Chapter 5: The Summit of Blood and Pride

The Grand Assembly Hall of the Varma Clan was a colossal structure carved from black granite and inlaid with golden serpents coiling across the pillars — symbols of ancient power. The wide chamber was open to the sky, where sunlight poured in like divine judgment. The floor gleamed from daily polishing, reflecting the proud faces of the elite who had gathered.

Hundreds of clan members stood in reverent silence, lined row after row — warriors, elders, elite disciples, and young hopefuls — all awaiting the arrival of one man.

And then…

BOOM.

The air shifted.

From behind the Curtain of Flame, a great presence emerged — Mahādev Varma, Head of the Varma Clan.

He strode into view, each step echoing like thunder, wrapped in robes of deep crimson lined with gold. A heavy black sash crossed his chest — the mark of a martial emperor. His long hair was streaked with silver, not from age, but from the intense channeling of Prāṇa over decades. His eyes were sharp, stormy — eyes that had seen blood, war, and glory.

He was not just a leader.

He was a legend.

And he was Shiv's father.

As he ascended the dais and took his seat upon the Throne of the Flame Serpent, the hall erupted in unified voice:

"Honor to the Head! Strength to the Bloodline!"

Mahādev raised his hand — the hall fell silent instantly.

"Today," he said, voice deep and commanding, "marks the opening of the Agni-Kṣetra, the Trial of Flame."

A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd.

"This family has stood for centuries on the back of strength — not words, not privilege, but fist." His voice boomed across the stone walls. "And now, the time has come to separate the weak from the worthy. The Family Tournament begins."

Gasps and murmurs surged like a wave.

"All warriors under the age of 25 will compete," Mahādev continued. "You will fight before the entire clan. You will bleed. You will rise — or you will fall and be forgotten."

The hall buzzed with anticipation, and then his eyes shifted — and for the first time in years, Mahādev looked directly at Shiv.

But those eyes — once distant and regal — now flickered with something deeper.

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

But despair.

As if he had already grieved a lost son.

Mahādev's gaze lingered only a heartbeat before he looked away — as though even acknowledging Shiv's presence was a waste of breath.

"I have said what is needed," he said curtly. "Prepare yourselves. The first round begins in three days."

With that, he turned and strode toward the inner chambers, robes fluttering like a battle flag caught in wind.

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The moment the Clan Head left, the hall exploded in voices.

"Three days?! That's barely enough time to recover from training!"

"I heard Arjun's already in peak form — no one can stand against him."

"Forget Arjun — what about Devesh or Meera? Even they'd crush half the competition."

"Hey… did you see him?"

All eyes slowly drifted to Shiv, who stood alone at the edge of the gathering.

"Hah… he showed up?"

"He's probably here for the free meal."

"Will he even participate? He might just forfeit like last time."

"Forget forfeiting, he'll probably trip and dislocate something before even stepping into the ring."

They laughed — loudly and without restraint.

Arjun strolled past the murmuring crowd, a confident smirk painted across his face.

"I almost hope you do join, little brother," he called out, voice echoing across the courtyard. "I'd love to remind everyone exactly why Father stopped calling you his son."

Some chuckled. Others gave Shiv a pitying glance.

But Shiv didn't flinch.

He met Arjun's gaze — calm, cold, unshaken.

"You'll get your wish," Shiv said evenly.

Arjun paused, eyebrows raised.

Shiv's voice was low but sharp like steel.

"I'll enter the tournament. And I won't just fight… I'll win."

The crowd went quiet.

"Is he serious…?"

"Has he lost his mind?"

"He dares to say that in front of Arjun?"

Shiv stepped forward, his presence strange — heavier, more centered than ever before.

"They don't know…" he thought. "They don't know that I've been reborn. That inside me sleeps a storm neither they nor Father can see."

"Three days," he whispered to himself. "Three days… and I'll make this clan remember my name."

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