The cold night air of Vigo Crossings carried with it a silence that was not natural. It was the silence before the storm, when even the trees seemed to shiver in anticipation of something dreadful. Vid and Vick had been wandering since dusk, seeking a place to meditate and gather strength before the march toward Gangi Valley. The temple behind them radiated the faint glow of oil lamps, its chants fading with distance. Ahead lay only the wilderness, soaked in mist, shrouded in shadows.
Vick's sharp eyes scanned the darkness, every step steady, every breath controlled. Vid walked a few paces behind, struggling to keep calm. His body still ached from the harsh training that Vick had imposed on him, and though his will was growing stronger, he remained a boy—sixteen years old, carrying dreams larger than his own strength.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy. The mist thickened, and a low rumble rolled across the sky. Vid felt his heart skip. The ground vibrated beneath his feet as though something massive approached from far away.
"Stay sharp," Vick muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for his bow. His tone was calm, but Vid caught the faint edge in his voice—the tone he used only when true danger loomed.
And then it came.
A crack split the heavens. A blinding bolt of lightning ripped through the night sky, slamming into the earth a short distance ahead of them. The explosion of thunder was so violent that Vid staggered, clutching his ears. When the dust and sparks cleared, something stood at the center of the crater.
It was taller than any man—eight feet, maybe more. Its skin shimmered like molten bronze, veins glowing faintly with currents of electricity. Its eyes were twin storms, swirling with lightning that cracked and hissed. Two curved horns jutted from its forehead, and its claws sparked with blue arcs.
Vick narrowed his eyes. "A Predh," he said grimly. "And not just any… Thundra."
Vid's breath caught. He had heard whispers of the Predh race in old stories—creatures said to be older than kingdoms, enemies of gods themselves. Beings who wielded elemental forces with ease. But to see one with his own eyes… it was beyond terrifying.
Thundra spread its arms, and the sky obeyed. Clouds gathered at impossible speed, swirling above like an endless vortex. Forks of lightning danced between them. The very air hummed with unstable energy.
"You trespass where gods once walked," Thundra's voice boomed, low and thunderous. "And you bow before their false idols. I am here to tear your faith apart, to show mortals the futility of worship."
The words were heavy, carrying not just menace but conviction. Vid trembled. His knees threatened to buckle. He wanted to run—every instinct screamed to flee—but his feet were frozen to the ground.
Vick stepped forward, bow in hand, the calm in his eyes unchanged. "If it's faith you want to break, you'll find me standing in your way."
The Predh let out a laugh like crackling thunder. With a snap of its clawed fingers, lightning surged through the ground. The blast struck Vick before Vid could even blink. The demi-god archer was hurled back dozens of feet, crashing through rocks and debris, rolling until his body slammed against a broken pillar of stone.
"Vick!" Vid shouted, panic bursting from his throat.
But before he could run to him, the earth itself trembled again. The shadows in the mist thickened, shapes crawling out one by one. Vid's blood froze. From every direction, Predh emerged. Dozens—maybe hundreds—beasts with twisted forms: some with wings made of shadow, some with claws longer than swords, some crawling on all fours with fangs dripping venom. Their eyes glowed with the same storm-fire as Thundra's.
In an instant, Vick and Vid were surrounded.
Vick forced himself back onto his feet, his body scorched where lightning had struck, but his grip on the bow remained firm. His eyes darted across the battlefield. The realization struck him as swiftly as the thunder had: this wasn't an attack to kill them. This was orchestrated.
"They're here to choke the faith of men," he muttered under his breath.
Vid heard him, confusion mixing with terror. "What… what do you mean?"
Vick's gaze did not leave the encroaching beasts. "The Predh despise the gods. They know that temples like Lord Vishwa's keep faith alive in men's hearts. Faith is power. If they crush it, kingdoms fall. This… this is not about us. It's about breaking every believer who prays to the heavens."
The truth weighed heavy. The temple, the prophecy, the blessings—it all made sense now. This was a battle to silence faith itself, and somehow, Vid was standing at the heart of it.
But he was not ready. His bow trembled in his hand. His breaths came ragged. He had sworn hours ago to become the strongest archer in the world, yet here he stood, weak, helpless, staring at monsters far beyond him.
"Vick… I… I can't fight them," Vid stammered. His eyes were wide, his chest burning with helplessness. "They're… they're not human. They're demons. I'll die—"
"Enough." Vick's voice cut through, sharp as a blade. He glanced back only for a second, his eyes fierce yet calm. "Fear is natural. But letting it own you? That's death. You swore in front of Lord Vishwa that you'd rise. Now, even if you fall, stand with that vow."
Vid swallowed hard, but his body would not stop shaking. His knees felt like they might collapse at any moment.
The Predh advanced slowly, their snarls echoing, their footsteps rumbling like drums of doom. Above them, Thundra raised his hand again. Sparks of thunder rained across the army of beasts, empowering them. The night lit up in hues of blue and white, the world trembling under elemental wrath.
Vid felt smaller than ever. Sixteen years old, trapped in the middle of something too vast. His heart whispered defeat, yet something else burned faintly beneath it—the memory of his promise.
He saw himself kneeling before Lord Vishwa's statue, tears in his eyes, whispering that he would grow stronger. That he would become the world's greatest archer. That he would protect this world.
The memory stabbed at him now. He had made that vow, but here he was, frozen. Was this what Vishwa expected of him? To die shaking before the enemy?
Vick lifted his bow. The faint glow of divine energy traced along its frame, as though acknowledging his spirit. "Vid," he said, his tone softer now but unwavering, "watch closely. Strength isn't about not falling—it's about choosing to rise every time you do."
With that, Vick loosed his first arrow.
It streaked across the night like a shooting star, piercing through one Predh's chest, then exploding in a burst of radiant energy. Three more beasts disintegrated in the blast. The glow lit the battlefield, momentarily pushing the shadows back.
The horde roared.
Vid's heart hammered. His fear remained, but watching Vick stand alone against an army… something stirred within him.
Yet hope was a fragile flame—and the storm was only beginning.
Thundra raised both arms now. The sky split apart, countless bolts raining down like spears of divine fury. Vick was fast, but not untouchable. He dodged, rolled, released arrows with impossible precision—but each strike drove him further into exhaustion. The ground cracked, trees shattered, stone turned to molten glass under the relentless storm.
Vid stumbled back, eyes wide with terror as lightning carved craters around them. Every explosion was deafening, every flash blinding. He wanted to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. He wanted to help, but his bow felt useless in his grip.
Hopelessness clawed at him. He was a boy against gods. What could he do?
And then, above the chaos, Thundra's voice boomed once more:
"Bow, mortals! Your faith is weakness! Your gods are lies! Tonight, the temple falls, and with it—your hope!"
The words pierced Vid's chest like daggers. His bow slipped slightly from his trembling hands. His vision blurred with tears. Could it be true? Were the Predh right? Was all of this in vain?
Vick, battered but unyielding, shouted through the thunder: "Do not listen, Vid! Faith is not a chain—it's the fire that keeps men alive in darkness! If they break it, they break us all!"
But Vid's body was paralyzed. Fear bound him tighter than any chain. He could only watch as Vick fought alone, surrounded, lightning raining down, beasts closing in from every side.
The night had become a nightmare—and Vid was trapped in its heart, hopeless.
The temple grounds shook under the roar of thunder. The air was heavy, dense, almost suffocating, as if the very sky had been torn open. Jagged bolts of lightning danced across the heavens, lighting up the stone walls with a blinding white glare. Vid could feel the vibrations run through his bones, a strange pressure squeezing his chest with every strike. His thin frame trembled—not only from the force of the storm, but from the fear that coiled inside him.
The beasts had arrived.
Preds. The dreaded race of demons, enemies of the gods themselves. For centuries, stories had whispered of them—beings stronger than men, crueler than beasts, each one bearing mastery over the elemental forces that shaped the universe. And now, Vid, a boy of only sixteen, stood at the mercy of their wrath.
The leader stood tall at the center. Thundra. His very name carried weight. Unlike the mindless chaos of other beasts, Thundra had an aura of command, of precision. His eyes glowed like molten silver, his towering body crackled with raw electricity, and each step he took made the ground shudder. His chest was broad, his limbs like coiled steel, and arcs of lightning crawled across his skin, as though thunder itself had chosen him as its vessel.
Vick, the demi-god of archery, had been blasted far across the grounds, thrown by a single devastating strike from Thundra's thunderstorm. Vid had barely seen it happen—one moment his mentor stood at his side, the next he was flung into the shadows, crashing into the ruins beyond. Now, Vid was alone, surrounded by a sea of snarling Preds, their monstrous forms circling him with hunger in their eyes.
Vid's heart pounded. His throat felt dry.
He was weak. Thin. His muscles had only just begun to form from weeks of grueling training. He did not yet carry the power to fight, not yet the skill to shoot arrows like Vick, not yet the courage to wield his heart as a weapon. He was just a boy. A boy swallowed by shadows.
One of the Preds let out a guttural snarl and lunged forward, claws tearing through the ground where Vid had stood a heartbeat earlier. The boy stumbled back, falling to his knees. His palms pressed into the cold stone, shaking violently. His mind screamed Move! Run! Do something! but his body refused to obey. His legs felt as if they had been turned to stone, frozen by the icy grip of terror.
All around him, the beasts laughed. Their voices were harsh, grating like rusted iron scraping across stone. Their laughter was not the joy of victory, but the delight of cruelty, the sound of predators toying with prey.
"Look at him," one hissed, its fanged mouth curling into a sneer."A child," another growled, stepping closer."Not even worth killing," a third spat.
But it was Thundra's voice that silenced them all.
Deep, commanding, and reverberating like thunder itself, he spoke without even raising his tone. His eyes, glowing like two storms caged in flesh, locked onto Vid.
"You are weak," Thundra declared, his voice echoing in Vid's skull, shaking his very spirit. "Your body trembles. Your heart quivers. You are no warrior, no god's chosen. I am not interested in you."
Vid swallowed, his lips trembling. He wanted to speak, to shout, to deny those words, but his voice betrayed him. No sound left his throat.
Thundra stepped forward, arcs of lightning dancing with every stride. The beasts parted before him, bowing their heads in deference to their master. Thundra did not even glance at them—his gaze was fixed beyond Vid, searching, sensing.
His head turned toward the ruins where Vick had fallen.
"There," Thundra said, almost to himself, but loud enough for all to hear. His expression sharpened, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl. "That man… the one with the bow. His spirit burns brighter than yours. His presence dares to defy thunder. That is a fight worthy of my name."
He turned his back to Vid, dismissing him without another word. To Thundra, Vid was nothing. Not an enemy, not a threat—merely a fragile child caught in the wrong place.
The humiliation sank deep.
Vid's chest tightened, his breath shallow. His hands clenched into fists so tightly his nails dug into his skin. A wave of emotions surged inside him—anger, shame, sorrow. He wanted to scream, to fight, to do something. But the truth pressed against him like an unbearable weight. He couldn't.
Not yet.
The other Preds, however, did not share their leader's disinterest. They circled Vid like vultures around a dying animal, their hunger evident. Their eyes gleamed in the flicker of lightning.
"Leave him alive," one said with a crooked grin."Let him watch his protector die," another added."Yes," a third growled, licking its fangs. "Let him taste despair before he is crushed."
Vid's legs finally moved—but not with strength. He stumbled backward until his back pressed against the cold stone of the temple wall. His breath came in sharp gasps. His eyes darted from one beast to another. He had nowhere to run, no weapon to fight with, no power to resist.
The storm above crackled louder, fiercer. Thundra raised one massive hand toward the sky, and the heavens obeyed. Bolts of lightning converged into his palm, forming a spear of pure energy. He pointed it toward the ruins where Vick was.
"Demi-god," Thundra roared, his voice booming like thunder across the temple grounds, "rise and face me! Your strength will be tested against thunder itself!"
The Preds howled in unison, a chorus of monstrous cries that shook the air.
Vid's eyes widened. His mentor was out there, alone, wounded, about to face not one but a host of Preds led by Thundra himself. And here he was—powerless, weak, unable to even stand tall.
Tears welled in his eyes, hot and shameful. He wanted to be stronger. He wanted to fight by Vick's side. He wanted to prove Thundra wrong. But all he could do was clutch the earth, grit his teeth, and pray silently.
Lord Vishwa… give me strength.
But the heavens were silent. Only the roar of thunder answered him.
Vid's Helplessness
The Preds advanced closer, but they did not strike. They toyed with him, snarling and snapping their jaws inches from his face, scratching the stone beside his head, savoring his fear. Vid could feel their breath—hot, rancid, suffocating.
He closed his eyes. In that darkness, he saw flashes. Memories.
Vick's voice during training: "Strength is not built in a day, Vid. It is forged, hammered into you through pain and will. Every swing, every drop of sweat, every scar matters."
The sage's words in the temple: "His journey to godhood is far… but the boy will play a role in the great war that is to come."
And his own vow, made only a day ago before the statue of Vishwa: "I will become the strongest archer in the world."
His chest ached. His hands trembled. The vow burned inside him, clashing with the weakness of his body. He was not yet strong. But he had promised.
He opened his eyes again, tears glistening. He stared at Thundra's back, at the mighty being who had dismissed him as worthless.
He whispered, so softly that no one could hear:"Someday… I will prove you wrong."
But for now, all Vid could do was survive.
Thundra lifted his lightning spear high, the storm bending to his will. He stepped forward, leaving Vid in the shadows, and began his march toward the ruins where Vick lay.
The boy could only watch, trapped in fear, as the fate of his mentor—and perhaps the fate of the Gangi Valley itself—teetered on the edge of destruction.
The storm raged on. The battle was about to begin.
And Vid, weak and powerless, was left behind.
The night was drenched in thunder. The skies split open again and again, roaring with flashes that turned the battlefield into an endless canvas of light and shadow. Vid stood frozen, his thin frame trembling, his eyes wet with despair. The weight of everything crushed down upon his sixteen-year-old shoulders—the looming shadows of the Preds, the thunderous laughter of Thundra, and the silence of the god he had prayed to with all his heart.
He dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together tightly, and cried out, his voice cracking with desperation."Lord Vishwa! Save us! Please, save us!"
But nothing came. No voice. No vision. No divine warmth. Only the echo of his words drowned in the thunderstorm.
Vid's chest tightened, his tears spilling onto the dirt. His mind raced back to Paras, the old man who had once stood against the ruthless northern troops of the Rakshas Empire. Paras had been frail, almost fragile, yet he had raised his weapon and shielded the boy. Paras had fallen, but his courage had been unmatched. If Paras could do it, then why can't I? Vid thought, shaking in both fear and fury.
He remembered the promise he had made, kneeling before the statue of Lord Vishwa in the chamber earlier that day. He had promised to become the strongest archer in the world. He had promised to protect, to rise, to never cower before darkness. And yet, here he was, trembling, helpless, his bow shaking in his grip.
The Preds advanced, their monstrous silhouettes glowing faintly under the crackling arcs of thunder in the sky. Their forms were massive, humanoid yet beastly, with twisted limbs and glimmering eyes filled with malice. Their very presence seemed to drain the warmth from the air.
Vid's instinct screamed at him to run. His heart thumped violently in his chest as his legs moved almost on their own. He turned, sprinting towards the temple in the distance, its faint outline visible against the storm-torn sky. His footsteps echoed against the rocky ground, each one faster, more desperate than the last.
Behind him, growls erupted. The Preds had noticed.
A dozen of them broke from their ranks, charging after him. Their thunderous footsteps cracked the earth as they pursued him like predators chasing prey. The ground quaked under their power, and Vid's heart pounded harder. He could almost feel their claws reaching for him, their breath hot and filled with bloodlust.
"RUN, VID!" Vick's voice echoed faintly in the distance—but Vid knew Vick was too far, too occupied, too injured.
Thundra, the leader of this hellish pack, stood tall in the center of the battlefield, eyes gleaming with amusement. His deep, rumbling voice carried through the chaos as he raised his hand, electricity crackling violently around his fist."So the weakling flees. Hmph. Pointless. He is nothing. That archer, however…" Thundra's eyes shifted towards Vick, who struggled to stand against the encircling beasts. "…he will taste the fury of my thunder."
Before Vid could even glance back, a roar shook the heavens. Thundra slammed his fist into the earth.
"ALTRO THUNDER PUNCH!"
A blinding wave of thunder exploded outward. The ground shattered, splitting like glass. Arcs of lightning streaked through the air, ripping through stone and soil, tearing the battlefield apart. The force was enough to fling several Preds aside—yet Thundra's control ensured none of his kin were harmed fatally.
The devastating blow hurled Vick like a ragdoll, his body smashing against the ground far away. Blood sprayed from his lips as he struggled to rise, his bow clattering from his hands. The air reeked of scorched earth, and smoke curled from the ground where the strike had landed.
Vid froze mid-run. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Vick—his brother, his teacher, his protector—crumple under Thundra's devastating strike.
"VICK!" Vid screamed, his voice hoarse, his throat burning.
But Vick did not answer. He lay on the ground, coughing, his body twitching from the residue of thunder coursing through his veins. His once unshakable aura, the strength that had inspired Vid to believe in him as a demi-god of archery, now looked fragile, human, vulnerable.
Tears blurred Vid's vision as he sprinted harder, his feet pounding the earth. The temple's gates loomed closer, its ancient stones carved with prayers and hymns to Lord Vishwa. Vid's lungs burned, his legs screamed in agony, yet he refused to stop. He couldn't stop.
Behind him, the Preds pursued relentlessly. Their snarls cut through the night, echoing like a chorus of death. One hurled a jagged spear of bone that narrowly missed Vid, stabbing deep into the ground. Another leaped, its claws slashing the air just inches from his back.
Vid stumbled, nearly falling, but forced himself up again, his eyes locked on the temple. If I can reach there, maybe… maybe Lord Vishwa will listen. Maybe I will find strength.
His promise rang in his head like a beating drum: I will become the strongest archer in the world.
The temple bells suddenly chimed, eerily resonant despite the chaos. The wind howled as though carrying divine whispers. Vid's heart surged with both fear and determination as he crossed the threshold of the temple grounds.
The Preds snarled, pausing for the briefest of moments as though restrained by an unseen force. Still, they pressed forward, slower now but just as menacing.
Vid stumbled to his knees inside the temple courtyard. He pressed his forehead against the cold, wet stone. His tears mixed with the rain as he whispered through ragged breaths:"Lord Vishwa… I promised you… I swore before your statue… I will be the strongest archer in the world. But right now… I am nothing! I am weak! I cannot protect anyone… not even him…"
He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his skin. His voice cracked again as he screamed into the void:"Please! Show me the path! Show me how to fight! Show me how to protect Vick, how to protect everyone! Or else… I will die here! WE will die here!"
Outside, the thunder roared louder, as though mocking his cries.
And in that moment—when Vid's heart felt shattered, when despair had nearly consumed him—the storm paused.
Just for a breath.
The thunder stopped. The rain slowed. The world felt suspended in silence.
But that silence was broken by another sound—the heavy, booming laughter of Thundra.
He stepped closer, his massive frame towering over even the largest of Preds. His eyes locked on the injured Vick, and his lips curled into a cruel grin."Weak humans. Weak gods. Your faith means nothing before thunder itself. That boy will die, and you will follow."
And then, Thundra raised his hand once more, arcs of blinding electricity spiraling around his fist, building to a devastating crescendo.
Vid's heart clenched as he saw it—the strike that could end Vick forever.
And then, it came.
Another Altro Thunder Punch.
The ground erupted, the skies shattered with light, and the chapter closed in chaos.