(The Question of Existence)
Inside the Gravity Gate
Time had lost its meaning.
Garud no longer knew how long he had been training inside the gate. His body had endured pain beyond what he once believed possible. His muscles were torn and rebuilt again and again. His breath felt heavier with every movement, yet his stance remained firm.
The Gravity of Gods pressed down relentlessly.
Every step felt like lifting a mountain.
Every breath felt earned.
Garud stood alone in the vast, colorless space of the gate, sweat dripping from his chin, his chest rising and falling slowly.
Just as he straightened his posture—
Something changed.
A Presence
From the distance, Garud sensed movement.
At first, it appeared as nothing more than a human-shaped shadow, slowly approaching through the dense mist that filled the gate.
Garud narrowed his eyes.
His instincts sharpened.
(This presence…)
(It doesn't feel hostile.)
The shadow came closer.
The fog surrounding it began to thin.
The Old Man
As the mist cleared, a figure emerged.
An old man.
He wore simple robes, worn by time yet spotless. His long hair and beard were white, flowing gently despite the absence of wind. His eyes were calm—deep like still water—but carried an immeasurable weight.
Garud felt it instantly.
This man was not ordinary.
Garud instinctively brought his hands together and bowed slightly.
"Acharya… who are you?"
The old man smiled faintly.
"Vatsa," he said gently, "who are you?"
Garud straightened.
"I am Garud," he replied.
"A villager."
The old man shook his head slowly, still smiling.
"No."
Garud hesitated.
"Then… I am a boy," he added.
The old man laughed softly.
"I did not ask your name."
"Nor your origin."
"Nor your gender."
He stepped closer.
"I asked—who are you?"
Understanding
Garud froze.
For the first time since entering the gate, the crushing gravity felt distant.
(He is not asking about my identity…)
(He is asking about my existence.)
Garud lowered his gaze.
After a long silence, he spoke honestly.
"Acharya… I do not know."
He raised his eyes again.
"Perhaps… you know who I am."
The old man's smile deepened.
"Yes," he said softly.
Garud's heart skipped.
"Then… Acharya," Garud asked carefully,
"who are you?"
The Revelation
The old man stood tall.
The mist around them stilled.
"I am Drona."
Garud's breath caught.
"Drona… Acharya?"
Drona nodded.
"Yes."
He looked at Garud with calm certainty.
"Lord Shiva himself sent me."
Garud's eyes widened.
"To help you."
The words echoed through the gate.
Garud felt a strange mix of humility and pressure settle upon his chest.
(Even my training… was being watched.)
Drona's gaze softened.
"Before power," he said,
"one must understand existence."
He turned slightly, looking into the endless void of the gate.
"And before becoming a weapon,"
"one must understand why they were forged."
Garud clenched his fists.
This was not another trial of strength.
This was something far deeper.