A World Between

The silence was suffocating as Aryan drifted between consciousness and the dark void that tugged at him. He couldn't recall how long he had been lost in that endless darkness, nor when the sharp pain had dulled to a distant throb.

Slowly, sensations began to return. The soft weight of a blanket pressing against his body, the faint scent of unfamiliar herbs, and the cold, hard surface beneath him.

The infirmary...

Fortress Academy's infirmary felt timeless, a place untouched by the world outside. Old wooden beams supported the ceiling, casting long shadows from dim lanterns that flickered with a soft, calming glow. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with ancient scrolls and jars filled with strange herbs and remedies.

The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and dried medicinal plants. The stone floor was cold beneath bare feet, and the heavy wooden beds, draped in simple white sheets, carried the weight of countless wounded disciples who had passed through its doors over the years.

Aryan lay in one of these beds, his breathing steady but shallow, his body wrapped in bandages. His mind, however, was far from this room.

It was dark. So dark that Aryan couldn't tell whether his eyes were open or closed.

"Where am I?" he thought, his voice echoing strangely in his own mind. "Did I… die?"

The silence around him felt suffocating, pressing down like a heavy weight on his chest. His thoughts grew darker, despair creeping in like an unwelcome guest.

"Is this it? Did I die just like that? Maybe… maybe it's better this way. Better to be dead than to live as a burden to my family and friends. Weak… pathetic… nothing more than an insect for others to trample on whenever they wish. At least now, I can finally be free…"

Aryan's heart clenched as his thoughts spiraled, his mind sinking into a void of hopelessness.

But then, from behind him, a chill ran down his spine. A strange presence seemed to linger just out of sight—ominous, dark, and pulsing with an eerie, shadowy aura.

As he stood there, unaware of what was approaching, he continued to mutter to himself.

"I guess… I only have one regret, though," Aryan mumbled, "I never got the chance to date a girl…? And worse… I died without even losing my virginity?! Noooo!! I fucking hate you, Darius Ironhart! This is all your fault! If I ever see you in the underworld, I swear I'll slap your stupid ass into oblivion! You hear me bastard?!"

Aryan's face twisted into a mix of frustration and despair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he balled his fists. "I'll beat you so hard that the demons will feel it! Damn it! I died as a freaking virgin?!" He clenched his teeth, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're the worst, Bastard! The absolute worst!"

But in the midst of his hysterical rant, the ominous thing—now almost right behind him—crept closer, its shadow stretching out to envelop him.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down Aryan's spine, snapping him out of his tantrum. He froze, the eerie sensation prickling at the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned his head.

"Wha—"

Before he could even finish his thought, the black, swirling darkness lunged at him, its aura wrapping around him like a cold, suffocating fog. Aryan let out a scream that echoed in the empty, dark void.

"WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

The mysterious aura swallowed him whole, plunging him into an even deeper abyss.

Gasp!

Aryan's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He bolted upright in bed, his heart racing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat clung to his skin, a cold sheen that matched the dim light of the infirmary.

The soft flicker of lanterns danced against the cold stone walls, grounding him in reality. The biting chill of the stone floor beneath the bed further reminded him that he hadn't escaped into some otherworldly nightmare.

"Huh… huff…"

Aryan panted, his body trembling as he tried to steady his breath. His mind still reeled, flashes of that suffocating darkness haunting his thoughts. "What… what the hell was that?"

As he struggled to calm down, a sharp pain lanced through his body, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a groan.

He clutched his side, feeling the tight bandages and the tender sting of healing wounds. Every muscle ached, as if protesting his sudden movements, reminding him of the battle his body had barely survived.

"Ugh…" Aryan winced, his breathing slowing as he lay back against the pillow. One hand pressed against his forehead, trying to piece together what had just happened. "Am I… not dead yet?"

His hand moved instinctively to his chest, feeling the solid weight of his heart still beating beneath his palm. A frown creased his brow as confusion seeped into his thoughts. "Was that… just a dream?" He muttered to himself, but something about it felt far too real. The lingering sense of dread still clung to him, and a cold shiver crawled down his spine.

"And why am I still alive?"

Suddenly, flashes of the recent fight returned to his mind—Darius's rage, the brutal attacks, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. But just before everything went dark, there had been a light. Someone had stepped in.

"Isha…" he muttered to himself. "So, she saved me at the last moment."

Aryan allowed himself a small, grateful smile as he thought about her. Isha Aeron, his childhood friend. Their families had always been close, their bond going back generations. It was because of their fathers—Aditya Agni and Kiran Aeron—who had known each other for many years, their friendship unshakable despite their different elemental affinities.

He sighed, his heart feeling a little lighter now that he knew why he was still alive.

As Aryan's breathing gradually steadied, any fleeting sense of relief he might have felt from being alive faded, replaced by a bitter sense of shame. His hands clenched the sheets tightly, and his jaw tensed. He stared at the ceiling, frustration welling up inside him.

"I'm still alive… but what's the point?" he muttered bitterly to himself. "I'm nothing but a burden. I couldn't even protect myself—had to be saved like some helpless child."

He cursed himself silently, the frustration gnawing at him. It wasn't just this incident—it was years of feeling inadequate, stuck, unable to progress while others around him soared.

Aryan's thoughts turned dark as he reflected on his inability to move beyond the initial stage of cultivation, a place where he had been trapped for what felt like an eternity.

In this world, power and status were determined by one's mastery of their Essence—the energy coursing through their body. Cultivation levels were divided into ranks, with the first tier being the Mortal Tier, followed by the Warrior Tier, the Master Tier, and higher levels beyond that. Each tier had its own significance, but for Aryan, none of it mattered—because he was stuck at the very beginning.

His voice was laced with bitterness as he continued his internal monologue. 'I'm stuck at the Initial Mortal Tier… for years.' He clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar anger rise. 'Because of my damn Chakra blockage.'

Chakras were the key to harnessing Essence and progressing through the cultivation ranks. There were seven key Chakras in a cultivator's body, each representing different aspects of one's spiritual energy and physical capabilities. In order to ascend from the Mortal Tier and beyond, a cultivator needed to unlock and balance these Chakras.

But for Aryan, one crucial Chakra had never opened.

'My Muladhara Chakra,' Aryan thought bitterly. 'The Root Chakra. It's been blocked since the day I was born.'

The Muladhara, or Root Chakra, located at the base of the spine, was the foundation of all Essence cultivation. It represented stability, grounding, and one's connection to the physical world.

Without an open and flowing Muladhara, it was impossible to harness one's Essence properly.

'No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't break free from these shackles,' Aryan whispered to himself. 'I practice twice, thrice—hell, even four times as much as others, but nothing changes. I just can't seem to unclog my Root Chakra.'

He let out a long, frustrated sigh. 'If I can't open my Root Chakra, I'll be stuck at the Mortal Tier forever. I'll never make it to the Warrior Tier, let alone beyond…'

This was the harsh reality Aryan faced. It wasn't that he lacked talent. It wasn't that he didn't put in the effort. It was simply that his body had betrayed him from the moment of his birth, denying him the chance to realize his full potential.

And that thought, more than anything else, made him feel like a burden—someone who couldn't escape the weakness he was born into.

'My parents… or should I say, my father…'

Aryan's voice wavered as memories of his family began to flood his thoughts. His heart ached at the mere mention of his mother. After giving birth to him, her health had deteriorated rapidly, and she had passed away not long after.

He clenched his fists, the guilt of it all weighing heavily on him. 'My father, Aditya Agni, half-emptied the family treasury for my sake, trying to find a cure. But it was all in vain. Despite consuming rare herbs and precious medicines, I still couldn't unclog my Root Chakra.'

Aryan's voice grew bitter as he continued, his eyes dark with the memories of how he was treated within his own household.

'Because of that, many members of my family don't like me. Even the guards and workers… they think of me as a disgrace, an embarrassment to the Agni family.'

His father had tried everything to help him, but nothing had worked. The once-glorious reputation of their family had begun to crumble. And for Aryan, it only worsened with the memory of his grandfather.

''My grandfather,'' Aryan muttered, his tone softening as he thought about the man who had tried to fix everything.

"Devan Agni, the former head of our family. He was a legend—a powerful and respected figure whose influence stretched across the entire kingdom. After trying everything and spending a fortune on my condition… even he couldn't find a solution."

Devan Agni had exhausted every avenue, calling upon experts and healers, seeking knowledge far and wide. But the Root Chakra blockage was unyielding, defying even the most powerful remedies.

Aryan's voice grew quieter as he remembered what had happened next.

"Eventually, my grandfather left the family and set out on a quest to find a cure for me. He swore he wouldn't return until he had found a way to help me."

Years had passed since then, and his grandfather had yet to return. The absence of such a powerful figure had left a vacuum within the family, one that the other members of the seven most powerful families were all too eager to exploit.

"After so many years without a word, many within the family have started to show their true colors—factions and individuals who once kept their ambitions hidden out of fear of my grandfather. They've begun to reveal their fangs, positioning themselves for a power struggle, waiting to see if he's truly gone for good."

But despite the growing tensions, no one dared to make any overt moves.

"They don't know if he's still alive or not,"

Aryan thought, a small flicker of hope igniting within him. "That's the kind of existence my grandfather is. Even in his absence, they fear him."

Devan Agni's power and influence were such that no one could be sure if he was dead or simply biding his time, waiting to return at the most critical moment. And until they knew for certain, the vultures circling the Agni family would remain at bay.

Aryan's eyes darkened as he thought about the current state of his family. The balance of power was fragile, and if his grandfather didn't return soon, the Agni family's position among the seven great families might crumble entirely.

As Aryan lay back against the pillow, his thoughts remained a swirling tempest of doubt, guilt, and frustration. But deep down, a small spark of determination began to flicker. He had faced unimaginable challenges before, and though he felt defeated now, he wasn't ready to surrender entirely.

"I'll find a way," he muttered resolutely to the empty room. "Even if I have to do it alone."

As Aryan's breathing gradually steadied and he began to drift back to sleep, a faint, unsettling glow appeared on the back of his neck.

The mark was subtle at first, barely noticeable beneath the bandages, but as the minutes passed, it began to emit a soft, eerie light. The glow was a deep, unsettling shade of violet, streaked with wisps of black that wavered like smoke.

The light was intermittent, flickering in and out as if struggling to maintain its presence. It cast strange shadows on the pillow, hinting at a dark and foreboding energy just beneath the surface of his skin.

This peculiar aura seemed to resonate with the ominous presence he had felt in his dream, creating an unsettling connection between the two.

The energy emanating from the mark was chilling, sending a shiver down Aryan's spine even as he lay still. It was as if something unseen and ancient was stirring within him, its presence a stark contrast to the calm of the infirmary.

The mark's intermittent glow suggested a hidden danger—or perhaps a new mystery—awaiting him in the darkness.