's spiritual sense swept across the cliff. "First or second stage Qi Condensation, all of them. And you want me to believe the young master— who probably hasn't even stepped in Qi Condensation himself—defeated them?"

"If my guess is correct…" Sampoorna's gaze didn't waver. "Yes."

"But that's…" Maya's eyes narrowed.

She had seen prodigies. She had never seen this.

"Are you certain no one else was here?"

"I felt another presence while rushing here. Faint. Skilled. But it vanished before I arrived." Sampoorna's brows lowered. "If it had been an enemy, the young master would be dead. If it were a friend… they wouldn't have left him like that."

Maya said nothing, but her eyes drifted again toward the scorched cliff. The silence between them stretched long and taut.

"Which leaves one answer," Sampoorna said. "That he did it himself."

A sharp gust passed by. Dust rose from the rubble, whirling briefly before settling again.

Maya stared downward, lost in thought. "If that's true…" Her voice softened. 'Then the heavens have already chosen him. This… this is beyond talent."

"This is destiny," Sampoorna said, eyes still locked on the ruins. "And perhaps a curse."

Neither spoke for a long moment.

Then Sampoorna turned his head slightly, gaze landing on a chunk of rubble near the centre of the blast zone. He raised a hand. A sharp whistle sliced through the air, and from the ashes, something flickered—a glint of silver and black.

A small ring flew into his palm.

He closed his fingers around it, lifted it slowly to his face. His nostrils flared once—faintly—and something like recognition lit his eyes.

"…It's his," he said.

Maya glanced at the ring. "You can tell?"

"Not by qi—there's none," Sampoorna murmured. "But the scent—the faintest trace of sandalwood and copper. It's the same as when I first held him as a baby."

He looked back toward the cliff one final time. Then he turned to Maya.

"Let's go."

With a wave of his sleeve, space rippled around them. Wind spiralled once more across the broken cliff—but when it cleared, the two were gone.

Only the corpses remained, and a battlefield that whispered of an impossible storm born from a dying boy's will.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The cave was quiet—deep within the mountain's heart, where even wind dared not intrude. Its walls glowed faintly with fire etched into stone, casting gentle illumination over the figure lying on the elevated stone platform. Aaryan's chest rose and fell in quiet rhythm, each breath steadier than the last.

Sampoorna and Maya reappeared in silence, robes settling around them like shadows returning to the dark.

Sampoorna's eyes softened as he looked at him.

"Our young master," he murmured, "is the fusion of two ancient bloodlines… destined to stir the world awake. He was never meant to be ordinary."

Maya remained silent, gaze flickering across Aaryan's face.

Sampoorna continued, voice gaining quiet fire. "If those so-called heavenly prodigies had the scraps he's had so far—the meagre resources, the isolation—they wouldn't be able to kill one forget killing three Qi Condensation cultivators… they wouldn't even last three blows in front of him under same circumstances.."

He stepped closer, a glint in his eye. "And yet he awakened the bloodline of Calavorys on his own—through sheer will. Without the clan's sacred altar. Without the ceremony. Without guidance. Even Master… even he only awakened it at Core Formation."

Maya's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

Sampoorna raised a hand, and a twelve winged creature danced upon his fingertip—"An echo of Calavorys, what burns in him now… is pure. Untamed. And with the divine pills we gave him, his foundation is more solid than any of them could ever imagine. Ten times stronger than those pampered youths. No—twenty."

He lowered his hand, gaze hardening.

"Those arrogant, sheltered prodigies—let them keep their titles. They can't hold a candle to him."

A hush followed.

Then Sampoorna said, "We will protect him from the shadows. Guide him without chains. I'll remain hidden, watching, ensuring no threats touches him unseen. And you—"

He turned to Maya.

"—you'll walk beside him in the light. Guide him. Nudge him when he strays."

Maya frowned slightly. "Why not guide him openly? Why not train him yourself?"

Sampoorna shook his head. "I can't risk exposure. Not yet. Too many eyes still search for signs of us. And as for you… the world believes you're dead. That is an advantage. Use it."

"But why hide at all?" she asked. "Why not tell him the truth now?"

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then, softly: "Because this choice must be his."

Maya tilted her head. Sampoorna's voice deepened, steady with conviction.

"If he wishes to live an ordinary life… we will not stop him. We will walk beside him quietly. Shield him. Let him laugh and breathe and be free."

"But if he chooses otherwise," Sampoorna's eyes burned now, "if he walks the path destiny has etched into his bones… then we will help him climb. We'll guide him to where strength lies buried—in ruins, in bloodlines, in forgotten truths. We'll lead him to what is his by right."

Maya stood silent, the weight of his words settling into the stone around them.

"And when the time comes," Sampoorna said, voice like steel in the dark, "we will tell him everything. The truth of who he is. What was stolen from him. What was lost."

His hand curled into a fist.

"And if he refuses the war… if he turns away from revenge… I will respect it. But know this—"

His eyes blazed.

"—I will repay the blood debt. In full. I will keep getting strong, until I am strong enough, if master and madam are alive, I will rescue them but if they…. Then I will slaughter each and everyone of them. They wouldn't have a peaceful breath. Not while I draw breath. Not while the heavens still burn."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Even the flicker of fire along the cave walls seemed to pulse in agreement.

Unexpectedly, a low murmur—almost a confident chuckle—slipped through the silence: "But as the son of our master, I already know what he'll choose."

Aaryan lay between them, still unaware. But the world outside stirred. And fate, it seemed, had already begun to move.

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