Chapter 41: The Weight of Clouds and Fate
I stepped out from the academy's main building into the open courtyard behind. The sunlight bathed the yard, yet in the middle of it all stood a towering anomaly—a 7-meter-tall tree that pulsed with life and ancient magic. It wasn't just a tree. It was a sapling of the World Tree, a sacred manifestation that only sprouted from the soul of a high-rank hunter.
The tree radiated serenity and strength. Its bark glistened faintly with an iridescent sheen, seeming to shift colors depending on how the sun struck it. Lively green branches sprawled in thick arcs, drooping slightly with the weight of saturated mana. Its roots were visible above the soil, knotted like ancient veins running through the courtyard floor. Each pulse from the tree sent gentle ripples into the ground, a reminder of the immense power it held.
At the base of the tree sat a humble cottage. Wooden, curved at the edges with a sloping tiled roof, it looked like it belonged in a mythic forest rather than an academy. Carvings lined the doorframe—old Sanskrit, etched in gold. Birds chirped on its thatched edges as if the aura of the tree protected everything around it.
This was the office of Ashwin—the principal of Brahmastra Hunter Academy.
To others, he was the Rank 7 Domain Holder, Avatar of Indra, the Stormbringer.
To me, he had once been father's teammate. Second in command in father's legendary dungeon squad.
I walked toward the cottage slowly, feeling the mana in the air thicken with each step. When I reached the door, it opened before I could knock. No one was visible inside, but the atmosphere shifted immediately.
I stepped inside.
The moment I crossed the threshold, the summer warmth of July vanished. A humid pressure wrapped around me, thick like a monsoon afternoon. The scent of sandalwood and charged ozone filled my nose. It smelled like an oncoming storm.
On the far left side of the room sat a small altar with idols of many gods—Indra, Durga, Hanuman, Vishnu. Incense burned at their feet, the smoke curling like snakes.
On the right sat Principal Ashwin, his eyes closed in meditation, sitting cross-legged atop a raised wooden dais. He was tall even in repose, his limbs taut with control, breathing so slowly he seemed carved from stone. A thin current of wind circled him as if the storm within him refused to be caged.
I bowed my head slightly toward the altar and quietly took the seat in front of him.
Time passed. Fifteen minutes.
Then his eyes opened.
They were piercing silver—not unnatural, but uncanny. They assessed, analyzed, and absorbed everything at once. A moment later, his expression softened.
"Sometimes, I forget how much you resemble Rajesh," he said, voice low and calm. "But now, after your awakening, even your aura matches his. Fire, lightning, storm... cut from the same mold."
He murmured something under his breath, but I caught it. "Even inheriting the destinies."
My brow furrowed. I didn't press him. People who talk in riddles don't give you answers just because you ask. But it left a question burning in my chest.
"You really are Rank 7 if you can guess affinities just by looking," I said with a weak grin.
He smiled faintly. "You're not exactly hiding them, Vijay. In front of me, you're a beacon. Your body is cloaked in lightning, your back—where your soul weapon rests—leaks fire like an active volcano. And the storm... it's trying to escape through your pores. Like a dam holding back a raging river."
He stood then.
It was like watching a mountain rise. I'd grown to six feet and trained relentlessly, but he made me feel like a child. His mana, though restrained, pressed on my skin like humidity before a cyclone.
"Your father learned storm control from me," he added smugly. "I imagine you're here for the same reason?"
I didn't deny it. Father's teachings didn't help much. Raj was clueless. If the Stormbringer offered wisdom, I would be a fool to reject it.
He motioned for me to follow. We stepped out, walking past the massive world tree sapling. Its leaves shimmered in response to his presence.
We continued toward the eastern end of the academy grounds.
His personal training ground lay far away, surrounded by dense flora and designed with barriers to suppress explosions, elemental surges, or worse. It took me nearly thirty minutes of near sprinting to keep up. By the time we arrived, I was slick with sweat, panting softly.
"Good," he said. "Most Rank 1 hunters would be on the ground. You're in the upper strata of your tier."
The ground was wide open—scarred from past training, with deep scorch marks, cracked earth, and melted stones. This was where storms were born.
Ashwin turned to me. "You were unawakened during your time in the academy, so you didn't experience the internal structure of power growth. Rank 1 is merely entrance. You learn to harness mana, refine your body, understand yourself. If you're lucky, you unlock affinities. It's like peeking through the curtain.
Rank 2—that's the first gate. The Trial will test if you're made for this path. It's personal. Brutal. It breaks or forges. Rank 3—you shape yourself further. But Rank 4... that's when your constitution blossoms. That's when you start to glimpse your destiny."
He paused. "Have you received any offers from Constellations?"
"I can't contract any," I admitted.
His eyes narrowed. "That might be a blessing in disguise. Constellations give, but they take. Now show me your storm."
I nodded.
I summoned Ashratal. Crimson fire licked the blade as it formed. Lightning surged over my armor. The door within me—the one I always used to hold back the storm—was there.
I pushed lightning and fire into it. Cracks formed. Storm spilled out.
It was wild. The clouds overhead darkened. The air thrummed. Lightning sparked along the earth. Storm energy, barely controlled, danced with my mana.
I activated the Eye of Alignment.
I looked at him—no paths appeared. No strategies. No weaknesses. Nothing. He stood like an unmovable monolith. It was like trying to find battle routes on a mountain.
Ashwin examined the sky.
"That," he said flatly, "is barely a storm."
Embarrassment twisted in my chest.
Then came anger.
The Eye surged. Lightning howled. Fire exploded. The clouds thickened to thunderheads. The sky cracked. The pressure in the air dropped like a stone.
Ashwin's face hardened.
"Stop," he said. "Storms feed on rage. But you can't lose yourself to them. You harness storms. You don't control them. You guide them like a river. Force it, and it will break you."
His words reached me. I calmed my mind. The storm receded. My mana felt half-drained.
"You hide your storm behind a door," he continued. "It works now. But doors wear out. Either they won't close, or they won't open. When you reach Rank 2, reimagine it. Make a better container. Storms grow with you."
I nodded, absorbing every word.
"For now, forget storm. Focus on fire. When you reach Rank 2, study lightning. Storm will follow naturally. And stop trying to mimic Rajesh. Make your own path. That's what makes a legend."
I felt a bitter twinge at his words—but he wasn't wrong.
"Creating something meaningful takes time. Great power comes from great foundations," he added.
Then, without warning, he flexed.
A bronze staff appeared in his hand. The wind shifted.
Suddenly, darkness fell.
The sky filled with pitch-black clouds that devoured sunlight. The air thickened until it scratched my skin. Lightning danced in patterns, not chaos. Controlled. Beautiful. Terrifying.
Each strike of thunder felt like a roar from the heavens.
Ashwin grinned. "This... this is what storm looks like when mastered. Storm doesn't inspire awe. It brings despair. A true Stormbringer is not a title of grandeur. It's the herald of destruction."
Lightning crashed nearby, and the earth trembled beneath my boots.
And then—as quickly as it began—it ended.
The sky cleared. The air stilled. It was as if the gods had exhaled.
Ashwin stepped forward, face more serious than before.
"Seals are dangerous," he said. "You've unlocked two. The world watches India now. If they find out a boy in his twenties is the Sealbreaker, the jackals will come. Not even Saints will be enough. You can't afford to lose your path. Train. Learn. Adapt. And don't get distracted by people like Ross. Cockroaches multiply. But you... you are meant to shatter fate."
He vanished.
I stood alone in the middle of the ruined training ground, the sky blue once more. A dull ache in my chest. In my hand, Ashratal flickered faintly.
I sighed.
"Why does everyone know more about me than I do..."
With a tired grunt, I turned.
It was nearly noon. I made my way back to the academy building, climbing the stone stairs that led to the rooftop arena.
The duel with Ross awaited.