Chapter 5: The Awakening Flame

The Rakshasa lunged, claws extended—its monstrous form a blur of shadows and hunger.

Aryan barely had time to think. His body moved on instinct.

The golden sigil on his wrist flared, and before he knew it—his arm shot up.

A shockwave of divine energy erupted from his palm, slamming into the Rakshasa's chest. The demon howled, its body twisting as the golden force burned through its corrupted flesh. It crashed into a nearby pile of rubble, sending shards of stone flying.

Aryan's breath came in ragged gasps.

"What… the hell was that?"

Vikram, standing behind him, was too stunned to speak.

But there was no time for answers.

The first Rakshasa, still locked in battle with Indra, let out a deafening roar. It swung its massive, clawed fist, aiming straight for the thunder god's chest.

Indra didn't flinch. With incredible speed, he raised his spear and caught the demon's attack mid-air.

BOOM!

The impact sent shockwaves through the ruins. Sparks of divine lightning crackled across Indra's body as he twisted the spear, using the force of the demon's own attack against it.

With a sharp thrust, he drove the spear straight through the Rakshasa's shoulder, pinning it against a fallen temple pillar.

The demon shrieked in agony, its body convulsing. But even impaled, it refused to die. Its wounds began to regenerate, dark tendrils of cursed energy sealing the gaping hole in its flesh.

Indra clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Persistent bastards," he muttered. "Varuna, some help here?"

Varuna, meanwhile, had her own battle to fight.

The second Rakshasa, the one made of shifting smoke and shadow, had recovered. It moved like a phantom, slipping between realms, its attacks nearly impossible to predict.

It lashed out with clawed fingers, aiming for her throat.

But Varuna was faster.

With a single fluid motion, she twisted her blade and sliced clean through the demon's wrist.

The severed hand vanished into black mist before it could even hit the ground. The Rakshasa let out a sharp hiss, its glowing red eyes narrowing in rage.

"Coward," Varuna spat, her golden eyes flashing. "Come out and fight properly."

The demon snarled but didn't retreat. It lunged again, shifting between the material and spectral world, its claws aimed directly at her heart.

Varuna didn't dodge.

Instead—she closed her eyes.

For a split second, the world seemed to slow down.

Then—her blade shimmered.

In a single, perfect strike, she slashed through the Rakshasa's body—completely severing it in half.

The demon let out one last, inhuman shriek before its form dispersed into nothingness.

Varuna exhaled, lowering her sword. "One down."

Aryan's First Fight

But Aryan had no time to admire her skill.

The third Rakshasa, the one he had blasted earlier, was already recovering. Its blackened skin bubbled and cracked, but its wounds were healing fast.

And now—it was angry.

With an ear-splitting roar, it charged at Aryan again.

Aryan's instincts screamed at him to run—but something inside him refused.

The mark on his wrist pulsed again. And this time—he embraced it.

As the Rakshasa lunged, Aryan stepped forward instead of back.

He raised his hand and, without knowing how, willed the energy forward.

A golden blade of pure light materialized in his grasp.

The weapon was weightless, humming with divine energy. It felt like it belonged to him.

Before the Rakshasa could react, Aryan swung.

SLASH!

The golden blade cut straight through the demon's chest, leaving behind a burning wound that refused to heal. The Rakshasa screeched in agony, stumbling backward.

Aryan panted, staring at the weapon in his hand.

"I… I did that?"

Varuna's eyes widened slightly. "A divine blade? Impressive."

Indra, still battling his own opponent, let out a sharp laugh. "Not bad, kid. Maybe you won't die in the first week after all."

But Aryan didn't feel triumphant.

Because the Rakshasa, though injured, wasn't finished yet.

It snarled, its fangs dripping with venom, and with a sudden burst of speed—it launched itself at Aryan again.

Aryan tried to raise his blade, but he was too slow. The demon was too fast.

It was going to tear him apart.

Then—

BANG!

A streak of pure lightning shot across the battlefield.

The Rakshasa froze mid-air—its body seizing as electricity surged through its veins.

A moment later—it exploded into dust.

Aryan turned, stunned.

Indra lowered his spear, which was still crackling with energy.

"Lesson one, kid," he smirked. "Never hesitate."

Aryan swallowed hard. His heart was racing. He had just fought a Rakshasa.

And survived.

But deep inside, he knew this was just the beginning.

The War Begins

The battlefield fell silent.

The first Rakshasa, still pinned by Indra's spear, let out a final, gurgling growl before its body crumbled into black ash.

The fight was over.

Varuna flicked her blade, cleaning off the demonic energy, before turning to Aryan.

"You handled yourself well," she admitted. "For a first battle."

Indra crossed his arms. "Eh. He didn't die, so that's something."

Vikram finally found his voice.

"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?" he shrieked.

Aryan, still catching his breath, looked down at his hands. The golden blade had disappeared, but the mark on his wrist still pulsed faintly.

A thought hit him.

He had just fought actual demons.

And he had held his own.

The realization sent a shiver down his spine.

Varuna studied him carefully.

"You must leave with us now," she said. "The Asuras know about you. More will come. Stronger ones."

Indra smirked. "Welcome to the war, kid."

Aryan's fingers curled into fists.

He wasn't ready for this.

But… deep inside, a part of him knew—he never would be.

And yet, fate had already chosen him.

There was no turning back now.