Surya stood awestruck, the crisp dawn air chilling his skin as Vidya's effortless display of vayu mastery lingered in his mind. With a mere flick of her wrist, she had flung five drunken louts backward, halting them just shy of a bone-shattering collision with the slum's mud wall. Their unconscious forms sprawled in the dirt as she turned to him, her white saree pristine against the grime, her expression one of cool indifference. "Let's go," she said simply, her voice cutting through the stillness like a temple bell. Grasping his shoulder, she lifted them into the sky, the slums shrinking below as the first rays of sunlight painted the horizon in hues of saffron and gold.
The flight back to the Trishul of Dharma ashram was swift, the familiar pendant at Vidya's waist glowing green, cloaking their passage over Aryavarta's waking streets. They descended gently onto the grassy expanse before Guru Arjun's hut, the same spot where Elenav had collapsed days prior. This time, however, the scene was alive with about twenty youths, all near Surya's twelve years, huddled together, shivering in the early morning chill. Their threadbare dhotis and kurtas fluttered in the breeze, patched and faded from relentless wear—mirrors of Surya's own tattered garb. A few clutched small bundles of belongings, their faces etched with a mix of hope and trepidation.
As Vidya released him, the group's eyes snapped to her, wide with admiration. Her ethereal beauty and the grace of her gliding departure held them spellbound, each silently wishing this vision in white would guide their training. Surya, too, followed her with his gaze, marveling at the way her saree trailed like a cloud until she vanished beyond the ashram's edge. A collective sigh rippled through the youths, broken only when the hut's wooden door creaked open.
Guru Arjun emerged, his presence commanding the morning light. Unlike his earlier brown attire, he now wore a black kurta over his dhoti, the fabric accentuating his muscular frame—evidence of years wielding a warrior's strength. His kind eyes swept over the group, his bearded face stern yet not unkind. "Good morning, shishyas," he intoned, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of authority. "You've enrolled in the Trishul of Dharma Training Program. Our fee is modest—one gold Rupiya—but our discipline is unmatched, our passing rate the lowest among Aryavarta's ashrams and academies. Quit mid-training, and your coin is forfeit. Fail to prove your worth by the end, and it remains ours. Only by passing, joining the ashram, and apprenticing under seniors on missions will you reclaim its value."
He paused, letting the words settle like stones in a still pond. "The path ahead will wring sweat from your brow, blood from your veins, and cries for your mothers from your lips. No plea will halt it unless you admit defeat—concede you lack the will to reshape your fate. May the devas grant you strength."
From behind him, Elenav stepped out, his saffron kurta pristine once more, the scars of his fight with Officer Arjun hidden beneath. He flashed Surya a playful wink before raising his voice. "Follow me to Energized Training Chamber-1, little warriors! Time to test your mettle." His grin was infectious, though a faint wince betrayed the lingering ache of his mended rib.
Surya, puzzled by "ETC-1," fell in with the others, their footsteps muffled on the dew-kissed grass. He glanced at his peers—most bore the same poverty he knew, their clothes patched with care, their shoulders bowed under modest bundles. Only one or two stood out, their kurtas newer, though still dull beside the silken finery Surya had glimpsed in the city's markets. Together, they trudged toward a squat, circular building, its yellow sandstone walls etched with *"ETC-1"* in flowing Devanagari. At its peak, a jagged silver crystal protruded, glinting like a shard of moonlight against the dawn sky.
Elenav halted before the door, turning to face them. "This is an Energized Training Chamber—ETC for short. Tell me, what do you know of Ether?" His sharp eyes scanned the group, inviting a response.
A boy in a slightly less faded dhoti stepped forward eagerly. "Ether's a divine gift of the Earth, Guru-ji. It refines the body, granting power." His voice carried the confidence of one who'd heard tales from a merchant father, perhaps.
Elenav nodded, a faint smile tugging at his scarred cheek. "Well said. Ether is one of many wondrous substances that temper body and spirit. In an ETC, a massive block of low-grade Ether disperses into the air as mist. ETC-1 is crafted for Sadhak Humans—levels one to three. Now, heed this primer on body refining." He squared his shoulders, his tone shifting to that of a seasoned teacher. "Refining is forging your body like a blade in a smith's fire, with Ether as the flame. From Sadhak Human-1 to 9, you undergo nine smeltings, strengthening yourself to hold prana—the barrier to the Warrior realm."
Surya listened intently, the library's lessons on power levels flashing through his mind—nine stages per realm, a sacred number in Aryavarta, tied to the Navagraha. Elenav continued, "Body potential—your Samskara—measures how well you absorb Ether's energy. We grade it low, mid, or high. In the chamber, calm your mind, breathe deeply, let the mist fill your lungs. Draw its energy inward, then guide it through every muscle, every bone, until your whole being is bathed in its power. I'll watch each of you, gauging your Samskara and guiding your first steps."
With that, he pushed open the wooden doors. A gust of cool, misty air billowed out, wrapping Surya in its embrace. He inhaled greedily, a shiver of exhilaration coursing through him as the mist tingled against his skin, sharp and invigorating, like the first rain of monsoon.
[_Ding_
Alternate absorption method detected. Additional benefits: Increases host's Samskara and absorption rate. Phenomena Analysis Module (PAM-1) requires 90 days to compile, assuming conventional training persists. Begin development?]
Surya's heart leaped. Since purchasing PAM-1 after Vidya's flight, he'd awaited its first gift—a technique born of observation alone. And this? A method to boost his dismal Samskara, the low potential the system had lamented? "YES!" he shouted inwardly, barely containing his glee.
[Development initiated. 89 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, 56 seconds until completion.]
A grin split his face, his steps light as he entered the chamber. The round room glowed faintly, its walls smooth sandstone, the air thick with swirling mist reminiscent of a Himalayan dawn. Training mats dotted the floor—soft, woven rushes inviting rest. The youths dispersed, each claiming a spot.
"Sit, stand, lie—be at ease," Elenav called. "Forget your body; focus on your breath." Some sprawled on the mats, sinking into their comfort; others stood, swaying slightly in the mist.
Surya chose to sit cross-legged, mimicking the yogis he'd seen in temple courtyards, his back straight, hands resting on his knees. The mist curled around him, cool against his sunburned skin. Then the system chimed again:
[Development complexity exceeds parameters. All resources will divert to PAM-1. System unavailable during this period. Abort development?]
A dilemma gripped him. Lose the system's guidance for nearly three months, or halt this priceless technique? As Elenav passed by, checking each youth with a nod or a word, Surya raised a hand, voice tentative. "Guru-ji?"
Elenav approached, his stride casual yet purposeful. "What's on your mind, little brother?"
Surya stood, the question burning within. "Can Samskara improve, or is it fixed at birth?"
Elenav's sharp eyes widened briefly, surprised by the depth of a 12-year-old's query. He rubbed his scar thoughtfully before replying. "Perhaps, but only through the rarest absorption arts. Rumors whisper of inner-city techniques that might, yet they're said to twist practitioners into grotesque forms—monsters of flesh and bone. I doubt such tales." Seeing Surya's alarmed expression, he hastened to add, "Mere gossip, likely. Others claim ancient materials once boosted Samskara, but those vanished centuries ago, per Guru Arjun. Fear not, lad. Even low potential bends to will and effort. Trust in yourself, Surya."
He ruffled Surya's hair with a broad, brotherly grin, a warmth Surya hadn't known since Uncle Benny's visits. Emboldened, he pressed the system silently: "This technique won't deform me, will it?"
[No side effects. Technique is safe.]
Relief washed over him. "Then proceed. Notify me when it's ready."
[Affirmative. System offline for 89 days, 23 hours, 51 minutes, 41 seconds. Resources diverted to PAM-1.]
Surya settled back onto his mat, the mist enveloping him like a sacred shroud, his path to power—and justice—beginning anew.