"You two might've had a chance," Ruckus said, rolling his shoulders to flaunt the monstrous musculature beneath his cloak, "if you were trained by someone who actually knew what Naritti is. But you weren't. I, on the other hand—" he raised his copper sword with casual pride "—was trained directly under Grand Elephanto. Tell me, have you children even heard that name?"
Sukheer's eyes widened."G–Grand?! You trained under a Grand?!"
Ruckus smirked. "One of the finest the Union has ever produced. Remember that before you die."
Sukheer gulped. "Armeet… I don't think we're a match for him."
Armeet did not step back. His expression hardened, the winds around him humming faintly with leftover energy.
"Sukheer," Armeet said with a frightening calm, "don't you ever forget who you are."
Sukheer blinked. "What?"
"He might be the Union's best," Armeet continued, chin lifting with a confidence Sukheer had never seen before, "but we are better. We belong to an organisation beyond the Union's imagination. A special squad, formed within a special order. Do you understand that?"
"No, I don't!" Sukheer snapped. "Special? Don't lie to yourself. We're not Saptavanshi, Armeet. We're outsiders—put into a side group because we don't belong with them."
"You really are deluded," Armeet said, almost laughing. "Tell me—does it look like a coincidence? Mazhiro, Saptavanshi. Shailya, Saptavanshi. Anata, Saptavanshi. Elva, Saptavanshi. All of them chosen. And we were placed beside them."
He stepped forward, fire burning in his gaze.
"You, me, and the others… we were born for something greater. Heavens don't place people randomly, Sukheer."
"A war seems 'great' to you?" Sukheer asked quietly.
"A war should never happen," Armeet replied, "and that is exactly why we are here—to prevent it."
Ruckus sighed loudly, spinning his copper blade once."Enough of this sentimental nonsense. The kid is right—you don't stand a chance. Maybe you skipped a few chapters of history. Never mind. I'll remind you with my sword."
Armeet ignored him.
"Sukheer!" he barked, voice thunderous. "Listen to me. We are special. The heavens didn't choose us at random. They chose us to protect this planet."
"You still believe in fate?" Sukheer muttered.
Armeet smirked, an arrogant tilt to his lips as if a crown had silently settled on his head.
"Fate? Fine. If that's what it takes, then I'll tell you."
He stepped forward. The sky darkened as clouds gathered unnaturally. Dust spiralled around him; leaves trembled, caught between wind and Naritti. The ground itself seemed to wait.
"I," Armeet said, his voice echoing strangely—as if the world itself wanted to hear—"am Armeet Surya."
Sukheer rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know that."
Armeet raised a hand, silencing him.
"I am Armeet Surya," he repeated, louder, the winds swirling violently around them—"son of Manmit Surya… the last King of the Surya Dynasty."
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
"Founder of the world's largest paramilitary force—Ajikage."
Even Ruckus flinched.
Armeet's aura began to rise—golden-orange Naritti flaring around him like a crown of fire. His arrogance was no longer youthful—it was regal, inherited, inevitable.
"I am the rightful heir to Ajikage," he declared. "And the death of my family…" He looked upward, unblinking, unapologetic."…was merely the world's way of forging me sooner than others."
Sukheer stumbled back. "What in the—AJIKAGE!?"
Ruckus's pupils shrank."Ajikage…?" he whispered, blood draining from his face.
Armeet drew his sword—blunt, broken, but held with royal confidence.
"Indeed."He bowed slightly, sword angled in ancient Surya fashion—an old warrior's vow reborn.
Then he faced Ruckus with a smirk full of dangerous promise.
"Ruckus Stefani," Armeet said coldly, "your fate is sealed."
The wind howled. The trees bent. The earth trembled.
Ruckus stepped back, stunned into silence—for there was only one man he had ever lost to: Manmit Surya of Ajikage.
And now, his son stood before him.
Ruckus burst into sudden laughter—half disbelief, half madness. "Fate… hah! What a small world!"
"Is he crazy?" Sukheer whispered.
"He must be," Armeet said, though a smirk tugged at his lips. "But that won't save him."
"Sukheer!" Armeet called, his voice echoing with confidence born from his newly claimed destiny. "If we're to defeat him, we must learn our Naritti while fighting him. This is the perfect moment for the second phase of our battle."
A dangerous, malicious smirk crept across Armeet's face.
"As you wish," Sukheer replied, cracking his neck, preparing himself.
He stepped forward and raised his sword."Ruckus!" he shouted. "You and me—one on one."
Ruckus grinned, amused."You think I'd fall for that? You two could stab me together or kneel and pray—it wouldn't matter. Defeating me is next to impossible."He tilted his head. "Or is it?"
Sukheer inhaled, steady and controlled.
"Sword of Mockery."
His Naritti pulsed.
First Form: Funny Opponent."Release."
He dashed forward—and the battlefield trembled.
Sukheer immediately hurled his sword upward, the blade spinning toward Ruckus's face. Ruckus casually lifted his guard, easily calculating its trajectory… until the blade abruptly curved mid-air and flew back toward Sukheer like a boomerang.
Ruckus laughed loudly."Kid, you don't even know your own technique!"
Sukheer didn't respond. He simply caught the returning blade, his face serene, eyes half-closed as though meditating instead of fighting. He wasn't attacking—he was feeling something, listening to the flow of the Naritti in his body.
A faint wind spiraled around him.
Sukheer whispered—not words, but breath shaped by will.
The blade shivered.
Then—
SCHKTT.
The sword split laterally into seven thin, gleaming blades of identical length. Each one floated independently, orbiting Ruckus in a slow, mesmerizing spiral.
Ruckus blinked, baffled."What are you doing… yoga?"
The floating blades didn't strike. They simply moved in perfect circles—slow, mocking, almost theatrical.
"SAY SOMETHING!" Ruckus barked.
Sukheer remained silent, eyes closed, breathing controlled. His aura shifted—Naritti pooling inward, not outward.To Ruckus, it looked like cowardice. Weakness. Stupidity.
"Damn you, kid! Are you actually playing with me?!"
Still no answer.
The orbiting blades spun faster—tiny vibrations humming through the air—but they never touched him. The stillness in Sukheer only enraged Ruckus further.
Finally unable to tolerate the mockery, Ruckus jumped high, intending to break Sukheer's concentration with sheer brute force—
But the moment he left the ground—
It began.
"Ha… ha ha… fufufu… what… ha… what the hell is—fufufu—this?!"
Ruckus's laugh cracked, uncontrolled, humiliating. His jump failed; he crashed back to the ground with a graceless thud, still laughing mid-impact.
Sword of Mockery — First Formwas not designed to injure.It was designed to ridicule.
To manipulate perception.To break focus.To turn the opponent into a clown against their will.
A direct attack would have failed.But a psychological one?
A different story.
Ruckus slammed his fist to the ground."Enough… ha-ha—enough!"
Copper energy burst outward.
"Kalisk: The Eagle Defence!"
A dome of shimmering Naritti wrapped tightly around him—a two-meter sphere of neutralization. Any attack entering the dome would be erased, dissolved instantly. A Grand-level defensive technique.
But Kalisk required enormous Naritti.And Sukheer's attack… carried no killing intent.It wasn't a hostile technique.
Which meant—
Kalisk was wasting Naritti for nothing.
Ruckus's eyes widened in realization—even as he keeled forward, still laughing uncontrollably.
"You…" he growled between forced bursts of laughter, "you brat… you tricked me…"
The seven blades continued orbiting him peacefully, like children mocking a helpless adult.
The environment itself responded to the tension—Dust spiraled.The ground vibrated lightly from Naritti recoil.Leaves hovered unnaturally in the air, caught in the pulse of opposing energies.A faint ringing, like distant bells, filled the atmosphere—sign of deep Naritti synchronization.
For the first time, Ruckus looked uneasy.
Sukheer opened his eyes.
His expression was not fierce, not murderous.There was no bloodlust.
His eyes carried serenity—a calm, unshakable stillnessthat belonged to someone who could see the battlefield more clearly than his enemy ever could.
Ruckus snarled."Oh, so my opponent has finally woken up?"
But for the first time since the battle began—
there was a flicker of hesitation in his voice.
Sukheer was no longer the fool.
He was the threat Ruckus never expected.
Sukheer didn't reply with words.
He simply inhaled—slow, steady, deliberate—and whispered:
"Sunpo: Choushou no Kuni."(Sunpo: The Realm of Mockery)
The very name sent a violent shiver through the air.
Ruckus's eyes widened."Sunpo?!"He burst into an incredulous laugh. "You… learned Sunpo? On a battlefield? Ha ha ha ha! Impossible! Children can't even recite its theory, let alone execute it!"
But the laughter cracked—because the impossible was already happening.
A ringing sound echoed through the warped dimension Ruckus had created earlier.Lines—hairline fractures—began spreading across the sky like broken glass. The air vibrated, unstable. Sunlight bled through the cracks, scorching the misty ceiling of the dimension.
Sukheer didn't stop.He couldn't.Sunpo consumed monstrous amounts of Naritti, and he had only moments before Ruckus adapted.
"Armeet…" Sukheer called, panting from the strain. "Now or never."
Armeet stepped forward with regal arrogance, raising his broken sword like a king raising a decree.
"Ajikage… I summon you here!"
He sprinted at Ruckus, blade pointed at the agent's heart—intent to kill in one perfect strike.
Ruckus watched him approach, expression unreadable.
Then he smirked.
Armeet closed the distance—3 meters.2.5.2.
Ruckus lowered his stance slightly, pretending to falter—a perfect bait.
Armeet lunged—1.9 meters away—
"Fools…" Ruckus whispered. "Fu fu fu."
"Kalisk: The Eagle Defence."
The invisible dome snapped into existence.Energy flared.Armeet's body ignited with Naritti backlash, sparks crawling over his skin like burning insects.
Kalisk devoured all hostile Naritti.
And it was consuming Armeet alive.
Sukheer should have leapt to help him.He should have thrown everything he had left to rescue his friend.
But he didn't move.
He just watched.
Calm. Silent. Observing.
Ruckus frowned.
Why wasn't Sukheer reacting?Why wasn't Armeet screaming?Why was everything… slightly off?
Ruckus's instincts screamed.Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
He focused.
Armeet's burning figure flickered—just once.
Sukheer's posture blurred around the edges.
Then it hit him.
This was not Armeet.This was not Sukheer.
This was—
"An illusion…" Ruckus whispered, horror washing over him.
He looked around—the sky's cracks, the burning light, the closeness of Kalisk's dome—everything trembling at the edge of unreality.
A trap.
A multi-layered, slow-acting, psychological trap woven around him the moment Sukheer said "Release."
Sukheer's real voice echoed—not from afar, but everywhere.
"Sword of Mockery is unlike any other Dodeka Areta."His tone was calm—too calm."Mockery does not defeat the body. It defeats the mind. It irritates. It misleads. It wraps its target in illusions so subtle that even a trained Naritti user doesn't realize they're sinking."
The seven floating blades shimmered—revealing themselves not as physical steel, but visual carriers of illusionary Naritti.
"Like poison," Sukheer continued, "it works slowly but effectively. The longer you fail to realize you're inside an illusion, the more your senses… rot."
Ruckus gasped—because now he felt it.His sight blurred.His hearing wavered.His Kalisk dome flickered like a candle in the wind.
A single drop of sweat rolled down his cheek.
"My saint…" he breathed."What… what is this trap…?"
His voice cracked.He finally understood.
"I was… fooled," he whispered. "Completely fooled. Those little monsters… set me up from the very beginning."
The illusion tightened again—and Ruckus, the proud agent of the Union, finally realized the truth:
Sukheer was never the weak one. He was the dangerous one.
[To be Continued in Chapter 46]