The stone ring of Martial Pathyam had seen centuries of training, but today it vibrated with something different — anticipation sharpened to a blade's edge.
Naimisha stood at one end, still as a poised arrow, her braid coiled like a whip of discipline. Across from her, Maruti Vanar cracked his knuckles, then his neck, then bounced slightly on the balls of his feet—grinning the whole time.
The courtyard buzzed. Disciples leaned forward, half-whispering bets, the rest holding their breath.
Yogi Arjun Devendra (voice stern): "Begin."
Naimisha didn't wait.
She surged forward, sandals skimming the stone. Her footwork was precise—elegant spirals and sharp pivots drawn from Anahata's breath-dance forms.
Naimisha (calmly): "LAM."
Her stance grounded. Muladhara—Root Chakra—opened.
Her movement became fluid, spine anchored like a mountain.
She spun low, palm aimed at Maruti's ribcage.
He blocked it.
With his forearm.
Didn't even flinch.
Ravi (whispering to Pralay): "He didn't even brace."
Naimisha (firmly): "VAM."
Her hips shifted, momentum flowing like water. Svadhisthana—Sacral Chakra—active.
Now she was faster. Looser. Each strike followed the last like a chain of wind and silk.
Maruti kept smiling.
He didn't step back.
He walked into her strikes.
Naimisha (sharper): "RAM."
Her solar chakra burst to life—Manipura glowing like a golden disc beneath her skin.
She pivoted sharply, lifted off the ground mid-twist, and slammed her elbow toward his temple—
He caught it.
With one hand.
Like it was nothing.
The courtyard gasped.
Maruti (smirking): "You're light on your feet. I like that."
He flexed slightly—**just a twist of his wrist—**and Naimisha flew back six feet, skidding into a crouch.
She was breathing harder now.
He wasn't.
Ravi (to Pralay): "See that?"
Pralay (still stunned): "He hasn't used anything but… Root."
Ravi (nodding): "Yep. Just Muladhara. Pure, anchored, unmoving.
And that's not just training."
Pralay: "You mean…"
Ravi: "He's from the Vanar clan."
Pralay (surprised): "Vanar? Like—?"
Ravi (grinning): "Exactly what you think.
Humanoid monkey ancestry. Pre-Vedic bloodline. And their Vardaan?"
He pointed to Maruti, who was now rolling his shoulder casually as Naimisha circled.
Ravi: "Inhuman physical strength. They're born with muscles like iron ropes and bones that laugh at gravity."
Back in the ring, Naimisha's eyes narrowed.
Naimisha (quietly): "YAM."
Anahata—Fourth Chakra—opened.
A green aura shimmered faintly from her chest. Her breathing grew calmer—balanced. She leapt, hands glowing, spinning mid-air for a double-palm strike from above.
Maruti (grinning wider): "Nice height."
His tail shot out—like a whip.
It coiled around her ankle mid-air, pulling with perfect timing.
Naimisha (gritting teeth): "Wha—?"
She flipped—violently—but landed on her feet in a crouch, sliding back, breath heavy.
The crowd roared.
Even Yogi Arjun's eyes gleamed with interest now.
Ravi (grinning): "And there it is. The tail. Told you—he fights with all four limbs and one extra."
Pralay: "She's opened four chakras. And he's just… using gravity and grins."
Ravi: "You don't fight Maruti like you fight others. You endure him."
The ground trembled from the clash. Even the protective seals etched into the arena stone were starting to shimmer—responding to the intensity of what was unfolding.
Disciples stood. Some forgot to breathe. Others simply stared, stunned.
Maruti Vanar, tail still twitching with excitement, stood in the center of the ring, chest rising fast. The faint red aura of his Muladhara chakra still held firm—his only activated chakra so far.
He laughed. A deep, belly-shaking laugh that echoed off the pillars.
Maruti (grinning, loud):
"That's all you got, little girl?"
He cracked his knuckles again, then slammed one fist into his palm.
Maruti (teasing):
"Come on now. Say it with your chest!"
The crowd roared. Some disciples hooted. Even Yogi Arjun Devendra didn't stop it—he was watching now with the stillness of a hawk.
But Naimisha didn't move.
Her expression was blank.
Until—
Wind.
A gust burst outward from her body in all directions—like a sudden exhale from the sky itself.
Dust and leaves swirled. The stone shimmered beneath her. Her braid lifted slightly, as if touched by invisible currents.
A white aura began to rise—not blinding, but pure, like fog lit by moonlight.
Ravi (straightening, eyes wide): "Uh-oh."
Pralay (alarmed): "Ravi… don't tell me…"
Ravi (nodding slowly): "That girl from the Vatsa clan—the one Yogi Agnivesh personally trains…
Yeah. That's her."
Pralay (shocked): "She has a Vardaan, too?"
Before Ravi could respond—
Naimisha's eyes went white.
Not glowing—empty. The pupils vanished. And when she spoke, it wasn't just her voice.
It was two voices overlapping, layered like wind through a canyon.
Naimisha (echoing): "Shall I show you…
what this little girl can do?"
The entire arena fell silent.
Then—she moved. But no one saw it. Not really.
It was like she blinked—one moment standing still, the next—behind Maruti, a palm already raised to strike.
Maruti (startled): "What the—!?"
He turned, but too late. She grabbed his tail.
And with a strength no one expected from her slender frame—she spun.
Once.
Twice.
Four times—and then hurled him across the ring like a comet wrapped in muscle.
Maruti hit the far pillar with a thunderous impact, cracked it slightly, and dropped to the ground in a crouch—breathing hard, but eyes lit up with joy.
Maruti (grinning, wild): "NOW we're talking."
He stomped one foot forward.
Maruti: "VAM!"
A flash of orange burst around his midsection—Svadhisthana activated.
His body shimmered slightly, and the tremors in his limbs stilled.
He looked faster. Sharper.
He sprinted forward—this time matching her speed.
They clashed.
Palm against fist. Tail against leg.
She struck low, he blocked high. She feinted left, he turned mid-air to parry it.
Their motions blurred as a green-white aura clashed with orange and red, spinning across the arena like two storms colliding.
Ravi (half-smiling, half-panicked): "They're going to break the ring…"
Pralay (whispering): "Or each other."
Naimisha leapt into the air—again. But this time, Maruti met her mid-flight—grabbing her wrist and twisting mid-spin, tail anchoring into the ground to swing her sideways.
She adjusted. Twisted. Landed.
He smirked. Cracked his neck.
Maruti: "This is the most fun I've had in weeks."
The storm inside the arena continued—Maruti and Naimisha clashing like primal forces and mantra incarnate. Energy cracked in the air with every spin, leap, and ground-shaking throw.
The disciples around the edge had gone from cheering to stunned silence. It was less of a match now and more of a spiritual brawl between two living legacies.
From one corner of the observation tier, a disciple leaned toward another and whispered, voice laced with awe:
Random Disciple: "Did you know the Vatsa clan are one of the great clans of Gwalior?
They've got royal bloodlines, spiritual archives, land holdings…
Even the city council bends knee to their elders."
Another Disciple: "Explains why Yogi Agnivesh mentors her himself. That's not training—that's investing in power."
Ravi (overhearing, scoffing): "Don't go writing epic ballads just yet.
You'll regret underestimating the Vanar clan."
Pralay (half-watching the fight, puzzled): "Wait—Vanar clan? But… they're not even from the Aryavarta Empire, right?"
Ravi (grinning): "Right. They're from the Kishkinda Empire."
Pralay (frowning): "That's… outside the central alliance territories."
Ravi (nodding): "Yep. Far North-east of Aryavarta Beside Vijaynagar Empire. Deep jungle valleys, golden temples, mountain-fortresses with banyan roots older than the stars.
Kishkinda isn't just a place—it's a legend wrapped in muscle and memory."
Pralay: "So Nalanda takes students from outside Aryavarta?"
Ravi: "Nalanda takes the worthy. Doesn't matter if you're from Aryavarta, Taxila, or even the barren lands of Kandhar.
And trust me—Kishkinda sends their best."
The wind shifted as Maruti launched Naimisha skyward with a tail-assisted flip, and she countered with an aerial chakra burst.
Ravi (still watching, speaking fast): "Only other university that rivals Nalanda is the one in Kashi, under the Taxila Empire. Pure knowledge. Brutal merit.
But Kishkinda's… eh. Let's just say relations between them and Taxila haven't been great lately."
Pralay (half-distracted): "So that's why most students from Kishkinda come here…"
Ravi (grinning like a fox): "Bingo.
And by the way…
Do you remember your roommate was from Kishkinda?"
Pralay (turning slowly, face dropping): "…don't tell me this brute—this loud, swinging, tail-whipping maniac—is my…"
Ravi (grinning like a teenager who knows he's delivering the punchline): "Yup. Right. On. The. Mat."
Pralay (flatly): "…Maruti Vanar."
Ravi (chuckling): "You better pray he doesn't hang his training rope on your bunk again."
Pralay (groaning): "I knew the bed smelled like sandalwood and bananas."
They both watched as Maruti hurled himself back into the fight with a roar of laughter, deflecting a dual-palm strike from Naimisha using both his arms and his tail in perfect sync.
Ravi (smirking): "Roommates. Gotta love 'em."
The arena trembled beneath the weight of sheer will.
Dust and energy swirled like storm clouds as both warriors blurred and clashed across the ring—chakra against chakra, bloodline against bloodline, legacy versus legacy.
And then—
BAM!
A sound like a cannon tore through the air.
A cloud of cracked stone and smoke billowed from the impact zone, silencing the arena in an instant.
For a long breath, no one could see.
Then the smoke parted.
Floating just above the ground, Naimisha hovered in a pillar of white aura, robes fluttering, hair unbound and trailing like a banner in slow motion. Her eyes were still white, voice humming with that strange dual-tone echo.
Across the ring—
Maruti Vanar lay face-down on the stone, a small crater beneath him.
A moment of silence.
Then—
Laughter. Deep, raw, thrilled.
Maruti (muffled, face still in the dirt): "Hehehe… Ohhhooo YES. That's what I'm talking about."
He pushed himself up—arms flexing, tail unfurling—and rose to his feet with the ease of someone brushing off a nap, not a beating.
Maruti (grinning, mad): "You kicked me in the soul, little storm cloud. And now I'm awake."
He slammed a fist to his chest.
Maruti: "RAM!"
The golden flare of Manipura chakra erupted from his torso, coating him in a molten radiance that pulsed with controlled fire.
He took a step forward—and punched the air.
BOOM!
A golden shockwave burst forth—not as a beam but as a sonic chakra blast, a compressed force that launched toward Naimisha like a hammer of wind and flame.
She barely managed to twist away mid-air, but the blast grazed her aura, sending her spinning before she regained control mid-flight.
Maruti (laughing): "What's the matter? You fly like a cloud—guess I'll be the thunder."
Naimisha (snarling, eyes glowing brighter): "You talk like a child who mistook noise for power."
Maruti: "Oh, I am noisy.
But it's my fists that do the convincing."
He lunged now—blazing aura surrounding him—each step leaving burn marks on the stone.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
Each blow sent rippling waves of golden energy across the arena—even without connecting.
Pralay (staring, breath caught): "I've never seen anyone use Core Flame like that… I thought it was just aura projection…"
Yogi Arjun Devendra (stepping forward slightly, eyes sharp): "He's not just projecting it.
He's coating himself in the Manipura chakra and releasing controlled bursts with each punch.
A combination of internal pressure and directional release. Destructive force from both muscle and mantra."
Yogi Arjun (nodding slowly): "His battle IQ is... impressive."
Maruti lunged for Naimisha again—his fist glowing like a miniature sun.
She dodged—
—but the punch slammed into a pillar behind her.
CRACK—BOOM!
The pillar exploded, fragments flying in all directions. A few protective barrier glyphs flashed to shield the crowd.
The audience screamed, cheered, gasped.
Maruti (grinning): "Oops. Someone should put these rocks somewhere safer."
Naimisha (hovering, sharp): "Are you done waving fire around like a toddler with a torch?"
Maruti (tail twitching, delighted): "I'm just warming up.
Now come down here so I can bury that white aura of yours six feet under compliments."
Naimisha: "You'll choke on your own chakra before that happens."
Then—her flight faltered.
Her posture shifted mid-air. Her hands went to her temples.
She hissed—audibly.
Naimisha (strained): "Ah—what is—?"
Her eyes, still glowing white, flickered. The aura pulsing around her grew wild, unbalanced.
A ripple of unnatural pressure rolled through the air.
The crowd went silent again.
Pralay (alarmed): "Something's… wrong."
Ravi (tense): "She's… reacting to something. That's not just chakra overuse."
Naimisha doubled slightly mid-air, clutching her head, as if two voices in her mind had started fighting each other.
Her breathing was ragged. And from the edges of her aura—
the wind turned cold.
The winds howled across the Martial Pathyam arena, chakra remnants swirling in scattered patterns, still glowing from where Maruti had smashed pillars and Naimisha had danced through the air like a vengeful goddess.
But something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Naimisha's white aura had lost its symmetry. It pulsed violently, not with control, but with confusion—chaotic spirals of light erupting from her body as if something inside her had taken over.
She clutched her head again, but this time…
She laughed.
Not like herself. Not with grace.
A fractured, half-mad laugh echoed from her lips—two voices interwoven: one hers, and one… not.
Then her body straightened unnaturally.
Her feet floated, barely touching the ground.
And her eyes—once blank white—were now like frozen stars, too bright, too cold.
She raised both hands.
White chakra blasts exploded from her palms in erratic spirals—tearing chunks of stone from the arena floor and blasting open fissures in the outer walls.
Disciples screamed. Some leapt to cover. Others backed away in panic as the protective barrier seals flickered, clearly overloaded.
Maruti (snarling, determined): "Alright.
No more jokes."
He pushed off the cracked stone and launched himself at her—a golden comet streaking through the chaos.
He roared mid-leap, fist cocked back, chakra aura blazing around him.
But just before impact—
She vanished.
Mid-air.
Like she'd never been there.
Maruti (blinking): "What the—?"
Voice (cold, layered): "You… annoy me."
She appeared above him, inverted in mid-air, and her fist slammed down onto the top of his skull.
BOOM.
Maruti's body spiraled downward, crashing like a meteor into the outer ring of the arena, cracking a ten-foot crater in the stone.
For the first time—he didn't move.
And Naimisha, or what had become of her, turned slowly toward the crowd.
Hands raised.
Chakra burning.
And then she attacked.
Waves of Core Flame Chakra surged from her—projected not in precision, but in raw chaos.
Blasts streaked into the stands. Stone cracked. Benches shattered. Disciples screamed and ran for cover.
Some of the senior instructors raised protection mantras—but they flickered under the onslaught.
Pralay (stunned, shielding his eyes): "She's not even aiming… She's just…"
Ravi (yelling): "She's losing it! That thing inside her—whatever it is—it's not Naimisha anymore!"
Then—
a sound.
Metal. Drawn from silence.
A whisper of a sword leaving its sheath.
Yogi Arjun Devendra stood now in the center of the chaos—unmoved, spine straight, face unreadable.
In his hand: a sword, long and gleaming, its hilt wrapped in black leather, and at its center—
A deep blue stone, etched into the pommel.
It pulsated.
Like a heart remembering thunder.
Pralay turned sharply, his eyes locking onto the blade.
His breath caught.
The ground beneath Yogi Arjun's feet cracked slightly—not from movement, but pressure.
The sky above darkened.
And then—
Thunder.
A bolt of lightning split the heavens.
CRACK-BOOOOOOM!
It slammed into the arena from above like the wrath of the gods—and struck Naimisha directly.
Light engulfed everything. When it faded—
She hovered mid-air, frozen, suspended in a glowing net of blue-white mantra threads.
And there stood Yogi Arjun Devendra—his body cloaked in a thunderous blue aura, like a living storm.
Hair lifted gently by the electric air.
Eyes glowing faintly. Blade steady.
The crowd went dead silent. No more screams. No more cheers. Only breathless reverence.
Pralay (whispering): "That sword…
That aura…"