(The Night Dharma Was Tested)
The night Dehradun burned, the sky did not scream.
It held its breath.
Clouds hung unnaturally still above the academy district, as if the wind itself feared movement. Streetlights flickered, shadows stretching far longer than physics allowed. Sensitive awakeners felt it first—an itching pressure behind the eyes, a wrongness in the air.
Aarav was walking back from the academy library when his Lightning core pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Not violently—but alerting him.
"Something's wrong," he muttered.
Kunal, munching on roasted peanuts beside him, frowned. "Bro, when you say that, bad things usually happen."
Before Aarav could respond, the ground trembled.
A scream echoed from the far end of the street.
Then another.
Aarav turned—and saw darkness moving.
Not shadow cast by an object.
Shadow that ate light.
It crawled along the walls, dripping like ink, reshaping itself into a humanoid form. Red eyes ignited within it, glowing with hunger rather than rage.
An Asura Scout.
Low-ranked—but real.
Civilians froze. Some ran. Others collapsed, overwhelmed by fear they could not explain.
The Asura inhaled deeply.
"Ah…" it murmured, voice layered, ancient. "This world breathes beautifully."
Aarav stepped forward instinctively.
The moment his foot touched the cracked asphalt, lightning surged—not exploding outward, but coiling around his limbs like restrained serpents.
The Asura noticed him.
"Oh?" it tilted its head. "A sky-bearer?"
It smiled.
Lightning struck.
Aarav moved before thought, body guided by something older than reflex. His fist connected—not with brute force, but with authority.
Thunder roared.
The Asura was blasted backward, crashing into a concrete wall. Smoke hissed from its form—but it laughed.
"Crude," it said, rising. "But promising."
It lunged.
The fight was not cinematic—it was ugly.
The Asura's claws scraped reality itself, leaving black scars in the air. Aarav dodged narrowly, lightning accelerating his movement. Each step felt like commanding the sky to move with him.
Still—he was losing ground.
The Asura adapted quickly, its body thickening, darkness condensing. Lightning scorched it—but did not purify.
"This world has forgotten Agni," it mocked. "Lightning alone cannot cleanse."
Aarav's breathing grew ragged.
Then—
Roots burst from the pavement.
Wood wrapped around the Asura's legs, tightening with patient strength.
"Miss me?" Kunal shouted, hands glowing green and pale blue simultaneously.
Ice followed—sealing joints, freezing movement.
The Asura snarled, struggling.
"Dual cores…" it hissed. "Interesting."
Aarav seized the opening.
Lightning descended—not wild, not furious—but decisive.
The Asura screamed as thunder shattered its form, darkness dispersing like smoke under sunlight.
Silence returned.
People stared.
Aarav stood frozen—heart pounding—not in triumph, but realization.
This was real.
The war had reached Earth.
And this was only the first shadow.