I have a Sword

The hallway grew silent, the air heavy with tension. Suddenly, an old man appeared as if he had stepped out of the clouds. His black robe swayed slightly, gold patterns glinting in the dim light. Beneath it, a golden chest plate gleamed, protecting his vital areas. He carried a sword in one hand, its edge; sharp and glimmering faintly with power.

His posture was straight, and commanding, like a mountain that refused to bow. Around his neck hung a white pearl necklace, its centrepiece a large Chakra pendant, glowing faintly with mysterious markings.

The man spoke, his voice calm but with a sharp edge. "Young man, you're brave. Too brave, perhaps. Do you know who you're dealing with?"

Vikram stood tall, his expression steady. He gave a faint smile, one that seemed to both challenge and amuse. "So, the great elder of the Heroic Righteous Sect decides to show himself," Vikram said. "And not just any elder… the Hall Master of the Sanctum of Steel."

The elder's eyes narrowed instantly. "Who are you?" he asked sharply. "How do you know that name?"

Vikram gestured slightly toward the man's pendant. "That insignia on your Chakra… not everyone knows what it means. But I do."

The elder's grip on his sword tightened. "Speak plainly! Who are you, and what do you want?"

Vikram tilted his head, still smiling. "I could ask you the same thing. Why would someone of your rank come here? Feeling threatened, are we?"

"You dare mock me?" The elder's voice grew cold, his aura flaring with power. "Do you know what you're up against?"

"Oh, I know," Vikram replied smoothly. "The Sanctum of Steel doesn't show its hand often. But when it does… well, it must be important."

The elder took a step closer, his presence oppressive. "Enough games. Answer me, or you'll regret it."

Vikram's smile faded, his tone turning firm. "I'm not here to answer your questions, elder. I'm here because your time is up."

The elder's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing further. "Bold words. Let's see if you can back them up."

However, Elder was cautious because he carefully observed Vikram's strength before. He knew he had to use his chance well and suddenly his eyes darkened as he turned toward the broken doorway of the house. With a wave of his hand, an invisible force pulled Charulatha and Mrinalini outside, suspending them in mid-air. They struggled, fear in their eyes, but they couldn't break free.

"You care for them," the elder said with a sneer. "That is your weakness. What will you do now, rogue? Surrender and save them, or fight and watch them die?"

Vikram's fists clenched as fury burned in his eyes. "Is this the honour of the Sanctum of Steel? Using innocent lives to win? So much for the Heroic Righteous Sect's pride!"

The elder smirked. "Honor? There is no honour in war. Only victory. And this is a victory you will not claim."

Charulatha's voice broke through the tension. "Vikram! Don't listen to him"

Mrinalini glared at the elder. "You'll regret this. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

The elder laughed mockingly. "Regret? It is you, who will regret for defying the Sanctum of Steel, the strongest Hall of the Heroic Righteous Sect!"

But the laughter stopped when the air around Vikram grew heavy.

The clearing darkened. A black mist swirled around Vikram - cold and terrifying like a battlefield soaked in endless blood. The weight of his aura pressed down on everyone, suffocating and impossible to ignore.

Vikram's voice was calm but carried a deadly power. "Release them. Now."

The elder froze, his smirk disappearing. The overwhelming presence in front of him was no ordinary man—it was something far more dangerous.

"You…" the elder stammered, his voice shaking. "You're the Ninth Zamorin Prince… the destroyer of armies… the God of endless killing…"

Vikram's steps were slow and deliberate, his black aura spreading like a storm.

"I am no prince," he said coldly. "No king. No warrior."

The elder's grip faltered, and Charulatha and Mrinalini fell to the ground, gasping for breath. The elder stumbled back, his confidence crumbling.

"It's just that…" Vikram continued, his voice sharp as a blade, "I have a sword."

The elder's eyes widened in horror. Those four words hit him like a death sentence. He looked at the ring on his finger, the insignia of the Sanctum of Steel glowing faintly.

"To have a sword…" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, "means to kill… and die… to annex."

His hand trembled as he gripped his sword tighter, but it felt heavy and useless. He stared at Vikram, the truth sinking in. "I… I provoked a nightmare…"

In desperation, the elder lunged forward, his blade aimed at Vikram. But before he could strike, his body froze. His eyes widened in shock as the weight of "I have a sword" crushed his spirit.

The elder's life faded away before his blade even touched Vikram. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his sect ring glinting faintly as a final reminder of what he had lost.

Charulatha and Mrinalini ran to Vikram, their faces pale but determined.

"Vikram," Charulatha whispered, her voice trembling. "Are you fine?"

Vikram's expression softened as he looked at them and smiled.