"The strength within is not always yours to command, yet it waits—patient, untamed, and ready to guide the one who dares to awaken it."
Arjun's eyes narrowed as he stared across the flickering firelight, his mind still reeling from the events of the night. The air was heavy with smoke, the scent of roasted herbs lingering, but beneath it ran an undercurrent of something older, sharper—like the forest itself was listening. He swallowed hard, struggling to reconcile the images of Arsh tied and trembling, his inner power barely restrained, with the calm presence of the two men before him. Finally, he spoke, his voice wary but insistent. "What… what kind of rebels are you? Who are you people? And why are we here, really?"
Hind Man's amber eye glinted in the firelight, calm and piercing. He leaned back against a gnarled root, fingers tracing idle patterns along the edge of the simmering pot, his expression that of a man who had seen far too much to be surprised. "Rebels, you say?" His voice was smooth, carrying authority yet tempered with an unusual warmth, like a teacher speaking to a student. "We are friends of your master—Bhargav. He sent me here specifically to help the boy you see before you… Arsh."
Arjun blinked, trying to absorb the weight of that name. Bhargav—the noble who moved quietly, whose plans rippled far beyond the villages and arenas they had known—had sent someone to intervene. And now, that someone was standing before him. "Friends of Bhargav?" he echoed, his tone laced with both suspicion and relief. "So… you've been sent to protect him?"
Hind Man nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Not just protect. To guide. To shape what lies within him. Your path is separate—for now. You, Raj, and the others will be sent elsewhere for training. Important training. Skills you do not yet realize you will need. But this boy, Arsh, requires a different kind of guidance. A kind that you, for all your strength, cannot yet provide."
He motioned toward the man who had earlier knocked Arsh unconscious, now leaning casually against a tree with a faint smirk. "Shiba." The name cut through the air like a sharp blade. "You will train him from the basics. Every step, every move, every instinct. There can be no shortcuts. No half-measures. Begin with what he knows, and build outward. Let him understand the foundation before the storms come."
The servant, who had been silently observing the exchange, stiffened slightly at the name. Hind Man's gaze swept over him, steady and commanding. "And you—Shrava. It is time you step fully into your role. Help him. Guide him. Protect him when needed, yes, but teach him to rely on his own strength as well. Do not falter."
Shrava nodded once, silent but resolute, his hands brushing against the straps that held the supplies they carried. Though his face betrayed little emotion, his eyes held a flicker of respect, and perhaps even hope, for what they were about to attempt.
Hind Man finally straightened, his shadow stretching long across the clearing as the firelight danced. "As for me…" He paused, letting the words hang in the air, weighty and deliberate. "I will take care of a few matters elsewhere. Hunting demons near the main headquarters. But the boy, the forest, and his awakening… that remains here. And you," he added, tilting his head toward Shiba and Shrava, "will see it through."
The flames crackled, and the forest seemed to hum with quiet anticipation, as if every tree and stone recognized the gravity of the moment. Arjun took a deep breath, the firelight reflecting off his determined eyes. They were no longer simply survivors of circumstance—they were participants in a network of rebels, friends of a master whose plans stretched far beyond what they could see, and witnesses to the forging of power that could change everything.
Arsh's eyelids flickered, and slowly, awareness returned. His muscles ached, the ropes had been loosened, and the firelight danced across the clearing. For a moment, confusion clouded his mind. Voices carried across the space—Arjun speaking quietly with the others, laughter and muted conversation mingling with the crackle of the flames. His brow furrowed, irritation bubbling beneath his skin.
"Arjun…" Arsh's voice cut through the night, sharp and slightly accusatory. "Why are you… with them?" His gaze darted from the small group of rebels to Arjun himself, suspicion and anger coiling like a snake inside him.
Arjun's eyes met his, calm and steady. "They're good, Arsh," he said simply, voice patient but firm. "We're here to train under them. To learn what we need to survive and fight. Nothing more. You'll see—they're on our side."
Arsh's jaw clenched, but before he could retort, a deep, calm voice intervened. "Arsh." Hind Man's amber eyes glimmered in the firelight as he stepped forward, his presence commanding even across the distance. "Come join us for dinner. There's something I need to discuss with you alone."
Arsh's confusion deepened, suspicion still prickling his skin. "Why? Why alone?" he asked, his tone wary.
Hind Man's expression softened only slightly, but his gaze remained intense. "There is a person of interest—someone whose information you need. It is better discussed in privacy."
Arsh's tension eased, though curiosity replaced much of his previous anger. He nodded slowly and followed Hind Man to the fire. Plates were laid before them, simple but hearty fare—roasted meat, herbs, and bread warmed by the flames. Arsh ate with an almost desperate hunger, the fatigue of the day and the battle within him weighing heavily on his body.
Once the meal was done, Hind Man gestured toward a quieter spot near the edge of the clearing. The shadows stretched long, the firelight flickering across their faces as they walked. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening, waiting.
Hind Man stopped and regarded Arsh with quiet intensity. "What I am about to tell you," he said, voice low, "concerns the hero you have been seeking—Atharv. There are truths and fragments you must know, truths hidden in time and memory. I spent time with him once, long ago, alongside his companions. And there is one small scene… that I believe you need to hear."
Arsh's eyes sharpened, a spark of recognition igniting within him. He knew who Atharv was. His heart quickened. Yet he remained silent, waiting for Hind Man to continue, every nerve alert.
Hind Man's gaze darkened slightly, and the firelight reflected in his amber eyes as he began recounting the memory. "It was small… a brief encounter, yet it left a mark," he murmured, voice low, drawing Arsh closer to hear each word.
The scene unfolded in his mind, vivid and sharp. He was being chased—pursued relentlessly by demons whose shrieks cut through the night like jagged knives. His movements were precise, but even he could not evade them forever. The forest twisted around him, branches clawing at his cloak, roots threatening to trip him at every step. And then, unexpectedly, a group of young boys appeared—ordinary in appearance, clad in school uniforms that seemed almost out of place amidst the chaos. Yet each wore a mask, marked with the symbol of Hind Man's homeland, an emblem that seemed impossibly out of place on Earth.
Hind Man had paused mid-stride, eyes narrowing. "Tell me," he called to one of the boys, his voice cutting over the din of demon roars, "how do earthly people come to wear Aradhya's mask?"
The boy stepped forward, youthful but determined, and replied with an unshaken voice, "Let me defeat this demon. You—hide somewhere nearby. Watch and see."
Hind Man followed the instruction, melting into the shadows, concealed by both the night and the undergrowth. From his vantage point, he watched as the boy—Atharv—and his friends engaged the demon with a strange precision. Energy flashed from their hands , weaving and striking with a rhythm and control that suggested they had been trained far beyond ordinary means. Within moments, the demon collapsed, vanishing into a puff of corrupted smoke, leaving the clearing eerily silent.
When the danger had passed, Atharv and his companions approached Hind Man, their youthful faces calm but alert. "We are substitutes," one of them explained, voice steady despite the adrenaline lingering in the air. "We drew our power from Aradhya's land, our native home. It is not here, yet its essence remains with us. That is why we wear the mask—it connects us to the source, even in a place like this."
Hind Man studied them carefully, eyes tracing every movement, noting the confidence and the unspoken bond between the youths. Their energy resonated faintly with the threads of his own power, a reminder of the land they hailed from, a place that existed far beyond the simple boundaries of Earth.
"And that, Arsh," Hind Man said softly, bringing the memory back to the present, "is why you must understand who Atharv is, and what the legacy of Aradhya truly represents. You are not simply searching for a name—you are seeking a path, one that has already reached into worlds you scarcely know exist."
Arsh's fists clenched at his sides, eyes reflecting both awe and resolve. He finally understood the weight of the journey ahead, the threads connecting him, Atharv, and the world of Aradhya—and why Hind Man had been so intent on guiding him from the shadows.
Arsh's gaze was intense, eyes reflecting both determination and a flicker of frustration. "Train me well," he said, voice low but firm, "so I can find Atharv. I need to know… how he disappeared from this world. I can't leave it at a mystery."
Hind Man's amber eyes softened slightly, though a weight of authority still rested in his posture. "Your focus is admirable," he said, his voice calm, measured, "but your training must come in stages. You will learn under my subordinates—Shiba and Shrava. They will teach you the fundamentals, the control, the discipline you need. Only once you are ready will you be able to pursue Atharv fully."
Arsh's brow furrowed. "But what about you?"
"I will be elsewhere for now," Hind Man replied. "I have a hunt to complete—demons to track and eliminate near the main headquarters. By the time I return, you will have taken the first steps. Raj and the others were sent to a different location to begin their training as well."
Meanwhile, far away in the mansion of Master Bhargav, Aditya, the eagle, perched silently on a broad windowsill, his sharp eyes scanning the empty halls. He had been summoned unexpectedly, the air around him charged with a sense of urgency. He tilted his head, curiosity sharpening his beak. "Who is he?" he muttered, the voice carrying a faint human cadence, though no one else was present.
A faint presence filled the room, Master Bhargav's will manifesting as a whisper in Aditya's mind. "Transfer yourself," the command came. "Assume the form you once held as an assassin. Blend with the world, gather information, and wait."
Aditya's form shimmered with shifting energy. Feathers and talons blurred, bones and sinew reshaped. Within moments, the eagle's sleek body dissolved into a young boy—a figure with strong physicality, broad shoulders, and alert eyes. The transformation completed seamlessly, leaving only a single question lingering in his mind.
"How did Bhargav know I was human?" Aditya muttered aloud, his voice now unmistakably that of the boy he had become. A shiver ran down his spine. Despite the unfamiliarity of his new form, his instincts—sharp, precise, and predatory—remained intact. The answer was somewhere in the shadows of Master Bhargav's wisdom, but for now, he would obey. His mission had begun.
Back at the forest clearing, Arsh inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs. The weight of the revelation and the path ahead pressed down on him, but beneath it burned a spark—resolve. His inner power stirred faintly, tempered for now by the careful bindings Hind Man had placed, yet ready to surge once more when the training began. He would find Atharv, no matter how far the trail led, no matter how deep the worlds he had yet to glimpse.
[End of Chapter 67]