Chapter 9: The Ashura’s Return

The **arena's divine flames** had dimmed, but the **energy in the air** remained heavy, almost suffocating. Aryan's hand still **throbbed faintly** from the Blood Pact, the mingled divine and mortal blood leaving an **invisible brand** on his soul.

The sigil on his wrist **pulsed softly**, faintly illuminating the cut where Yama had sealed the bond.

Vikram **staggered over** to Aryan, his face pale.

"Okay. Seriously. **WHAT THE HELL** was that?!"

He pointed at the spot where the **Rakshasa Wraith** had disintegrated.

"You just… just **obliterated a demon**! And you're not even sweating!"

Aryan's eyes were still **blazing with divine fire**, but he gave a small smirk.

"Guess I'm **getting the hang of it.**"

Vikram threw his hands up.

"Oh, you're **getting the hang of it?** Great! Cool! Just casually turning into a **demon-slaying god.** No big deal."

Before Aryan could respond, **Yama's voice** rang out, sharp and commanding.

"Enough."

The **god of death** approached, his eyes as cold and piercing as ever. The faint trace of the Blood Pact **still glimmered on his palm**, but his expression remained inscrutable.

Without a word, **he extended his hand toward Aryan**.

A **glowing violet shard** of ethereal light appeared in his palm—a fragment of **soul energy**, swirling and pulsing with power.

"Take it," Yama said curtly.

Aryan eyed the shard cautiously.

"What… is it?"

Yama's voice was low.

"Your reward."

His violet eyes narrowed slightly.

"A piece of the Wraith's soul."

Aryan hesitated for a brief moment—but then, without breaking eye contact, he **reached forward and touched the shard**.

The moment his fingers **brushed against the fragment**, a **surge of power** shot through his veins. His vision **flared white**, and for a brief second, he felt as if **his body was splitting apart**—every muscle ignited with divine flame.

**Memories not his own** flooded his mind.

Images of **ancient battles**, Devas clashing with Asuras beneath blood-red skies. **Blades of divine fire** carving through demon hordes. The **roar of Indra's thunder** splitting mountains in half.

And then—**a name** echoed through his soul.

**"Vritra."**

Aryan's eyes **snapped open**, his chest heaving. His hands were trembling slightly, but the **shard had vanished**, absorbed into his very essence.

Varuna's eyes narrowed slightly.

"You saw something," she said softly.

"What did you see?"

Aryan turned toward her, his voice low and tight.

"**Vritra.**"

The moment the name left his lips, **the Devas froze**.

Indra's casual smirk **vanished**, replaced by a **cold, deadly glare**. The **storm in his eyes** darkened, crackling with sudden, uncontrolled rage.

Agni's fingers **curled into fists**, flames **dancing dangerously** along his knuckles.

Even **Yama's violet gaze** hardened ever so slightly.

Vikram blinked.

"Uhh… who the hell is Vritra?"

Varuna's golden eyes were sharp, her voice low.

"The **Ashura king**," she said grimly.

"The one who nearly ended the Devas."

---

### **The Ashura King's Legacy**

Aryan's eyes narrowed.

"Wait—what?"

Varuna's expression **hardened**.

"Vritra is no ordinary demon," she said softly.

"He was once a **deity**, just like us. A being of light. But he was **consumed by greed** and **thirst for dominion**. He turned against the Devas… and became the first Ashura."

Her eyes **darkened** slightly.

"His fall… tainted the Ashuras with his rage. It turned them into beings of **wrath and destruction**."

Indra's voice was cold and sharp.

"He was our greatest enemy. It took **all of us**—together—to strike him down."

Agni's molten eyes **narrowed**.

"And even then… he wasn't destroyed."

Aryan frowned.

"But if you defeated him—"

Yama's voice cut in, low and final.

"His **soul was sealed**, not destroyed," he said softly.

"In a prison beyond the realms, where even the gods cannot tread."

His **violet gaze** fixed on Aryan.

"And now… it seems **he stirs once more.**"

---

### **The Wraith's Message**

The ground beneath them **shuddered suddenly**, a faint tremor running through the hall.

Aryan's **sigil pulsed suddenly**, a faint **echo of dark energy** washing over him. His **chest tightened** as he felt a surge of **cold, foreign power** creep into his limbs.

For a brief moment, his **vision blurred**—and he was no longer in Deva-Kshetra.

He stood in a **dark void**, nothing but blackness stretching in all directions. **Chains of shadow** floated aimlessly, suspended in the darkness.

And then—he heard the voice.

Low. **Feral. Inhuman.**

But clear as day.

**"You carry their power… but I see you, mortal."**

A **massive, towering silhouette** emerged from the darkness—a **figure with burning eyes**, its form wreathed in shadow and flame. **Vritra.**

The **Ashura king** slowly turned his glowing eyes toward Aryan.

**"I will come for you."**

His voice was **a growl that reverberated through Aryan's soul**, heavy with rage and venom.

"And when I do… **I will devour your light.**"

Aryan's heart **thundered** in his chest.

Before he could move, **Vritra's hand shot forward**, clawed fingers reaching for his throat.

And then—**Aryan snapped back into reality**.

He staggered, **gasping sharply**, his fingers trembling slightly. **Sweat clung to his forehead**.

Vikram rushed over.

"Bro! What the hell? You just… you just **froze**! You okay?!"

Aryan's **eyes were wide**, his chest still heaving.

"I… I saw him," he muttered hoarsely.

"**I saw Vritra.**"

---

### **The Gathering Storm**

Yama's eyes **narrowed**, and for the first time, there was a flicker of genuine concern in his voice.

"You saw him?" he asked sharply.

"Where?"

Aryan's voice was still unsteady.

"In… in the void. He was there. Watching me."

Agni's **flames surged** with sudden fury.

"That's impossible. The prison is sealed. No one can reach it."

But **Yama's voice** was grave.

"Unless…"

His violet eyes darkened.

"**The prison is weakening.**"

Varuna's expression **turned grim**.

"Then… that means the **Ashuras are moving**."

Indra's storm-gray eyes **flashed with wrath**, his grip tightening around his spear.

"Then we **go to war.**"

Aryan's **hands clenched into fists**, his heart still **pounding from the vision**.

He knew, deep in his soul, that **the war of gods and demons** was no longer just a myth.

It was real.

And **he was part of it.**

Without hesitation, **he stepped forward**, his golden sigil **flaring brightly**.

His voice was steady.

"Then let's end it."

The **Devas exchanged a brief glance**, their eyes filled with both **concern and resolve**.

And in the distance—**the faint echo of Vritra's laughter** rumbled through the void, as if **he had already begun to rise.