The black domes shimmered like bubbles of fate, pulsing with runes that threw violet light across the arena. The crowd's roar faded to a living hum, a single, trembling breath that held ten lakh souls in suspense. Above, banners cracked in the wind. Below, the announcer raised his crystal rod, voice magnified a hundredfold until even the clouds seemed to listen.
"Let the First Ring of Trials begin!
Each contender faces their instructor.
Victory means advancement.
Defeat means demotion—or disqualification!"
A thousand hearts slammed at once. The first gate opened.
Pranav Singh
(Age 9, Chakra 1 Stage 6, Iron Palm Sect, Listener-Rank Instructor)
Pranav strutted into the ring like a prince born for applause. His hair was slicked back, his uniform spotless. The crowd chuckled at his swagger; even the announcer smirked.
"Let's finish this fast," Pranav said, clenching his fists until his knuckles gleamed white.
He lunged, chakra roaring through his arms, every step shaking the sand. The Iron Palm Sect's emblem blazed on his chest as he slammed his hand forward with enough force to crack stone.
But his instructor, a calm woman with years of patience behind her eyes, merely turned sideways. She caught his wrist, redirected the momentum, and whispered, "Never lead with arrogance."
Pranav spun, tripped on his own power, and flew backward through the boundary. The dome hissed shut behind him.
Laughter rippled through the stands. His sect's elder groaned and buried his face in his palms.
The announcer's voice rang out, clear and final:
"Pranav Singh—Disqualified!
Iron Palm Sect, Chakra 1 Stage 6.
Expelled for lack of control and humility!"
Inside the central dome, Aryan watched through the system's floating projections, expression blank behind his mask. He bit into a sweet bun.
[System: See? That's what happens when you skip humility and double down on ego. At least learn something while you're here.]
"Hmm," Aryan said, setting down his snack. He mimicked Pranav's stance, gathered chakra, and slammed his palm into the ground. The floor fractured into a crater.
[System: Impressive. Also: congratulations, you've just invented the world's most expensive pothole.]
Aryan shrugged. "Control, huh? Maybe next time."
Aarohi Deshmukh
(Age 6, Chakra 1 Stage 4, Willow Seed Clan, Listener-Rank Instructor)
Tiny footsteps echoed next. Aarohi bowed so deeply her braid brushed the sand. She scattered a handful of seeds that glowed faintly green. The moment her fingers touched the ground, the arena answered.
Roots coiled, vines burst upward, and flowers unfurled mid-air, releasing a scent that briefly calmed even the restless crowd. The instructor, an old monk in linen, smiled.
"So young, yet you greet nature before battle. Good."
Aarohi pressed harder, her chakra pouring like sunlight through her palms. Vines lashed toward the monk—too quick, too alive. He pivoted, but one vine wrapped his ankle. Gasps rose. She'd caught him.
The monk tapped the vine, sent a soft pulse of energy through it, and the plant gently unraveled. He swept her feet with one motion and laid her flat on the sand.
The announcer's voice boomed:
"Aarohi Deshmukh—Disqualified!
Willow Seed Clan, Chakra 1 Stage 4.
Disqualified, but commended for creativity and spirit!"
The crowd cheered louder than for any victory. The Lotus Pavilion's elder clapped once, eyes shining.
Inside the red-moon dome, Aryan leaned forward.
"Pretty good."
[System: See? Respect and adaptation. Try growing something besides your own impatience.]
Aryan flicked his wrist; seeds rained across his crimson soil. A jungle exploded upward, twisting skyward like madness.
[System: Host, you're not cultivating a forest fire. Less chakra next time.]
"Too late," Aryan said, watching trees ignite in ghostly flame.
Raghav Mehra
(Age 8, Chakra 1 Stage 7, Jade Blade Pavilion, Upper-Rank Instructor)
Raghav's eyes were sharp as glass. He bowed, then began to circle his instructor—a thin man with a curved sword and the stillness of a mountain.
Feints. Bursts of speed. The hiss of air against steel.
Raghav darted in, striking low, retreating, then lunging high, each attack a puzzle piece in a larger pattern. The instructor parried lazily, letting the boy weave his trap.
Then, with a single counter-block timed between breaths, the instructor flicked his wrist. Raghav's blade spun out of his grip, clattering across the sand.
He blinked, stunned, then laughed softly. "I almost had you."
The announcer's voice:
"Raghav Mehra—Demoted to Lower Rank!
Jade Blade Pavilion, Chakra 1 Stage 7.
Commendable tactics, but lacking endurance."
Aryan practiced the boy's footwork inside his dome. Shadows multiplied; his cloak trailed like wings.
[System: Your cloak is not a cape. Stop tripping on it. And maybe try bowing once in a while.]
Aryan sighed. "Fine." He bowed to an invisible opponent. The thunder applauded mockingly.
Tanvi Rao
(Age 7, Chakra 1 Stage 5, Stone Root Sect, Listener-Rank Instructor)
Tanvi inhaled deeply, then stomped. Cracks shot outward; stone spikes erupted in a half-circle around her. The crowd gasped as the spikes wobbled, then launched toward her instructor.
For a moment it looked like chaos—but every shard moved with purpose.
The instructor, a heavy-set man with a beard of granite dust, laughed. "Good! But you forgot the aftershock."
He slapped his palm to the ground. The vibration shattered her control. The spikes disintegrated into harmless sand, leaving Tanvi panting.
The announcer's voice:
"Tanvi Rao—Disqualified!
Stone Root Sect, Chakra 1 Stage 5.
Unstable technique, valiant heart."
The crowd applauded her courage anyway.
Inside the dome, Aryan cracked his knuckles. "Let's see."
He pushed chakra into the soil; the ground bulged and exploded, hurling a boulder past his head.
[System: Congratulations, you've invented volcanic therapy. Maybe start a spa after the massacre.]
Aryan ducked. "Hey, it almost worked."
Ishaan Verma
(Age 8, Chakra 1 Stage 6, Silk Thread Sect, Lower-Rank Instructor)
The next contender moved like a whisper. Ishaan bowed, lifted his fingers, and threads of silver chakra unfurled, thin as spider silk. They glimmered under torchlight, invisible until they caught the dust.
He spun, weaving a lattice that pulsed with quiet beauty. The instructor sliced once—missed. Twice—caught.
The web tightened around him.
The crowd leaned forward. Could a child actually capture a teacher?
Then the instructor exhaled, releasing a ripple of spiritual energy that snapped the threads in one silent burst. Ishaan fell to one knee, panting, but smiled.
The announcer's voice:
"Ishaan Verma—Advanced to Lower Rank!
Silk Thread Sect, Chakra 1 Stage 6.
Advanced for precision and creativity!"
The Chintamani Hawk Clan's elder nodded approvingly. "That one learns fast."
Inside the black dome Aryan tried the same. Threads burst from his fingers—too thick, glowing blood red instead of silver.
[System: You're making ropes, not silk. Finesse, not brute force. Also maybe a bow first—good manners.]
Aryan waved him off, but adjusted his chakra output. Slowly, the threads thinned until they turned into super thin wires that can't be seen by naked Eyes and hummed like music.
The Balcony of Elders
Above the chaos, the eight thrones gleamed beneath drifting incense smoke. Each elder leaned forward, eyes tracking their disciples.
Firecloud's veteran snorted. "At least the children still burn with something."
Lotus Pavilion's elder smiled. "Fire burns out fast. The lotus grows even in mud."
The Dragon-Blooded Beastmaster laughed, his scaled forearm thudding against the marble railing. "Say that again when Bhaskar roars!"
Obsidian Phoenix's lady swirled her wine. "Roars fade. Ash remains."
Principal Devendra listened to them argue, his gaze fixed on the blank mirror of Aryan's dome. "All the while," he murmured, "the storm at the center watches."
None answered him.
Crowd and Contenders
Down below, excitement turned electric. Vendors shouted, guards yelled, and the general threatened retirement for the fifth time that hour.
Inside the waiting halls, young contenders huddled near the glowing mirrors, whispering plans and fears.
"Three moves… just three," one muttered.
"Yeah, but against that instructor?" another whispered, nodding toward the black mirror that still showed nothing.
Roshni folded her hands, steadying her breath. "We move forward alone, one circle at a Time so that crown rank instructor doesn't find that they are coming in a group, and he will not show us mercy, then."
Zhang Xuan smirked. "Then let's see which of us reaches him first."
Roshni grins. "you bet."
Aryan Training Under the Red Moon
Inside his dome, time moved twenty times slower. To the outside world, he sat still—a small, masked statue. But within, the red moon watched as he trained like a possessed artist.
He replayed each fight: the humility of Aarohi, the focus of Raghav, the control of Ishaan. Every gesture, every mistake. His cloak billowed in invisible wind as he mimicked stances until his body ached.
[System: At this rate you'll reach old age by lunchtime.]
"Then I'll die experienced," Aryan said, hurling a wave of chakra that sculpted a crater into perfection.
When he finally stopped, sweat gleamed under the red light. He sat again, eating another bun, calm as ever.
"Let them come," he murmured. "Let's see who survives the storm."
Thunder responded somewhere above, like applause from gods.
Cheers met courage. Silence met failure.
The black dome at the center pulsed once, its surface rippling like a heartbeat. Mirrors flared to life around it, catching every reflection but revealing none of what lay within.
Ganpat leaned forward, stroking the tiny Taarask. "He's waiting," he whispered.
The principal's gaze never moved. "Yes," Devendra murmured. "And when the waiting ends… Nalanda will remember this day."
Lightning danced across the sky, mirrored by the glow of fifty smaller domes below.
The First Ring of Trials was done.
The air thickened with expectation.
And in the center of that storm, beneath a red moon that never slept, a child named Aryan waited—calm, patient, smiling faintly behind his mask.
The next circle was coming.
And the world would learn what it meant to face the Crown Rank Instructor.
The noise of combat faded slowly, replaced by the exhausted cheers and gasps of ten lakh spectators. The great crystal board above the arena began to glow, etching names in lines of gold light. Each line told a tale—some of victory, some of pride broken under the weight of impossible strength.
The announcer lifted his voice like a priest reciting sacred names.
Pranav Singh – Iron Palm Sect – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Aarohi Deshmukh – Willow Seed Clan – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Raghav Mehra – Jade Blade Pavilion – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Tanvi Rao – Stone Root Sect – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Ishaan Verma – Silk Thread Sect – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Saanvi Bhagat – Frostpetal Valley – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Roshan Malviya – Blazeheart Temple – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Veer Chatterjee – Stormcall Pavilion – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Diya Menon – Crimson Wheel Sect – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Eshan Khatri – Golden Ivy Sect – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Nivedita Sharma – Ebony Fang Order – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Taranjeet Bawa – Azure Serpent Clan – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Mira Patel – Twilight Sun Sect – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Harshad Jain – Moonfire Sect – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Leela Banerjee – Violet Phoenix Sect – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Aniketh Shah – Verdant Palm Temple – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Hemant Iyer – Sapphire Blade Clan – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Ritika Solanki – Shadow Lotus Pavilion – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Kailash Deb – Thunderpeak Sect – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Ayaan Goswami – Silent Moon Order – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Lower Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Trisha Nandakumar – Pearl Dragon Sect – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Deepak Vora – Thousand Wind Monastery – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Reva Krishnan – Jade Crane Sect – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Mihir Dutta – Sunstone Abbey – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Meera Chopra – Scarlet Wolf Clan – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Anirudh Desai – Dawnflame Sect – Chakra 1 stage 7 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Iqra Qureshi – Pale Sand Temple – Chakra 1 stage 5 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
Karan Baland – Inkveil Academy – Chakra 1 stage 6 – Upper Rank Instructor– Demoted to Lower Rank
Shrishti Raina – White Tusk Order – Chakra 1 stage 4 – Listener Rank Instructor– Disqualified
At last, when the dust had settled and the scoreboard shimmered with 29 verdicts, a single space remained empty. The arena stilled.
The announcer's voice grew nearly reverent.
"The final challenger of the First Ring… Vikram Rathore, Garuda Crest Sect, Chakra 1Stage 7, versus an Upper-Rank Instructor!"
The crowd rose as one.
Vikram stepped into the ring, draped in silver-threaded robes, his hair bound in a warrior's knot. His eyes were calm, but the faint tremor in his fists betrayed his heartbeat. His opponent, an Upper-Rank Instructor draped in dark gray silk, saluted him with a raised palm.
"Show me what your generation can do," the instructor said, voice low as thunder.
Vikram bowed. "I intend to."
The gong struck.
The battle ignited.
The instructor moved first—a flash of speed, a burst of force. Vikram's counter was clean and sharp, deflecting each blow with the precision of a forged blade. Sparks littered the sand as their auras clashed, one cultivated and disciplined, the other raw and furious.
The audience held its breath.
Then Vikram did something none expected: he stopped retreating. He took one step forward, chakra flaring from his feet, forming wings of golden light behind him. The sand roared upward in a spiral, the formation seals beneath the arena burning with pressure. With a single strike infused by sheer willpower, he shattered the instructor's defensive rune and sent him sprawling.
Gasps flooded the stands.
The announcer's crystal rod lit up in brilliant green:
"Vikram Rathore—Advanced to Upper Rank!
Garuda Crest Sect, Chakra 1 Stage 7.
Upper-Rank Instructor: Defeated.
Permission granted to challenge the Crown Rank!"
As the other twenty-nine names locked into their final places, only Vikram's remained glowing. He turned, gaze fixed on the black dome waiting at the center of the field.
The crowd fell silent. Each breath felt heavier than thunderclouds.
He stepped forward toward the dome, its surface flickering with murky light as if alive, sensing his intent. The entrance widened—rippling shadows forming a doorway. From inside, only silence answered.
Inside the black dome, under the red moon, Aryan stirred.
The mask tilted upward. Behind it, a faint, amused smile.
"Finally," he murmured.
Lightning streaked across the clouds as Vikram crossed the threshold. The dome sealed shut behind him.
The grand board dimmed, flickering once before the final proclamation burned in the air:
"The First Ring of Trials—Concluded."
"A Crown Challenger has entered the Dome."
Ten lakh voices erupted into chaos—cheers, prayers, disbelief.
Ganpat rose halfway to his feet, Taarask's tail twitching with sparks.
Both excited to see a challenger fall to the Brute Strength of the Aryan, not knowing this time, Aryan has many Trump cards under his Sleeve
On the balcony, Principal Devendra's eyes hardened.
"So it begins," he whispered.
The Lotus Pavilion Elder's wine trembled in its glass.
The storm had finally moved.
And within its heart sat a child in a death's mask.