The Ambush Begins

The ruins of Vedangiri stretched endlessly before them, bathed in the dull orange glow of the setting sun.

Once, this had been a city of towering pillars and grand archways. Now, only broken bones of stone remained, half-buried in the earth. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, the whisper of the wind carrying stories of battles long forgotten.

Aamir's boots crushed brittle marble beneath them, the sound eerily loud in the silence. His hand never left the hilt of his sword, fingers curled tight around the leather grip. His heartbeat had settled into a steady rhythm, but his instincts screamed otherwise. Something was wrong.

He scanned the ruins—every broken column, every shifting shadow. His muscles coiled, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

Seenu felt it too. His fingers hovered near the hilts of his throwing knives, his stance low, balanced. His eyes flicked left, right, then back again. He wasn't breathing normally anymore. His body had already switched to survival mode.

They were being watched.

Kunal trailed slightly behind the others, his expression unreadable. His glasses sat slightly askew, but he didn't adjust them. He barely noticed. The feeling in his gut was too familiar. Predators. He had grown up sensing them before they ever struck—the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on his skin, the unnatural stillness in the air before the storm, the way shadows stretched in ways they shouldn't.

But, as always, no one asked him.

Aamir stopped near the remains of a temple wall. His voice was quiet, firm. "Let's rest here."

No one argued.

Riya exhaled heavily and sank onto a jagged rock, adjusting the straps on her armor. Her magic reserves were running low. She could feel it in her bones. Meera crouched beside her, inspecting the edges of her daggers with a careful eye. She didn't speak, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes.

Raj leaned against a half-crumbling pillar, wiping sweat from his brow. Even with his sheer size and strength, exhaustion tugged at his limbs.

But Seenu didn't sit. Neither did Aamir. Their eyes met. A silent exchange. No words were needed.

They knew.

Aamir's voice was low. "Notice anything?"

Seenu's response was instant. "Six of them. Skilled. Human. They've been tailing us for at least half an hour."

Aamir exhaled slowly. "You think it's the ones Haider warned Aafreen about?"

"Has to be." Seenu's fingers brushed over his blade hilt. "They're not amateurs. They're waiting. Studying us. These guys are pros."

Aamir's grip on his sword tightened. He had faced killers before. But something about this felt... different. Deadlier.

Kunal, standing a few steps away, had already noticed it too. The way the shadows moved unnaturally. The faint shift in the wind that carried whispers of movement. The barely audible crunch of a misplaced stone.

Killers. The kind he recognized.

But he kept his mouth shut. Because, as always, he was the weak one. The liability.

The sun dipped lower. Dusk settled in, casting long, jagged shadows across the ruins. The air grew heavy. Still.

Then it happened.

A whisper of sound. Like cloth slicing through air.

Seenu moved first. He spun, knives already in hand—but it was too late.

A blur of movement erupted from the ruins.

Dark figures. Silent. Precise. Deadly.

"Ambush!" Aamir's voice cut through the air like a blade.

Five assassins materialized from the ruins. Each one different. Each one lethal.Blades flashed. Magic surged. The battle ignited in an instant.

Aamir's sword met a razor-sharp blade mid-air, steel shrieking against steel. Sparks burst as the force of the impact sent a tremor through his arm.

Seenu twisted, narrowly avoiding a dagger aimed at his throat, his knives flickering out like twin vipers.

Meera rolled backward, her daggers intercepting a curved sword with a high-pitched ring. She barely had time to adjust before another strike came, faster, deadlier.

Raj roared as a warhammer slammed into his bracers. The sheer force of it made his knees bend, his muscles straining under the impact.

Riya barely managed to conjure a shimmering shield before a barrage of throwing knives slammed into it. The impact sent shockwaves through her arms, and she clenched her jaw, reinforcing the barrier before it shattered.

The assassins moved like wraiths—silent, coordinated, precise. Each had their target. Each had their specialty.

The assassin in front of Aamir was different. He moved without wasted motion. No unnecessary steps. No hesitation. Every attack was measured, as if he had already mapped out every possible counter.

Aamir struck first. A heavy downward slash—fast, precise. The assassin caught the blade with his own, redirecting the force rather than resisting it. Aamir's sword slid off effortlessly, his balance momentarily thrown off.

Pivot. Strike. Blocked. Aamir gritted his teeth.

Another strike, this time a feint—his blade changed direction at the last moment, curving toward the assassin's ribs. The man barely moved his feet. Instead, he twisted his upper body, allowing the attack to pass harmlessly by. His counter was immediate. A flick of the wrist—Aamir's own momentum nearly turned against him as a shallow cut opened along his arm.

The assassin exhaled slowly. "Strong," he murmured, voice eerily calm. "But power without discipline crumbles."

Aamir narrowed his eyes. This wasn't just a fight. It was a lesson. And he was the student.

Kunal didn't move. Didn't fight. Didn't run.

His gaze lifted—past the battle. To the silhouette in the distance. Still. Watching.

The real threat. The Sixth Shadow.

Kunal's stomach twisted. The figure hadn't moved. Not really. But something had shifted—a change in posture. A tilt of the head.

Recognition. A killer recognizing another killer.

The Sixth Shadow wasn't just observing. He was waiting.

For something.

For him.

Kunal swallowed. He had promised himself he wouldn't fight. That he wouldn't be that person anymore.

But the Sixth Shadow knew the truth.

Kunal wasn't the weak one. He was the sleeping one.

And some things weren't meant to stay asleep forever.

The ruins of Vedangiri were alive with chaos. Swords clashed. Magic burned the air. Breathless grunts, sharp cries, the scrape of steel against steel. Dust rose in thick clouds, catching the dim glow of the dying sun.

The assassins were relentless. Each strike was calculated. Each move meant to kill.

The group was strong. Skilled. But they were being pushed back. Losing ground. Outmatched.

Aamir parried another strike, chest heaving. Seenu gritted his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes. Riya faltered, her magic draining by the second. Raj's knees buckled for a split second before he forced himself upright again. Meera's hands trembled, the poison working through her veins.

Kunal clenched his fists. His heart pounded. Not from fear. From restraint.

Because he knew—if he broke his promise, if he let go, the battle would be over in seconds.

And it wouldn't be the assassins standing.