The mansion trembled again, faintly this time, like the heartbeat of something vast hidden beneath the floors. Dust fell in slow clouds from the ceiling.
The hunters' footsteps grew louder. They didn't run. They didn't hesitate. They moved with the certainty of predators closing in on prey.
The scarred leader spoke first, his voice low and sharp:
"Enough games. The boy awakens or not, he belongs to us. Step aside, Shade-Walker."
Arkam's silver eyes narrowed. His hand flexed, subtle ripples of air bending around his fingertips.
"He is not yours."
The hunters spread out, advancing slowly, dark mist curling around their boots, trailing through the hallway like smoke with a mind of its own. Every movement carried weight, intent, and threat.
Jaswant swallowed, clutching his pendant tightly. He had no power. Not even a spark. Every instinct screamed at him to run—but he couldn't. Not with Arkam in front, not with the hunters so close.
"Stay behind me," Arkam said quietly, almost gently.
Jaswant did.
---
The First Strike
The taller hunter moved first. Dark energy coiled around his outstretched hand, like a serpent made of smoke and shadow. He lunged forward.
Arkam didn't flinch. The air around him twisted in impossible curves. The hunter's strike bent unnaturally as if hitting nothing, his momentum arrested mid-step.
The leader hissed, eyes widening.
"Impossible… the Shade-Walker—"
Arkam's voice cut through the tension, calm and precise.
"He is unawakened. You are wasting your effort."
The hunter recoiled, sensing something he couldn't see. The room pulsed with subtle distortion. Even the walls seemed to lean away.
Jaswant's chest tightened. What is he?
Arkam stepped forward, silver eyes gleaming faintly. The faint overlap of his hidden form shimmered in the corner of Jaswant's vision. He wasn't fully here… and yet, every step he took warped reality around him.
"You've been chasing a shadow," Arkam said softly. "The real danger is me."
---
The Hunters Realize the Truth
The shorter hunter's grin faltered.
"You… you are not human."
Arkam inclined his head slightly, almost in acknowledgment.
"No," he said simply. "I am not. But you have come for what you think is golden. That boy has no power yet. Yet your belief in it brought you here. That is your mistake."
The hunters glanced at Jaswant. Even from their distance, they could sense the latent golden bloodline, the echo of the false awakening—but it was weak. Barely perceptible.
The leader snarled, taking another step forward, dark mist curling like tendrils.
"We don't care. Power or no power—he will belong to the Heart-Root, awakened or not."
Jaswant's stomach sank. The word vessel returned to him like a cold blade. He looked at Arkam, desperate.
"What can we do? I—"
Arkam cut him off. His voice dropped, a low vibration that seemed to ripple through the very floor.
"Do nothing. Your role is survival. Mine is defense. Trust me."
---
The Clash Begins
The first hunter lunged again. This time, Arkam moved, and the world seemed to bend around him. Shadows curved, dust swirled, and the hunter's strike was stopped as if hitting solidified air.
Jaswant's eyes widened. He wanted to run, to fight, to do something—but he had nothing.
The second hunter hissed, spreading the dark mist further. It slithered toward Jaswant like liquid smoke, seeking him.
Arkam's hidden form shifted again—this time, more visible. A faint doubling of his silhouette shimmered, a ghost-like echo that moved in impossible angles, confusing the hunters.
"Step closer," Arkam whispered to Jaswant, voice almost a lull.
"They think you are prey. Let me show them why that is wrong."
And then, without warning, Arkam extended his hand toward the advancing hunters. The air in the corridor warped violently, bending like water. The mist around the hunters screamed and recoiled. They staggered, unprepared.
Jaswant felt a strange pressure in his chest—not power, not mana, but a vibration like the world itself was reacting to Arkam.
The hunters froze, uncertainty creeping into their movements. The scarred leader's eyes narrowed.
"Shade-Walker… what are you?"
Arkam's silver eyes glimmered faintly, a whisper of his hidden form flickering at the edges of perception.
"I am what you were not meant to see. And the boy you came for… he is under my protection."
The first strike had failed. The hunters realized something terrifying: the boy's unawakened state didn't matter. Arkam's presence alone was enough to bend reality, block attacks, and hold back predators who thought they could claim a golden vessel.
Jaswant swallowed hard. This is only the beginning…
---
The hunters advanced again.
Arkam stepped forward, his distorted form flickering at the edges of reality—
And then—
Everything stopped.
Not slowly.
Not dramatically.
Just—
STOP.
The dust froze mid-air.
The hunters froze mid-step, their mist curling like unmoving smoke-statues.
Arkam froze too, hand lifted, eyes mid-glow, body caught halfway between forms.
Jaswant gasped— because he alone could still move.
A ringing silence filled the room.
Sound wasn't muted—
it was gone.
The system flickered in his vision—
[WARNING: Temporal anomaly detected]
[System access suspended]
[User locked out]
[Cause: UNKNOWN]
Then even the system froze.
A breath he didn't take echoed inside his skull.
"Do not be afraid."
Jaswant spun around.
There was no one.
But the air itself shimmered, like heat rising from a desert floor.
And slowly…
the room dissolved.
Walls blurred.
Shadows melted.
Dust whitened to pale light.
The entire world washed away until Jaswant was standing in a place he had seen only once before—
the valley of emerald mist.
The Harichandana Tree loomed before him.
But not as a vision.
Not as an illusion.
As something alive.
Time didn't flow here.
The air didn't move.
His heartbeat didn't beat.
Yet he remained conscious.
This was the realm of the tree.
A voice — neither man nor woman, neither near nor far — whispered:
"Awakening does not begin with power.
It begins with seeing."
The ground beneath him shimmered, shifting into translucent ripples of memory.
A glowing golden symbol appeared beneath his feet — the same symbol he had seen during the false awakening.
Jaswant whispered, "Is this… my power?"
The voice replied:
"No.
This is your test.
You have no power here."
Cold dread washed through him.
The voice continued:
"Breath-Force is the art of the mind.
Before one controls breath…
one must control fear."
The tree's colossal roots shifted subtly.
From beneath them, something stirred —
a shape of shadow, enormous and formless.
The same eye he had seen before opened beneath the earth…
Not close.
Not far.
Just present, like it was aware of his every thought.
The voice whispered:
"The hunters outside believe you awakened.
The entity beneath the roots wants you to awaken.
And you…"
Silence.
"…do not understand your mind yet."
The emerald mist around him thickened, forming walls, floors, shapes—
Suddenly—
He was inside a maze.
The ground was made of memories.
The walls were frozen thoughts.
The air was every fear he had never admitted.
This was the test.
And he had nothing—
No mana.
No breath-force.
No system.
No Arkam.
Just himself.
Jaswant stepped forward. The maze shifted.
A memory surfaced—
his grandfather lying unconscious.
Another step—
the wraith's shriek echoed, then froze.
Another—
his pendant flickered without light.
Jaswant clenched his fists.
"This is my mind," he said shakily.
"You can't scare me with my own memories."
The maze rumbled.
The walls bent inward, twisting into a corridor of shadow.
The voice whispered:
"Then why do you tremble?"
Jaswant stopped.
His hands were shaking.
He wasn't trembling from fear of the hunters…
or the wraith…
or the entity beneath the roots.
He was trembling because—
He didn't know who he was.
Not really.
Not yet.
Not enough to awaken anything.
Jaswant exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said. "If this is my test… show me the truth."
The maze shifted instantly.
The walls dropped.
The ground cracked.
Emerald mist poured upward like a waterfall in reverse—
And the colossal Harichandana Tree appeared again, glowing with divine light.
At its center was the symbol of the golden breath.
It pulsed once.
Twice.
Then—
Time resumed.
Jaswant was back in the mansion.
Dust fell.
Hunters moved.
Arkam's hand finished its motion.
The world slammed back to normal.
But Jaswant was different.
His pendant was warm.
His breath deeper.
His mind sharper.
He had not awakened power…
But he had awakened clarity.
Just enough for the tree to whisper one last thing in his mind:
"Your true awakening will not be with breath.
It will be when you stop time again—
this time…
by your own will."
The hunters looked straight at him.
They sensed it.
Something had changed.
Something subtle.
Something mental.
Something dangerous.
Arkam turned toward him too, silver eyes widening—
"You… what did you see?"
Jaswant didn't answer.
Because for the first time—
he understood:
His awakening wasn't about breath.
It was about mind.
---